Black Rose (The Project Book 9)

by Alex Lukeman

  Nothing ever seemed to happen at the base except for the civilian traffic, the van delivery and the changing of the guards. She came to the day of the raid. The van pulled up at the usual time. A guard emerged from the hut for the inspection, as he always did. Then everything changed.

  It was like watching a movie on television with no sound. A hand holding a pistol came out of the window of the van and fired. The guard stumbled backward and fell. Men in black balaclavas piled out of the van and began shooting at whoever was inside the guard shack. Stephanie saw the windows shatter. One of the men in black was larger than the others. He gestured and the others followed him into the complex.

  The dead guard lay sprawled on the courtyard pavement. The van idled in the chill air, wisps of exhaust smoke visible on the video. An Asian looking man in a white uniform stepped out of the cab and lit a cigarette. He had a pistol in one hand.

  Exactly twelve minutes and forty-three seconds later, the raiders came out of the compound into the daylight. One of the men carried an aluminum case.

  The plague samples, Stephanie thought. The large man she believed to be the leader reached up as if something bothered him under the ski mask and pulled it off to scratch. For a few seconds his face was visible.

  Got you, Stephanie thought. She froze the video for a moment and entered commands on her keyboard. The computer began searching the database for a facial recognition match.

  He was a white man, not Korean or Chinese or Asian. She restarted the video. The leader got into the back of the van with the others. The driver was already behind the wheel. The truck pulled out through the open gates, past the dead guard, and started down the road. A minute later a thick cloud of smoke and debris billowed out of the entrance to the complex.

  Twenty minutes later, the computer signaled a match to the still shot. Stephanie looked at the result and swore under her breath.

  Elizabeth won't like this, she thought. She took the printout and went upstairs to Elizabeth's office. Harker was at her desk. It was still early. The others had not yet arrived.

  "Good morning," Elizabeth said. She saw Stephanie's expression and the paper in her hand. "What is it."

  "I have the results from the satellite surveillance."

  "What did you find?"

  "It was the Russians who hit the Koreans," Stephanie said. "Zaslon. I identified the leader. He's a Spetsnaz major named Kaminsky. We ID'd him in Aleppo last year."

  "The Russians? Damn."

  "Yes."

  "I never would have expected that. Zaslon is General Vysotsky's group," Elizabeth said. "He had to be under orders from the Kremlin. If the Kremlin's involved, the stakes just got a lot higher. You're sure about the ID?"

  "Positive."

  "It's an act of war. Why risk war over something like this? The Russians have plenty of nasty stuff of their own. They don't need another bug for their collection."

  "Maybe they just want to make sure it can't be used against them."

  "That's possible, I guess. It's more likely they want to add it to their biological bag of tricks."

  "Why does everyone work so hard at creating things that can kill millions at a time?" Stephanie asked.

  "I don't know, Steph. There's something dark in some people, something barbaric and murderous. An impulse that leads to things like this plague being turned into a weapon."

  "If I were more religious I'd think it was the work of an evil being. Satanic."

  "I think humans can be evil enough," Elizabeth said. "We don't need Satan to explain it. But I admit it would make things easier to understand if it was about a conflict between absolute good and absolute evil."

  "A metaphysical war between the forces of darkness and light?"

  "Exactly."

  "How do you know it isn't?" Stephanie said.

  CHAPTER 10

  The fact the Johannes Gutenberg loved his wife didn't preclude taking a mistress. After all, it was a traditional way of life for the European rich. It was a man's prerogative if he could afford it and Johannes certainly could. It added status. People saw her with Johannes and envied him. As for Marta, she knew about Valentina and accepted the fact that her husband was unfaithful. She had long ago decided that the practical benefits of being married to Johannes far outweighed the emotional inconvenience of his philandering. Besides, she could take her own lovers if she wished, though lately there had been no one to interest her. As long as she was discrete it wasn't a problem.

  Gutenberg wasn't interested in someone who might challenge his sense of entitled superiority. Valentina Rosetti was everything he could desire in a female companion. She had dark black hair that fell to her shoulders in natural curls. High cheekbones and green eyes gave her genuine beauty. She was tall and moved with languid grace. She radiated sexuality and made any man who saw her wonder what she'd be like in bed.

  At the moment Valentina lay next to Gutenberg in the bedroom of her apartment in Paris, her long hair spread in a tangle on the pillow. The room smelled of her perfume and the aftermath of sex. Earlier, he'd taken her to dinner and ordered a bottle of 1928 Chateau Gruaud-Larose, a bargain at 1500 euros. Gutenberg enjoyed educating Valentina about the finer things in life. They'd had an excellent meal and a glass of cognac after, then come back to her apartment and made love.

  For all her charms, Johannes didn't think much of Valentina's intellectual capability. It was one of the things he liked about her. She was smart enough to present a good impression when they were out together, but she seemed to have no interest in things beyond the gifts and money he gave her. She had no political opinions that he had noticed. She wasn't very interested in world affairs, though he knew she was aware to the minute of upcoming appointments with her masseuse or for a fitting at the salon. She seldom argued with him and never about anything important. And of course she was accomplished in bed. In short, she was everything a man could want in a mistress. Sometimes Johannes blessed his lucky stars when he thought of her. She was almost too good to be true.

  She was.

  Valentina's real name wasn't Rossi, it was Antipov. She'd been born in St. Petersburg, not Italy as Johannes believed. She'd never known her father. Her mother had been killed in a meaningless car accident three years before.

  Valentina's mother had been a decorated KGB agent during the old Soviet regime, trusted enough to be sent abroad to America and the other Western nations. Quick intelligence and natural athletic ability, coupled with her mother's stellar record as a loyal servant of the state, made Valentina a natural for selection as a future agent. She'd been brought up under the watchful guidance of her mother's minders, groomed from an early age as an agent provocateur.

  Like her mother before her, Valentina was a spy.

  Valentina worked for Alexei Vysotsky, part of a small group of experienced SVR agents Vysotsky ran separately from the rest of his organization. She cared not at all for Gutenberg but found it easy to enjoy the decadent comforts he provided. He was not a particularly skilled or demanding lover and their liaisons were infrequent enough that she didn't consider it a burden. Valentina was a consummate actress. Her cries of passion in bed would have convinced any man that he was a match for Casanova.

  Vysotsky had explained to Valentina why Gutenberg was important. The Swiss banker was the driving force behind an effort to derail the new financial alliance between Brazil, Russia, India and China. BRICS intended to establish a new base currency to replace the dollar as the world's standard. If the alliance succeeded, the U.S. would no longer be able to dominate world commerce as it had in the past. If the alliance fell apart, years of careful planning and difficult political negotiations with Russia's strange bedfellows would be wasted. The United States would remain dominant. A potential war with China would become more likely.

  As usual after one of their bouts in bed, Johannes lay back with a cigarette and a glass of cognac. Valentina reached over and laid her arm across his chest, pressing up against him with her breasts. She knew he liked th
at. At times like this Johannes was relaxed, his guard down. He liked to boast about his business deals, secure in the knowledge that his mistress understood nothing at all of what he was talking about. More than one of these pillow conversations had found their way to Vysotsky's desk.

  "It's been too long since I saw you," she said. "I've been lonely."

  "Don't pout, darling. You know I have affairs to attend to. It's been a very good week for me. I managed to create real difficulties for people who were opposing my plans."

  "What people?" She snuggled closer to him.

  "Russians, my dear, men who have no understanding of the world. All they understand is force. They lack the devious political subtlety of our Western sophistication."

  What an arrogant bastard, Valentina thought. Russians were applying devious political sophistication before Machiavelli was a gleam in his father's eye.

  She looked at him wide-eyed, as if amazed at his skill in manipulating his enemies.

  "What did you do?"

  "The details are unimportant. They had something I wanted. They thought it was secure, but I took it from them. Now I'll be able to use it against them, when the time is right."

  The General will want to know about this, she thought.

  "What was it?"

  She felt him tense against her. "It doesn't matter. Don't bother yourself about it."

  Change the subject. "I saw a nice bracelet today on the Champs-Élysées. Do you think we could go look at it tomorrow?"

  His body relaxed. "Of course. And perhaps pay a visit to that salon you like. The one with a designer who knows how to fit you."

  "Ooh, Johannes. Thank you."

  Later, after they'd made love again and Gutenberg was asleep, Valentina thought about what she would report to Vysotsky. She didn't know what it was that Gutenberg had stolen but the general would, she was sure.

  CHAPTER 11

  Nick left his apartment and took the elevator down to the first floor. Things were quiet. Unless the pager on his belt brought him to Virginia, the team had a rare day off. He was meeting Selena for breakfast and after that, they had an appointment with a real estate agent. Nick was looking forward to the morning. Things were going really well between them. Selena had come around to the idea of a new place and now she was enthusiastic about it.

  He stepped out of his building and felt the cold bite into him. A black Cadillac limo idled by the curb. There was only one Cadillac that ever waited for Nick.

  Adam, Nick thought. It has to mean trouble. What now?

  The driver held the passenger door open for him. Nick got in the back. The driver closed the door.

  The Cadillac had been modified with a thick panel of opaque, black glass that split the rear into two separate compartments. The driver was out of sight behind a similar panel in the front. Nick's door window was blacked out and impossible to see through.

  Nick had never seen Adam's face and had no idea who he was. He'd never heard his voice, except through the distortion of electronic masking. For all he knew, Adam could be a woman. A speaker allowed for communication between the two sides of the rear compartment. A drawer could be opened in the glass if something needed to be passed from one side to the other.

  Aside from Adam's modifications, Cadillac had designed the Presidential model for people with a serious need for security. The turbocharged diesel engine produced over 500 horsepower. The car had five inch thick armor plate. Nothing less than a .50 caliber round could trouble the bullet proof glass. Run flat tires with steel sidewalls and special compounds would keep rolling long after they'd been shot and punctured. The engine compartment, the underside of the car and the trunk were all armored. The Cadillac was a luxury tank.

  "Hello, Nick."

  Adam's electronic voice sounded in the speaker by Nick's ear. There was something in the speech pattern that made Nick think Adam was an older man.

  "Adam."

  The heavy car began to roll silently through the streets of Washington.

  "Please look in the compartment on the side of your door," Adam said.

  Nick reached into the compartment and took out a sealed envelope.

  "That envelope contains a phone number you can use to reach me in case of an emergency."

  Adam had never given Nick a way to contact him before. "You anticipate trouble?"

  "I always anticipate trouble. Especially now. AEON is planning a terrible adventure."

  "I thought they were finished after the last time."

  "Your efforts set them back but they've recovered."

  "What are they doing now?"

  "Are you familiar with the Bible?"

  The question seemed to come out of the blue. "What do you mean? If you want to know if I can quote chapter and verse, no."

  "How about the Book of Revelations? The Four Horsemen?"

  I don't like where this is headed, Nick thought.

  The heavy car slowed, then picked up speed. The electronic voice echoed from the speaker.

  "The Four Horsemen are Conquest, War, Famine and Pestilence, in that order." AEON has decided to shift things around a little."

  Nick shivered, for no good reason. "What do you mean?"

  "You know about the plague the North Koreans were working on."

  It was a statement, not a question.

  "Yes."

  "A Spetsnaz unit from Vysotsky's Zaslon group raided the Korean lab and took the plague samples."

  "The Russians? But what's that got to do with AEON?"

  "AEON took it from them in turn. They intend to target specific countries and release it."

  "What? Why? What advantage is there in that?"

  "A plague epidemic would create chaos and confusion. In the target countries, it would disrupt everything. Government services, transport and food supplies, infrastructure maintenance, anything and everything where people have to work together to accomplish something. There would be massive quarantines, internment camps, martial law. The economy of a target nation would collapse. That's one goal."

  "They have more than one?"

  "AEON wants to establish a world where those who are considered less desirable will be eliminated or used as labor. They believe there are too many people in the world. They want to reduce the world population."

  Nick let the words sink in. "You're saying they want a population die-off and are going to use this disease to make it happen?" His voice echoed with doubt. "That's hard to believe."

  "You're having trouble believing it because an idea like that doesn't fit with who you are," Adam said. "A decent person can't really grasp the idea that someone would plan the deaths of hundreds of millions."

  "Who do they plan to go after?" Nick asked.

  "China, for one. That's what the Indian misadventure you were involved in was about. If that missile had gotten through, it would have destroyed most of their central banking system. Brazil, Russia and India are also on their list. Africa is a potential target. There are vast resources there, inconveniently tied up by governments that won't cooperate in being plundered."

  The car halted briefly. Nick wondered where he was. Nothing could be seen through the opaque glass. For all he knew, they were just driving around the block.

  Adam continued. "AEON's leader is a banker named Johannes Gutenberg. The four countries I mentioned have been working on creating a new currency standard to challenge the dollar's supremacy. China has already established the Asian Industrial Bank to compete with the IMF and the World Bank. If they succeed, Gutenberg and the others in AEON will lose billions. He can't allow that to happen. China is the primary target. If he brings down Beijing, the BRICS alliance will fall apart. The plague is a means to an end. Gutenberg doesn't care if millions die in the process."

  "That's evil," Nick said.

  "Yes, it is."

  "What's to keep them from getting sick themselves, once they let this stuff loose?" Nick asked. "Our understanding is that there's no cure."

  "They're looking for
ways to cure and prevent it," Adam said. "They haven't got it yet but my information is that they're close to a breakthrough on a vaccine. When they have something that works, they'll release the plague."

  "What are you asking me to do?"

  "Your group has to destroy the labs and samples before they can release it. The labs are in Switzerland and India, part of the Dass pharmaceutical complex. There are a lot of separate facilities. I don't know which ones have the samples."

  "Dass. Krivi Dass?" Nick said. "He was part of that attempt to launch a missile at China. We couldn't prove his involvement."

  "That's him," Adam said. "He's part of AEON's leadership."

  The car stopped, started up again. The ride was quiet, comfortable. It was a strange conversation, surreal. He was riding in total luxury and talking about madmen who wanted to unleash death upon the world.

  "I don't think there's much time to stop this," Adam said. "There's something else."

  The drawer between the two sides of the rear compartment slid open. Inside was a gold coin.

  "Please take the coin, Nick."

  Nick picked it up. It felt heavy in his hand. The coin was a little larger than a quarter. One side bore the image of two knights riding a single horse. The other side depicted a domelike structure with a cross imposed upon it.

  The seal of the Knights Templar.

  The drawer closed and Adam's electronic voice came through the speaker. "If anyone approaches you in the future and gives you one of these coins, you will know they come from my organization."

  The car came to a stop. Nick's door clicked open.

  "Good hunting, Nick. I'll be in touch."

  Nick got out and found himself back in front of his building. He watched Adam's limo ease out into the street. From somewhere in the heavy traffic, a powerful red motorcycle with two riders wearing black leathers and helmets with smoked face shields came up fast behind the Cadillac. The passenger tossed a dark object onto the roof. It stuck to the top of the car with a metallic clang. The bike accelerated away.