by Ronie Kendig
“Who is that? Who’s he talking to?” Tox asked.
Cell paused it. Pointed to a shadow that fell into view at the lower right of the feed. “Someone off-camera.”
“Where did this video come from again?” Tox asked.
Haven shook her head. “I don’t know. I was reviewing what happened with Kaine when the file appeared on my desktop.”
“Someone must’ve hacked her system, dropped the file for her to find,” Cell said.
“That’s convenient,” Ram muttered.
With a nod, Tox focused on the comms guy. “Can you find out who he’s talking to?”
“Uh, maybe. I can run voice analysis. . . .”
Tox motioned to the monitor. “Play the rest.”
“I’m not sure it’s working” came Attaway’s whine.
“It’s okay,” the voice replied. “Focus on new. They’ll feel our vengeance with their last, burning breath.”
“New what?”
“That wasn’t helpf—”
“Kaine said football.” Maangi went pale, his large eyes coming to them.
“Yeah?”
“Not new.” Maangi’s eyebrows rose. “Nou—Camp Nou, the stadium in Barcelona. ‘Focus on Nou.’”
Tox understood. “They’re going to hit the World Cup.”
43
— Day 14 —
London
A man should not have to bury both his wife and daughter. Galen sat in Evie’s room, the hissing and beeping of machines the only indication that his daughter had not yet succumbed to the virus.
Evie was a fighter. Always had been. She came into the world with a thick mop of dark hair like her mother and a very healthy pair of lungs. When Brooke died three years ago, Evie had waged a battle of wills to see which of them could go the longest without mentioning her mother. It broke his heart—his attempts to win weren’t intentional. Losing Brooke weeks before the inauguration nearly collapsed his will to go on. Some even wondered if he was fit to assume office.
That was the breaking point. Evie heard the rumors. Heard the ugly talk. She challenged him to stand up to the bullies. He swore his oath on the Bible and with his daughter’s arm tucked through his, he became president.
It wasn’t that Evie was ever rebellious or rotten. She was just . . . willful. A trait she’d come by honestly, receiving a hefty dose from both parents.
Maybe even her uncle.
Galen glanced down, thoughts of his brother plaguing him. Tox hadn’t changed. He was all business. Protector. Intense. Had he noticed something between Tox and Haven? Something romantic?
The thought seemed ludicrous, especially for Tox.
A door hissed open.
Galen straightened and saw the white lab coat of Dr. Honorie. He came to his feet, almost unwillingly. “Lab results?”
Dr. Honorie nodded, his expression grave.
“Not good?”
“Her numbers are high. Faster than we can keep up. Her kidneys and liver are shutting down. We’ll do what we can, but we’re not far from full life support.”
Galen dropped into the chair. Cradled his head in his hands. He sighed, then looked back up at the doctor. “So . . . she’s dying.” The words pushed him to her bedside, where he brushed a black strand of hair from her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but . . .”
Galen shifted and saw Barry’s reflection in the glass. He lifted his daughter’s hand and kissed around the IV line, then set it back down. He turned to Barry. “I thought you had work to do.”
“I do—did.” He nodded to the doctor.
Honorie lowered his head.
Galen’s gut twisted. “What?”
“Another case of the disease has been reported,” Honorie said.
“Where?”
“Here. Third floor. Pediatrics.”
Guilt crushed Galen, his heart stricken at the thought of another parent having to endure this. And Evie had the best medicine because he was the president of the United States. The innocent civilian somewhere in this hospital wouldn’t have the same options. “Bring the child up here.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Dr. Honorie said.
“I want them to have the best care.”
“I understand, but—”
“It’s better to quarantine the child from the others, right?”
Hesitation gave his answer.
“Do it,” Galen said.
Reluctantly, the doctor left.
Galen returned to watching Evie, sagging under the weight on his shoulders. Depressed. She’d be with her mother soon, the two of them watching over him.
“Sir?”
“What?” he asked, not turning around.
“I . . . when I spoke with your brother . . .”
Strange how those words—your brother—didn’t make his gut tighten this time. In fact, it almost gave him hope. “Go on.”
“I told him he needed to look into Naftali.”
Galen spun. “Naftali Regev?” When Barry nodded, Galen came unglued. “Are you insane? He is our strongest ally in Israel.”
Barry tucked his chin.
“Do you realize what will happen if Naftali finds out you are giving his name as a terrorist? Do you understand the damage—”
“It was necessary, sir.” Barry looked contrite, though he didn’t have a contrite cell in his body.
“Necessary to alienate us from one of our strongest allies? How could that be necessary?”
“You were in danger.”
“Me?”
“I received a video of you”—Barry motioned around the room—“here. With Evie in the bed. They said if I did not get Tox out of London, they would kill you.”
“You’re an idiot, Barry!” Galen raked a hand through his hair, frustration tightening his muscles. “If I die, the vice president will replace me. Once you step into the noose of organizations like this, you are forever ensnared! I am ensnared!”
The door flapped open. Dr. Honorie rushed in with three nurses.
Galen’s knees nearly buckled, fearing the worst. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Dr. Honorie’s face lit. “I think we have a cure!”
****
— Day 15 —
Somewhere over the Bay of Biscay
Tox palmed the table, staring at the fact sheets taped to the wall of the plane.
“Tzivia’s headed to Israel,” Ram said. “I told her about the censer we got from Kaine. Dr. Cathey is convinced he can end this once the censers are together.”
Tox nodded.
“National Police Corps are on alert in Barcelona,” Maangi announced as he ended a call. “Took some convincing. But once they authenticated us with SAARC, their attitude changed.”
“Good.” Tox scratched his jaw. “So . . . why are they targeting the World Cup?”
“Big numbers.” Ram rapped on a page listing the number of attendees. “They like to make a bang.”
Dark eyes weighted with the horrible truth, Chiji frowned. “So many lives . . .”
Imagining the nearly one hundred thousand spectators coming away with more than a victory or loss churned his gut. “Open-air stadium with deadly virus . . .” He could only shake his head. “But I thought it wasn’t definite that the virus is airborne. How are they going to spread it? They can’t have that many people there to act as hosts.”
“Or can they?” Cell added, waggling his eyebrows.
Wallace joined them. “I thought it was spread through infectious contamination.”
“Onset varies,” Maangi said, reading a report. “They still haven’t discerned how the site workers got sick, how Chatresh’s brother got it.”
Tox hated this. Hated the not knowing. “So why this place? Just numbers?”
“Royals. World leaders,” Cell said.
Arms folded, Tox looked at Cell, who had his feet on the table, eyeing the wall as he ate an energy bar. “Go on.”
“Yeah,” Cell said. “A king, some princes, diplomats. That�
�s some serious VIP happening there.”
Tox considered the information wall. “You might be on to something.”
“They do love to rearrange the world order,” Ram said.
Tox’s phone rang, and he plucked it from his holster. After he checked the ID, he answered, tension knots tightening in his shoulders. “Galen.”
“Good news—they’ve found an antigen for the virus.”
The breath trapped in Tox’s throat whooshed out. “That is good news. So Evie . . .”
“Too soon,” Galen said. “They aren’t sure if they caught it fast enough. She’s undergoing a transfusion right now. But I’m hoping. Praying.”
“Me too.” He’d whispered a few prayers for his niece.
“I’d better go. Barry needs—”
“Oh. Hey.” Tox walked to the back of the plane. “Galen, listen, I have a concern about Attaway. He—”
“He told me all about it.”
Surprise rooted Tox to the spot. “He did?”
“They were blackmailing him to force you out of the country and to threaten me. Don’t worry. I gave him what-for about caving to their tactics.”
“Tox!”
He turned to the front, where Ram waved him back. He lowered his head. “Hey, I need to get going.”
“Right. To save the world.”
“God willing.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Yep.” Tox returned to the table, snagged on the almost-normal tone of his call with Galen. “What’s up?”
“We’ve narrowed it down to three targets. First, Felipe Alonso of Spain—not a nobleman but he wields more power in his little finger than most kings in their lifetime. He has three multibillion-dollar corporations, all connected to the tech industry. He’ll be there with his son and daughter.”
“Why him?”
“Big negotiations lately over expansions into new, cutting-edge fields.”
“Like?”
“Military-grade armor and shields. Company out of Beijing claims the tech is stolen.” Ram shrugged. “I thought every tech company stole from the other.”
“They do,” Cell muttered.
“Who else?”
“Prince Constantine from Belgium. His father is on the cusp of death, and the prince is already acting head of state.” Ram nodded. “He’s a controversial person. Breaking with traditions and conservative values of the crown. Seems to have some less-than-ideal advisors, but I’m not convinced Constantine is a target because he’ll be in the commentator’s box. As a former player, he’s a guest, giving thoughts on the matches.”
“Why’s that exclude him?”
“The glass—bulletproof—protects him. No easy way to get to him.”
Tox grunted. “And third?”
“King Jorgen of Norway and his son, Prince Einar. There’s been a movement in the country lately to join their allies in placing harsher sanctions against certain Middle East countries. Jorgen is for it, and some say easily manipulated. Einar opposes it—intel says his lover is a Saudi princess.”
“Okay,” Tox said, going to the grease board wall. “We’ll break into three teams. Ram and Maangi, you’ll take Spain. Levi, Chiji, and Haven—Belgium.” It was the lesser risk, right? He wanted her in the safest place, but because of those lethal deception skills, he needed her onsite. “Cell, you and I will take Norway.”
Ram nodded. “NPC will be onsite for the main match this afternoon. They’ll have agents in plain clothes as well as uniformed officers. We’ll cover the boxes where our targets will watch the match.”
Tox looked at them. “Maangi, get hold of the doctor at Evie’s hospital. Find out about the antigen for the virus—”
“Antigen?”
“Galen said they found one. We’ll need a lab onsite to get vials prepped for anyone exposed to this plague.” Tox scowled. Hesitated on his next words. “I want everyone in armor and eyes out. The problem is—they know us. We don’t know them. This could get ugly really fast.”
44
— Day 15 —
Jerusalem
“Thank you for coming.”
With Tzivia at his side, Joseph Cathey entered the underground room of the museum. “You said it was urgent. Please tell me they’ve agreed to let me see the Codex. I only want to stop this plague.”
A wide, low-ceilinged room spread out before them. Four light tables consumed most of the area, but there was enough space for walls of shelving at the far end. The closest table held a museum folder and a small box.
“I have a leaf for you.” Akiva went to the table, where he lifted the folder.
One? One leaf? Joseph needed to scour the whole Codex to see if there were other Thefarie marks. “Did I not convey well enough the danger—”
“It is such an honor, Joseph, to see this page.” Akiva’s words were soft but tinged with warning. “You lost the censers—”
“Stolen. Not our fault,” Tzivia growled.
“They are no longer in your possession.” Akiva arched an eyebrow, his hands behind his back. “And you expect us to trust you with more of the Crown? Pfft.”
It was true but hardly their fault. Yet Joseph knew the Codex’s guardians would hold that over their heads. Setting aside his cane and frustration, Joseph had little choice. He and Tzivia donned the gloves Akiva provided, then opened the folder. A leaf of history stared at him with its withered, crinkled face. “May I remove it? To use the light.”
“Gently.”
Joseph eased the leaf from the protective folder. Laid it on the table.
“The cross,” Tzivia whispered, pointing to the Thefarie symbol.
He nodded, then slid his gaze right to left, searching columns for an odd mark. He scanned again.
“I don’t see a mark,” Tzivia muttered.
“Mm.” Joseph lifted the leaf and tilted it. Stared down the plane of its surface. “Ah,” he breathed. There was a mark, but not of ink. An indentation, as if something had worn off. It rested over the words bnei Aaron. “Aaron’s sons.”
“But they’ve been dead for centuries,” Tzivia said.
Aaron’s sons. Censers. Oil. The three marks of Thefarie didn’t provide enough to know what to do. He considered Akiva. “Friend, we must see more.”
“You have seen enough,” Akiva said, his gaze darkening. “I would suggest you return the censers to us, Miss Khalon, since you are unable to protect them.”
“They were stolen from me, but we have recovered three. We simply need—”
“You have the censer of Korah?”
Joseph stilled. How did Akiva know which of the censers they had recovered from the AFO agent? “Wait,” he whispered, his breath stolen as his gaze hit the small box next to the folder. “You.”
Akiva flinched.
“You have the last censer. You recovered it from Maloof.” How had Mossad gotten it? Had they killed the Saudi soldier? It didn’t matter—they had other work to do.
Akiva’s hand rested over the box protectively. “I am not convinced you have proven yourself.”
The Mossad, protectors of Israel and her history, in collusion with the IAA, would fight him to eternity. Unless he gave them something of use. But what did he have? His gaze struck the corner of the leaf and once more he wondered . . . “I have a theory.”
“I would hear nothing—”
“I don’t believe the Codex has been ruined by Thefarie’s marks.”
Akiva stilled, his eyes narrowing. Proud but unrelenting.
“If I can prove that the Codex is not compromised, will you help me finish this puzzle?” He shifted toward the rabbi. “Do away with this conspiracy of silence, Akiva, and help the world by stopping this plague and returning the Codex to its rightful place.”
Akiva hesitated. “Bring me the censers and the leaf in your possession, and I will show you what you need.”
****
— Barcelona, Spain —
Breathing. Breathing would be good. Kasey drew in a breath throu
gh her nostrils and let it out between her lips. The crowds . . . the sheer number . . . so many people. They’d landed an hour before the start of the match, but the stadium was already filled to capacity.
She walked the space behind the commentator’s box where the Belgian prince sat, deflecting the nasty looks from the personal bodyguard, who didn’t trust her despite verified credentials. Really, a prince should always have a deception expert. Then again, that might be too much information, knowing every time someone was pulling a fast one.
Binoculars to her eyes, she scanned the stadium. Spotted Cole and Cell at the VIP lounge with the playboy prince and his father, who seemed just as glad to have beautiful women around him. Arms over his chest, Cole stood to the side, watching. Looking fierce and forbidding. She whirled around to look at the others watching Spain’s box.
“How much you want to bet they’re NPC?”
Kasey glanced at Levi, then in the direction he indicated. A man strode the walkway behind a row of bleachers with a deep-set scowl.
“Not exactly subtle.”
“We don’t want them to be,” Kasey said.
“If AFO has planned a big hit like this, they aren’t going to worry about a few police officers running up and down the stadium.”
“Eyes out,” Tox’s growl rumbled through the comms.
Kasey twitched, glancing over her shoulder. Half expected to be able to see him at this distance. But there was a strange comfort simply knowing Cole was watching.
****
Tox pulled his gaze from the commentator box. It wasn’t that he could see Haven. He could hear her. That soft voice in his ear, chatting casually. Probably forgetting her mic was hot.
Trolling the aisles, making eye contact with every person who dared look at him, Tox hadn’t spotted anything or anyone out of the ordinary. But that was the point. The AFO had a way of blending in, becoming not just a part of the crowd, but becoming the crowd itself.
Ear. Watch the ears. Tanin gave them a cheat in finding him. It’d be an obvious thing to have to cover up, which still helped them. Hats, bushy hair, keffiyehs . . . Tox scanned the crowds, again feeling the heat of the assassin’s scope on his skull. He had an awful feeling they’d be on him before he knew it. Which was why he’d put Chiji with Haven, to make sure she came out of this alive.