‘Weren’t you the Head of the Schwatz Hunters at the time?’ I said, still doubtful.
‘No. I gave up that position on the day you were born.’ Godard observed me with a tortured expression. ‘I could never order the murder of my own daughter and grandchild.’
‘Grandfather,’ Sheila whispered. She placed her hand over his.
‘It was my father who issued the decree on the Schwatz side,’ said Gabriel curtly. ‘He received a tip from the Crovirs as to the whereabouts of your family.’
‘But…the old man said you tried to stop the Hunters,’ said Ashely with a puzzled frown.
Godard bestowed a forlorn gaze upon Dvorsky. ‘Gabriel loved Catarine. And I believe he still does to this day.’
Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘Look, I wouldn’t go that far. That woman used to bully me.’
‘She was a hundred years younger than you,’ said Godard.
‘She had a sharp tongue on her,’ Gabriel retorted.
Godard smiled. ‘True. Had Balthazar not stolen her heart, I had hoped the two of you would marry one day.’
Gabriel’s ears glowed bright red. ‘Stop talking nonsense, old man.’
‘You were there when my parents died?’ I said at last.
The rage that had threatened to overwhelm me had abated. In its place was a cauldron of mixed emotions. Memories of that snowy day in the Carpathian Mountains rose afresh in my mind.
‘Yes,’ said Gabriel. ‘We got there after your first death. Tomas and I took care of the rest of the Hunters before you woke up.’
A dozen questions clouded my mind. I gazed at my grandfather and asked the one that troubled me the most. ‘Why did you leave me?’
‘Gabriel and I debated this time and time again,’ said Godard. ‘We always arrived at the same conclusion. If you had remained with me, the Hunters would undoubtedly have found you again. Though it was the most difficult choice I have ever had to make in my immortal life, you had a much better chance of survival on your own, out there in the world of humans.’
‘I made sure you at least got out of the mountains and reached the nearest village safely,’ Gabriel said gruffly.
An incident from that time suddenly came to me. ‘The wolves?’ I asked.
As I made my escape from the mountains, a lonely and frightened ten-year-old, I had been trailed and almost attacked twice by a pack of wild wolves. They disappeared unexpectedly after the third day.
Gabriel’s lips curved in a faint smile. ‘It took a while to get rid of them. I nearly gave myself away the second time.’
I observed him silently, unable to voice the feelings that choked my throat. My eyes moved to Godard. ‘Did you know where I was all these years?’
‘Sometimes,’ said Godard. He grimaced. ‘I always heard of your deaths at the hands of the Hunters. When it became evident that you did not pose a threat to the immortals, Gabriel and I persuaded both Orders to call off the hunt. In exchange, I promised never to make contact with you again.’
I digested this information silently. I now knew the reason why the Hunters’ attempts to kill me abated a century ago. I recalled his words at the Hauptbahnhof and finally understood their meaning.
‘Is that why you didn’t want me to get involved in whatever it is that’s going on here?’
‘Yes,’ said Godard. A scowl washed across face. ‘Of course, that was before I knew the Crovirs were after you again.’
Sheila rose and turned on the lights. Night had fallen outside.
‘The man who killed me said his name was Amos Thorne,’ I said after a while, still struggling to come to grips with the revelations of the last hour. ‘Is he related to my father?’
Godard’s eyebrows rose. ‘Amos was there that night?’
‘Yes.’
Gabriel and Godard exchanged troubled glances.
‘He’s your uncle,’ said Gabriel. ‘And the Crovir Head of Counter Terrorism.’
I stiffened.
‘They’re getting bold,’ murmured Godard. ‘For Amos to join a hunt is practically unheard of.’ He turned to me. ‘Christie Santana had three sons. Their names were Cecil, Amos, and Balthazar Thorne. Of the three, only Amos is still alive.’
Another jolt of shock darted through me. ‘You mean Santana is my grandmother?’
‘Yes,’ Godard replied. ‘Although she has tried her best to keep it a secret from both immortal societies. There are only a handful of us still alive today who know the truth.’ He sighed. ‘I will never understand how she gave birth to someone as gentle and kind as your father.’
A door slammed at the front of the house, startling us. Bruno and Anatole entered the kitchen moments later, their arms laden with carrier bags. They paused when they saw us.
‘Hey, you’re up,’ said Bruno. He glanced at me awkwardly and put the bags on the countertop.
‘You gave us all quite a shock when you started breathing again,’ said Anatole.
‘Anatole,’ Bruno admonished.
Anatole shrugged, unrepentant. ‘What? It’s true. I mean, the guy survived his seventeenth death. No immortal has ever done that before.’
I looked at Tomas Godard. ‘He’s right.’
The old man’s expression reflected my own perplexity at the most staggering fact in this whole affair so far. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that question,’ he said. ‘I am just as surprised as everyone else.’
‘Does it have anything to do with the fact that I can kill other immortals?’
Godard shook his head. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Anyone hungry?’ said Anatole in the silence that followed.
Bruno glared at him.
‘What? We still gotta eat, right?’
Chapter Fourteen
The manor house was owned by Gabriel’s family and stood, as I had suspected, on a large estate a few miles outside Prague. Once a popular entertainment venue for the Dvorskys, it had been abandoned since the end of the Second World War and now mostly served as a hideout for the nobles.
I stared at the moonlit trees lining the driveway to the house and caught a glimpse of Anatole patrolling the grounds; Bruno was guarding the rear of the manor. A scattering of leaves still clung to the bare branches high above the ground. Autumn was well and truly here. I turned from the window and faced the room.
We were in a study on the ground floor of the mansion. A fire hissed in the hearth at the head of the room.
‘How did you know Strauss?’ I asked Sheila. ‘And what were the two of you working on?’
‘Hubert was a Professor in molecular genetics,’ Sheila replied. ‘We met twenty-five years ago, when I was working at the UPMC in Paris. At the time, we were both doing research in potential genetic therapies for cancer.’
‘So you were trying to find a cure for cancer?’ said Ashely.
Sheila shook her head. ‘No, not a cure, as such. We were attempting to—well, control the disease, really.’ She ran her hand through her hair. ‘If we could affect the rate at which cancer cells replicated, we would be able to extend the life of a patient to such a time when a cure might be available.’
‘Why did you leave Paris?’
‘I received an invitation to work at the FGCZ ten years ago,’ said Sheila. ‘I was promised my own lab and as many research assistants as I wanted. It was too good an offer to refuse. Even Hubert agreed.’ A sad smile crossed her face. ‘Even though I left the UPMC, we kept in touch. After all, we were still working in the same field and shared common interests.’
‘Then he received the grant from GeMBiT,’ I murmured. All the pieces of the puzzle were almost there. I just couldn’t see how they fit together yet.
‘Burnstein approached him directly,’ said Sheila. ‘Hubert was surprised. It seemed the scientists at GeMBiT Corp had been keeping an eye on his research for some time.’
‘What was it again?’ said Ashely. ‘Advanced cell—’
‘
Advanced cell cycle control and DNA transposition. Hubert was attempting to manipulate genetic material to create an “off” switch to down regulate cancer cell production.’
‘Slow down cell production and you control the cancer,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Exactly.’
‘What happened?’
Sheila closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, I saw the answer to my question in their green depths. ‘He succeeded.’
Stunned silence descended on the room. Subconsciously, I think I had known what her reply was going to be even before she uttered the words. The potential ramifications of such a find were truly staggering; whoever owned the rights to the discovery would be raking in billions every year.
At that notion, a different thought crossed my mind.
‘It can’t be what this is really about.’ I frowned. ‘The Crovirs have more than enough money to buy the entire European continent. They couldn’t have been interested in Strauss’s research just for the financial gain.’
‘It sounds like a big enough reason to me,’ said Ashely. ‘And the entire European continent? You’re kidding, right?’
‘I’m afraid he isn’t,’ said Gabriel.
Ashely paled.
‘I have another snippet of information for you,’ added Gabriel. ‘Frederick Burnstein is not just any Crovir—he’s the Head of their Research & Development Section and a member of the First Council.’
Somehow, this latest news hardly came as a surprise.
I observed Sheila thoughtfully. ‘It still doesn’t explain why the Crovirs are after you. Or why they’re trying to kill me again.’
Sheila hesitated. ‘You’re right. Hubert discovered something else. Something far more staggering than a cure for cancer.’
Ashely grunted. ‘What could be a bigger find than a cure for cancer?’
‘That’s the thing. I don’t know,’ she said, frustration evident in her tone. ‘I lost contact with Hubert before he could tell me. His last email indicated that whatever the discovery was, it would change the world as we know it forever.’
‘You were helping him?’ I asked after some time.
Sheila dipped her head. ‘Hubert wanted someone outside GeMBiT to validate his work. I guess the only one he trusted to do this objectively was me.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Did Burnstein know he was sharing research information with you?’
‘No,’ Sheila replied. ‘Our messages to each other were always encrypted.’
The flames in the hearth popped and crackled while I absorbed this new piece of information. ‘Why did Strauss open a bank account in Zurich?’
Sheila’s expression became troubled. ‘Two months ago, out of the blue, Burnstein visited Hubert in Paris. He wanted access to his latest research data. This was just after Hubert made the major breakthrough. From what he told me, Burnstein was quite forceful. Hubert got scared and contacted me.’
‘Was that when he went into hiding?’
‘He stalled for time as long as he could,’ said Sheila. ‘When Burnstein sent some men to follow him, Hubert panicked and ran away.’
‘Is that how they got your picture?’ I asked.
Lines wrinkled her brow. ‘What picture?’
‘We found a photograph of you and Strauss on Burnstein’s computer. You met in a restaurant, at night,’ I explained.
‘Oh.’ Her expression softened. She smiled at her grandfather. ‘Yes. That was before our trip to Italy.’
‘Where did Strauss go?’ said Ashely.
‘We have some mutual friends in the Rhône region,’ said Sheila. ‘He was supposed to be staying at their farm until I returned to Zurich.’ A sad light dawned in her eyes. ‘He was going to join me there.’
‘How did they find him?’ I said.
‘I can only guess that he went back to Paris or Gif-sur-Yvette for some reason or another. The Crovirs must have been watching both addresses.’
‘Did you know Burnstein was an immortal?’
‘No,’ said Sheila, shaking her head vigorously. ‘It was only after Hubert disappeared that I discovered GeMBiT Corp was owned by a Crovir noble. I called Grandfather for help shortly after our return from Italy.’
‘How did you end up on the run?’ said Ashely.
It was Tomas Godard who replied. ‘When I found out the Crovir First Council was plotting something big in Europe, I suspected it might be linked to Burnstein’s recent interest in Hubert and the latter’s disappearance. Anyone else involved in the matter was bound to be in danger from the Crovirs.’
‘The day after I got back from Italy, someone tried to break into my house,’ Sheila added quietly. ‘Grandfather took me into hiding that very evening.’
Stillness fell over the room once more. I suddenly remembered something.
‘Here, I believe this is yours.’ I took the daguerreotype from my jacket and handed it to her.
Sheila’s eyes widened. She took the frame from my grasp. ‘I thought I’d lost this.’ She showed the picture to Godard.
‘My goodness,’ said Godard. ‘I remember that day.’ He smiled. ‘It was raining. You had just turned ten.’
‘Yes.’ Sheila chuckled. ‘I was so bored on that trip, I must’ve driven you crazy.’
Envy stabbed through me as I watched them. Shocked at the unexpected emotion, I turned and met Ashely’s shrewd stare. I flushed self-consciously.
‘What was in the safety deposit box in Zurich?’ Ashely asked Sheila as she gazed warmly at the daguerreotype.
Her head snapped up at his words. ‘How do you know about the safety deposit box?’
Ashely shrugged. ‘We’ve been doing our own research.’
Sheila frowned. ‘You went to the bank?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘And they let you see details of the account?’ she said, aghast.
‘They had to for Interpol Agent Petersen and FBI Agent Barnes,’ drawled Ashely.
Sheila looked slightly mollified. ‘After what happened with Burnstein in Paris, Hubert and I decided it would be best to keep his research findings somewhere secure. We opened the Zurich account shortly after.’
‘Wasn’t his latest discovery in there as well?’ I said, puzzled.
‘No. He didn’t include it in those papers.’ Sheila hesitated. ‘I think he was too afraid to write it down.’
I removed Strauss’s battered journal from my pocket. ‘Will this help?’
Sheila gasped and shot out of her chair. ‘Where did you find this?’ She touched the journal reverently, her fingers lingering on the cover.
‘At Gif-sur-Yvette,’ I replied, trying not to inhale the heady scent of oranges drifting from her skin. ‘He hid it inside a staff locker in the building.’
Sheila took the diary from my hands and leafed through the last few pages. Her brow knotted.
‘Did you find something else with this?’ she said, rifling hastily through the rest of the journal.
‘Yes. There was a memory stick.’ I grimaced. ‘I’m afraid we lost it when we were getting away from the Crovirs.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Gabriel asked Sheila.
‘Hubert encrypted the last twenty pages of the journal,’ she explained in a dispirited tone. ‘The cipher must be on the memory stick.’
My stomach sank. ‘Haven’t you used the same ones in the past?’
Sheila shook her head. ‘No. We changed them all the time. Part of the challenge was decoding them.’ She scrutinized the final pages of the journal. ‘I’ve never seen this one before. It looks like a stacked cipher.’
‘What’s that?’ said Ashely.
‘It’s a combination of different ciphers used together in a series,’ said Sheila. She stared blindly into space. ‘It’s quite difficult to unravel.’
‘Do you think you can decrypt it?’ I asked.
‘Given time, yes, probably.’
‘How much time?’ said Ashely. ‘�
��Cause I get the feeling we’re running out of that precious commodity.’
Ashely’s words mirrored my own feelings. The trepidation that had been humming through my veins since the incident at the canal in Vienna had doubled when I heard what Strauss’s research was about; I also sensed that speed was now of the essence in our race to find out what the Crovirs were up to.
Sheila’s gaze switched from the journal to Gabriel. ‘I need a computer,’ she demanded. ‘And a couple of other things.’
I could practically see cogwheels turning behind her eyes.
‘Write down what you require,’ said Gabriel with a curt nod. ‘We’ll get the items for you.’
Five minutes later, she handed him a short inventory. Gabriel made a call on his cell and listed the articles Sheila had requested to the person on the other end of the line. He disconnected and gave Bruno an address.
‘Go to this place. They should have everything ready by the time you get there.’
The clock on the mantelpiece was chiming midnight when the bodyguard finally returned with a boxful of hardware.
‘Do you need a hand?’ I asked Sheila as she started to unpack a laptop.
She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Are you any good with this stuff?’ She indicated the array of electronic equipment laid out across the mahogany desk in the study.
I shrugged noncommittally. ‘I’m not too bad with them.’
Ashely’s muffled snort erupted from across the room.
Sheila studied me for a moment. ‘All right. I should insist you get some rest, but I could do with the help.’
Godard turned to Gabriel. ‘Have you heard any news from your father?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘No. According to our intel, the Crovir First Council has denied all knowledge of any involvement by any of their members in the incidents in Vienna and Vilanec.’
Godard’s jaw tightened. ‘They’re stalling for time. Has Roman or another member of the Schwatz First Council actually spoken to Santana yet?’
‘She’s currently unreachable,’ Gabriel replied in a dry tone.
Godard stared at the flames in the hearth. ‘She’s playing a dangerous game,’ he murmured after a while. His anxious gaze shifted to Gabriel. ‘We all know the attempt on your life is grounds enough for an official challenge to the Crovirs.’
Chased Down Page 17
