Parallax

by Jon F. Merz

  "'Cause you sure sound normal right now."

  "Frank."

  "Sorry."

  "The spirit world was one thing they were talking about."

  "The other?"

  "There were several. But extraterrestrial communications was also believed to be possible."

  "Aliens?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay, get back to me now please."

  "The experiments failed. None of the research volunteers ever seemed to exhibit the link to the degree we wished. The project was almost disbanded several years ago. But at the last minute, we got funding for a while longer. Most of the program got backburnered, including mind-link. But we were told to be on the lookout for the possibility that the event would happen naturally."

  "Naturally?"

  "What happened between you and the German. That's what we were trying to accomplish."

  "It's no bed of roses."

  "I know that." She leaned closer to him. "But don't you see? This is what we were waiting for. This is the big one."

  "Still doesn't explain how you came into this."

  "I was a field operative for DIA for years before I got into the program. One of my specialties back in the normal intelligence game was covert recruitment of operatives."

  "Covert recruitment?"

  "Meaning the people being recruited didn't even realize they were."

  "Yeah?"

  Gia pointed a finger at him. "You think that you've been able to lead a pretty anonymous life."

  "Sure. Moe taught me that."

  "Moe taught you things, yes, but he was from a different age. You've had a file with us for years."

  Frank tried to suppress the surprise. This was not good. He'd spent a lifetime trying to keep himself out of the government's files. "Shit."

  "We've known about you for a while. You also came up on a list generated by our computers as a possible mind-link natural. We had hundreds of people on the list. Most of them were former combat veterans. Special operators, spies, freelance assassins, those types of people. Extreme duress has a way of utilizing certain segments of the brain that are normally quite docile."

  "So, you came to me."

  "Seemed the best way to do so was by going undercover ostensibly to work for the FBI. It was easy enough to set up on our side of the fence. The rest was getting into you."

  "You got into me all right."

  "Like I said, a specialty."

  "And what about Patrisi wanting you whacked?"

  "Planted information."

  "Are you nuts? He could have killed you himself!"

  She shook her head. "No. He did right what we knew he would. He went to his best man. You."

  "Big gamble."

  "Welcome to my world."

  "So, you knew that I had mind-link?"

  "No. I was just told to get close to you again. I have no idea why. Someone higher up than me might have known something was happening. They have people who can actually sense these things you know."

  "What - psychic abilities?"

  "They call them fluctuations. Ripples in the pool. They know somehow that something's occurred. They knew about you and the German apparently."

  "And now?"

  "Now, we want you both. Alive."

  "Stahl's going to blow something up today."

  "Is he?"

  "Yes. I've got to stop him."

  "We can stop him together." Gia's hand appeared on his knee.

  Frank looked down at it. "Is this another lie?"

  She kissed him then and pulled back with a smile. "No. It's not."

  Chapter Forty-Four

  From his vantage point in the small cafŽ by the bookstore, Stahl could clearly see the conference participants beginning to file into the building. Some of the still wore their white lab coats underneath heavier winter jackets. He smiled and regarded the cup of coca in front of him.

  It appeared that Frank was out of the hands of federal agents. He'd somehow managed to escape.

  That would mean he'd be coming for Stahl.

  He took a sip and sighed. Another hour and it wouldn't matter. The building would be destroyed along with the doctor who'd started this entire mess. Stahl frowned. In a way, he felt anger at the doctor for being so stupid in the first place. Who the hell gets mixed up with the organization in the first place? Why make the damned diseases?

  Even when he'd worked for various terrorist organizations, he'd never thought about going biological. What was the point? The goal of terrorism was to create a huge splash and hog the ensuing media spotlight for all it was worth. Spotlighting the cause - the struggle - that's what it was all about. Creeping horror with nasty infections and diseases didn't spotlight any bit of the struggle. It shone that same media light on the disease itself. In effect, that became the terrorist. All the glory was lost.

  But times had changed.

  And now this doctor who was probably not much better a person than anyone who'd ever walked up to an innocent person and killed them, wanted to clear his conscience by spelling the beans about SARS and some of the other nasties he'd created.

  Well, bully for him, thought Stahl. But it's not going to happen.

  Not today.

  Not ever.

  He checked his watch again and reprimanded himself instantly for it. Keep looking at the silly thing and people will notice. The last thing he needed was some eager-beaver college student remembering his face.

  Just do the job then get the hell out of Boston.

  And go home to Alois.

  Find Alois.

  He shook his head. Whoever had him would pay the ultimate price for their stupidity. He frowned. Maybe he should have asked Karen to come along today. At least it would keep Stahl's mind off of his son's predicament.

  Wasn't it enough the poor boy had to undergo extensive surgery? Now someone had to go an kidnap him as well? If Stahl thought he'd once been one of the cruelest people in the world, then he was quickly learning there were people around today who beat his cruelty by a mile - without even trying.

  Maybe he'd take a few of those people out - just for good measure - before he and Alois disappeared off the face of the earth.

  He glanced up at the approach of a big navy blue Chevy Suburban.

  A war wagon?

  On cue, the two side doors opened and two men emerged on either side of the vehicle. They wore open coats and Stahl noted by the way their arms hung that they were both carrying weapons. Probably submachine guns.

  This would be the security detail then.

  The question was were they a private firm or federal?

  It didn't really matter, of course. But Stahl figured they'd be Feds. With a prize like what they had, there was no way they'd risk renting the doctor out to a private firm like Wackenhut or Krohl.

  Stahl peered closer at the SUV. Everyone else in the coffee shop had noticed them as well. If Stahl had ignored them, that in and of itself would have seemed suspicious. So he stared.

  And finally got a look at the good doctor.

  Well, well. He smiled. The spindly old man needed the help of one of his guards even getting down from the high-based truck. He appeared to be around seventy years old. Stahl would have guessed him to be Polish or of some other Eastern European ancestry judging from the build of his cheekbones.

  Again, it didn't matter.

  In just under forty-five minutes, the doctor would be taking his final trip of this lifetime, anyway. The only question in Stahl's mind was which part of the doctor would reach the destination first. After all, that bomb would blow him into so many little pieces, collecting whatever remained would take a hand broom and a dustpan.

  He finished his cocoa, letting the chocolate liquid slide down the back of his throat. He glanced at the counter. They had fresh-squeezed orange juice. Stahl loved the stuff. But at four bucks a glass, it seemed a little silly.

  He could always order it on the plane ride home.

  The doctor had walked a total of ten
steps so far. Stahl could see the pained expressions on the faces of the security men.

  Naturally.

  The last thing they wanted was to have a potential target meandering his way through a crowded street scene. Stahl imagined they must have been annoyed to no end with the layout of the building. It was built back from the curb by a good seventy-five feet. That was a tremendous amount of distance to cover while trying to keep someone alive. A halfway talented sniper on a rooftop could plug the doctor ten times in that distance without breaking a sweat.

  And the security team could be killed as well.

  Maybe that's what the agents were most concerned about.

  Stahl understood that feeling even if he had never understood what made one man willingly place his life on the line to protect the life of someone he didn't even know well enough? What drove some souls to take such risks? Were they suicidal? Stahl didn't think so. Not necessarily.

  But maybe they just assumed the role of protector, as men had throughout the thousands of years since it had all begun.

  Finally, the doctor managed to get himself up to the front doors of the building. Another security detail met him there. The two from the vehicle stayed back and kept their eyes roving the crowd that had temporarily stopped to let them pass.

  But there were no threats in the crowd.

  Not today.

  Today, the real threat was in the conference room.

  And sitting across the street in the cafŽ.

  Stahl grinned again.

  This would be quick and easy.

  Last night's insertion had been the most challenging aspect of this job, aside from keeping himself focused on it and not thinking about Alois at every opportunity.

  Then there was the American, also.

  Stahl resisted the urge to check his watch. Even if Frank had been able to pinpoint Stahl's location, it would take some time to get here. Stahl had seen that he lived close to the water. That could easily mean some place down by the harbor. And judging by how traffic had ground to a standstill in this town, it would take Frank far too long to get here and make a difference.

  Another cup of cocoa?

  No.

  Too much chocolate would make him want to use the bathroom. He always marveled at those commercial laxatives pushed on unsuspecting and unknowing people. If you were backed up, just eat a chocolate bar. Always worked for Stahl.

  He estimated it would take the doctor another ten minutes to get himself squared away. Then the conference chair would make a few remarks before at last welcoming the doctor on as the featured speaker at today's event.

  The window for detonation was anywhere between twenty minutes and thirty minutes from now.

  Plenty of time for another cup.

  Stahl toyed with the newspaper in front of him. The crossword was a few pages away. Should be give it a try?

  Of course not. No sense leaving any sign he'd been there.

  He sighed.

  Waiting was the toughest part of any assignment. Especially when it came down to these final minutes. This was when all the preparation and patience either paid off or the whole operation went to shit.

  It happened that way sometimes. Stahl had seen enough operations go south to know the same thing could happen to him if he wasn't careful and observant. Maybe the adhesive he'd used to secure the bomb under the podium hadn't held. Maybe the whole device had simply dropped off the podium and now the people inside were freaking out.

  Stahl glanced across the street, wondering if there'd be a rush of doctors scrambling to get out of the building.

  There wasn't.

  The only people at the doors of the building were the two security men. The Chevy war wagon sat idling, exhaust trailing out of its tailpipe and disappearing into the cold January air.

  Stahl pitied the security detail. Cold weather is a bitch to put up with. Their bladders would constrict, making them want to go the bathroom badly. The problem was - at least in a survival situation - that if you pissed, you lost precious body heat. It became a vicious circle that could inevitably lead to dehydration if they weren't careful.

  Stahl doubted of course that they'd be out in the cold for too long. Then again, judging by how slow the doctor walked, there was no way to know how long he could talk for.

  He smiled to himself.

  And then stopped.

  Something was wrong.

  But not across the street.

  Here.

  In the cafŽ.

  He looked up.

  Good God.

  No!

  The American.

  Here.

  How?

  Worse, he was headed Stahl's way.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  "Didn't expect me so soon, did you?"

  Stahl smiled. "What makes you say that?"

  "You tried to hide it, but there's surprise written all over your face."

  Stahl shrugged. "Why hide it? It's true."

  "That why you're still sitting in this place instead of getting a better vantage point?"

  "Yes."

  Frank eyed him. Was it safe to approach? "I just want to talk. No games, all right?"

  Stahl removed his hand from the inside of his coat and laid it on the table. Frank could just make out something inside of it. The detonator?

  Stahl nodded at his hand. "If I get wind of any kind of setup, I blow the bomb. No bullshit."

  "I'm not shitting you." Frank pointed at the empty chair across from Stahl. "You mind?"

  "Go ahead."

  Frank slid into the seat, careful to keep his hands in view. He glanced out the window at the building across the street. He made the security team and the war wagon and nodded. "So. That's the target."

  "Not the building. The man inside."

  "What's his story?"

  Stahl looked at him. "Why so interested?"

  Frank shrugged. "I'm curious by nature. Besides, it'd be nice to know exactly what the hell is going on here for once. God knows I've been playing catch-up on this thing since the whole nightmare started."

  Stahl nodded. "All right, out of respect for our mutual profession." He glanced around. "There's a conference going on over there. A health symposium on infectious diseases."

  "Fun."

  "The guest speaker - a guest of honor, I suppose - is a doctor who created the deadly disease SARS a few years back."

  "Sudden Acute Respiratory Syndrome?"

  "The same."

  "The one that started in China?"

  "Hong Kong, actually. And a few other cities. The Chinese exposure was the result of travel between the colonies over there. The point is, the doctor speaking in there created the disease."

  "Why on earth would he do that?"

  "He was very well paid. By the same organization that hired me to take him out."

  "Why are you killing him?"

  "Because he went to the intelligence services with news of what he created. Furthermore, he apparently has information on a new infectious agent that was designed following the results of watching SARS at work. This new disease is supposed to be ten times worse than SARS."

  "But now your organization won't be able to unleash it because the good doctor is getting ready to tell everyone all about it."

  "Exactly."

  "And what assurances do you have that he hasn't already been debriefed? I can't imagine they'd let him attend a seminar like this without first getting him to give up the information to them."

  "One of the conditions of his surrender was that he be allowed to speak publicly about the menace he created. Or at least to a team of respected healthcare professionals."

  "This seminar."

  "Yes."

  Frank shook his head. "Some line of work you got yourself into there, Stahl."

  "Better than waxing Wise guys."

  "Marginally." Frank smiled. "You don't have to kill the doctor."

  "I certainly do."

  Frank shook his head. "No. That's what I came her
e to tell you. What I tried to tell you during our mind-link."

  "'Mind-link,' is that what you're calling it?"

  Frank chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you how I came across that little nugget of information."

  "Regardless, I do have to kill him. My son's life depends on it. I called this morning and found out they've taken him as insurance. If I don't kill the doctor, the bastards will kill my son."

  "Alois."

  Stahl looked at him. "How do you know his name?"

  "Because they didn't kidnap him from his hospital."

  "Who did?"

  "A friend of mine who owes me a favor."

  Stahl's jaw hardened and Frank feared he might leap out of his chair and strangle him. "You? You? My God, why on earth did you take him out of there for?"

  "So you wouldn't have to do this. To keep him safe."

  "Why would you do that?"

  "Because none of this is necessary. This killing. All this bloodshed. Maybe I've changed over the past week or so. I'm tired, Stahl. God knows I'm tired of it all. The running, the killing, the stress, all of it. I want a vacation, goddammit. A long peaceful vacation." He smirked. "And maybe a woman."

  "I could do with one myself." He frowned. "Where is Alois?"

  "Safe," said Frank. "Most importantly, he is safe. My friend has him stashed outside of Hamburg with twenty-four hour care. He's doing pretty well all things considered."

  "He needs the operation."

  "The transplant, yeah," said Frank. "That's why we're going to head straight for the airport. Get you on a plane and fly you over to him."

  "That sounds suspiciously like you're coming along."

  "You'll need some help."

  "Help?"

  "Yeah. Those people you work for are going to need convincing that they should go ahead and pay you anyway."

  Stahl squinted. "You'd do that for me?"

  "You ever hear of honor among thieves?"

  "Sure."

  "Call it my revision then. It ought to extend to us as well."

  Stahl glanced down and Frank could see his fingers loosening around the detonator. "You aren't lying to me?"

  "I wouldn't," said Frank. "I just want this all to end."

  "Ending would be nice."

  Frank nodded. "Let it go. Let the damned thing end here. Right now. Let's get the hell out of here and reunite you with your son."