As Maria unburdened herself to him, sobbing as she told him her husband had just returned to the laboratory to start work again, he was shocked. That devil’s work had started up again!
“You told me the laboratory had been closed. That all its work had been destroyed.”
“Yes father, but Georgio told me, it wasn’t all destroyed. Apparently they kept copies of things. He said, once the lab was recommissioned, it shouldn’t take long to be back where they were, when it closed down.”
The priest could barely contain himself the rest of the morning as he listened to a few more confessions, then finally, was free, to escape to his study to phone the news to Monseigneur. Monseigneur Findlay also was shocked. Like father Oriordan, he, too, believed the problem of the evil laboratory had been resolved. The report to him was, the lab had closed, the work destroyed, and the threat posed by those wicked scientists gone away. God had answered their prayers. Now it was rearing its ugly head again! This time, he decided the matter was urgent enough to warrant the risk of a telephone call. He rang the Cardinal, and informed him the news.
When Cardinal DelZoto replaced the handset, his hands were trembling. His immediate reaction to the call, was anger, a dark anger, that welled up within him. He had paid one hundred million U.S. dollars of the church’s money to have that laboratory closed, but it seemed, to no avail. The money had been squandered! The lab had reopened, and nothing had been achieved! He had been lied to, and the church robbed!
He wondered how he should break the news to his Holiness. The Pope would be most upset, he knew. He had quibbled over the one hundred million, and to know it had been money wasted, would make him very annoyed. Worse, he would view DelZoto’s role in this, as pathetic. The cardinal had earned, over many years, a reputation for efficiency and accomplishment. Now he would be seen as inept. There was the possibility, too, of an investigation into where the one hundred million American dollars had gone. It was disastrous!
As he sat pondering the issues involved, his anger intensified. He had trusted his connections with the Italians to get the job done. When news of the Sorensen children’s kidnapping broke, DelZoto knew who was behind it. He had said a pray the children would not be harmed, that the leverage their kidnapping imposed on their father, would be sufficient to achieve their goal. Had the children been killed, he would have justified it as a necessary sacrifice, for the church to attain its goal. That laboratory had to be closed, no matter what. That was more important than the lives of two children.
The second half of the one hundred million had been duly paid over, after it was confirmed to him the lab had closed. That idiot scientist, Maglio Bordicelli, had assured him. “It is finished, all finished. I saw them shredding the files and destroying the samples. I took pictures. They were very unhappy, they believed they were breaking new ground with science, making important discoveries, but, they understood it all had to stop. I saw it with my own eyes. It was all destroyed. Here are the photographs I took.”
But it hadn’t all been destroyed. DelZoto had copies of the photographs taken by Bordicelli, but they didn’t mean a thing. The idiot scientist had been hoodwinked. The church had been defrauded! The mafia had taken the church’s money, but had not fulfilled their end of the agreement. They had given their guarantee the work at that laboratory would be terminated, that was the basis of their contract, and they had assured him this had been achieved, and here it was, just a few weeks later, starting up again, after a brief interruption! Barely a hiccup to what they were doing.
He would confront them. He would have a meeting with his mafia contact, to find out what had gone wrong, and he would do this quickly. He would hear what they had to say, listen to their excuses, and demand they take steps to complete their end of their bargain, and only after he had had that meeting, would he brief the Pope on what had happened.
When the call came that the Coca Cola man wanted to see him urgently, Matteo Bramboni was somewhat surprised. He thought his dealings with the church had concluded, and as he pondered the possible reasons for the meetings, he began to feel uneasy. His disquiet was soon given a reason.
“You have failed us, Mr. Bramboni. We made an agreement with you in good faith, and in good faith we paid you the money you asked, one hundred million U.S. dollars, a very large sum of money indeed. And you assured us you had completed your end of our agreement. But you have not done what you said you had done.”
Bramboni stared at the man. What was he talking about? The contract was to shut down the laboratory, and that had been done. They had lost the Sorensen boys, sure, but that had nothing to do with the laboratory being closed up. The later request, to keep the boys longer, was an add-on, nothing to do with their original agreement.
“What are you saying? We did not fail you. The laboratory did close down, finished, as we said it would be. We completed our bargain. Your own man verified it.”
“No, not finished, just interrupted, and only for a very brief period. It has started up again. They are doing again, what we tried to stop them doing. You took our money, which we paid over, as I said, in good faith, but you have not done what we paid you to do. We demand you give our money back.”
Bramboni was shocked. The church had provided its own scientist to oversee the shutting down of the laboratory, and this man had provided the evidence they required.
“I do not know what you are talking about. You have pictures showing destruction of the files and records of that place, the burning of the samples. Of course it was shut down. Your own man watched it happen. He took the pictures. You have them. He gave the guarantee. We did everything we said we would do. You’re not getting any money back.”
DelZoto’s anger intensified. His voice rose several decibels when he replied.
“No, you have not done everything you said you would do, that is the problem. We have it on good authority, that all the files and records were not destroyed. It seems copies were made, and now that wretched laboratory is starting up again, as if nothing has happened. You have failed, miserably. You were tricked, if you really believe you succeeded in shutting up the place. And we have been tricked. Nothing has been achieved. You must give us back our money.”
Matteo thought to himself, that is not going to happen.
“You say you have it on good authority. Just what authority is that?”
“I am afraid I cannot tell you my source, but it is impeccable. It should not be too hard for you to verify it, if you do not believe me.”
“Don’t worry about that, I will certainly verify it. As for your money, I said I would guarantee the laboratory shut down. If we have been tricked, it was your man who was fooled. It is your fault, you hired him, but don’t worry, it will be shut down. I will see that it is shut down, permanently.”
“What about our money?”
“You paid me to shut down the laboratory. I will see that it is shut down, and it will never re-open.”
“And just how do you propose to do that?”
Matteo looked hard into the man’s face. His implacable eyes made the man blanch, and he looked away.”
“You need not know that. Just believe me, it will happen, and soon.”
“It had better.”
Bramboni sneered at the threat. There was nothing this dumb bastard could do that would get him his money back, but Bramboni’s own strange sense of honour, was sufficient to drive him to fulfil his agreement.
“Was that a threat? Don’t you ever threaten me, it would not be good for your health. I have told you I will shut down the laboratory. It will happen.”
DelZoto recoiled at the tone in his voice, and knew he had better backtrack. This man’s reputation was frightening.
“I was not threatening you, I assure you. You must understand how disappointed we are. We will wait, and see what happens now.”
The meeting was over. Bramboni let the threat pass.
There was nothing this idiot, who thought he could pass himself off as a representative of Coca Cola, but who had ‘church’ written all over him, could do to hurt him, Matteo Bramboni, and there was no chance one dollar of that one hundred million was ever going to be returned. The man had been whistling in the wind to even suggest it. He was a fool.
The laboratory had started up again, resuming from where it had been interrupted! Sorensen had outwitted him again! The wool had been pulled over the eyes of the idiot Italian professor, Bordicelli, who was supposed to oversee destruction of everything in the laboratory.
Matteo did not know how it had been achieved, but if the laboratory was starting again, obviously everything had not been destroyed. He would verify this, his contact at the company servicing the helicopters flying out to the island, would know from the air traffic if something was going on, but in his heart, Matteo believed what he had just been told. Bordicelli had been tricked. He had not been thorough enough, and Matteo had failed to honour a contract, for which he had been paid.
There was nothing for it, but to carry out plan B, his second plan for the laboratory. He had suggested this as the best option in the first place, but the Coca Cola man had decided on the kidnapping. Matteo had told him he would need a further fifty million dollars to implement the second plan, that it was a better plan, guaranteed not to fail, but now it would be impossible to demand more money. He cursed under his breath. He would have to fund it himself, from the one hundred million.
The second plan was simple, but it required a lot more men and planning, and now that Peters was involved, would be much more dangerous. How much simpler it would have been to have taken this course of action in the first place, where he had the element of surprise. Still, he knew how to plan. He would not rush things, he would be very careful and thorough, and when it was over, there would be no laboratory.
With a bit of luck, there would also be no Peters. With him out of the way, killing Sorensen and his family later, would present no problem. They all had to die. That would be a just and honourable revenge for what they had done to poor Giovanni and their cousins.
When he returned home, Bramboni sent out the call to his brothers for a council of war. They had been expecting it. You don’t leave retribution for something like the murder of one of their own for too long, and Niccolo Abello and Domenico Balboni were both anxious to hear Bramboni’s plan for revenge, which is what they assumed the meeting would be about.
They were not anticipating what they were about to hear.
36
“We know the Vatican was behind the kidnapping of Viktor and Michael, and we know it was intended to put an end to the work you are doing, in your island laboratory. I doubt if the idea of kidnapping the boys originated with the church, that would have been the Mafia’s suggestion, but the church allowed it to happen, and paid for it, so they ultimately condoned it.
“Now that you have kicked on with the laboratory, I am afraid there will be another attempt to stop you. It’s not a question of, ‘will they try’, but ‘what’, and ‘when’, will they try. So, we have to keep a step ahead of them, anticipate what they might attempt, and pre-empt them. We are dealing with a ruthless organisation which will stop at nothing, and we have twisted their tail. The Mafia has a code of honour where one of their own is killed, and it is simple. There must be revenge.
“My guess is, Matteo Bramboni and his henchmen are sitting down right now, plotting and scheming how they can kill me, and you, both of us. Probably your entire family will be in their sights. I am not trying to unnecessarily frighten you, Frederik, but please don’t take this threat lightly. It is real, and it is not going to go away. Sooner or later it will happen, and my guess is it will be sooner, rather than later.”
Frederik Sorensen listened intently to Brent Peters’ words. He nodded gravely.
“I accept what you say. What can we do?”
“What are you planning next, with the laboratory? If the Mafia had a contract to shut it down, they will undoubtably have another crack at doing just that. They are a funny lot. They would slit their grandmother’s throat without blinking, to get pocket money, but when they undertake a professional hit, they usually deliver, or have a damned good try. It’s a strange set of ethics they operate by.
“If I was in Bramboni’s shoes, to stop the work, I would be either planning a direct assault on the laboratory, making sure everyone involved there was killed, or planning an assassination attempt on you and your family. Either would achieve the same end.”
Sorensen shook his head slowly, as he digested these words. He had brought danger to a group of brilliant scientists, who were applying all their considerable intellectual powers towards a goal both they, and he, believed in. He had also placed his loved ones in the firing line.
“To answer your question, Professor Wong tells me, the virus he has developed is now ready for testing. We have found a small village in Africa, in Uganda to be more precise, that is suitable for us to carry out the test. It is tricky.
“The purpose of the test is to see, first of all, if the virus spreads once it is released, and how far it spreads, also, how effective it is, and whether it maintains its effectiveness over an extended period. There is no easy way to do these tests. We couldn’t ask permission, of course, it would never be forthcoming. We had to make the decision to impose the tests, without the knowledge of the people being tested.
“The village we chose, is a microcosm of life in Africa. The people there breed without pause, they have large families, with no hope of ever being able to properly educate their children, or for that matter, guarantee they can even feed them. There is a lot of disease, the villagers have to guard their crops and stock, day and night, from other villages, who send out raiding parties to steal what they can, as well as animals.
“The test itself will be simple enough. We will release the virus into their water supply, set up a small medical centre, so we can use it to monitor what happens over the next twelve months, then watch, and see what happens. A year should be long enough to tell Wong, if his virus is going to work.
“What we expect is, there should be an immediate drop in the rate of new pregnancies. Over time, the village population will firstly stabilise, then, if the virus continues to do its job, as hoped, eventually the village will shrink in size. Fewer new babies will be born, to replace people as they die of natural causes.
“I know it sounds grim, but we can see no other alternative to stemming the ballooning world population, short of some killer virus that would take out large numbers, quickly, a pandemic. Not having lots of children running around will be sad, but in the end, the aim is to save the world from breeding itself to a miserable extinction. It would be far less painful than a killer pandemic, or endless wars.”
Peters listened intently.
“So, when do you anticipate this test will get under way?”
“The laboratory is working at making a sufficient quantity of the virus to properly carry out the test. Wong tells me he hopes to be ready to get started soon, probably in just a few more weeks. In the meantime, I have to put in place the monitoring facilities in the village, the medical centre.
I also intend to establish a small school, and combine this with the medical centre. I have already lined up teaching staff, as well as a trained nurse with considerable experience, for the clinic. She can call in a doctor when needed, who I will fly in by chopper. The planning is already in hand. The staff don’t need to know about the test. Whether the virus succeeds, or not, will be self evident in time.”
“You do not plan to personally visit the village?”
“I have already been there, with Wong, to check it out. No, there is no need for me to go back there, just yet. The people I am sending are competent, and they know they can call me, if anything further is required.”
“That is good. You would be very exposed, there. So, you
will be staying here, in Stockholm, in your home, for now?”
“Well, yes, I was intending to. Is there a problem with that?”
Peters looked into his eyes.
“Frederik, I want to keep you alive, you and Helena, and Viktor and Michael. Until I can locate Matteo Bramboni, and his henchmen, and neutralize them, we must assume they will make an attempt on your life, you and the other family members, so you have to keep your heads down, and I’ll provide protection. I am working on that.
“We also have to assume there will be an assault on the laboratory, and I am guessing that might happen fairly soon. Bramboni will need a number of his soldiers for that, a sufficient number to make sure he has overwhelming force. He is not a fool. I already have four of my men on the island, but that will not be enough, I will boost their numbers. It is going to cost you, but it is necessary.”
“I understand. Do what you have to. What do I tell Helena and the boys?”
“The kidnapping has been a warning, and the lads will not be rushing into taking chances again, I dare say. They are not to leave the house without proper protection. I will draw up a protocol, and sit down with them, and go over it. I am guessing Bramboni will have spies keeping an eye on this house. I would like to put someone, maybe even two people, on the outside, to look out for them. I’ll have to rotate my people so they won’t be noticed. Is that okay?”
At Peters’ insistence, no member of his family left the home compound on foot. Frederik sent his motor vehicles away to have their windows dark-tinted, which obscured who was in the vehicles, and the windscreens replaced with ridiculously expensive, supposedly bulletproof, glass. Also, at Peters’ insistence, razor wire was rolled out along the boundary walls of the compound, and his men patrolled the grounds, day and night. From the outside, his home resembled a gaol.
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