The old wooden chair creaked as John leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. He took in a deep breath to calm his mind. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would do me some good, he thought. Maybe by then Parker will be able to―
A new notification popped up in his search. The latest video from the terrorist attack sat at the top of his queue, and the quality of the thumbnail image gave him a small boost of energy.
John watched the video, taken near the first explosion, in the northwest corner of the Place des Terreaux. The clarity of the footage gave him hope, but so far it was all just information he had been able to piece together in his initial research. A crowd of people dined near the Fontaine Bertholdi when a man stood up and detonated an explosive device on his person.
John sighed, ready to close the video, when he stopped himself, finger hovering over the touchpad. Something caught his attention, at a subconscious level, but he didn’t know why.
He viewed the footage again, scrubbing the timeline back and forth, studying the screen for any details he may have missed. It was the moment before the blast when he noticed the man seated at a table next to the bomber.
The terrorist and the mystery man sat back to back at different tables, but the mystery man was already moving away from him before the detonation. The timing of his movement felt out of place to John. His actions didn't fit the sequence of events.
The man rose from his table and moved away much earlier than anyone else in the crowd. Before the bomber even physically revealed any evidence of his explosive. Something spooked him. When the terrorist stood, he turned and directed his attention to the mystery man.
Who are you?” John said, staring at the paused frame.
The footage was too blurry to make a positive identification, so John checked through all of the videos he felt provided the best information during his initial viewing. He singled out all of the footage that pointed in the direction of the Fontaine Bertholdi before, during, and after the attack.
On the third video, he hit pay dirt. A tourist standing on the opposite side filmed the statue as the first explosive detonated. John saw the mystery man running from the bomber, toward the camera.
The footage shook and dropped from the explosion, then panned back to the site of the blast. The mystery man emerged from inside the fountain, soaking wet. He somehow managed to leap into the water to escape the brunt of the explosion.
The tourist continued filming as he backed away. The crowd ran past him, parting long enough for John to get a better angle on the man’s features. John rewound the video and paused it.
His jaw tightened. The mystery man was long suspected of financing terrorist activities. Even during John’s years serving as an Army Ranger, they sought this man in the war on terror. He was known under different aliases, but the one John was most familiar with was Dietrich Werner.
If this is the man John suspected he was, why were they trying to kill him in the terrorist attack? Did he manage to survive the second and third blasts as well? It was possible, which meant Werner could still be out there.
John pulled up a list of all of the videos showing the second and third explosions, carefully attempting to track Werner’s movements during and after the attack. He found a far camera shot of the third explosion, shot from outside the Place des Terreaux, on a connecting street.
He spotted the man moving away from the first two explosions, in the general direction of the third. John’s heart sank when he saw the blurred movements of a figure that moved to tackle another man. Marvin Van Pierce putting himself in harm’s way to try and stop the third bomber.
Marvin sacrificed himself to save as many as he could. He had been able to take the man down, near two parked vehicles, which absorbed much of the explosive force when the bomb detonated.
At the moment of the blast, John caught an image of Dietrich falling. It was only a couple of frames, but he was close to the final explosion. Van Pierce’s actions may have reduced the force enough for the man to survive. If he were still alive, he would need medical attention, given his proximity to the first and third bombs.
John dug through the files Parker sent him to read on the flight over. He needed more information about Dietrich Werner. Why would the Four Serpents be targeting him? Was his presence a coincidence.
A single reference came up, a list of known aliases for a person of interest. Dietrich was one of many aliases used by Matthias Keppler, the man Marvin Van Pierce highlighted in the briefing notes that Parker had been able to retrieve.
“Mister Keppler,” John said, resting his elbows on the desk as he stared at the image in the video. “Perhaps we’ll finally be able to meet face to face, so you can answer some questions.”
The latest news reports about the attack mentioned that first responders had transported the injured people to Hôpital de la Croix-Rousse. He closed the screen of his laptop and headed out the door to find his next lead.
* * *
The hallways of Hôpital de la Croix-Rousse swarmed with activity. Doctors and nurses sped around the concerned friends and family members of the injured tourists and citizens. Kaliq, a member of the Four Serpents, had no trouble slipping into the supply area to get a set of scrubs to wear in the ensuing confusion.
He came here with explicit orders to find Matthias Keppler. Dressing as hospital staff was risky, but dealing with the seemingly non-stop flow of victims helped him slip through unquestioned. Several times someone barked orders at him to go somewhere and assist, or bring something that one of the doctors needed. Each time he answered with an enthusiastic nod before disappearing.
Matthias Keppler secretly funded Azhaar bin Hashim and the Four Serpents, through his many shell companies, for their next ambitious plan. Bin Hashim didn’t trust a man of Keppler’s questionable loyalties and planned for his death in the attack on Place des Terreaux.
Kaliq stepped behind an unattended reception desk and sat in front of the computer. His fingers danced across keys, searching for Keppler’s room, as the switches of the old keyboard clicked loudly. His brows furrowed when the name came up with no results.
His target, it seems, was also the type of man to cover his tracks. Matthias Keppler was probably the type of man with a list of aliases to use in his day to day life. Paranoid.
After a moment of thought, Kaliq’s hands flew over the keys again. He brought up a list of the patients admitted into the hospital shortly after yesterday’s attack. He scanned through the results, memorizing the rooms where the most recent patients had been admitted.
Kaliq stood and stepped back into the hallway, passing someone as he exited. The woman gave him a quizzical look as she sat, but soon slipped back into the task at hand, dealing with another influx of patients.
He glanced down at the chart for the man and woman admitted to the first room. The victims in the beds had been badly burnt. Their bodies bandaged and they were heavily medicated. Not finding his mark, he turned and left, side-stepping a nurse coming in to check on their vital stats.
Finding his target would require that he search the rooms one by one. This would not be a problem for him. He was a patient man that operated with precision.
It would not be long before he cleaned up the loose end, Keppler, before he could reveal anything he might know about the Serpents or their next plan.
CHAPTER
7
John walked into the hospital and looked across the lobby. He wasn’t sure how he would find Dietrich Werner in here, but this was his best shot.
John stopped the nearest staff member. “Excuse me,” John said to the young woman dressed in scrubs. “I’m wondering if you can help me find someone.”
The woman stared back with weary eyes, replying in French.
John winced, not able to understand anything she said. He continued in English, speaking slower and hoping the woman would understand enough to help him out.
“My brother was hurt yesterday,” John started, miming an explosion with his han
ds.
The woman seemed to catch on to what he was saying, so he continued. “He is supposed to be here. Where can I find him?”
They struggled to communicate, as her English was as bad as his French. But eventually, she directed him to the wing of the hospital triaging everyone involved in yesterday’s terrorist attack. John thanked the woman in English and then again in passable French. She smiled and excused herself to continue her work.
John sighed as he looked down the crowded hall. This would be a little more complicated than expected. John didn’t let the difficulty dissuade him. As an Army Ranger, he was always prepared for things to be more challenging than initially planned.
He walked down the hallway, heading for the section of the hospital the woman described. His initial urge was to ask any and everybody where he would go to find his brother injured in the attack, but John wanted to stay under the radar. The last thing he wanted was to draw any unnecessary attention to him right now.
He made his way through the hospital until the people in and around him looked like they were all there for the same reason, suffering from similar burns, cuts, and bruises typical of injuries inflicted by an explosion.
Distraught friends and family packed the waiting areas, in need of treatment, or hoping for any good news from the doctors and nurses. People agitated at the lack of information or attention they were receiving. Anger, fear, frustration.
John made his way to a receptionist desk and tried again to find his brother. He made an attempt at foregoing English and speaking French, ultimately having to resort to a mix of the two languages to get his message across.
Luck was on his side this time, as the man replied in English. “I am sorry to hear about your brother. What is his name?”
“Werner. Dietrich Werner,” John said.
The man typed a few keystrokes then stared at the screen for a minute. He leaned in close before sitting back and typing something else. His brows furrowed.
“I don’t see a Werner, but there is a Dietrich Byrne, similar name, but―”
“That’s him,” John interrupted with a relieved smile. “I forgot he’s using Byrne for his businesses. I’m sorry, my mind is a little frazzled after…” He waved his hand briefly in the air, resisting the urge to over-explain the situation, knowing it would only cause more suspicion and confusion.
“I, uh, okay. Dietrich is in room 513. It is on the fifth floor―”
“Thank you, I can find it,” John interrupted again as he turned to go.
Before the man could suspect any foul play, an irate husband demanded to speak to a doctor to find out what was happening with his wife, giving John the cover he needed to slip away.
* * *
Kaliq spent the past hour in the hospital, moving room to room. He glanced into each doorway, trying to find the man he was sent to kill. The German financier was too involved in the Serpents’ actions. He knew too much, and bin Hashim’s plans were too important to allow anyone to put them at risk.
Anyone else in Kaliq’s shoes would succumb to the frustration and fatigue, with such a repetitive task. He was a special breed, however. The thrill of this hunt fueled him. His whole life, he was always precise and technical in everything he did. He rarely suffered the type of mental fatigue that others would experience after long hours of repetitious tasks.
He continued the door to door hunt, searching for his target, and continually moving with the same mannerisms of the hospital staff around him. That was another skill he learned when he was a young boy. Kaliq always had a knack for picking out and remembering subtle physical details and mannerisms of people, allowing him to mimic his friends and family.
Now on the fifth floor of the hospital, Kaliq resumed his mission. On the fourth door he checked, he saw a man in one of the beds with a build similar to Keppler. The chart listed the man as Dietrich Byrne. The Serpent slipped into the room, making sure no one else was in there to disturb the two of them.
Once he approached, Kaliq saw that this was indeed Matthias Keppler, admitted under an alias. He walked to the side of the bed and stared into the face of the man as he slept.
Dietrich groaned and opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to look over at Kaliq. Keppler mistook him as a nurse at first glance as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The assassin continued to stare down at the person in the bed, patiently waiting for recognition to set in. He wanted Dietrich, Keppler, to know his end was coming.
Realization struck as the man’s eyes flew open wide. Because of the internal damage he suffered in the final explosion, the doctors had hooked Keppler up to a respirator. Unable to scream for help, he clawed at the side of his bed, searching for the button to call the nurses for assistance.
Kaliq looked on in amusement for another few seconds with a sadistic grin and held the button up by its cord in his hand. He shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound. He placed the switch on a side table, to of reach, and descended on Matthias Keppler.
* * *
Lionel Gavreau strode down the corridor of the fifth floor of the Hôpital de la Croix-Rousse. He stopped and leaned against a wall, swiping up through the endless barrage of messages and emails. The bureaucrats overseeing RAID and its investigation into the terrorist attack bombarded him with non-stop requests and demands for more information.
None of that mattered to him at this moment. He was here for his teammates now. Several members of his RAID team suffered injuries in the blasts at the Place des Terreaux yesterday. Two were currently in critical condition. Gavreau had been in the hospital for the past hour, waiting for any updates on his injured teammates.
He dropped the phone into a jacket pocket and rocked his head side to side, cracking his neck with each movement. It did little to hold the fatigue at bay.
Gavreau stepped into in the room of a man with minor injuries from the attack. His man had a concussion, and the doctors wanted him kept under observation. He had his bed upright and was surfing through the television stations, looking for something to watch other than coverage of the terrorist attack.
“You don’t have to stay here, sir,” Alban Lussier said to his commander.
“Don’t worry, I’m not concerned about you. I’m just in here so no one bothers me, while I wait to hear about the teammates I actually like,” Gavreau said.
Lussier laughed and thumbed the TV remote, finally settling on a rerun of Friends, dubbed in French.
“I’m going to get a coffee, want anything?” Gavreau asked on his way out.
“A cigarette,” the man answered. The RAID Commander shook his head and stepped into the hallway.
With the chaos of yesterday’s attack settling down, the crowds had thinned, but the hospital was still buzzing with plenty of activity. Gavreau headed down the hall, toward a vending machine, when a man leaving one of the rooms caught his eye.
He was a large, muscular man in jeans and a thin long sleeve shirt. There was no mistaking the heavy mustache visible from the man’s profile. It was the American wandering the crime scene this morning.
The activity around the room the American had just left suddenly picked up. That was when Gavreau noticed the constant beep of flatlining patient whistling through the door. Nurses flooded into the room, followed by a doctor, treating the patient in his bed.
Everyone nearby showed an expected level of curiosity and concern in a situation like this. Except for the American. The big man moved away, quickly down the hall, as close to a near run as he could manage without alerting anyone around him.
Gavreau had no such concerns as he charged down the hallway after the suspicious man. It was no coincidence that he would be crossing paths with the man twice, both times related to the terrorist attack. He pushed people out of his way as he moved down the corridor.
The American was not difficult to track, as he was much larger than most of the people around him. But even with fewer people wandering around, Gavreau had difficulty moving through the crowd efficiently.
&nbs
p; The RAID leader increased his pace and began shouting at the people near him to get clear, when he saw his target slip around a corner, out of sight. Gavreau was losing patience, and shoved people forcefully out of his way, as he struggled to catch the man. The aggressive actions only served to agitate the already stressed people in the hospital around Gavreau.
Just great, Gavreau thought. The additional anger and confusion were only going to make his job that much harder.
* * *
John exited the elevator on the fifth floor and turned toward Dietrich Byrne’s room. He looked around and saw RAID members in the hallways. John kept his head down and walked briskly past them. They were most likely here to see to the members of their team injured, so he didn’t want to aggravate them anymore.
The room he was looking for was not far, but there was a lot of police around so it would be difficult to get in and out of unless he was utterly discreet about it. He found door 513 and scouted it patiently. After several minutes no medical staff had entered or exited. John moved toward the room.
He didn’t expect to see any doctors or nurses inside, so it caught John off guard when he saw the man in medical scrubs stepping out, just as he was about to step in. He paused for a moment, looking away to avoid attracting the attention of the man. When he was in the clear once more, John stepped into the room.
Stepping just inside, he stopped, processing what he saw. Matthias lay still in his bed, eyes open. At first, John thought the man was focused on the TV, and not paying attention to him entering the room. Only, the TV wasn’t on. In the hall, over the crowds talking and the noise from the increased activity in the hospital at that moment, John didn’t hear the heart rate monitor. Once he stepped into the room, the sustained beep was loud and clear, a siren going off to alert everyone in the hospital.
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