“I won’t be here long and neither will you,” Masson said. “You must report to Skyrm immediately. All of us must go.”
“Go? I cannot leave here. I must try to repair Prometheus.”
“Skyrm wants to hear directly from your lips why the demonstration failed. I just spoke to him.”
“How?” Professor DeJonge asked. “No one can use mobile phones on the base.”
Masson grinned. “It seems I broke a law. Imagine that.”
As the two men argued, Larissa stepped to Brian’s side. “I don’t trust him,” she murmured.
“Your father shouldn’t, either,” Brian said.
“You two be quiet,” Masson said. He jabbed a finger at Brian. “Especially you.”
“You do not talk to my daughter that way,” Professor DeJonge said. “Nor the boy. I refuse to deliver him back to Skyrm. That is not the arrangement.”
“The boy will not be harmed,” Masson said. “We will go to the workshop. You will report to Skyrm, then we will all return here.”
“And what do I say to General Bayard?” Professor DeJonge asked. “I told him I would remain here all night if necessary to repair the prototype.”
Masson was prepared for this. “Tell him you need diagnostic equipment from your workshop and you will return within the hour. It will take no longer than that; so do not anger Skyrm by delaying. He insists on debriefing you personally.”
“Debrief,” Professor DeJonge said. “Listen to you people. You say the boy has seen too many spy movies, but you are just as delusional. You should have heard the tale he was weaving before you interrupted.”
Masson folded his arms and regarded Brian. “Please,” he said with mock solicitude, “enlighten me, Professor.”
Brian shook his head, and Larissa spoke his thoughts. “No, Papa.”
But the professor pressed on. “Mr. Parker here says that you have another Mercedes Sprinter identical to the Prometheus delivery system, and he believes that sometime after the demonstration you were going to switch those vans.”
Masson continued to stare at Brian, but Brian couldn’t read his expression. It could have been curiosity or scorn. Brian looked back impassively.
Masson kept his eyes on Brian as he addressed Professor DeJonge. “Why would we take Prometheus from you when you assisted in its development?”
“I did more than assist, and Skyrm knows that.”
“All Skyrm knows is the demonstration was a debacle,” Masson said. He shifted his gaze to the professor. “All Skyrm knows is the assembled military experts of Europe consider Prometheus a joke and Eduoard DeJonge a bumbler. All Skyrm knows, and all that matters at the moment, Professor, is your machine doesn’t work.”
Masson turned to Brian with a smug smile. “So tell me, boy, why would we bother to steal something that doesn’t work?”
And then Brian knew the truth. Masson’s contempt gave it away.
“You wouldn’t,” Brian replied, “because you already stole it.”
CHAPTER 33--BARGAINING
Brian’s words had an electrifying effect. Larissa tensed. Her father gaped. Masson scowled. Brian kept talking. “That van out there is a dummy, isn’t it? You switched it for the real Prometheus van yesterday, somewhere between the warehouse and the base? And you drove it yourself. That’s why the guard at the gate recognized you.”
Masson eyed the professor. “You don’t believe this boy, do you?”
“You were the one entrusted with delivering Prometheus to the base yesterday,” Professor DeJonge responded. He looked at Brian, “But …”
“But why? He just told us,” Brian said. “So that the assembled military experts of Europe would consider Prometheus a joke and you a bumbler.”
Challenging Masson like this was dangerous, but Brian saw no alternative. He needed to win over Professor DeJonge quickly. He pressed on: “It’s a brilliant trick, really. They got Eurocorps to fund the Prometheus weapon, and I bet convinced them to fast-track it to get a working prototype in the field before America could”—Brian was careful to omit the professor’s culpability from the story—“and somehow they invited all those military leaders here to watch Prometheus shoot nothing more than sparks.
“After today’s fiasco the military leaders will go home thinking Prometheus is a colossal waste of money, probably convinced it failed because they rushed it. And while blame is assigned, Skyrm’s crew takes the original, working prototype and sells it to the highest bidder.”
“It is true, Papa,” Larissa said. “We heard them, he and Skyrm, say this plan would make them rich.”
Professor DeJonge glared at Masson. Brian wondered how Masson would play it. He anticipated another accusation involving too many Foster Blake movies, but Masson’s response was 180 degrees from Brian’s expectations.
“The scheme will make us all rich, Professor,” Masson said. “We couldn’t tell you about the plot to switch vehicles beforehand, because we didn’t trust your acting abilities. That is why Skyrm wants to meet with you now, to fill you in. And to tell you your share of the money.”
Brian prayed the professor would recognize this was a lie. But the professor licked his lips and asked, “How much?”
“We estimate the Prometheus device will sell for at least five hundred million American dollars. Your share would come to ten million.”
“Is that all?”
“We could see that you got none.”
The professor stared at Masson. Brian could tell he was weighing the riches against the threat.
Larissa broke the standoff. “If you take any money from these men, Papa, I will never speak to you again.”
Professor DeJonge looked to his daughter and smiled, wanly at first but with more confidence as he spoke. “It is all right, Lara. I have no intention of leaving with Monsieur Masson.”
Masson moved toward Larissa. “If your daughter’s advice means so much to you,” he said, “perhaps I should change her mind.”
Professor DeJonge threw himself between Masson and Larissa, but Masson grabbed the professor’s shoulders and flung him into the desk. That gave Brian an opening. He rushed toward the distracted Masson and used the momentum to drive a corkscrew punch into his stomach. Masson doubled over. Brian delivered an elbow to Masson’s exposed neck and dropped him to the floor.
Brian pulled the professor up and shouted to Larissa, “Out the door! Now!” He hoped his surprise attack would buy them enough time to flee the trailer and find safety outside. In no way did Brian plan to fight Masson.
Masson thought otherwise. He spun on the floor with his right leg outstretched and swept Brian’s legs from under him. Brian fell backward into the wall but righted himself before hitting the floor. Larissa stepped toward him to help, but her father quickly pushed her through the door. It was the first sensible thing Brian had seen the man do.
Masson was standing again and reaching behind his back with his right hand. Brian feared he was going for his pistol and launched himself at Masson. His shoulder hit just beneath the man’s ribcage. Brian saw the glint of the revolver as Masson’s hand came around. He did the first thing that popped into his head. He grabbed Masson’s right wrist with both hands, pulled it to his mouth, and bit.
Masson growled and clubbed Brian’s neck with his left hand. Brian bit harder until the fingers of Masson’s right hand sprang open and the revolver thudded to the floor. Brian lashed at it with his right foot, and the gun slid across the tiles and wedged beneath a bookcase against the far wall.
Brian loosened his jaw just as Masson spun about, throwing his hip into Brian’s side. Brian grunted as he went clambering backwards. Struggling to maintain balance, Brian angled his trajectory toward the door. Masson wouldn’t go for the gun as long as Brian was near the door and its promise of escape. Masson charged at Brian and trapped him in a bear hug. He aimed to drive Brian into the wall, but Brian twisted so the momentum carried them through the door. They crashed down the iron steps and Masson hit the ground
first. They rolled over and Brian was underneath looking up at Masson, who had murder in his eyes as he cocked a fist above his head and pressed Brian into the dirt with his other arm.
Brian braced himself for extreme pain, but Masson relaxed his hold and looked left. Brian followed Masson’s gaze and saw two soldiers round the trailer’s corner with their submachine guns raised. Masson lifted his hands in surrender as Professor DeJonge and Larissa appeared behind the soldiers, whom Brian recognized as the men guarding the Sprinter. One of the soldiers pulled Masson up. Larissa ran to Brian and helped him to his feet.
She fussed over him, and Brian assured her he was all right, though he probably had collected a few more bruises. She smiled with a wisp of pride and said, “Papa summoned the guards.”
Looking over his shoulder at Larissa, Masson snarled, “Papa just made a grave mistake.” He turned away and said nothing more.
CHAPTER 34--PANIC
Before they had marched Masson away, one soldier kept the conspirator at gunpoint while his partner retrieved the revolver from the trailer (they had discovered Masson’s empty holster). The same soldier then quietly conferred with Professor DeJonge off to the side.
After the guards and their prisoner disappeared, Larissa asked, “What did you tell them, Papa?”
“That Masson was part of a conspiracy to sabotage the Prometheus demonstration. Which is the truth. Now please collect your rucksacks. We must go.”
Professor DeJonge was already on the move by the time Brian and Larissa came out of the trailer with their backpacks. He led them at a brisk clip toward the symmetrical buildings surrounding the parade ground.
“Are you going to the brig to make a statement?” Brian asked.
“That is where they are expecting me,” the professor replied, “which is why we must be off the base before they wonder where I am.”
Larissa shook her head. “Where do you expect to go, Papa? I have seen these people. They are ruthless. They will find us find us no matter where we go.”
“Then we will keep moving,” Professor DeJonge said.
“Forever?”
“If we must.”
Each step carried Brian further into dread. Professor DeJonge was panicking, and panic was leading him down a suicidal path. Brian had to appeal to the professor’s reason while some of it remained. He stopped walking.
“Professor DeJonge,” he said, “running would be a mistake. Right now this base is the safest place in the world for you, for the three of us.”
The professor halted and faced Brian, glowering. Brian continued, “This base is the one place on Earth Matthias Skyrm cannot reach you.” Brian looked to Larissa for support.
“He is right, Papa. Listen to him.”
“And what am I supposed to do?” Professor DeJonge said. “Go inside my trailer and cower?”
“No,” Brian said. “You should contact the American military attaché in Madrid.”
Professor DeJonge goggled at Brian as if he just told him to jump off the Eiffel Tower. “And do what?” the professor asked.
“Tell them everything you know about Prometheus, about Positive Enforcement—and about Roland Eck.”
“They will throw me in prison, or one of your CIA’s black sites in the Near East.”
“Not if you can deliver Eck,” Brian said. “Then they will protect you.”
“I can’t deliver him. I do not know where he is. And how can you be sure they will protect me? What do you know? Things you have read in romans policiers?”
“In what?” Brian asked.
“Mystery novels,” Larissa supplied. “Spy novels.”
Brian shrugged. “You’re right, Professor. I have no idea what the American government would do with you. But unlike Skyrm, they won’t kill you. And Larissa will be safe.”
Professor DeJonge studied Brian without speaking. He pursed his lips, and Brian believed he had taken a crucial step toward convincing him.
“Besides, Papa,” Larissa added, “the Americans are investigating you already.”
The professor’s eyes clicked to Larissa and widened. “What?” he asked.
Larissa realized her mistake and looked apologetically at Brian.
“That’s all right,” Brian said. “Your father would have found it out soon enough.” He spoke calmly, hoping to soothe the professor’s nerves. “We encountered an American agent in Toulouse, Lenore Harte. She was with the DIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency.”
“You spoke of her,” Professor DeJonge said. “The agent Skyrm killed.”
“Yes,” Brian said.
“How did she find you?”
“We found her,” Brian said. “She was in your office at the university.”
Professor DeJonge’s mouth fell open, and Brian knew he had blown it.
The professor turned and walked toward the parade ground at a faster pace. “We must leave now, Lara,” he said. Larissa looked at Brian, raised her hands hopelessly, and followed her father.
Brian didn’t move. He had to make one last attempt. “You cannot leave the base, Professor. Contact the American embassy. It’s the only way that’s safe.”
The professor spun around and stomped back, bending at the waist to bring his nose within an inch of Brian’s. Curious soldiers looked at them. They probably expect him to hit me, Brian thought. So do I.
Instead, the professor spoke in a fierce whisper. “Safe? An America spy was in my office. Then she was killed. And what is your brilliant advice? Turn myself over to the Americans and tell them I have been working with—conspiring with—the man who murdered their agent. Do you think I am mad?”
Professor DeJonge stepped back. “Now, stop telling me what to do, you stupid boy—”
“Papa!”
The professor’s hand shot up and Larissa fell silent. “If everyone knows I am at San Gregorio, I am not safe here. Larissa and I are leaving. You can stay for all I care, but I wonder what the base commander will think of you.”
“Larissa?” Brian said.
“He is my father,” she said. “I cannot leave him.”
Brian nodded. The quaver in her voice told him she shared his anguish. He knew that when—if—her father calmed down, she would try to convince him to contact the American embassy. But how much time would they have before Skyrm caught up with them?
Brian considered his chances of helping them if he remained at San Gregorio. How would the Spanish military react to an American teenager wandering alone around their base in the middle of a war games exercise? Security would be in an uproar once they found Brian. He was in their country illegally, without a passport. The man who drove him onto the base under a false name was in the brig, accused of sabotage. How long would security question him before allowing him to contact his embassy? How long after that until the embassy allowed him to speak to the Defense Attaché Office? Long after Skyrm had found the DeJonges, probably.
Brian looked into Larissa’s large brown eyes, now holding back tears. His eyes traced the contour of her nose to the bow of her lips. He remembered their long kiss in the Pyrenees, and an affection beyond any he had known before coursed through him. Brian shivered. Even if he were helpless to protect her, Brian would rather die than allow Larissa to face danger alone.
“I can’t leave you either,” he said.
CHAPTER 35--SUNSET
At the gatehouse Professor DeJonge spoke to the guard in quick Spanish sentences. The guard, older than the one who let them onto the base with Masson, gestured toward Brian and Larissa in the back seat of the professor’s Audi A5 Coupe. The professor shrugged and spoke once more. In the moment the guard spent considering the professor’s words, Brian willed him to check with base security and learn the professor was needed to question a suspected saboteur.
Instead, the guard raised the crossbar and waved them off the base. I guess you can’t mentally communicate with someone when you speak different languages, Brian thought. He fastened his seat belt.
The profes
sor turned north at the road, heading away from Zaragoza and into the countryside. The sun, now low on the horizon, hovered to their left.
Brian positioned himself so that he could see Professor DeJonge’s face in the rearview mirror. “Did you tell the guard you needed diagnostic equipment from your workshop?” Brian asked. He kept his voice neutral, not wanting to antagonize the professor.
“Yes, I said exactly what Masson suggested,” Professor DeJonge said. Then he smiled. It was the first time Brian had seen Larissa’s father smile, and Brian could see that she did not inherit this trait from him. Where Larissa’s smile was dazzling and positive, his was sickly and nervous. His upper lip vanished beneath his mustache and his lower lip curled crookedly to one side.
“When the guard asked about the two of you,” Professor DeJonge continued, “I told him you were tired and I was taking you back to the hotel.”
“Good thinking,” Brian said.
The professor’s eyes flashed to Brian’s, checking for sarcasm. Satisfied that Brian’s words were sincere, Professor DeJonge returned his attention to the road.
Brian glanced at the dashboard clock. It read 7:38. How long before San Gregorio’s security team discovered Professor DeJonge had left the base? Spain’s national police, the Guardia Civil, might be looking for them already. Brian hoped the authorities found them before Skyrm did.
After several quiet minutes Larissa asked, “How … why did you ever become involved with those men, Papa?”
Professor DeJonge’s story was more or less what Brian expected to hear.
The professor was first approached nearly two years ago by Masson, who claimed to be a researcher in millimeter waves on sabbatical from Ghent University. The initial encounters were innocent. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful boost to European pride, Masson had suggested, if EU physicists could deploy a next-generation weapon ahead of the Americans? DeJonge agreed, of course. Each time Masson mentioned this dream, he described the Pentagon’s Positive Enforcement system in more detail. The professor had listened eagerly.
The Boy Who Knew Too Much Page 17