Countermeasure (42 page)

“End of the line for you, pal,” Niklas said coldly.

Realizing the implication of Niklas’s words, Cassandra launched herself in front of Trevor. “No!”

A burning shaft of pain pierced her shoulder as she dropped to the floor. Her head bounced on the boards and her last thoughts were of Trevor. Her greatest fear had come true. She had lost him. Her heart shattered in a million pieces and tears slipped passed her lashes as darkness wrapped its arms around her.

“Cassandra!” Trevor cried out in disbelief. The shock he felt reflected in Niklas’s eyes. Neither of them had anticipated such a move. The agony at seeing Cassandra bleeding at his feet ripped him apart, and the animal in him, the one he’d found lurking under his skin earlier at hearing her talk about Nathan, surfaced in a blast of sheer, uncontrollable rage. He attacked Niklas with everything he had, his height giving him the advantage as he knocked Niklas back against the wall and punched him like there was no tomorrow. A lucky shot to Niklas’s throat left him gasping for air and Trevor grappled him to the ground, trying to wrench the gun from him.

“You better hope she’s not dead, bastard!” Trevor growled.

As they wrestled for control of the gun, Trevor increased his efforts and peeled two of Niklas’s fingers from it, bending them back until he screamed out in pain. Trevor didn’t ease up. The snap of fingers breaking echoed in the corridor and brought a deep sense of satisfaction to him. Plucking the gun from Niklas’s now useless hand, Trevor pointed it at him and moved back to stand over Cassandra.

He heard the sound of the door at the end of the car sliding open and laughter drifting toward him. Without taking his eyes from Niklas—who had stood and was now leaning back against the wall holding his injured hand—he yelled in French, “Get help!”

Niklas motioned forward and Trevor looked him in the eye. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Try me, asshole…”

Niklas rushed him. Everything slowed again for Trevor. This time he could hear his father’s whisper in his ear:
Take a steady breath, Trevor. Hold the target in your sights. Breathe as you pull the trigger. Steady, son.

The muffled sound of the shot filled the corridor and Niklas staggered falling to the floor on his back. Niklas’s breath sawed in and out and a psychotic grin curved his mouth as he slowly turned his head and looked directly at Trevor with a pinch of respect in his glazed eyes.

“I warned you,” Trevor muttered in disgust.

Trevor quickly fell to his knees at Cassandra’s side, pulling off his shirt and pressing it against the blood spilling from her shoulder. The amount of blood scared him.
God, she looks so pale.

He brushed the hair from her face and choked out, “Come on, Cassie girl! Open your eyes for me, lass!”

Her eyelids fluttered open slightly and his heartbeat raced at seeing how glassy her eyes were. When they closed again and her body relaxed onto the floor, Trevor was filled with fear, desperation, and anger. “Don’t
you
fucking leave me!
Stay with me, Cassandra
!”

Robert heard the phone as
he was about to leave for the office. He considered letting it ring, but nobody ever called that early unless something needed his immediate attention. He backtracked to the library and picked up the call.

“Robert James?” said the voice on the other end.

“Yes? Who’s this?”

“My name is Trevor Bauer. I’m calling in regard to your daughter Cassandra, sir.” The man’s voice held an accent and a tense inflection colored it.

“Cassandra? Did something happen to her?” Robert went on full alert. “Who are you? Are you a friend of hers? I don’t think I’ve heard your name before.”

“We were attacked on the train back to Paris. Cassandra was shot.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Paris? Is this some kind of joke?” Robert felt his control slip. The last time he’d talked to Cassandra they’d left much unsaid. He knew she’d been hurt at her dismissal from the Bristol case, and Robert had given her space, thinking it would be best if he just let her be for a while. As far as he knew, she was still at home. If this Bauer guy was telling the truth, she’d left the country without even saying a word to him.

“No, sir. I’m very serious. Cassandra is undergoing surgery as we speak. I need to get back to the room to wait for news of her, but I had to call and let you know what’s going on. I also thought you’d want to know who hired the man who hurt her. It’s tied to the Bristol case.”

“Damn right! What the hell are you doing with her, all the way in fucking France?!”

“We’ll talk about that when you get here. I’m assuming you’re coming.”

“I’m out of here on the first flight. I’ll need the hospital’s address. Wait a second. Did I just hear you say this all connects to Bristol?”

“The person responsible for the breach, the one who orchestrated the copy of the files, was under your noses the entire time.

“Who? Who was it?”

“Bristol’s Chief Security Officer, Drew Caldwell.”

“Caldwell? That’s not possible. The man is one of the pillars of the company. I have it on good authority that he is topnotch at handling their security!”

“I have transcripts of his calls to the two men he hired to retrieve the copied files from the employee he convinced to infiltrate the servers and do his dirty work. She was just a pawn. She caught on that something was off, and Carl Kenyon, one of the men he hired, killed her in Paris.”

Robert heard the sadness in his voice and a deep sigh sounded over the line before Trevor continued, “We assume Kenyon must have realized the value of the files he had in his possession and decided to double-cross his employer. He was contacting other pharmaceutical companies right before Caldwell brought in a known black ops by the name of Niklas Möeller. I also have transcripts of his conversation with Möeller where he specifically gave him the green light to eliminate Kenyon and Cassandra. Somehow, Caldwell must have found out Cassandra was in France and still working on the case.”

“Son of a bitch!” Robert cursed harshly. Trevor was very precise with his quick explanation of what had taken place and left him no doubt that what he was telling him had indeed happened.

“The intercepts and transcripts don’t quite give us the full picture of Caldwell’s motives, but they do show a very sick man behind the mask. He needs to be stopped, sir.”

“Oh, he will be. Don’t worry about that. The beauty of having served in the military; it’s one big family. We always have each other’s backs. I’ll need copies of the transcripts and anything else you have. When can you get it to me?”

“Way ahead of you, sir. It should be in your inbox as we speak. Look for an email from George Miller. He is a trusted friend.”

Robert was alarmed. “Hold on a minute. I never gave you my email.”

“We’re NSA. We’re the gods of the digital age.” Robert could hear the cockiness and humor in Bauer’s tone.

“I can see we have a lot to talk about, Mr. Bauer—including how the NSA fits into all this. We’ll be having a little tête-à-tête when I arrive in Nice.”

“I look forward to it, Robert,” Trevor responded calmly, and disconnected the call.

Robert was strangely intrigued by the fact that Trevor didn’t sound afraid of his unspoken threat. He liked a man that stood his ground. Robert immediately placed calls to several of his former military friends in very high places. Within a couple of hours, the FBI had been mobilized and an arrest warrant had been issued for Drew Caldwell.
The sick son of a bitch was in for a big surprise
. Robert smiled and picked up the phone again.

****

Drew Caldwell, unable to fall back asleep after Niklas’s call, had arrived at work very early that day. He anxiously awaited Niklas’s next call notifying him of his possession of the files and confirming the job had been completed as instructed. It was imperative that he received that information before the board meeting later that morning.

The television in his office displayed the morning stock market reports, its volume a low hum in the background. Glancing at it, he saw the words
Nice, France
flash on the screen. He grabbed the remote from his desk, pumped up the volume, and rewound the news to the beginning of that segment. The image on the screen was of a reporter standing in front of a high-speed train stopped on the tracks.

On the international news front, a shooting has taken place on the high-speed train from Nice to Paris, resulting in one fatality. A second passenger has been airlifted to the hospital in Nice. No details regarding the shooter are available at this time; however, we have learned that the second victim, a woman, is listed as in critical condition. Both victims are thought to be American tourists; however, we cannot corroborate it at this time.

Drew’s laughter echoed in the room. He jumped up from his chair and paced excitedly. Everything was falling into place. If he kept going at this rate, he’d be holding Edward Bristol’s job within another five years. Getting his hands back on the hard drive was key to making all his dreams come true.

Drew sat back in his plush chair and smiled broadly. He was almost positive that the train in question was the one Niklas had called him from and the injured woman, Cassandra James. That could only mean that the dead passenger was her companion. Exhilaration filled him knowing his plan had been executed. All that was left was for Niklas to contact him so he could get him on a plane back to the States.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out.

“Drew.” Edward Bristol, owner and CEO of Bristol Pharmaceuticals, walked to Drew’s desk and sat in the visitor’s chair.

“Ed,” Drew acknowledged, with a grin of satisfaction at Edward’s familiarity.

Drew had worked under Edward for years and had built a somewhat close rapport with him. Drew had capitalized on his attention, weaving himself craftily into Edward’s inner circle and often inviting him and his wife over for dinner—another strategic power play.

“Did Melissa enjoy the wine?” Drew had presented Edward and his wife with a nice bottle from his cellar the last time they’d dined together.

“Yes, thank you. Mellissa asked just this morning if we would be getting together again soon. She really enjoys talking with Lorraine.”

Drew smiled at the comment. Lorraine was the ultimate hostess—another of her many talents. “I’ll have Lorraine give Melissa a call to set a date. They can plan everything together. Women love that kind of thing.”

“Sounds good.”

Drew noticed Edward’s hesitation and casually asked, “Anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. What’s the status regarding your efforts on the recovery of the copied files? Have you received any more news regarding the investigation into Ms. Davis’s death? Was the hard drive found among her things?”

“No, Ed. I sent our people to her parents’ house; they were assured that the police had not yet handed over her belongings. Their other daughter, the one who flew to Paris to follow the investigation and claim the body, is aware of what we are looking for.” Drew kept the information Niklas had provided to himself—a trump card to be used at the right time.

Drew stared Edward in the eye. “You know how I feel about this whole thing. We could’ve done a better job protecting the formula’s files and trials data if only we had kept it in-house. Used our own resources to secure our own project.”

“I know you were against hiring an external company to run the security from the start, Drew, but the board has their eye on the bottom line. Your budget estimate for deploying the extra security was higher than they had foreseen.”

“Hiring James Security is costing the board way more now, isn’t it? If you had trusted my opinion in the first place, we would have never suffered an infiltration. I have more experience in my little finger than the two people James Security assigned to this case combined. Another reason you should have trusted the job to me.”

Edward’s look hardened. “That’s water under the bridge. You got your point across. Have you met with anyone from James Security since the breach?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact; last week I met with the new guy handling the case. I think his name is Dillon. Yes. Jeff Dillon. Why do you ask?”

“Did you discuss the case?”

“No. He came to introduce himself in person. The entire time he was here he blasted the woman who had handled the case previously. Not a very good display of teamwork. Bad blood there.”

“Oh?” Edward asked in a curious voice, “How so?”

Drew smirked and then arrogantly continued, “There seems to be some sort of animosity between the two. He kept blabbering about how the woman had dropped the case and, out of the blue, had taken off to Paris. He apologized for her lack of professionalism in her handling of it. Can you believe that? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

Edward suddenly stood up. “That explains a lot.”

Drew cocked his head, trying to understand what Edward meant. “What do you mean, ‘explains a lot’?”