Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (37 page)

Silence fell across the communication line. Connelly’s brow became a mass of lines.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘Ed and I were captured shortly after the Rajkovics lost their own experts during an accident at their research site in Morocco,’ Alison Williams explained in clipped tones. ‘They had us take over their dead scientists’ work under the threat that they would kill our families if we didn’t cooperate.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘It wasn’t an empty promise. They provided us with detailed images and videos they had taken of our relatives.’ She glanced at Hagen and Henderson, anger clouding her eyes. ‘The three of us were under no illusions that we would be killed after we had fulfilled our roles in their strategy.’

Connelly straightened. ‘So all three of them are called Rajkovic,’ she muttered.

‘Yes,’ said Conrad, impatience creeping into his tone. ‘Nadica, Zoran, and Ariana Rajkovic. They go by many other names, including Muhlisi Khan, but from the conversations Hagen, Williams, and Henderson overheard between their guards, those are their true identities.’

Connelly leaned toward the camera and addressed the three scientists. ‘Do you possess any information about their intentions?’

The two men and the woman looked at each other, dread evident in their eyes.

‘We don’t know all the details,’ Williams said finally. ‘They anonymized most of the data they gave us to work with, especially the particulars of specific locations. But I recognized the natural geology of some of the sites.’

‘They’re digging tunnels, Sarah,’ Conrad said in a deadly voice. ‘And filling them up with Hagen’s liquid explosive.’

Connelly blinked, her eyes displaying dull incomprehension. ‘What do you mean?’

Henderson rested one hand against the computer console. ‘Mr. Greene is right, Director Connelly,’ said the British engineer. ‘From the materials we inherited from our predecessors on the project, we believe they’ve been drilling for years, if not decades. Borehole technology has been around forever, with the first ever recorded well being made by the Chinese more than two millennia ago. In more recent memory, we’ve had the Americans’ Project Mohole off the coast of Mexico and the Kola Superdeep Borehole in northwest Russia.’

‘The facility where Hagen, Williams, and Henderson were being forced to carry out the Rajkovics’ research outside Khan Inc. was filled with schematics of networks of channels buried deep under at least thirty locations,’ Conrad added. ‘We suspect all of them of being major cities around the world.’

‘They’ve had us working out the best geological formations in which to place the micro-tunnels so as to achieve the most destructive results,’ said Williams bitterly.

Blood drained from Connelly’s face. Silence descended in the Sit Room as agents and White House staff stopped their activities and gathered behind her, their expressions displaying alarm and fear.

‘You mean, what happened in Luxembourg—?’ the Director of National Intelligence said in a shaky voice.

‘Yes,’ Conrad cut in. ‘They’re quite likely planning to do the same to other cities.’

Connelly propped her elbows on the Sit Room conference table and held her head in her hands, her eyes directed blindly at the polished surface. She looked up slowly.

‘But—I still don’t get how they could have been digging for so long without anyone having prior knowledge of it,’ she said, incredulous.

‘Think about it.’ Conrad glanced at the three scientists. ‘We know these guys have been around for some time,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Remember, they
have
the resources to do this.’

Connelly stared at him, a flash of comprehension darting across her face. ‘Of course,’ she murmured in a sour tone.

‘There
are
a couple of reasons why no one else would have been aware of these tunnels,’ said Henderson. ‘First, most of their digging projects started some time ago. Second, they went deep. They used standard oil and gas equipment to bore vertically into the ground, and added on directional drill strings to carve out the horizontal shafts. The drilling mud then sealed the walls of the tunnels, as it would an oil well.’

‘We think they disguised the original boreholes under regular construction works,’ said Williams. ‘It’s the only way they could have continued to work at them for all these years. You’re not going to find any open drilling sites marked with an X. These wells are likely to be beneath buildings.’

‘That’s why they needed all the hydraulic equipment from the company outside Charleston,’ said Conrad grimly. ‘From the size and number of orders Franklin came across, it explains why we found only a few such machines at Khan Inc.’

Connelly clenched her jaw. ‘And the explosives?’ she said. ‘Surely, they couldn’t get their hands on that much—’

‘They had access to massive stockpiles of disused Second World War explosives containing PETN,’ interrupted Hagen. ‘They also procured vast amounts legally for their legitimate mining ventures.’ The professor ran a hand through his hair. ‘I suspect they have a PETN manufacturing site somewhere else. We were given data from simulations taking place at other facilities.’ He grimaced. ‘They initially intended to use a combination of PETN and its derivative Semtex to achieve their goals. Unfortunately, one of their scientists came across my work. The Rajkovics realized they could have an even more powerful weapon at their disposal, one that would be more practical for their intentions as well, considering it would be in liquid form.’

‘Sweet Jesus,’ murmured the gray-faced Sit Room director on the video link. ‘I’m calling Westwood and the Joint Chiefs.’

Connelly glanced at the man and inclined her head.

Hagen took an urgent step toward the makeshift command post. ‘Tell the investigators in Luxembourg to look for evidence of a primary borehole within the disaster zone,’ he advised in a low voice. ‘I doubt they’ll find the remains of the laser device used to detonate Cetrilium 24.’

‘Cetrilium 24?’ said Connelly in a puzzled tone.

Hagen flushed. ‘That’s the name of the new explosive.’

The scientists left the hangar a short while later. Conrad rubbed the knots on the back of his neck, still reeling from the recent revelations. His hand suddenly stilled as he recalled a crucial detail.

‘There’s something else,’ he said in a hard voice.

Connelly sighed. ‘I suspect we have enough on our plate as it is, but go on.’

‘Someone tipped off the guards at Khan Inc. about our operation,’ said Conrad. ‘We were already inside the compound at the time.’

Consternation darkened Connelly’s expression. ‘You think it was our mole?’

‘I’m betting on it.’

Connelly drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Let’s see. The Sit Room staff knew of the mission. Lewis and Donaghy were with me when I spoke to the Secretary of Defense and the US AFRICOM Commander.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Franklin was still on his way back from West Virginia—’

‘It’s not Franklin,’ Conrad cut in. ‘He’s the one who gave us the lead in the first place. And I doubt it’s Lewis or Donaghy.’

Connelly chewed her lip, fingers still tapping the table. Her hand suddenly stopped mid-air. ‘Petersen,’ she breathed.

Conrad’s stomach plummeted as he stared at the Director of National Intelligence. ‘He cleared the company in Charleston.’

‘He was also the last one who got told about the mission,’ said Connelly grimly. ‘It would have been around the time you infiltrated the plant in Morocco. Shit!’ She turned to the Sit Room communications assistant. ‘Phone Homeland! I want to know where Agent Petersen is
right now
!’

‘How did they find it in the first place?’ hissed Ariana. She glared at the video images being relayed on a Moroccan news channel.

Khan Inc., one of their oil and gas companies, had come under siege by the Moroccan army and military police. The clip playing on the screen showed the plant’s workers climbing onboard buses guarded by scores of armed officers. The official story to the media was that there had been a terrorist threat at the site.

Ariana knew it was only a cover. Their spy inside the White House had warned them of the US operation taking place at the compound. It was led by that infernal immortal—the one who had almost thwarted Nadica in Paris.

‘They uncovered our hydraulic manufacturing business in West Virginia,’ said Zoran in a strained voice. ‘One of the employees had left unencrypted data in a computer at the headquarters. It led them to the Tindouf Basin.’ Rage flushed his cheeks. His nails had scored the skin of his palms, drawing blood.

It was the first time Ariana had seen him so angry. She rubbed her throbbing temples. Although she was irritated at having lost the plant and the small group of faithful followers stationed there, she was far more annoyed that the three engineers had been snatched from under her very nose and that the hidden research facility had been uncovered.

‘We should teach those scientists a lesson,’ said Nadica between gritted teeth.

Ariana glanced at the younger woman. Zoran’s sister had gone beyond simple fury. Bloodlust radiated off her body in waves. For once, Ariana shared her descendant’s ire. She had not made so many sacrifices and shed so much blood over the last four centuries to come this far to fail on the very cusp of success. It was time the people of this world learned their truthful place.

‘Make it so,’ Ariana ordered coldly. ‘Dispatch contractors to take care of their families.’

Nadica picked up her phone and started to dial a number.

Ariana turned to Zoran. ‘Are the target locations ready?’

‘They will be in the next eight hours.’

‘Good,’ Ariana said in steely tones. ‘We start our operations as soon as the last one is prepped.’

Zoran glanced at the digital map on the wall. ‘What about locations 25 and 26?’

Ariana studied the sites in Germany and Austria with a calculated stare. ‘Activate those as well,’ she said finally. ‘I was hoping to convince them to join ranks with us once they realized what we were capable of, but I see that they also have to learn their position in this future world order.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

C
onrad stared out of the Learjet’s window, fingers restlessly rapping the armrest of the executive chair. Almost four hours had passed since his last conversation with the White House. So far, they had had no further leads on the possible locations of the other primary boreholes.

They were on their way back to Washington to regroup their forces with the other agencies. Shortly before they left Morocco, he had called Victor and briefed him on their progress. Although they could think of at least a dozen cities that would make ideal targets for the enemy’s destructive plans, they did not have any definitive proof to corroborate their theories. Even if they did identify the relevant sites, pinpointing the exact whereabouts of the boreholes would be a proverbial needle-in-a-haystack job. Conrad could not ward off the feeling of imminent dread stealing over him. They were running out of time again. He was certain of it.

Footsteps rose along the aisle. Laura appeared and handed him a steaming cup. He murmured a thanks and took a sip of the strong coffee.

‘Why don’t you get some shuteye?’ she suggested. ‘There’s not a lot we can do at the moment, so now would be a good time to rest.’

Conrad gave her a strained look. ‘I don’t think I can sleep right now.’

Laura’s lips curved in a small smile. ‘I know one sure way to get you to relax,’ she murmured.

Conrad raised an eyebrow and glanced at the immortal and agent at the rear of the plane.

Laura made a tutting noise. ‘There are ways and means, Greene.’ She leaned over and trailed a seductive finger down his chest, igniting sparks on his skin.

Conrad recalled some of the less conventional places they had made love in the past. He swallowed.

‘Sheesh,’ someone muttered behind them. ‘How you can even think about sex right now, I have no idea.’ Anatole strolled up the aisle, a red-eared Stevens in tow.

Laura glared at the immortal. She was about to deliver a retort when her phone rang. She stared at the number on the display.

‘It’s Moreau,’ she said, looking at them with a puzzled frown. She answered the call and put the French Central Intelligence agent on speaker. ‘Hi, Moreau. It’s Hartwell here. I’ve got the others with me.’

‘Hey,’ Moreau greeted. ‘Word on the grapevine is that you guys have been having some fun in Morocco.’

Conrad grimaced. ‘Your definition of fun is not quite the same as ours. What can we do for you?’

‘Christophe Lacroix persuaded us to chase up Ridvan Kadir’s Mossad incident from 1984,’ Moreau replied. ‘That cop’s got good instincts. We asked the Israelis to dig further. They came up with a surprising connection. Kadir reappeared on the scene a few years after that initial episode. He was heavily disguised and used an alias, but the retired arms dealer the Mossad agents spoke to was convinced it was our man. Kadir was looking for information on anyone who might be able to provide black market Scuds.’

‘Scuds?’ Laura repeated, fingers tightening on the phone.

‘Yes, as in tactical ballistic missiles,’ confirmed Moreau in a somber tone.