by Cate Noble
“We’ve given it too much time already. I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of killing him two years ago.”
“He proved far more valuable alive. Look at the strides that were made.”
“If they were really strides, why can’t you replicate them?”
“Idiot!” Viktor began cursing in Russian. “You have no idea what is involved in these processes.”
“Maybe I don’t. But our mutual friend does.”
“Do you expect me to be impressed?”
“I expect you to remember that without our friend’s disinformation campaign, we couldn’t move about as freely. Despite our little deal, I still have to answer to him. And he’s not happy to hear the timeline is wavering again.”
“Have you told our friend that some of the delays are his own fault? The last two shipments of opium derivatives were contaminated.”
“He is working that through the supplier.”
“You might also point out that we gave him a five-year window going in. Based on that, we’re actually ahead of schedule. I would have thought he’d be pleased to learn I’ve restarted human trials.”
“He’s pleased all right. But now he’s demanding copies of the preliminary studies.”
“If he thinks to double-cross me—”
“With whom? You’re light-years ahead of everyone else.”
“Then remind your friend of that. Remind him these things take time.” Remind him my work is mine.
The man tugged out a cigarette, but didn’t light it. “Level with me, Doc. Exactly how close are you?”
“Less than six months.”
“You said that four months ago.”
“There were unforeseen problems associated with moving our last facility. We’re still not up to full capacity.” Viktor pointed to his overflowing IN basket, as if it held answers. “Now finish telling me about Dante Johnson. You had planned to make a move against him yourself?”
“Hardly. A few key players are still on high alert, watching out for him. I had planned to wait until he took off in that damn boat. People disappear on the high seas all the time.” The man twirled the cigarette now. “Unfortunately, this explosion has refocused attention on his case. Which is the real reason for my visit. We’ve been ordered to stay underground until the fallout settles. Too many questions being asked. We’re to remain incommunicado until he gives the all clear.”
Viktor bristled. He didn’t take orders. Except…With the others lying low, he could move about more discreetly. He let out a dramatic sigh. Then he lowered his voice, feigning compliance.
“Very well, then. Actually, this may work to our collective advantage. If I’m not being constantly interrupted, I can concentrate on finishing up these projects. Perhaps ahead of schedule.”
At those words, the man brightened. “Then I will leave you to it. By the way, I need an advance from the slush fund. I’ll get nothing from our friend until this blows over.”
Again, Viktor kept his features slack. “I’ve got thirty-five thousand Euros in the safe. More than that will require a transfer.”
“What you’ve got is fine. I’d rather we didn’t create a paper trail right now.”
Viktor moved to the safe built into his credenza. Early in their relationship, he had learned the other man was easily distracted by cash. Withdrawing a heavy envelope, Viktor straightened. “Here. How will I know when it’s safe to contact you?”
The other man pocketed the envelope. “I’ll be in touch via our usual methods.” By that the man meant their maze of coded, untraceable e-mails. “You do the same, you hear?”
When the man left, Viktor slid back into his chair, mentally and emotionally exhausted.
He couldn’t keep this up much longer. The complex tangle of webs that were his life were tangling, knotting, collapsing. And to think that barely twelve months ago he’d been on top of the world—
There was a brisk rapping at his door.
“Yes.” He sat up and grabbed a file, pretended to study it.
It was Karl. “He arrived by taxi. I’m having him tailed.”
“Let me know when he leaves town.”
“Do you want him followed?”
“No. I don’t want to spook him. And I don’t want to spread our resources too thin at this time. Any word from Grigori?”
“Nothing new.”
“Very well. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Karl.” Viktor waited until the former KGB agent faced him again. “Next time make it less than twelve seconds.”
Both men knew that short of Karl shadowing Viktor—which he would do if asked—twelve seconds was damn good.
When Karl left, Viktor summoned Bohdana, who bravely held back tears as he berated her. There had probably been little she could have done differently, but it wasn’t in his nature to show mercy.
After she left, Viktor locked his office door and moved to the window. His office overlooked the crowded harbor. God, he hated it here. Jakarta was a godforsaken swath of dirt, its people at the mercy of a corrupt government.
Of course, that corruption was what allowed Viktor to operate with anonymity. His high-level military connections believed they would receive cutting-edge biotechnology in exchange for hosting and protecting him.
But how much longer could Viktor maintain the charade?
The barbarians were at the doors and windows. If he didn’t come up with a solid resolution soon, everything would fall apart.
And it was all her fault. When he got his hands on Catalina Dion…
He started toward his desk, rubbing his hip. The throb was a reminder that he should have taken a pain tablet an hour ago. Something else that was her fault. His pelvis had been shattered in that car accident. His whole life had been shattered.
After swallowing the pill, Viktor opened a file on his computer. He reread the reports, looking for something new; something he’d overlooked.
The truth of the matter was the CIA had no clue where Catalina Dion was. No one did. Even Dante Johnson had seemed to buy the bullshit story that she was dead. Johnson’s failure to make more than a few cursory inquiries had forced Viktor to take harsher action. Was it working?
Viktor had to get his hands on Catalina now. Everything he’d worked for, all his plans, teetered on finding her. He opened Johnson’s dossier. What a supreme injustice to actually need Johnson’s help to track down the bitch who had stolen his life’s work.
The thought that Johnson was his last hope made him ill.
Closing the files, Viktor steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His gaze fell on the gilt-edged frame beside his telephone. Beneath the glass was the last photograph taken of his wife and son. Lera. Adrik.
Both were dead, rotting in the ground. And the people responsible…Dante Johnson and Catalina Dion…hadn’t finished paying for their deaths.
The painkiller Viktor had taken finally kicked in, its trademark euphoria claiming him. He knew it wouldn’t last long, but while it did…
He picked up the frame and traced the woman’s smile with his finger.
Chapter 13
Minsk, Belarus
October 2
(Thirty-Four Months Ago)
“Uzbekistan? I don’t want to move there, Viktor! They say the air is so thick you can scarcely breathe. And if you won’t think of my comfort, think of Adrik. He’s so tiny yet.”
“We will get a house in the country then.”
“But I like the city. Why can’t you seek a position in the West?”
Viktor sighed. He should have waited to tell her. “Not everyone in the West understands my work, Lera.”
This brought a laugh to her lips. “I don’t understand your work! But I do understand you have no small amount of power. Use it, my darling! Demand they build you a new facility someplace clean. And warm.”
“Are you saying you want more sunshine? We could plan a trip—”
The ringing of his personal cell phone interrupt
ed him. Viktor glanced at the display, then held up a hand. The call, while expected, wasn’t urgent. However, it was important they talked today. “Give me one moment.”
Ever obedient, Lera turned and began gathering their lunch containers. The slight slump of her shoulders was the only outward indication of her disappointment. She might complain for a moment after he hung up, but she never stayed mad. It was more like listening to a tiny bluebird squawk over a lost seed. A little bluebird that could so easily be made happy by another seed.
Perhaps he’d send her and Adrik to visit his aunt in Berlin. They could shop, see a ballet. Lera loved the ballet. In most ways, she was such an ideal wife. Young. Trusting. Generally cheerful. She asked no questions about his work, and her complaints about his long hours had dwindled to nothing since little Adrik’s arrival. She was even starting to make noise about having a second child.
Yes, a perfect wife; a perfect son. And with his new deal, they were on the verge of having it all. If she still wanted sun then, he’d buy her a private island in the Caribbean.
He spoke into the phone, his attention on the lullaby Lera sang to their son. “I will call you back shortly. I am with someone.”
“That may be too late.”
Alarmed, Viktor turned his back to his wife. His voice dropped to a hiss. “Is this regarding our previous discussion?”
“Yes. Except the time schedule has changed drastically. We believe you now have less than twelve hours.”
A herd of questions stampeded through his mind, but he knew better than to voice them. Not in front of Lera. And certainly not on a phone that wasn’t secure.
“I see.” The other party had already disconnected but he kept up the pretense in front of his wife, staring into space, weighing options. “Then perhaps we can meet tomorrow? Please call my secretary to make an appointment.”
There had been rumors for weeks that the Institut was under surveillance. He’d taken appropriate measures, but…
“Come and kiss your son, Viktor. Adrik is getting fussy.” Lera interrupted his thoughts. “And we will leave you to your work.”
Pushing to his feet, Viktor straightened his jacket. “If you will give me a moment, I will drive home with you. Along the way we can talk about taking a holiday.”
“You’re taking the afternoon off?” His little bluebird smiled. “Should I shout it out to your employees? They’ll think you’ve gone mad.”
Immediately he frowned. “I’d prefer they thought I was simply driving you and Adrik home. If they believe I will return shortly, the productivity will remain high.” Grabbing his briefcase, he set it on his desk. “Let me gather a few things and speak to my assistant.”
“I’m going to change Adrik, then.”
As soon as Lera and the baby swept out, Viktor slipped into the night manager’s office that was adjacent to his. Not bothering with the overhead light, he turned on the computer and attached the external hard drive. His fingers flew over the computer keys, backing up the day’s work to both hard drives. As soon as that finished, he disconnected the external one and slid it into his pocket.
Then he typed in a final command on the keyboard. This had to be perfect. He read back the string, made one correction, and then paused before hitting ENTER. The enormity of what he was doing hit him like a physical blow. Destroying years of research. Years of test data, irreplaceable studies.
You have copies of it all, he reminded himself. Nothing will be lost. And it was all borne of his genius to begin with. This was merely insurance that no one would profit from his work after he’d left!
Viktor hit the key, watched the virus program launch and then hibernate. It was time delayed. He shut off the monitor and hurried back to his own office, where he placed the external hard drive into his briefcase, right beside his personal notebook. That was the true Holy Grail. The stuff he deigned to let the others see was nothing compared to the brilliance spilled onto the pages of that notebook.
Lera bounded back through the door just then, Adrik whimpering in her arms. “You’re still not finished? The baby needs his nap.”
“On the contrary, I am finished. Come along.”
On the way out, Viktor motioned to the pert blonde who served as his assistant. She smiled shyly at him, crossing and uncrossing her arms in a nervous gesture that raised and lowered her lovely breasts. He’d once overheard her whispered gushes to another employee and recognized that she’d had a crush. On him.
He’d miss her.
It was strange to think there had actually been a time at the end of Lera’s pregnancy that he’d entertained the idea of seducing her. But then his son had been born. And instead of feeling tired, Lera was so eager to have more children she actually hounded him for sex now.
“Little Adrik isn’t feeling well,” Viktor explained. “I’m going to drive him and his mother home. If you need to reach me before I return, call my mobile phone.”
Outside the building, he grasped Lera’s arm and hurried to the car. Whether it was guilt over what he’d done, or something else, the urge to flee was suddenly quite strong.
“Slow down, please, Viktor! I will trip.”
He eased up, but not by much.
When they reached Lera’s Mercedes, he yanked open the passenger door.
“I should put Adrik in his seat in the back,” she began.
“He is fretting right now. Perhaps if you hold him, he’ll drift off to sleep.”
“But my lap belt.”
“Lera, please! We’re only a short distance from the house.”
He shut her door and climbed behind the wheel. He had a name for the feeling now: a distinct sensation that he was being watched. Had someone inside caught on to him already?
Two white vans were turning into the car lot as he was pulling out. Maybe it was nothing, but there had been something about the way the driver of the first had looked at him as he’d shot past that made Viktor nervous.
In his rearview mirror, he watched the second van’s brake lights come on. The van immediately came shooting backward, wheels screaming as it shot out into the street again, just missing a red sedan.
Viktor punched the accelerator, swerving to avoid a bicyclist. “Hold on, Lera.”
She looked at him as if he were crazy. “What’s wrong?” She grabbed the dash in front of her, bracing her arm. “Slow down, Viktor!”
Adrik was crying in earnest now, which distracted Lera momentarily as Viktor zigzagged through the streets, uncertain where to go. Who were the men in the vans? KGB, State Security Agents? Had the warning come too late? Was someone at the Institut already aware of his plan?
No! He’d been plenty cautious. Borderline fanatic. Which meant his pursuers could also be thugs. Kidnappers even. He mentally reviewed a list of his potential enemies. It was longer than he liked.
Whoever this was, he didn’t want to lead them to his secluded estate and chance being trapped. And he couldn’t risk going to the police as it was even possible that the men inside the van were the local authorities working on behest of the State.
“Viktor, I beg you—slow down!” Lera screamed, grabbing at his arm even as she tried to hold on to the baby. “You’re going to kill us! Kill your son!”
Shoving her hand away, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Only one of the vans had followed, and it was gaining on them. Where had the other van gone? To cut them off?
Viktor ran a traffic light. The van followed, swerving wildly to avoid hitting another car as it passed through the intersection.
Lera had glanced over her shoulder, only now understanding that they were being chased. “Who are those men? And why are they wearing masks? A gun!”
She screamed at the same time the back window of the Mercedes exploded.
“Get down!” Viktor shouted.
He drove wildly, heading toward the downtown district. In spite of the chaos, his thoughts cleared. He knew exactly what to do. He’d go straight to the police after all.
In his
mind, he imagined storming into the station, outraged and indignant. Some idiots are chasing us. They terrified my wife and son. I was afraid they were trying to kidnap us. I have received threats.
If necessary, he could twist the events to make himself appear a hero. He had, after all, taken steps to frame the incompetent night manager. Viktor could further save the day by producing a backup copy of the computer files, stored offsite of course.
The van closed in again, this time speeding up and bumping the back of the Mercedes. Lera and Adrik were both wailing and he needed to calm them.
“Just a few more blocks, Lera. And I swear we’ll be safe.”
Hitting the gas, Viktor cut down an alley. He clipped a large metal garbage bin as he plunged into the narrow space between the two run-down buildings. He knew where he was now. This shortcut would bring him out just a block from the police barracks.
Forced to divide his attention between the alley and the rearview mirror, he didn’t see the man until he was almost on him. Somehow he managed to miss the pedestrian.
Still maxing out the throttle, Viktor sent the car hurtling toward the opening just ahead. They’d make it—as long as a delivery truck, or that other van—didn’t turn in and block their escape.
He glanced in the rearview mirror again, surprised when the van appeared to have slowed some, almost as if it were breaking off the pursuit. Had they realized where he was heading?
“Ha! You cowards,” he shouted and grinned over at his frightened wife and son. Hitting the mouth of the alley, he jerked the wheel hard to the right, the Mercedes bursting onto the street.
And into the path of another car. Lera screamed.
Swearing, Viktor swerved, but almost immediately realized that the car had gotten away from him. Lera was still screaming as the vehicle slammed into a large truck parked in the road. Something smashed into them from behind, causing the Mercedes to go airborne, flipping end over end before slamming to earth. His neck whiplashed, sending agony down his spine. His arm was broken, useless.
And then there was nothing. No more pain. No more screaming. No light.
