by John Sneeden
Mironov leaned forward and calmly crossed his fingers on the table, the blank stare still frozen on his face. “You’re a decent man, Markus. One of the best in your field. But our plans were just too big for you.”
“What plans? What are you talking about?” VanGelder was finding it difficult to speak without slurring his words. “And what did you put in my drink?”
“You were on the right path.” Mironov stood up and coldly adjusted the lapel of his suit. “But it was a path that was going to take too long. We’ve found a shortcut, and you’re going to help us take it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” muttered VanGelder. It was becoming harder and harder to move the muscles around his mouth. “You’re mad if you—”
He never finished his sentence. As the room began to fade away, he saw Mironov signal with his head. A few seconds later, strong hands grabbed him as the room went black.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CARMEN AND REID arrived at the door just moments after the bald man disappeared into the room. They couldn’t pick up any noise coming from inside, although the buzz of the gala crowd would have prevented them from hearing anything short of a gunshot.
“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going through your mind right now.” Reid pulled out the program and pretended to read it. “But let me be the voice of reason, here. We can’t just go charging through that door.”
“You’re right. We can’t just go charging in there. But I am going to take a look.”
“So basically what you’re telling me is that you’re going to stick your head inside and announce we’re here?” Reid asked. “We need to position ourselves so we can see inside the room when he comes back out.”
“There is only one problem with that.” Carmen unsnapped her clutch in case the Beretta was needed. “He’s not coming back out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Pretty simple, actually. Skinner tells us there is a boat waiting outside. Baldy gets a transmission in his earpiece and then goes running into a room that backs up to the river. You don’t have to be a Nobel laureate to figure that out. They’ve finished their business, whatever that is, and they’re heading out. It couldn’t be any clearer if we were reading a script.”
“Of course,” replied Reid, nodding his head sarcastically. “And we know from experience, things always play out just that easy. One, two, three.”
“Look, it won’t hurt. If they see me I’m just going to act is though I was looking for the restroom. Besides, I think there is close to a zero chance Baldy recognized me from the other day. And what's the worst they can do? Start a gunfight in the middle of several hundred people?”
Reid shook his head but then relented. “Make it quick.” After thinking it through, he had to admit what she said made sense. He doubted the Renaissance team would risk causing a stir in the midst of the gala.
Carmen surveyed the crowd around them. Servers buzzed back and forth, carrying more trays of drinks, and the guests all seemed to be lost in conversation. Comfortable that no one was watching, she placed her wineglass on a nearby table and turned toward the door. Fortunately it was unlocked, and the latch turned with ease. She opened it a few inches and stuck her head in. The wood-paneled room was apparently a private dining area. It was also empty, save for a few tables. On the far end, one of the tables was covered with white linen, and there were two empty champagne flutes.
“Pssst. Let’s go.”
“What?” Reid turned around.
“Now. They’re gone.”
Carmen held the door open as Reid entered. Before following him inside, she took one last look around. She was about to deem everything clear when she noticed a familiar face coming toward her through the crowd: the CERN employee they had spoken to only minutes before. Gone were the smile and the flirtatious demeanor. He had a serious look on his face and was surveying the crowd as though looking for someone. She knew she had seemed too anxious to find VanGelder.
As his head began to turn in her direction, Carmen threw caution to the wind and entered the room, closing the door hard behind her. She hoped she had made it inside before the man spotted her, but she couldn’t be sure.
“All clear?” Reid asked.
“Not sure, to be honest.” Carmen placed her hand on the door handle in case someone tried to enter. “Our friend from CERN appears to be nosing around.”
“Where do you think the exterior door is?”
“Over there.” Carmen pointed toward a door on the far end. She hadn’t seen it before because it was made out of the same paneling as the walls. “They must be leaving. Call Skinner.”
She watched Reid answer his phone, which was already vibrating. “Do you see anyone leaving?” There was a pause as Skinner spoke on the other end. Finally, Reid said, “That could be VanGelder. Take your bike across the pedestrian bridge, and see if you can find Mironov. Then follow him. We’ll take care of the ones on the boat.”
Reid ended the call. "Four men just walked out of the building. One is tall—it's probably Mironov. He's heading along the dock toward the front entrance. The others are loading someone into the boat."
“Keep your phone out so we can use the light,” Carmen said, taking a chair from one of the tables and bracing it against the door that led to the gala. She wanted to make sure they weren’t surprised from the rear by her friend from CERN. Once she had confirmed that the door was secure, she found a switch and turned out the lights.
The two operatives made their way over to the door leading to the dock. Carmen pulled the Beretta out of the clutch and then handed the purse to Reid to put inside his coat.
She then pulled him close to her and whispered, “We can’t let that boat leave because we have no way of following them. When I open the door I’m going to step out and remain low. I need you to remain standing and cover me. We only fire at armed men who initiate force. Keep the shots high.”
“Copy that.” Reid drew his suppressed Glock.
Carmen took a deep breath, turned the latch, and opened the door. As soon it opened, she heard voices a short distance away. She bent over and crept out onto the dock. Once clear of the building, she got down on one knee and raised her gun. Reid stepped out behind her and raised his Glock with two hands.
In distance was the silhouette of a boat. Four men were standing, hovering over two men that were seated. Both of the seated men appeared slumped over and lifeless. Carmen thought the man on the left had long hair and realized that it might be Zane.
What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion for Carmen. One of the men standing in the back of the boat happened to glance back in their direction. At first he just stared, but the surprise didn’t last long. He shouted instructions at one of the other men, who scrambled into the front seat and started the engine.
Carmen crouched even lower, reducing her profile, and squeezed off two shots. The boat motor roared to life, and one of the other men pulled out a pistol and fired back. Reid was able to fire a shot directly at the muzzle flash. There was a loud scream, and the man tumbled into the water.
The bow rose up, and the boat began to charge away from the dock. As it did, something happened that neither Reid nor Carmen had expected. One of the men that was slumped over in the back suddenly stood up and leaped into the water.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ZANE SUDDENLY FELT the boat rock. It was hard to tell exactly how many men had boarded, but it seemed like several. Not exactly ideal for what he had in mind, but his plan hinged more on getting into the water than fighting off men.
Seconds later, he felt someone sit down beside him. Did they sit down on their own or were they placed there? The body leaned against him, indicating the latter. As the voices moved back toward the bow, Zane stole a quick glance by cracking open his right eye. Leaning against him was a large man who was obviously under the effect of a tranquilizer. His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing.
Zane wondered i
f he might be able to help the man, but those thoughts were immediately extinguished by the crack of two gunshots. The operative’s heart began to race as he realized the boat was under attack. Either the police or even Delphi operatives had arrived, and Zane realized if he wasn’t careful, he might get shot in the crossfire.
Figuring he had nothing to lose, he opened his eyes. The scene in front of him was chaotic. One of the Renaissance guards lunged toward the front and started the engine. Another stood and fired at whoever was attacking the boat. Then return fire hit the Russian directly in the chest. The man let out a scream of pain and tumbled over the side.
By then the boat engine was growling to life, which left Zane with only one choice. He had to go overboard. He wanted to help the man next to him, who was undoubtedly an innocent party, but staying behind and getting himself killed wouldn’t provide any help at all.
Up front, the Russian pushed the throttle forward, and the bow of the boat lifted in response. It was time to move. Using all of his remaining strength, the operative stood up, stepped onto the rail, and leaped into the water.
In all of the excitement, Zane had forgotten that the temperatures were going to be at or near freezing, so when he hit the water it was a shock not only to his body, but also to his mind. As he sank into the icy depths, he had the sensation of being stabbed with a thousand needles. Every muscle in his body was rendered inoperable by the cold.
He finally willed his body to move, kicking with his legs and slashing his cuffed wrists through the water like a single paddle. But despite his efforts, he made little progress and realized that his drugged muscles would eventually give out.
The good news was that he could hear the boat moving away. The bad news was that the force of the boats propeller push him toward the bottom of the river, making it less and less likely that he’d make it to the surface before running out of air.
His lungs screaming for oxygen, Zane made one final attempt to gain the surface. He kicked as hard as he could and wiggled his body like a walrus, but the tranquilizer in his system rendered his muscles a shell of their former selves. Every precious foot he gained was lost when he stopped to rest. At some point, his strength began to ebb to almost nothing, and his body began to sink. He tried to think of what else he might do, but his mind was also suffering from a lack of oxygen. All he could think about was sleep. Precious sleep.
The water then began to darken as he sank, but he couldn’t tell if that was due to the depth or because he was passing out. Then, just as he felt he was at the limit of consciousness, two hands seized him under each arm.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
ZANE SEEMED NEAR death after Reid pulled him from the frigid waters of the Rhone. His skin was chalky white, and his arms rolled around like freshly boiled rigatoni. Reid looped an arm around his chest and swam him over to the dock using strong leg strokes. Carmen helped lift Zane out of the water and drag him into the paneled room.
Carmen’s phone began to vibrate soon after they propped Zane up against the wall. She saw that it was Skinner. “Hey, please tell me you have Mironov,” she said.
“I wish I could. Everything came up empty. I crossed the pedestrian bridge, but by the time I got to the front of the Bâtiment, he was gone.”
“Vanished just like that?”
“My guess is they were picked up by a vehicle and are on their way to a rendezvous with the boat somewhere downriver.”
“I see.” Carmen turned her head to look at Zane. Reid was massaging his arms and torso, trying to increase his body temperature. “I do have some good news. We have Zane.”
“What?”
“Long story, but he was in the boat and jumped out when the Renaissance team took off. Connor jumped in and pulled him out.”
“Outstanding.”
“Unfortunately, we believe they may have a new hostage, a Dutch physicist named Markus VanGelder. We also believe they may be on their way to CERN.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because Zane has been muttering about it ever since we pulled him out of the water. He picked something up while he was being held. It sounds like this event they’ve referred to might somehow involve something that’s going on at CERN.”
“Like an experiment?”
“We don’t know. All we know is that they’re likely headed that way, and I need you to head over there now yourself.”
“Roger that.”
“We’ll try to be there as soon as we can.”
Carmen ended the call. She dialed Brett and gave him a brief description of what had happened at the rear of the Bâtiment, including Zane’s plunge into the Rhone. Brett concurred with the need to get all three operatives out as soon as possible, and told Carmen he’d bring the car over and find a secluded place to park somewhere along La Rue de la Coulouvreniere, one block away from the Bâtiment.
By the time Carmen had placed the phone back in her pocket, she noticed that Zane was beginning to regain strength, although it was still obvious that he continued to suffer from the effects of the cold. He pulled himself into a sitting position and rubbed his temple for a minute or so. Eventually he looked up and mumbled, “We need to go.”
“We do,” Carmen assured him, placing a hand on his leg, “but you need to rest for just a few more minutes. Brett is going to—”
“No, we need to leave now,” he said emphatically, looking up at them for the first time. “People can hear suppressed shots, Carmen. The police will be swarming this place in a few minutes. If that happens, this whole deal is over.”
Carmen wanted to protest, but she knew he was right. Even if the police didn’t come, the banquet organizers would soon discover that Markus VanGelder was missing, and at that point the staff would conduct a room-by-room search of the building. If they wanted to get away safely, it had to be done now. She patted his leg. “I’m just not sure how much more your body can take.”
Zane smiled through the hair that covered his face. “It’ll take as much as it needs to take.”
Once they scanned the room to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind, Reid and Carmen helped Zane to his feet, and the trio exited back onto the dock, which they followed around to the front of the building. A few women in cocktail dresses stared at them, but a sharp glare from Carmen made them quickly turn the other way.
After crossing the plaza, they traveled one block to La Rue de la Coulouvreniere. As soon as they stepped out of the shadows a set of headlights turned on a block away. A Peugot appeared, pulling up to the curb. Carmen helped Zane into the front seat before sliding into the back with Reid. As she closed the door, she heard sirens in the distance. The authorities were indeed on their way.
Brett turned the heat on full blast and adjusted all of the front vents so that they were blowing toward Zane, who was visibly shaking. “You’re in rough shape.” He put the car into gear and pulled out into the street, made a series of quick turns, and directed the car across the bridge to north Geneva. Once on the other side of the river, he began to work his way east toward the lakefront.
“Where are we going?” Zane asked, his jaw still quivering despite the rush of hot air across his body.
“Back to the hotel for now.” Brett kept one eye on the street and another on the rearview mirror.
“Turn it around,” Zane said. “I don’t have time to explain, but we’re going to CERN.”
Brett looked over at the operative and shook his head.
“Absolutely not,” Carmen said from the back seat. “You’re an inch or two away from hypothermia. Your body’s core needs to warm up first. Trying to do anything outside in these temperatures would be a death sentence. Besides, Cleavon is already on his way to CERN.”
“I’m telling you, there isn’t time. There are some things I haven’t filled you in on yet. Something is going down tonight.”
“Yes, Connor and I had pretty much come to that same conclusion,” Carmen said. She leaned forward into the front seat. “Look, I
realize you can pull rank on me. I get that. But in this situation, where your very life could be at risk, I’ll have to bring Ross in if necessary. I’m not sure you or Connor will survive out there if your bodies don’t have time to warm up. Cleavon knows what he’s doing and can brief us on everything once he gets out there.”
“Here is the problem,” replied Zane. “It’s not just about us. They’ve taken someone else.”
“We’re aware of that as well,” Carmen said. “He’s a Dutch physicist named Markus Van…”
“VanGelder,” said Reid.
“Yes, thanks. VanGelder.” She looked at Zane. “Think of it this way—as far as we know, that man is still alive. If this had been a hit, an assassination, then he’d already be dead. They obviously need him for something.”
Brett looked over at the senior operative. “She’s right. And remember we know nothing about CERN’s layout at this point. From what I understand, there are large complexes in several different locations, both aboveground and underground. It’d be the height of foolishness for us to just show up, with both you and Reid soaking wet, hoping that you’ll somehow be able to avoid hypothermia and save the day. Now is not the time to play tough guy.”
Zane sat silently for a few moments and then began to nod. “Okay. But we don’t stay long.”
Carmen squeezed his shoulder and sat back in her seat.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“HAVE YOU HEARD from Skinner?” Zane asked Brett from the front passenger seat.
The group was back in the Peugeot, traveling west through the streets of Geneva. Brett had waited in the car in front of the hotel while Zane, Carmen, and Reid ran up to change. Zane had also decided to heed Carmen’s advice and take a quick shower. The hot water splashing over his body improved his condition considerably; his skin was no longer deathly white, and he felt more alert.
