Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (22 page)

The investigator shrugged and led them to the enclosure. A heat-distorted, metal trapdoor lay on the ground some ten feet from a rectangular opening in the floor. An acrid stench rose from the dimly lit depths beneath it.

‘I recommend you wear face masks,’ the investigator told them. He slipped on a respirator and indicated the box of gear on the floor. ‘It’s nasty down there.’

‘I sure as hell hope that’s not dead rats we’re smelling,’ Anatole muttered as they followed the man down a stepladder.

The metal stairs originally connecting the barn to the basement lay in a buckled heap on the floor of a narrow passage. A containment door stood ajar at one end. The security display under the handle was flashing an alert.

The investigator pulled the damaged panel open. Illumination from a pair of spotlights on stands washed across a metal landing.

‘Watch the floor,’ the man warned. ‘It’s a bit unsteady.’

Conrad could not quell the feeling of dread knotting his stomach as he stepped onto the narrow mezzanine. The bright beams cut through smoky blackness and revealed the interior of a large, subterranean chamber some ten feet below. The ceiling and walls were bare concrete that had originally been painted a brilliant white. Soot and other chemical stains now streaked across the pale surfaces. Two rows of worktops had occupied the extensive floor space; the shapes of blackened, warped machinery and melted instrument coverings lay scattered around the damaged counters.

The bunker had served as a lab.

‘The sprinklers that weren’t damaged in the explosion managed to dampen the blaze somewhat,’ said the investigator in a matter-of-fact voice. He indicated the round, metal heads screwed into the concrete ceiling. ‘I’m afraid the stairs are too unstable,’ he added, pointing to the twisted structure to their right. ‘We’ll have to wait for a more secure—’ He broke off suddenly. ‘
Hey
! What are you doing?’

Conrad had slipped under the railing of the platform. He lowered himself over the edge and dropped down to the floor below. His boots squelched when he landed in a film of water.

‘You’re going to contaminate the scene!’ the investigator shouted from above. The man gaped when the others ducked under the railing. ‘What the—? Hey, where the hell are you guys going?
Come back here!
’

‘They’ll be careful,’ Bauer murmured reassuringly next to the man. With his arm in a sling, the policeman couldn’t follow them.

Glass and debris crunched under their feet as they started to explore the room. It was Laura who discovered the laser workstation at the other end of the bunker. Conrad stopped at her side and stared at the device. It bore a faint resemblance to the machines he had seen in the Obenhaus Group labs earlier that day. Attached to it was a computer with a shattered monitor and a buckled hard drive damaged by the blast.

Anatole stepped across the aisle and carefully lifted an object from a grimy work surface. ‘Hey, does this remind you guys of something?’ he asked, his cold voice slightly muffled by his mask.

Conrad turned and examined the frame in the immortal’s hands. His pulse accelerated when he recognized the shape.

Laura frowned. ‘Yes. It looks exactly like the casting template for the sniper rifles we recovered from the FedEx Field.’

They found the mangled molds for the other weapon parts and the ceramic bullets under the rubble of the next workstation. By the time they finished exploring the lab, Bauer and the investigator had maneuvered another ladder to the bunker floor. Conrad’s head filled with a single, disturbing thought as he climbed the rungs.

Had the enemy known they were coming here? If so, did that mean the mole was a member of his immediate team? His eyes darted to Harry Stevens. Laura had never once doubted the US Secret Service agent. Although Conrad liked the young man, they had both once been wrong about someone they had put their trust in.

Conrad breathed in the fresh night air outside the barn and related their findings to the German policeman and the scene investigator. Bauer’s expression was grim by the time the immortal finished talking.

‘We’ll get this place processed as fast as we can,’ he promised. ‘This is now a matter of national security.’

‘Thank you.’ Conrad gazed steadily at the German officer. ‘Will you let me tell Obenhaus?’

Bauer hesitated. ‘We should really wait for confirmation.’ A loud exhale escaped his lips. ‘But hell, the way things are looking, that body
has
to be that of Luther Obenhaus.’

Conrad used Laura’s phone and dialed the number Maximilian Obenhaus had given them when they left the company headquarters that afternoon.

There was a click after the third ring. ‘Hello?’ said a tense voice.

Conrad stared at the dark sky beyond the trees. ‘Mr. Obenhaus, this is Conrad Greene,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’

‘That’s him!’ exclaimed Nadica Rajkovic. ‘That’s the man who was at the facility in Crystal City!’

Zoran Rajkovic froze the image and slowly leaned back in his seat.

They stared at the picture of a grim-faced figure on the ninety-inch monitor on the wall. It was a clip from the dozens of videos that had been uploaded to the Internet by the Redskins fans who had been at the FedEx Field the previous day. The man was stepping out of a vehicle surrounded by armed police and state troopers on a road outside the stadium, his hands behind his head.

‘According to our source, his name is Conrad Greene,’ said Zoran, his tone cool despite the anger thrumming through him. ‘President Westwood has put him in charge of the multi-agency investigation into his assassination attempt. No one knows anything about the man. He just appeared out of the blue in Maryland yesterday morning and helped the Secret Service locate the positions of the other two assassins. Rumor is he got involved when our missing contractor’s plane crashed near his house in Brazil.’ He scowled. ‘He’s currently in Germany with a team of agents.’

‘Germany?’ Nadica asked sharply.

‘Yes.’ Zoran glanced at Ariana. ‘One of the FBI scientists in Quantico identified the polymer we used for the guns. They wanted to check out the Obenhaus factory outside Arnstadt.’

‘They won’t find anything there,’ said Nadica. Satisfaction tinged her voice. ‘Even if they make the link with Luther Obenhaus, that trail will soon be cold.’

Ariana Rajkovic studied the shot of Conrad Greene with a forbidding expression.

‘Still, for them to have made the connection to Germany is something that should concern us,’ she stated in a steely tone. ‘We need to slow them down. No, not you, Nadica,’ she added tersely at the young woman’s hungry expression. ‘I know the man has angered you, but you have more important tasks at hand.’ She looked at Zoran. ‘Send one of our other contractors in Europe.’

‘Yes, Ama,’ he replied with a dutiful nod. He watched her disappear through the doors of the main salon and turned to scrutinize the still image on the screen.

He would not let Conrad Greene get in their way. Not after all the hardship Ariana Rajkovic had suffered to see this scheme come to fruition. The events currently being played out around the world were part of a plan that had been set in motion a long time ago. Too much blood had been spilled along the way for it to fail now.

Zoran looked at his sister and saw the same defiant light in her eyes. They would see this through to the end. They owed it to the woman who meant the whole world to them.

Ariana strolled along the teak-lined passage to the master cabin on the upper deck and closed the door of the luxurious room behind her. Sunlight glowed on the waters of the Atlantic outside the windows overlooking the balcony.

She ignored the mesmerizing sight and crossed the floor to the bulkhead opposite her bed. Soft glowing spotlights illuminated the oil portraits of two men inside gold-lacquered frames.

Ariana stopped and gazed lovingly at the first painting. ‘Soon, my love,’ she whispered, raising her fingers to touch the man’s face. ‘Soon, I will fulfill your long-held dream. Your bloodline will rule this wretched world, as it was always meant to do.’

She turned to the other painting and similarly brushed the lips of the second man, her heart aching all over again. ‘Thank you for giving me the strength to carry on, husband.’

Chapter Seventeen

‘H
e’s dead?’ Connelly said sharply.

‘Unfortunately,’ muttered Conrad. Anger and sadness still coursed through the immortal following his difficult conversation with Maximilian Obenhaus. ‘They got to him before we did. The Germans just sent us some preliminary reports. Luther Obenhaus was shot in the head and chest and died instantly.’ He clenched his teeth. ‘This will be small comfort for his brother, but at least the Obenhaus family will know he didn’t suffer the agony of being burned alive.’

A heavy frown dawned on the face of the Director of National Intelligence.

An hour had passed since they returned from the Thüringer Forest. Conrad had called the Sit Room for an update the minute they reached the Learjet parked on the tarmac in Erfurt.

‘And the motive for his involvement in this affair?’ asked Connelly finally.

‘We suspect it’s going to boil down to money,’ said Conrad. ‘The authorities are going to check out Obenhaus’s apartment in Leipzig. We’re waiting to hear if they’ll let us join the team doing the search.’

‘Good,’ said Connelly with a firm nod.

Laura stirred next to Conrad. ‘How’s Westwood getting on with the Russian PM?’

Connelly rubbed her forehead and sighed. Exhaustion lined her face. ‘This incident in Germany will certainly help ease things. We’re still at DEFCON 4, but I anticipate the alert state might be downgraded in the next few hours once the Russians receive confirmation on the intelligence coming out of Berlin.’

‘Have the other investigation paths yielded anything of interest?’ said Conrad.

Connelly’s face brightened slightly. ‘The dead guy from Brazil had his face and prints modified as well, same as the other two assassins,’ she said. ‘The medical examiner did however uncover the traces of a laser-treated tattoo under his hairline.’

An image flashed up next to Connelly’s face on the video link. Conrad inhaled sharply as he stared at the faint image of a snake’s head that had been etched in ink on the shaved skin covering the back of the dead man’s skull. He recognized the symbol.

‘Fer-de-Lance,’ he whispered, his mind racing.

‘What?’ asked Laura, puzzled.

Conrad glanced at her, excitement flushing through him. ‘Fer-de-Lance. The common lancehead,’ he explained. ‘It’s a venomous viper found in South America.’ He gazed at Connelly. ‘If I remember correctly, it’s also the symbol of someone who belongs to the Barba Amarilla drug cartel.’

‘Exactly.’ Connelly’s eyes gleamed. ‘Forensics have performed a high-resolution, three-dimensional facial reconstruction based on the guy’s skull structure.’

The computerized model of what the man from Brazil would have originally looked like appeared below the image of the tattoo.

‘We believe the third assassin was one Julio Vargas, the Barba Amarilla group’s top hitman,’ Connelly continued. ‘He’s currently wanted on four continents.’

Conrad frowned. ‘Did you check with Donaghy—?’

‘Yes,’ Connelly cut in. ‘CIA’s confirmed that the Barba Amarilla cartel is one of the groups that recently disappeared from the intelligence community’s radar. Donaghy’s currently talking to an operative who just emerged from an undercover operation in Africa.’

Conrad could feel pieces of the puzzle starting to coalesce.

‘What about the MD helicopter?’ Anatole asked Connelly.

‘We’re still going through the list provided by the manufacturer,’ replied the Director of National Intelligence. ‘We’ve ruled out all government agencies who purchased either of the two suspected models. That leaves us with forty private organizations and individuals. The ones we’ve looked into so far are all above board.’ Connelly sighed. ‘There’s not a whiff of scandal or criminal activity about them.’

The sound of a commotion suddenly rose in the background on the video link. Creases wrinkled Connelly’s forehead. She turned and spoke to someone off the screen. ‘What is it?’

‘We’ve got something on the stuff that killed the prisoner in Crystal City,’ someone said excitedly.

Conrad recognized the FBI agent’s voice. Lewis stormed into view behind Connelly a second later.

‘You were on the right track about that poison,’ the man told Conrad with a fierce smile. ‘We didn’t find anything in the dead guy’s blood chemistry, but we got something on the skin and muscle biopsy taken from his arm. Our forensic toxicologists believe the substance might be a neurotoxic alkaloid. It degraded too rapidly for them to be able to determine its exact molecular structure, although they think it was co-crystallized with another compound to increase its bioavailability. Moscow just confirmed that the poison used by the secret service agent who killed their president has a similar chemical profile.’

Laura ran a hand through her hair and exhaled sharply. ‘What does that tell us though?’

Some of the animation faded from the FBI agent’s face. ‘Well, not much at the moment,’ he admitted. ‘But if we could get our hands on a sample of the original product before it has a chance to break down, we might be able to figure out its ori—’

‘Hang on!’ Connelly interrupted. She was scowling at something to her right. ‘I’ve got Donaghy on a separate video channel.’ She glanced at the camera projecting to the Learjet. ‘I’ll link everyone up.’

A second window opened on the aircraft’s computer monitor. The CIA agent’s face appeared in the center of it. She was speaking through her cell phone in what looked to be the back of a moving vehicle.

‘Can you hear me, Greene?’ she said.

Tension tightened the muscles in Conrad’s neck at her expression. ‘Yes, we hear you fine.’

‘I’m on my way to the White House right now, but this thing was too big not to let you guys know about straightaway,’ said Donaghy brusquely. ‘I’ve just finished debriefing one of our undercover agents. If what he says is true, we may be about to have a war on our hands!’

Shocked silence resonated across the communication channels.

‘What do you mean, Claire?’ said Connelly guardedly.

Donaghy’s eyes grew stormy. ‘It seems someone’s been busy raising an army.’

Conrad went still at her words.

‘Three days ago, our operative came across evidence of what looks like dozens of training camps across the globe,’ the CIA agent continued. ‘He saw pictures of four of the missing warlords and cartel leaders we’d been concerned about. One of them was the Barba Amarilla drug lord. Our agent wasn’t able to glean any more intel. It took the poor guy forty-eight hours to exfiltrate through a war zone. He reckoned they were on to him.’ Lines puckered her brow. ‘Whoever our mole is, he or she may very well be responsible for the disappearance of our other undercover agents and sources in the last couple of years.’