by Steve Berry
“You expect me to believe that? If it wasn't for the antiagents, you'd have killed me long ago.”
“You and your League wanted a haven. I gave you one. You wanted financial freedom. You have it. You wanted land, markets, ways to clean your dirty money. I gave you all those. But that wasn't enough, was it?”
Vincenti stared back at her, seemingly keeping a tight grip on his own expression.
“You apparently have a different agenda. Something, I assume, not even your League knows about. Something that involves Karyn.” She fully realized Vincenti would never admit any allegations. But Lyndsey. He was another matter. So she focused on him. “And you're a part of this, too.”
The scientist watched her with undisguised terror.
“Get out of here, Irina,” Karyn said. “Leave him be. Leave them both be. They're doing great things.”
Bewilderment attacked her. “Great things?”
“He's cured me, Irina. Not you. Him. He cured me.”
Her curiosity rose as she sensed that Karyn may provide the information she lacked. “HIV is not curable.”
Karyn laughed. “That's your problem, Irina. You think nothing is possible without you. The great Achilles on a hero's journey to save his beloved. That's you. A fantasy world that exists only in your mind.”
Her neck tensed and the hand that held the gun stiffened.
“I'm not some epic poem,” Karyn said. “This is real. It's not about Homer or the Greeks or Alexander. It's about life and death. My life. My death. And this man,” she clutched Vincenti by the arm, “this man has cured me.”
“What nonsense have you told her?” she asked Vincenti.
“Nonsense?” Karyn shot back. “He found it. The cure. One dose and I haven't felt this good in years.”
What had Vincenti discovered?
“Don't you see, Irina?” Karyn said. “You did nothing. He did it all. He has the cure.”
She stared at Karyn. A bundle of raw energy. A tangle of emotions. “Do you have any idea what I did to try and save you? The chances I took. You came back to me in need, and I helped you.”
“You did nothing for me. Only for yourself. You watched me suffer, you wanted me to die–”
“Modern medicine had nothing to offer. I was trying to find something that might help. You ungrateful whore. ” Her voice rose with indignation.
Sadness clouded Karyn's face. “You don't get it, do you? You never got it. A possession. That's all I was to you, Irina. Something you could control. That's why I cheated on you. Why I sought other women, and men. To show you that I couldn't be dominated. You never got it and still don't.”
Her heart rebelled as her mind agreed with what Karyn said. She faced Vincenti. “You found the cure for AIDS?”
He glared at her, unresponsive.
“Tell me,” she shouted. She had to know. “Did you find Alexander's draught. The place of the Scythians?”
“I have no idea what that is,” he said. “I know nothing about Alexander, the Scythians, or any draught. But she's right. Long ago I found a cure in the mountain behind the house. A local healer told me about the place. He called it, in his language, Arima, the attic. It's a natural substance that can make us all rich.”
“That's what this is about? A way to make more money?”
“Your ambition will be the ruin of us all.”
“So you tried to have me killed? To stop me? Yet you warned me. Lost your nerve?”
He shook his head. “I decided on a better way.”
She heard again what Edwin Davis had told her and realized its truth. She motioned at Karyn.
“You were going to use her to discredit me. Turn the people against me. First, cure her. Then, use her. Then, what, Enrico? Kill her?”
“Didn't you hear me?” Karyn said. “He saved me.”
Zovastina was beyond caring. Taking Karyn back had been a mistake. Lots of foolish chances had been taken for her expense.
And all for nothing.
“Irina,” Karyn yelled, “if the people of this damned Federation knew what you really were no one would follow you. You're a fraud. A murderous fraud. All you know is pain. That's your pleasure. Pain. Yes, I wanted to destroy you. I wanted you to feel as small as I do.”
Karyn was the only one to whom she'd bared her soul, a closeness she'd never felt with another human being. Homer was right. Once harm has been done, even a fool understands it. So she shot Karyn in the chest.
Then again, in the head.
VINCENTI HAD BEEN WAITING FOR ZOVASTINA TO ACT. HE STILL held the flash drive in his closed left hand. He kept that hand resting on the waist-high table, while his right hand slowly opened the top drawer.
The weapon he'd brought from upstairs lay inside.
Zovastina shot Karyn Walde a third time.
He gripped the gun.
ZOVASTINA'S ANGER SURGED WITH EACH PULL OF THE TRIGGER. Bullets ripped through Karyn's emaciated frame, pinging off the block wall behind her. Her former lover never realized what happened, dying quickly, her body contorted on the floor, bleeding. Grant Lyndsey had sat silent throughout their exchange. He was nothing. A weak soul. Useless. Vincenti, though, was different. He would not go down without a fight, and surely he realized he was about to die.
So she swung the gun in his direction.
His right hand came into view, holding a pistol.
She shot him four times, emptying the magazine of its remaining rounds. Blood roses blossomed on Vincenti's shirt.
Eyes rolled skyward and his grip on the gun released, clattering away as his bulky frame fell to the floor.
Two problems solved.
She stepped close to Lyndsey and pointed the empty weapon at his face. Horror stared back. It mattered not that the magazine was empty. The gun itself was more than sufficient to make her point.
“I warned you,” she said, “to stay in China.”
EIGHTY-TWO
STEPHANIE, HENRIK, AND ELY WERE BEING HELD INSIDE THE house. They'd been driven from the gate to the mansion, their car stashed inside a separate garage. Nine infantrymen guarded the interior. Stephanie had seen no staff. They were standing in what appeared to be a library, the room spacious and elegant with towering windows that framed panoramic views of the lush valley beyond the house. Three men with AK-74s, their hair cropped into a utilitarian black brush, stood at the ready, one by the window, another by the door, and a third near an Oriental cabinet. A corpse lay on the floor. Caucasian, middle age, perhaps American, with a bullet to the head.
“None of this is good,” she whispered to Henrik.
“I can't see an upside.”
Ely appeared calm. But he'd lived under a threat for the past couple months, probably still confused as to what was happening, but willing to trust Henrik. Or, more realistically, Cassiopeia, who he knew was nearby. It was obvious the younger man cared for her. But any reunion was not going to happen soon. Stephanie hoped Malone would be more careful than she'd been. Her cell phone remained in her pocket. Curiously, though she'd been searched, they'd allowed her to keep it.
A click attracted her attention.
She turned to see the Oriental cabinet rotate inward, stopping halfway and revealing a passageway. A small, impish man with balding hair and a worried face emerged from the darkness followed by Irina Zovastina, who held a gun. The guard gave his Supreme Minister a wide berth, retreating to the windows. Zovastina pressed a button on a controller and the cabinet closed. She then tossed the device onto the corpse.
Zovastina handed her gun to one of the guards and gripped the man's AK-74. She walked straight to Thorvaldsen and rammed the butt into his stomach. The breath left the Dane as he doubled over and grabbed his gut.
Both Stephanie and Ely moved to help, but the other guards quickly aimed their weapons.
“I decided,” Zovastina said, “instead of calling you back, as you suggested earlier, to come in person.”
Thorvaldsen battled for breath and stood upright, fighting t
he pain. “Good to know…I made such…a strong impression…”
“Who are you?” Zovastina asked Stephanie.
She introduced herself and added, “U.S. Justice Department.”
“Malone works for you?”
She nodded and lied, “He does.”
Zovastina faced Ely. “What have these spies told you?”
“That you're a liar. That you've been holding me against my will, without me even knowing.”
He paused, perhaps to summon courage. “That you're planning a war.”
ZOVASTINA WAS ANGRY WITH HERSELF. SHE'D ALLOWED EMOTION to rule. Killing Vincenti had been necessary. Karyn? She regretted killing her, though there was no choice. Had to be done. The cure for AIDS? How was that possible? Were they deceiving her?
Or simply misleading? Vincenti had been up to something for sometime. She'd known that. That was why she'd recruited spies of her own, like Kamil Revin, who'd kept her informed. She stared at her three prisoners and made clear to Thorvaldsen, “You may have been ahead of me in Venice, but you're not anymore.”
She motioned with the rifle at Lyndsey. “Come here.”
The man stood rooted, his gaze locked on the gun. Zovastina gestured and one of the soldiers shoved Lyndsey toward her. He stumbled to the floor and tried to stand, but she cut him off as he came to one knee, nestling the barrel of the AK-74 into the bridge of his nose. “Tell me exactly what's happening here. You have to the count of three. One.”
Silence.
“Two.”
More silence.
“Three.”
MALONE'S BAD FEELING WAS GROWING WORSE. THEY WERE STILL hovering a couple of miles from the house, using the mountains for cover. Still, no signs of activity either inside or out. Without question, the estate below cost tens of millions of dollars. It sat in a region of the world where there simply weren't that many people who could afford such luxury,
except perhaps Zovastina herself.
“That place needs checking,” he said.
He again noticed the trail leading up the stark mountain and the ground conduit. Afternoon heat danced in waves along the rock face. He thought again of Ptolemy's riddle. Climb the god-built walls. When you reach the attic, gaze into the tawny eye, and dare to find the distant refuge. God-built walls.
Mountains.
He decided they could not keep hovering.
So he slid off the headset and grabbed his phone.
STEPHANIE WATCHED THE MAN KNEELING ON THE FLOOR SOB
UNCONTROLLABLY, as Zovastina counted to three.
“Please, God,” he said. “Don't kill me.”
The rifle was still pointed at him and Zovastina said, “Tell me what I want to know.”
“Vincenti was right. What he said in the lab. They live in the mountain behind here, up the trail. In a green pool. He has power and lights there. He found them a long time ago.” He was speaking fast, the words blurring together in a frenzy of confession. “He told me everything. I helped him change them. I know how they work.”
“What are they?” she calmly asked.
“Bacteria. Archaea. A unique form of life.”
Stephanie heard a change in tone, as if the man sensed a new ally.
“They eat viruses. Destroy them, but they don't hurt us. That's why we did all those clinical trials. To see how they work on your viruses.”
Zovastina seemed to consider what she was hearing. Stephanie heard the reference to Vincenti and wondered if this house belonged to him.
“Lyndsey,” Zovastina said, “you're talking nonsense. I don't have time–”
“Vincenti lied to you about the antiagents.”
That interested her.
“You thought there was one for each zoonosis.” Lyndsey shook his head. “Not true. Only one.”
He pointed in the opposite direction of the room's windows, toward the back of the house.
“Back there. The bacteria in the green pool. They were the antiagents to every virus we found. He lied to you. Made you think there were many countermeasures. There weren't. Only one.”
Zovastina pressed the gun barrel harder into Lyndsey's face. “If Vincenti lied to me. Then so did you.”
Stephanie's cell phone jingled in her pocket.
Zovastina looked up. “Mr. Malone. Finally.” The gun swung her way. “Answer it.”
Stephanie hesitated.
Zovastina aimed her rifle at Thorvaldsen. “He's of no use to me, except to get you to answer.”
Stephanie flipped open the phone. Zovastina came close and listened.
“Where are you?” Malone asked.
Zovastina shook her head.
“Not there yet,” Stephanie answered.
“How long?”
“Another half hour. Farther than I thought.”
Zovastina nodded her approval of the lie.
“We're here,” Malone said. “Looking at one of the biggest damn houses I've ever seen, especially out in the middle of nowhere. Place looks deserted. There's a paved lane, maybe a mile or so, that leads in from the highway. We're hovering a couple miles behind the place. Can Ely offer any more information? There's a trail leading up the mountain into a cleft. Should we check that out?”
“Let me ask.”
Zovastina nodded again.
“He says that's a good idea.”
“We'll have a look. Call me when you arrive.”
Stephanie clicked off the phone and Zovastina relieved her of it. “Now we'll see how much Cotton Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt really know.”
EIGHTY-THREE
CASSIOPEIA FOUND THREE GUNS IN THE WEAPONS CABINET. SHE knew the make. Makarovs. A little stubbier than a standard-issue military Beretta, but all in all a fairly good weapon.
The helicopter descended and she noticed the ground rising fast out the windows. Malone had been talking to Stephanie on the phone. They were apparently not here yet. She wanted to see Ely. Badly. To know he was all right. She'd grieved for him, but not fully, always doubting, always hoping. Not anymore. She'd been right to continue the quest for the elephant medallions. Right to zero in on Irina Zovastina. Right to kill the men in Venice. Even though she'd been wrong about Viktor, she felt no remorse about his partner. Zovastina, not she, had started this battle.
The copter touched ground and the turbine wound down. The motor's roar was replaced with an eerie silence. She slid open the compartment door. Malone and Viktor started their exit. The afternoon was dry, the sun welcome, the air warm. She checked her watch–3:25 P.M. This had been a long day, and there was no end in sight. Her only sleep had been a couple of hours on the plane from Venice with Zovastina, but that had been an uneasy slumber. She handed each man a gun.
Malone tossed his other pistol into the copter and stuffed the gun into his belt. Viktor did the same.
They were maybe one hundred fifty meters behind the house, just beyond the grove of trees. The trail leading up the mountain stretched to their right. Malone bent down and felt the thick electrical conduit that paralleled its course. “Humming. Somebody definitely wants power up there.”
“What's there?” Viktor asked.
“Maybe what your former boss has been searching for.”
STEPHANIE CHECKED ON HENRIK AS ZOVASTINA ORDERED TWO OF the soldiers down into the lab.
“You all right?” she asked him.
He nodded. “I've taken worse.”
But she wondered. He was on the other side of sixty, with a crooked spine, and not in what she thought was the best physical condition.
“You should not listen to these people,” Zovastina said to Ely.
“Why not? You're the one pointing guns at everyone. Striking old men. Want to try me?”
Zovastina chuckled. “An academician who likes a fight? No, my smart friend. You and I don't need to battle. I need you helping me.”
“Then stop all this, let them go, and you got it.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“She's right. It can't
be that simple,” Thorvaldsen said. “Not when she's planning a biological war. A modern-day Alexander the Great, who will kill millions to reconquer all that he did and more.”
“Don't mock me,” Zovastina warned.
Thorvaldsen seemed unfazed. “I'll talk to you however I please.”
Zovastina raised the AK-74.
Ely jumped in front of Thorvaldsen. “If you want that tomb,” he made clear, “lower the gun.”
Stephanie wondered if this despot coveted that ancient treasure enough to be openly challenged in front of one of her men.
“Your usefulness is rapidly declining,” Zovastina made clear.
“That tomb could well be within walking distance of here,” Ely said. Stephanie admired Ely's determination. He was dangling a piece of meat to an uncaged lion, hoping an intense hunger overrode the instinctive desire to attack. But he seemed to have read Zovastina perfectly.
She lowered the gun.
The two soldiers returned with a computer mainframe cradled in each of their arms.
“It's all on there,” Lyndsey said. “The experiments. Data. Methodology of dealing with the archaea. All encrypted. But I can undo that. Only me and Vincenti knew the passwords. He trusted me. Told me everything.”
“There are experts who can unencrypt anything. I don't need you.”
“But it'll take others time to duplicate the chemistry that's needed to deal with the bacteria. Vincenti and I worked on that for the past three years. You don't have that time. You won't have the antiagent.”
Stephanie realized that the spineless fool was offering the only collateral he possessed. Zovastina barked out something in a language Stephanie did not understand and the two men cradling the computers left the room. She then motioned with her gun and told them to follow the men out.
They walked down the hall into the main foyer and headed toward the ground floor rear. Another soldier appeared and Zovastina asked something in what sounded like Russian. The man nodded and pointed at a closed door.
They were halted before it, and after it was opened, she, Thorvaldsen, Ely, and Lyndsey were herded inside and the door closed behind them.
She surveyed their prison.
