by Liz Wolfe
Shahid nodded. He found it interesting how the doctor referred to his victims as subjects. As though they were less than human. Probably it made it easier for the doctor to do what he did. Shahid had no such compunctions. He was well aware that his intent was to kill certain other human beings and he would not try to make it sound otherwise.
The tape began and showed the people in a large bare room, but for two sofas, several chairs, and a couple of tables. The tables held an assortment of cookies and snacks and a few two-liter bottles of soft drinks.
“The virus is being administered by food and drink?” Shahid asked. “This is unacceptable. We must have an airborne delivery.”
“Of course,” Dr. Stubeck nodded. “The food and drink were only there to put the subjects at ease. Here’s the actual delivery of the virus.”
Shahid heard a hissing sound and could just barely see a mist shooting out from several nozzles in the ceiling. Within minutes, the people began to react.
“This is the initial phase. The subjects are experiencing extreme pain as the Neurotox activates the clotting factors in the blood all over the body.”
Shahid watched the television without any expression.
“As blood clots form, all the clotting factors are used up. Moments later the subjects bleed freely until they die.”
Shahid wondered at Dr. Stubeck’s cheerful tone. He seemed delighted to have created such a dreadful virus. And he didn’t even know whom it would be used against. The people Shahid would kill with the Neurotox were sacrifices. They were infidels and they would serve as a message to other infidels. Stubeck was willing to provide the means for their destruction without any understanding of whom the victims were or why they must die. He glanced at Stubeck, then turned his attention back to the television. Perhaps when they were successful Stubeck would be enlightened.
Two of the people began bleeding from their eyes and noses, then their hands moved up to clutch at their chests. Uncontrollable trembling followed. After five minutes, the first two had soiled themselves and lay crumpled on the floor. Shahid watched as the others followed. All ten of them were dead within twenty minutes. He was pleased.
“It is ready for delivery?”
“Not quite.” Dr. Stubeck shook his head. “I mean, it works the way it is, but I’m trying to get it more stable. Right now it’s intolerant of extreme cold, and I understand that could be a problem for you.”
“Possibly.” The plans for delivering Neurotox hadn’t been finalized, but it was at least probable that they would have little control of the environment at some point.
“It will be ready in another month,” the doctor said. “I’m trying to stabilize it within an acceptable range. Say between ten and twenty-six degrees Celsius?
“That should be acceptable,” Shahid agreed. “The next payment will be transferred later this week.”
Now to give Ziyad the good news.
November 18, Walter Reed Medical Center,
Washington, D.C.
“My new handler?” Zoe asked Shelby. “I don’t want a new handler. I want you.”
“Leatherman will be better. He’s more familiar with the Order than anyone else. You need him to be your handler. Besides, I have to get back to Portland.”
“Why? Can’t Paige and Mac just take care of business there?”
“A new case has come in that needs my attention. Look, Zoe, I wouldn’t do this if I thought it was shortchanging you in any way. But the truth is that Leatherman would be your handler whether I’m here or not. All I’d be doing is holding your hand.”
Zoe followed her down the hall of the hospital to one of the patient rooms. She knew Shelby was right and she didn’t want to be a baby about it, but still she didn’t like it. Shelby knocked, then opened the door when a man’s voice answered. Zoe’s eyes widened when she saw a tall man with his back to them. The hospital gown gave her a view of his taut butt and well-formed legs. His dark hair was buzzed close to his head and he had a large, muscular frame, with not an ounce of extra fat on his frame. She cleared her throat and looked out the window while the man turned around.
“Hey, Shelby. I thought you were the doctor coming back in.” He climbed into the hospital bed without bothering to hold the gown together. Zoe looked at him briefly, then at the window again, trying to give him some privacy while he maneuvered himself back into the bed.
“Drake Leatherman, Zoe Alexander,” Shelby said as Drake stretched his bare legs out and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed.
“Hey, Zoe.” He grinned and his eyes ran the length of her body.
“Nice to meet you,” Zoe said.
“You’re going to be Zoe’s handler for a while,” Shelby said.
“Handler? No way.” Drake shook his head and laughed. “Shelby, I’m an agent, not a handler.”
“You’re going to be on desk duty for the next three months. You have to be doing something. Besides, you’re the best person for this.”
Drake crossed his arms over his chest, smiled at Shelby, and shook his head slowly.
“Zoe is going undercover with the Order,” Shelby explained.
His dark eyes narrowed under lowered brows, and he turned his gaze to Zoe. “Don’t do it.”
Shelby ignored Drake’s objection. “I need you to fill her in on the Order. Everything you know about them.”
“I know they’re dangerous. I know they’re ruthless. I know they will eat you for breakfast.” He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “Trust me, you don’t want to go anywhere near them.”
“That might be true,” Zoe said. “But I’m doing it anyway and I’d appreciate your help.” She’d already argued with Shelby about Drake being her handler. She’d lost. And she had to admit that Shelby had a point. Drake knew more about the Order and the Triumviratethan anyone else. And Shelby had promised that she’d still be around.
“I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman.” Drake grinned briefly, then lowered his brow. “But, no.”
Zoe smiled tightly. Under other circumstances she’d be tempted to engage in a little flirting with him. Not that she’d ever been any good at it. Besides this wasn’t exactly the best time.
“The Order is looking for a thief to steal some documents for them. Zoe is, ah—” Shelby cleared her throat. “Zoe is well trained. She won’t have any problem convincing them of her ability. And we’ve got a solid background set up on her.”
“We had solid backgrounds set up on all the agents we sent in, Shelby. I’m the only one who came back, and I’ve been in this damn hospital almost a month recovering from the experience.” Drake flexed a fist, drawing Zoe’s attention to a thick scar that bisected an intricate tattoo encircling his bicep. “If those agents were found out, she doesn’t stand a chance of convincing them she’s a thief.”
“There’s a difference,” Zoe said.
Drake arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? What’s that?”
“I really am a thief.”
Shelby filled Drake in on Zoe’s background and the agent finally nodded. “You might have a chance.
A slim chance. Still, I can’t say I think it’s a good idea.”
“So what can you tell me about them?” Zoe took the chair next to his bed.
“Not much. Not enough.” Drake looked at Shelby. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“Shelby told me about the Triumvirate that runs the Order. Did you meet any of them?”
Drake nodded. “All three of them.”
Zoe gritted her teeth. “Anything you’d like to share about them?”
“They’re all mean men.”
Shelby spoke before Zoe could tell Drake exactly what she thought of his reluctance. “What do you know about the villa they have in Italy?”
“It’s enormous. There’s an underground area that we think is at least as big as the house, but we don’t know what they’re doing there. I was held there, but I wasn’t able to see much of it,” Drake said.
“Could that be w
here they’re carrying out the cold fusion research?” Zoe asked.
Drake nodded. “We believe they house up to twenty people there.”
“Possibly against their will,” Shelby added.
“If they’re trying to develop cold fusion, they’d need scientists and physicists, right?”
“Exactly. None of the top scientists or physicistsare missing, though. Other than Castiglia,” Shelby said.
“Maybe Castiglia is the only physicist they need, although that seems unlikely. And scientists and physicists could be missing whom you don’t know about,” Zoe said.
“What?” Shelby frowned at her.
“Just because you’re really good at something doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily famous for it.” She shrugged. “I’d bet that there are plenty of scientists and physicists you don’t know about who could understand those documents.”
“You know, Shelby, this probably isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Drake said.
“How’s that?” Shelby asked.
“She’s just going to be treated like hired help by them. They aren’t going to invite her into the inner sanctum and share all their secrets.”
“We’re not sending her in to spy on the Order. Her job is to steal for the Order and secure copies of those documents for us. At least with that, we can have our own scientists working on cold fusion.”
“Except Forrester has already gotten his hands on some of the documents. Your scientists won’t have those.”
“We have to start somewhere.” Shelby lifted her hands, palms up. “This is where we start.”
“When?” Drake asked.
“I’m doing my first job for them on Thursday. Stefano Montoya’s compound in Mexico,” Zoe said.
Drake turned his attention to Shelby. “I still don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”
Zoe stood up and scowled at Shelby. “I’ve had enough of this. My time would be better spent going over those aerial maps and floor plans. I don’t need a handler to steal. I know what I’m doing.” She had her hand on the door handle when Drake responded. “Wait.”
Zoe turned back to him.
“Fine. I’ll tell you everything I know about the Order.”
“Good.” Zoe crossed the room and sat in the chair.
“I just don’t think it’s going to help you in the long run.”
6
November 20, 35,000 Feet over the Southern United States
“DO YOU WANT TO USE the bed?”
“Excuse me?” Zoe turned to Logan, who was removing his seat belt. What the hell was he suggesting?
“Do you want to use the bed for a nap? It’s a long flight. Figured we might as well get some rest.”
“Oh.” Zoe looked toward the back of the Gulf-stream V, the Triumvirate’s private jet. Maybe there was something in the bedroom that would tell her more about them. “Sure. Good idea.” She unfastened her seat belt.
“I’m going to go over the plans again.”
Zoe opened the door at the back of the sleek jet. The bedroom held a queen-sized bed, a small desk with several drawers, and a chair. She closed the door behind her and flipped the lock. The desk drawers held nothing but stationery. The drawers under theplatform bed revealed extra sheets, blankets, and pillows. The space was compact and neat. Nothing else to investigate.
Disappointed, Zoe stretched out on the bed and consciously relaxed her body, starting at her scalp and moving down to her toes. She concentrated on her breathing, letting the stress dissolve and dissipate. When she thought about the heist, she acknowledged the thought without dwelling on it. Soon the edges of her thoughts softened and blurred. She concentrated on calm and serenity. After half an hour, she pulled a soft wool blanket over her, letting the hum of the plane lull her to sleep.
She woke two hours later to a soft knock on the door. Remembering that she’d locked the door, she leaped off the bed, flipped the lock, and opened the door to Logan.
“I thought you might want something to drink.”
“Sure. That sounds good.” Zoe cleared her throat and blinked the sleep from her eyes. “How long until we arrive in Mexico City?”
“Almost two hours. You want Kona Blend, Vanilla Hazelnut, or French Roast?”
“Actually, I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I don’t suppose there’s any tea on board?”
“Peppermint, Earl Grey, or English Breakfast?”
“All the comforts of home,” Zoe said. “English
Breakfast would be nice, thanks.”
“I’ll heat up some water.”
She ducked into the small bathroom, splashed water on her face, and ran her hands through her hair. Her eyes looked a little dilated, and she could feel the buzz of anticipation running through her limbs. She dried her face on a thick guest towel and joined Logan in the main cabin.
The jet was appointed like a luxury hotel. The main cabin held eight leather seats, a wet bar stocked with expensive liquor and fresh snacks, and a table that could be raised and lowered. Zoe sank into one of the seats and looked at the plans spread on the table.
The Triumvirate had furnished her with aerial photographs of the compound they were breaking into. Of course, she’d been studying the photographs Ethan had given her for the past week. The photos the Triumvirate furnished were as good as the ones from Ethan, and Zoe wondered where they’d gotten them.
Logan set a cup of tea on the table and eased into the seat next to her. “So, how do we go about this?”
Zoe sipped the tea and pointed to a small road on the map. “We’ll travel over this road. From the airport, it’s about two hours to the compound. We should arrive sometime after midnight tonight.” Her finger traced the road to the compound. “Everyone is usually in bed by eleven. At midnight, the guards lock the front gate, set the alarms, and put the dogs out.”
“Strange,” Logan said. “Why not have guards around the clock?”
“Most likely Señor Montoya doesn’t think there’s a need. And, in general, he’s right.” She leaned back in her seat. “What do you know about Montoya?”
“That he’s a businessman, used to be involved in some drug cartel.”
“That was quite a few years ago. Which is to our advantage. Montoya is nearly eighty. He ended his involvement with the drug cartel eight years ago. I guess he thought he had enough money.” She shrugged. “Since he’s not active, no one has any reason to attack him. The security around his compound isn’t as tight as it used to be.”
“So, he just sits in that compound out in the middle of nowhere all the time?”
Zoe shook her head. “No. He’s become a patron of the arts. He actually spends most of his time traveling. He donates generously to the ballet, museums, symphonies, that sort of thing.”
“I assume he’s not in residence now?”
“Exactly. Only his servants. Still, we can’t be too careful.”
“If he’s not in any danger, why the elaborate security?”
“Art. Montoya is not only a benefactor, but acollector. He has probably five to eight million dollars of art in the compound.”
“I see. And is this how you know so much about him and his security?”
Zoe grinned. “You could say that.” That and the fact she’d gotten information from Ethan and Shelby. “I have some sources.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Logan considered her for a moment. “So, after we get to the compound, what do we do?”
“I’ll deactivate the alarm, we’ll tranq the dogs, I’ll open the safe, and then we’re done.”
“You make it sound easy.”
Zoe stood and stretched. “It’s not the hardest job I’ve ever done.”
“From the money you’re asking, I’d thought it would be more difficult.”
“Oh, it’s not easy, by any means. There’s lots that could go wrong. But it won’t. Because I’m good at what I do. Worth every dollar.”
The speakers in the walls of the plane crackled and they both turned toward the p
ilot’s voice as he announced their approach to Mexico City. “I’m going to change before we have to buckle up for landing.” Zoe carried her small suitcase into the bedroom and laid it on the bed. She pulled out black knit pants, a thin black turtleneck, and a colorful vest. After they leftthe airport, she’d only have to exchange the colorful vest for the utility vest in the locker and change her shoes to be dressed for the job. She folded her jeans and sweater, tossed them into the suitcase, and joined Logan in the main cabin just as the pilot asked them to return to their seats and fasten their seat belts for landing.
They passed through customs smoothly, mostly because they each carried only one small bag. Less than an hour after landing, they were standing in front of the car rental desk.
“The Triumvirate would have arranged a car for us,” Logan said.
“I like to make my own plans.” Zoe placed her driver’s license on the counter. “I have a car reserved.”
The woman smiled, typed her information into the computer, then handed Zoe a set of keys. “Thank you. The car is on level two parking. A dark blue Lincoln.”
Zoe thanked the woman and walked to the escalator. On the second floor, she turned away from the parking garage and headed for a bank of lockers. She pulled out a key and opened a locker. “Here.” She handed Logan a nylon bag and pulled out another one for herself.
“What’s this?” Logan asked.
“Equipment that we’ll need. We couldn’t exactly go through customs with this stuff.” Zoe led theway to the parking garage and pulled a map from her suitcase before she threw it into the backseat with the other bag.
“Nice,” Logan said, settling into the passenger seat of the Lincoln town car. “I was expecting some little economy car.”
“Enjoy it while you can.” Zoe pulled out of the garage and headed south. Half an hour later she turned onto a small dirt road for a few miles, then pulled into the bare yard of a small house.
“Why are we stopping?” Logan asked.
“We’re trading cars. Where we’re going we need four-wheel drive. Leave your suitcase and bring the bags.” Zoe waved at the man who stepped out of the house. He spoke to her in heavily accented English, and ignored Logan. Zoe followed the man around to the back of the house to a beat-up Jeep.