Treasure of Eden

by Sherer, B. K. ; Linnea, Sharon

  “What’s she doing down there?”

  Jaime had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she turned back to check the video feed. Right there, standing in the doorway of the basement room, was Andrea. Each of the members of the meeting was staring with shock in her direction.

  “What’s she doing?”

  “I’m on it!” Jaime was grabbing her things and throwing them into her backpack. “I’ve turned off the video feed, but keep me tuned into the audio.”

  Jaime threw twenty Swiss francs on the table and ran down the steps to the ground level. She looked frantically around, noting the long sloping hill they had mounted to come to the restaurant, and knowing there was no way they could delay the group long enough to get back to the train ahead of them.

  Leaning against the outer wall of the restaurant was an assortment of skis, poles, and sleds. Her gaze fell on one particular piece of equipment; she hesitated just for a moment, then grabbed it to make ready for their escape.

  January 25, 2007, 12:35 p.m.

  (1 day, 20 hours, 55 minutes until end of auction)

  Schatzalp, Davos, Switzerland

  * * *

  Andrea knew she’d made a rash decision. But she’d waited almost a hundred years for this.

  “How dare you!” She was seething with righteous anger as she faced J. Aldrich Woodbury across the room. “How dare you treat the financial holdings of millions of people with such abandon!”

  Woodbury was standing now, no longer in shock, his own anger building as he took a few threatening steps in her direction. “Who are you? And who let you in here?”

  Andrea did not back down. “Who I am is unimportant. That you will not succeed in this venture is!”

  “And how do you think you are going to stop us?”

  “I’ve already stopped you. Your plan can’t survive when exposed to the light, and a video feed of this meeting is already on its way to every major television network.” A good bluff never hurt anything. A video feed, yes. Every major network–not quite yet.

  The rest of the room exploded in an uproar.

  “A video feed?”

  “I’ll be ruined!”

  “This can’t be happening.”

  The participants were all standing and screaming at one another.

  “Wait!” Woodbury shushed them. “That hair. I saw you at the Hotel Belvédère. But you can’t be; there’s no way–”

  Here she was, standing in a room surrounded by very angry people, many of whom probably wanted to hurt her. But Andrea had no fear for her own life. Now, however, she realized that her outburst might jeopardize her home, give someone a clue to information they should not have about Eden. She started to back toward the door.

  She needed a diversion.

  “Yes, I was at the hotel. We’ve been watching you for some time.”

  “Who is we?” His voice was heavy with danger.

  Andrea opened her mouth to attempt an answer and felt a rush of wind as the door opened behind her and someone jerked her backward into the sun. Jaime slammed the door shut and wedged two ski poles between the ground and the door to block it from opening outward.

  “I have her,” she was speaking into her microphone. “I’ve wedged the door shut. What’s happening inside?…

  “People arguing, yelling at each other,” she repeated for Andrea. “Woodbury is furiously giving orders to that young assistant. Oh, excellent, Op 1 just cut the lights on them!”

  The wooden door in front of them rattled as someone pushed against it.

  “Let’s go. This won’t hold very long.”

  Andrea could tell Jaime was put out. “I don’t know what came over me!” Andrea apologized.

  “Not now; we’ve gotta move. We can’t outrun them, so I’ve borrowed this toboggan.” Jaime pointed to a long, flat sled made of bent bamboo with a bright red pad and steering ropes tied to the front end. “Have you ever ridden one?”

  “This is my first time to see snow!”

  “Well, now you have another first. Sit down here at the back and once I jump on stretch your legs around my waist, but keep them on the sled.”

  “Once you jump–?” The sled lurched as Jaime pushed it while running beside it. She had pointed it down the hill toward the train station and it quickly picked up speed as she jumped on. She plunked down in front of Andrea, who was desperately trying to keep her legs out of the way.

  Jaime wedged her feet against the front curve of the sled, and grabbed the steering rope.

  “How do you steer this thing?” Andrea spoke loudly into Jaime’s ear to be heard over the rushing wind.

  “Steer?” Jaime laughed, then cocked her head and was suddenly quiet. “Op 1 says someone’s following us. Can you see anyone?”

  Andrea looked back to find Woodbury’s dark-haired assistant, Nicole Barron, now 100 meters behind them. She seemed to be sliding but did not have skis.

  “Yes, the young woman who was with Woodbury looks like she’s surfing down the hill!”

  “We’ve got to make it to the train station ahead of her! Lean with me as I pull on the rope. And when I say, let your heels drag off the sled just a bit so we can slow down to make this curve.”

  Andrea could see their path narrowed and curved sharply to the left, then another switchback to the right.

  “Okay, lean left and drag.” As they leaned, Jaime pulled hard on the left-hand rope and put her boots out into the snow along with Andrea’s. The back end of the toboggan flipped around nicely, but the momentum kept them sliding sideways down the hill. They came to a stop on the level below but were now facing backward down the path.

  “Is this the way it’s supposed to be?” Andrea was bewildered.

  “Arrgggh.” Jaime jumped off, quickly pulled the sled around 180 degrees, and ran beside it again.

  As they picked up momentum once again, a German couple walking their briard along the path had to dive into a snowbank to keep from getting run over.

  “Entschuldigung!” Jaime yelled as they flew past. The man lost hold of his dog’s leash. The briard bounded after them, his owner calling from up the hill.

  “Are we still being followed?”

  The narrow path was bumpy, and Andrea found it harder to turn and look.

  “We’ve picked up a very hairy, four-legged pursuer. The woman on the board is trying to negotiate the carnage we left behind us.”

  Jaime saw a large snow-covered jungle gym that she recognized as part of the children’s play area outside the train entrance. “We’ve got to slow now.” They were heading straight at the playground, and dragging their feet once again for friction. It looked like they would not stop in time, and Andrea closed her eyes as Jaime jerked hard on one rope and they skidded sideways up against the jungle gym.

  The large dog, bounding along in pursuit, was unprepared for the sudden stop and came barreling onto Jaime’s lap. Thrilled with the capture of his prey, he began licking her in the face.

  “Love ya, big boy, but not now!” She pushed him off her lap and leaned down to help Andrea stand up.

  “Come on; I think the train is boarding!”

  Leaving the toboggan, they hurried to join the queue of skiers and hikers entering the train station. Swiping their rail passes to enter the turnstile, they stepped quickly down steep cement stairs, passing up two train cars to enter the front one, pushing as far into the middle as the crowd would permit.

  Jaime looked back over the press of people to watch the entrance. Just as the car doors were preparing to close, she saw a short woman carrying a snowboard burst through the turnstile and dive into the last car.

  “I think Barron made it on the train. We need to position ourselves so we can push out in front of the crowd and use them as a buffer to slip away before she catches up.”

  Andrea followed as Jaime cut a path through the standing passengers, wading between ski poles and snowshoes until they reached the exit door. At that moment the train lurched and began to slowly make its way dow
n the mountain.

  All they could do was wait. As they rolled past snow-covered evergreens toward the station below Andrea reflected on the events of the past hour. She knew she was responsible for their predicament, and was trying to find the words to express her regret.

  Before she could say anything, Jaime spoke up.

  “I have no idea why Clement was concerned about your ability to remain objective on this mission!”

  At first Andrea looked chagrined, until she saw the glint in the young woman’s eye and realized she was making a joke.

  “I can’t believe I did that!” Andrea shook her head in disbelief.

  “I can’t believe it, either!” Jaime was laughing now. “That took guts! And the look on his face!”

  “It was reckless of me, and I do apologize.”

  “Apology accepted. And while I don’t think it was the best choice for how to kill their plan, I think you have effectively done so. But now let’s think about how to ditch our friend back there. I can’t think of anything she or her cronies would ask that we’d want to answer. We obviously can’t go back to the hotel. Well, first things first. Let’s get lost.”

  Andrea knew continued self-recrimination didn’t help anything, but it would kill her if she was responsible for Jaime’s capture. Andrea also didn’t have the full training Operatives received to withstand torture. She prayed they wouldn’t be caught.

  They couldn’t be.

  At the end of the four-minute trip, the Bahn gently lowered into its berth at the bottom of the hill. The moment the doors opened, the crowd pushed the two women out into a narrow stairway. Jaime pushed Andrea ahead of her and snuck a look back. The snowboarder was buried in a crowd of about thirty to forty people behind them.

  “Can you jog?” Jaime asked as they came through the turnstile and out the door.

  “I can move out smartly!”

  “That’ll do.”

  They were in a short alleyway that dumped out onto Davos’ main street. As they reached the curb Jaime looked around purposefully. “We need a crowd where we can disappear,” she said under her breath. Then, “Perfect!”

  To their right was the entrance to a casino, barely a half block away. At the curb by the front entrance was a stretch limousine around which a large crowd had gathered. In the center of the crowd was the rock star Shepard, talking to reporters and signing autographs.

  “Do you trust me?” said Jaime as she tugged Andrea in the direction of the mob.

  “What are we doing? We’ll draw more attention to ourselves in this media circus!”

  But Jaime didn’t lead her into the crowd surrounding the musician. Instead, Jaime towed Andrea over to the street side of his limo, opened the back door, and slid inside, pulling the astonished woman down to the floor of the limo with her.

  “What are you doing?” Andrea asked again. “When they realize we’re here, they’ll remove us–which will draw a lot of attention!”

  “I’m buying time,” said Jaime to the perplexed older woman.

  Soon they heard the voice of the driver over the din of the crowd: “Sorry, no more autographs. Shepard, it’s time to go.”

  The crowd outside parted reluctantly with–Jaime assumed–some help from the burly security detail.

  Then the back door to the limo was opened and a handsome young man plopped into the seat opposite Jaime’s position. Andrea had not had much experience with the Terris celebrity culture, but she could tell this man had an aura about him. Part confidence, part charisma, part the glow of adulation? Whatever it was, it fit easily into his bemused expression as he found the two women hiding on the floor of his limousine.

  At that same moment, the surlier of the two bodyguards poked his head in the door and looked very startled at the unexpected company in the car with his boss.

  “What are you doing? Out! Now! I’m sorry, sir!” the bodyguard said as he began to signal his companion.

  Andrea’s blood pounded through her veins. What now?

  Shepard cut him off with a quick wave of his hand.

  “It’s okay. Tell Serge to move on.”

  Andrea was certain she could not be any more surprised until the bodyguard closed the door and the musician smiled at Jaime.

  “So. Does this mean you’re free for dinner?”

  “It’s been too long, Mark,” said Jaime. “And it’s great to see you.”

  The limousine began to crawl ahead through the noon traffic. As it did, Andrea saw Nicole Barron in the midst of the crowd, scanning every direction. She was holding a cell phone, obviously giving someone information that was not being well received. Even though the limousine windows were darkly tinted, Andrea stayed low on the floor as they drove past her.

  “It’s been way too long,” Mark said. “And I’m assuming, from the fact that you and your lovely companion are hiding out of sight on the floor of my car, you’ve got some interesting explanation!”

  He reached across and shook hands with Andrea. “I’m Mark Shepard, by the way.”

  “Well, I could use the teensiest bit of help.” admitted Jaime.

  He smiled and leaned back. “That’s my Jaime. Okay, let’s have it.”

  “Some very unfriendly people are following us, and we need to slip away unseen. Can we ride with you for a bit, then have you drop us off?”

  “So, is that all I am to you, a convenient ride?”

  “You’ve got me pegged.”

  Shepard grinned. “Always happy to play the knight in the white limo. Although I do fully intend to collect a dinner in exchange. Where do you need to go?”

  “Getting out of here is a good start, thanks. And give me a minute.”

  Mark pushed a button and instructed the driver and security man in the front seat as Jaime took out her handheld and began texting updates with Eddie. Then she looked up at Andrea. “We’ve got backups waiting to spirit you away to a local safe house. Mark, can you help get us to the pickup spot? Then perhaps create a slight diversion?”

  “A diversion? What kind? My boys and I have an entire playbook.”

  “That’s my Mark!” Jaime teased him back.

  “So we need to drop off your friend. Once she’s safely squared away, must you disappear, too? Or do you have time for a catch-up?”

  Jaime leaned back against the sidewall of seats.

  “I can’t really be seen here for a while, either. So–what kinds of getaways do you have outlined in that playbook of yours?”

  January 25, 2007, 1:05 p.m.

  (1 day, 20 hours, 25 minutes until end of auction)

  Davos, Switzerland

  * * *

  Frank McMillan was standing in the hallway of the Congress Centre outside the current session of the World Economic Forum with several of his coworkers from the Terrorism Task Force when his cell phone vibrated.

  “McMillan,” he said.

  “What goes up must come down,” answered the male voice.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I waited for Farmer and Richards at the top of the Bahn. They arrived in a hurry, and I was able to join them in the first car for the ride down. Only had time to plant a device on one of them, but did accomplish that.”

  “Which one?”

  How could this idiot think he was interested in Farmer? He’d never said anything about Farmer!

  “Richards, of course.”

  Frank felt his shoulders relax as his blood pressure began to drop. Finally someone had done something right. Finally.

  “And, Chief?” his operative continued. “You might want to pick up the signal yourself. She’s still on the move.”

  “Well done,” said Frank, and he touched the earpiece that turned off the phone.

  January 25, 2007, 1:05 p.m.

  (1 day, 20 hours, 25 minutes until end of auction)

  Davos, Switzerland

  * * *

  Shepard was true to his word. He and “his boys” did indeed have a playbook of rehearsed diversion techniques, which had allowed
Jaime to take Andrea out of his limousine and into an unmarked Operative car without anyone realizing the musician hadn’t been alone on his drive.

  They’d then driven on–east on Talstrasse, past the sports complex, then back west on Promenade, giving Jaime enough time to take off her white jacket with blue scarf and replace them with a black coat, red scarf, and red ski cap. She tucked her blond hair up inside and put on a pair of sunglasses. A typical Davos look–which didn’t reveal much about her at all.

  Shortly after they passed the Congress Centre, Jaime hopped out of the limo just above the Central Sporthotel. She did her best to blend in with the foot traffic, and took the stairs down into the Sporthotel complex. She had ten minutes to kill, and she spent several of them chatting with the man with the horse-drawn carriage at the hotel door. They were magnificent white steeds (technically “gray,” she knew, as the only horses that are “white” are rare albinos) with matching red plumes.

  Standing in one spot gave her the opportunity to surreptitiously check to see if anyone was following her–but it seemed she was alone.

  When precisely four minutes remained, Jaime bid the carriage driver farewell, turned right, and walked two short blocks back down to Talstrasse. She reached the agreed-upon spot, and had been waiting for less than two minutes when a Peugeot pulled up. Jaime hesitated because the car before her was a two-door sedan with intertwined silver and green streamers flowing jauntily across the side. But the driver put on the right turn indicator, then the left, then sat idling. It was the sign she’d been told to watch for.

  She opened the curbside door, hoping she’d recognize Shepard’s driver. Instead, she was surprised to find Mark, alone, in the driver’s seat. “Your coach, milady,” he said simply.

  Jaime climbed in, moved her own white jacket and blue scarf from the seat, and closed the door. Mark leaned across, kissed her cheek in welcome, and drove on, continuing east.