The Pursuit

by Janet Evanovich

  “If what you say is true,” Nick said to Dragan, “then your employees aren’t very trustworthy. So I’m sure you can understand why I insist that Kate remain armed. She can protect us both.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, how can I argue?” Dragan said. “I’m glad to have someone of Kate’s proven skills protecting us from further treachery.”

  Dragan nodded to a camera mounted by the entrance and the gate rose, creaking with age. He led them into a passageway leading to a courtyard with a wishing well in the middle.

  Nick pointed up at the arched ceiling of the passageway. “I see you kept the meurtrières.”

  Dragan smiled. “I love charming architectural details like those. Every home should have them.”

  Kate looked up and saw sunlight spilling through six large holes in the stonework. “What are they for?” she asked.

  “They’re commonly known as murder holes,” Nick said. “They’re for pouring cauldrons of boiling water or hot tar on invaders.”

  “I prefer cauldrons of lye,” Dragan said. “It makes cleanup so easy. You just hose what’s left of your unwanted guests into the moat.”

  “Have you had the opportunity?” Kate asked.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “But you never know when unexpected guests might show up.”

  Kate did. They’d be coming in four hours, and she’d be sure to warn them not to come in through the front door.

  They crossed the courtyard and entered the foyer of the castle. A burly Serbian with a gun in a shoulder holster sat at a console similar to those found in office building lobbies. He had a phone and several screens showing security camera views.

  There were three doors off the foyer, and one of them was an air lock. Dragan went to the air lock, held a card key up to the reader on the wall, and they heard the lock open.

  “After you, Nick,” Dragan said.

  Nick stepped into the air lock. After a moment, the door on the opposite side opened and he stepped into a corridor.

  Dragan gestured to the door. “Proceed.”

  “We’ll go in together,” Kate said, worried that he could lock her inside and have all the air sucked out. She wasn’t sure that was even possible, but she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  “It will be a tight fit,” Dragan said.

  “We’ll manage.”

  “As you wish.”

  She held the door open for him and, once he was inside, she stepped in behind him. He opened the next door and they joined Nick in the corridor. It was almost identical to the corridors inside the Institut National pour la Recherche sur les Maladies Infectieuses that Kate had seen on the security videos. Same walls, same floor, same hospital ambiance.

  There were two air locks, one on each side of the corridor, and three large observation windows that looked in on the labs. Another burly armed guard was also waiting in the corridor, presumably to prevent Kate from taking Dragan hostage and demanding the vaccine for Nick.

  She’d toyed with a similar scenario, except that she’d demand the smallpox sample instead of the vaccine. The problem was that she had no idea where the smallpox was or if it had already been used to create new supplies of the pathogen. Even if she did, one of the snipers would probably shoot her and Nick before they could leave the castle. Kate couldn’t take any action until she knew where every last microbe of the virus was in the facility and her dad had arrived to back her up.

  Dragan gestured to the air lock on their left. “Go through there, Nick. It’s laid out just like the institute. Go straight through the locker room, the dressing room, and the suit room, where we have the positive pressure suits. You’ll see three air locks, each with a number on them. Take the air lock marked number one. That’s the lab that we’ve had repurposed as your quarters. Remove your suit and all of your clothing. Leave everything on the floor. You’ll find new clothes waiting for you.”

  Nick peered through the window into the lab. Amid the workstations, dangling air hoses, and other equipment, he saw a cot with a set of surgical scrubs, slippers, and a towel laid out on the blanket.

  “It’s a good thing I’m not bashful,” Nick said.

  “You can draw the blinds if you want privacy,” Dragan said and passed his card key over the reader, opening the air lock.

  Nick stepped into the air lock and into the next room. A few moments later, Dragan and Kate saw him come through one of the two air locks in the back of the lab. He unzipped the suit and got out of it, stripped off his T-shirt and briefs, and put on the scrubs. He left the suit and clothes piled on the floor.

  The other air lock in the lab opened and two technicians entered in positive pressure suits just like the ones Boyd, Willie, and the others had worn, and attached themselves to the air hoses hanging from the ceiling. They each carried large bags and stuffed his suit and clothes into them, sealed them with zip ties, and carried them out again.

  “Everything he wore is going into the incinerators in the basement,” Dragan said. “The microbiologists who came in will step into a disinfectant shower in their positive pressure suits, then once they’ve removed the suits and their undergarments, they will shower themselves. We’re very serious about safety protocols here.”

  Nick walked up to the window, faced them, and pressed the intercom button on the wall. His voice came out over a speaker in the corridor. “What happens now?”

  Dragan pressed an intercom button on his side. “Make yourself comfortable and get some rest. If you need anything at all, just press the intercom button here, by the air locks, or at any of the lab stations and a technician will handle it.”

  “What if I need to use the bathroom?”

  “There’s a bucket, wet wipes, and a roll of toilet paper under your cot,” Dragan said. “Call for service and the bucket will be taken away.”

  “Not exactly the Four Seasons, is it?”

  Before Dragan could answer, Nick shut the blinds. Dragan released the intercom and frowned.

  “Moody, isn’t he?”

  “He gets that way when he goes without sleep for twenty-four hours, spends twelve hours digging a hole in a sewer, and then gets infected with a virus that will make him spew blood from every orifice.”

  “Nobody said that becoming a billionaire is easy,” Dragan said. “Let me show you to your room. I’m sure you’d like to change and freshen up.”

  “I’d like a tour first,” Kate said. “I won’t feel comfortable until I get the lay of the land.”

  “Your uniform is filthy and you smell like the sewer. Clean up, then we’ll have brunch and I’ll show you around.”

  He led her out of the air lock, back to the foyer, past the guard, and through one of the other two heavy wooden doors. This led to another corridor that, unlike the lab area, felt like a castle should. It was entirely stone, rough-hewn on the walls and polished smooth under her feet. All that was missing to complete the authentic ambiance were torches to light their way instead of a series of LEDs in the ceiling. Dragan stopped at one of the doors.

  “This was Litija’s room,” Dragan said. “She was more or less your size. You can wear her clothes or the scrubs that we’ve left on the bed. I’ll see you in the dining room in an hour. It’s straight down the hall and to your right.”

  She didn’t have the hour to spare. She needed time to see the layout, come up with a plan, and then execute it before her dad showed up, guns and rockets blazing.

  “Let’s make it thirty minutes,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  “Very well,” he said and walked down the hall.

  Dragan wanted to smash Kate’s head against the wall until it splattered like a ripe melon. Nobody talked to him like that. This wasn’t a hotel and he wasn’t her bellboy. But instead of acting on his impulse, he’d walked away. It wasn’t her gun that had stopped him but some practical considerations. He needed her alive. Nick would remain cooperative as long as he was under the delusion that Kate guaranteed his security and eventual vaccination.
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br />   But in two weeks, once Nick was sick enough that a nice, virulent sample of virus could be taken from him, then Dragan would kill Kate and take the time to thoroughly enjoy the experience. Maybe he’d use her to try out the lye. That would certainly be entertaining. The thought made him smile. Now he had another good reason to wait.

  —

  Kate closed the door and surveyed the room. It was a dungeon decorated like a bed-and-breakfast. The four-poster bed and armoire were hand carved, very old, and rich with vintage charm. She went to the window, barely more than a slit in the wall. It looked out over the moat and the lawn, where the helicopter was still sitting. She turned back to the room. There was a set of scrubs neatly folded on the bed, but Kate chose to check out what Litija had in the armoire instead. She couldn’t holster her Glock on scrub pants.

  “How are you holding up?” Kate asked Nick via the earbud.

  Nick put his head in his hands so that Kate could hear him without the cameras in his room seeing him talk. “I’m trying not to fall asleep. I’m in position to take decisive action once you find out exactly where the virus is. It must be in one of the rooms or labs within this biosafety area.”

  “But it’s a high-security area and you don’t have the card key.”

  Kate opened the armoire. It was stuffed with Chanel ready-to-wear. Silk dresses, embroidered blouses, miniskirts, and lambskin slacks that were extremely colorful and meant to stand out. Whatever Kate picked to wear would make her an easy target to spot.

  “You’re forgetting something,” Nick said. “I’m already past security. Dragan graciously escorted me in.”

  “But you’re locked in a lab.”

  “Actually, I’m not. The biosafety area is designed to lock people out, not to lock them in. I have complete freedom of movement within these labs, once you tell me where to go.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” Kate grabbed a multicolored silk blouse with a busy design, cream lambskin slacks, and a large black belt and tossed them on the bed. The only shoes in the armoire were high heels, so she decided to stick with the mud-caked boots she’d worn in the sewer. “How am I supposed to find out that information? I don’t have time to sneak around.”

  “Ask Dragan where it is.”

  She slipped out of her filthy jumpsuit and left it on the floor. “Why would he tell me?”

  “Because he likes to show off,” Nick said.

  “It’s one thing to brag about his villa and his castle, but there’s no reason for him to tell me what he’s done with the smallpox.”

  “So give him one,” Nick said.

  She tossed her underwear on the bed and stood naked in the middle of the room. “I’ll think about it in the shower.”

  “I’ll think about you taking a shower.”

  “I’d rather you thought of a plan for destroying the smallpox and escaping,” she said.

  “I’m on it,” he said.

  —

  Nick got up from his cot, went to the intercom on the wall, and pressed the button.

  “I have needs,” Nick said.

  “What can I get for you?” a man’s voice answered.

  “A box of cigars. The best Dragan has. And bring me bottles of vodka, scotch, and rum. The highest proof you’ve got. I intend to get smashed.”

  “Completely understandable,” the man said.

  —

  The dining room was huge with a long table under two elaborate chandeliers that resembled upside-down Christmas trees. A large window overlooked the moat and the forest beyond.

  Kate was admiring the chandeliers when she spotted the fresco on the ceiling. It was a copy of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam from the Sistine Chapel, with a robed, bearded God reaching out from the heavens to touch the outstretched hand of a lounging, naked Adam. But unlike the original, this Adam had Dragan’s pockmarked face and an enormous penis. She was still staring at the disturbing image, not really believing what she was seeing, when Dragan walked into the room.

  “What do you think?” Dragan asked.

  “I’m surprised that your face is on Adam and not God.”

  “God doesn’t have a dick,” Dragan said.

  “God doesn’t need one,” Kate said.

  “It’s not necessary if you’re going to rule the heavens, but it is if you’re going to conquer the world,” he said. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. That’s the point this painting is making.”

  “I wish I could see that painting,” Nick said in Kate’s ear.

  She almost replied No, you don’t.

  Dragan waved her to a seat at the end of a table that was set with smoked fish, sausages, fruit, and an array of pastries, along with coffee, juice, and water.

  “Is that the point of the smallpox, too?” Kate asked. “Metaphorically speaking?”

  “I suppose it is,” he said.

  “To pull off your biological attack, you’re going to need someone who can slip into the United States to plant the device. You’re going to have a hard time doing that with one of your Serbian Army buddies. But it would be no problem at all for an American citizen born and raised in California. Lucky for you, here I am.”

  “Brilliant,” Nick said. “I knew you’d come up with something.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “I would do it for the twenty million you’re going to pay me now and that I’m going to use to bet against the market,” Kate said as she chose a croissant and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “That’s the same amount Litija demanded as ransom for Nick.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kate said. “Right amount, wrong play. You’ll be glad to pay for this.”

  “You have no qualms about launching a terrorist attack against your own country?”

  “My country is wherever I happen to be at any given moment,” Kate said. “Right now it’s Germany. In a few months, it will be the private island in the Bahamas that I am going to buy with my windfall.”

  Dragan smiled. “You didn’t accompany Nick here to protect him. You came to strike a deal for yourself.”

  “You’ve hooked him,” Nick said. “Now slowly reel him in.”

  She took a bite of the croissant and almost swooned. It was unbelievably flaky and buttery. She licked her lips and nibbled off another piece.

  Dragan rapped his knife against his water glass. Clang, clang, clang. “It’s just a croissant,” he said. “We eat them every day. Can we move forward?”

  “Yes, but this is a really great croissant,” Kate said. “It’s flaky and buttery. How do they get it to taste like this?”

  “Focus!” Dragan said.

  “Jeez,” Kate said. “I was enjoying a moment, okay?”

  Dragan looked like he was running out of patience, but Kate could hear Nick laughing at his end. She put the croissant down, took a sip of coffee, and dragged herself back to the task at hand.

  “Having me around makes Nick feel like he’s got some control in this situation, that he’ll get his vaccine and his money. But we both know that’s a fantasy. You’re going to kill me as soon as you can get the virus out of him, and then you’re going to let him die naturally because it’ll be fun to watch.”

  “If you know that,” Dragan said, “why are you still here? Why haven’t you left?”

  “Because it won’t change anything. I know too much. You’ve got to kill me. You already tried once, and you’ll keep at it until you get it done. I’m giving you a better option, one that benefits both of us. Or I can shoot you now and probably get myself killed trying to get out of here.”

  She took another sip of coffee and looked at him over the rim of her cup as if they were casually discussing a change in the weather and not her life expectancy.

  “I can see why Nick is so fond of you,” Dragan said. “Killers are easy to find but you’re almost as good a talker as he is.”

  “He still thinks he can talk his way out of this,” she said.

  “He’s wrong. However, you make a convinc
ing argument for your life. I won’t kill you. I believe you’re too valuable a resource to waste.”

  “I knew you were a man of reason.”

  He was also a man without a woman now that Litija had got her brains blown out, and he’d gotten hard watching Kate eat her croissant. He thought she might be of short-term use to him.

  “We can use the couple weeks or so that we’re waiting for Nick to die to figure out the operational details of the attack,” he said.

  “That’s fine, but there’s only so much we can accomplish from a castle in Germany,” Kate said. “After Nick is dead, and while you’re cooking up batches of the virus, I can make a dry run into the U.S. and work out the kinks in the field. Nothing beats boots on the ground. I’ll come back with what I’ve learned and we can fine-tune the plan.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Dragan said. “Would you like to see how the virus is coming along and the delivery system you’ll be using to spread it?”

  “Why not?” she said and finished her coffee. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  —

  Dragan and Kate entered the biosafety corridor as a scientist passed them pushing a cart that carried a box of cigars and bottles of vodka, rum, and whiskey. The scientist went through the air lock with the cart.

  “Looks like the reality of the situation is sinking in for Nick,” Dragan said.

  “It had to happen eventually,” Kate said. “Be glad he didn’t ask for a gun or a bottle of sleeping pills.”

  Dragan led her past the closed blinds of Nick’s lab window to the next window down the hall. Inside, she saw four men in positive pressure suits diligently engaged in their scientific tasks at various workstations.

  “This is our second lab, where we’re using an old-school method to grow enough smallpox to create a weapon. You see those chicken eggs?” Dragan pointed to a scientist sitting at a table in front of dozens of eggs resting in a tray that looked like the bottom of an egg carton. The man was using a syringe to inject a milky substance into the eggs. “We inject the virus into live chicken embryos. I won’t bore you with the science, because frankly I don’t understand it all, but the virus thrives in that goop. What you’re looking at is our smallpox production line.”