Origin - Season One (46 page)

They drove out of the hotel parking lot and joined the afternoon traffic. “Salnikov lost two men,” Manin said. “He says your estimate of the number of guards was inaccurate.”

Jack shrugged. “I haven’t been there for years. I told you that. Is she dead?”

Manin took a picture from his pocket and handed it to Jack. In it Richelle was lying on the floor of the downstairs landing. One of her legs appeared to be broken and her face was covered in blood.

“And the other one?” Jack said.

“Don’t you read the newspapers?” Manin asked.

“I’ve been a little busy.”

Manin took the picture back. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Now where is the drive?”

“Somewhere safe,” Jack said. “You didn’t think I’d have it here, did you?”

“Where are we going?” Manin said.

“You’ll see.”

They left the city and headed toward Basel along highway 2. When they reached the outskirts of Baden Jack turned off. A few minutes later they were driving through a small industrial park. The road wound around several small factory buildings, then turned east along a dirt road into thick woodland. It ended in a small clearing beside a single-story building that looked like a public utilities station of some kind.

“Wait here,” Jack said and got out.

Jack walked around the corner of the building and out of sight. He reappeared a moment later carrying a hiker’s backpack over one shoulder. When Manin got out of the car Jack put the backpack down in front of him.

“It’s all there,” Jack said. “Have a look.”

Manin leaned down and undid the straps of the top flap. As soon as he pulled it open Jack thumbed back the hammer on his own pistol. “Stand up slowly.”

Manin did.

“Walk toward the back of the building,” Jack said.

Jack followed him past the door and around the side of the building. Manin saw the open body bag on the ground and stopped.

“Go on,” Jack said. “Don’t be shy.”

“It’s ironic,” Manin said. “Don’t you think?”

“What is?”

“That we’ve both been instructed to kill each other. I’m assuming the order came from
him
, did it?”

“Yours might have,” Jack said.

“Then why?” Manin said.

“Let’s just say I’ve changed my mind. And if you were really ordered to kill me, not a moment too soon, it seems.”

Manin studied him for a moment. “You don’t have it, do you? You still don’t have the drive. What the hell happened, Jack?”

“Never fucking mind what happened. Stand by the bag.”

Manin moved to the edge of the bag. “I suppose a deal between you and I is out of the question?”

“You don’t have any idea what this is all about, do you?” Jack said. “Has he even told you why he needed you? It’s just that you seem to think you had some role to play in his plans for the future and if you knew him, you would also know that could never happen.”

“I know about the island,” Manin said.

Jack looked surprised. “He told you about the island?”

They both heard the distant sound of a helicopter coming from somewhere in the direction of the city. The difference was that Jack looked up and Manin didn’t.

Manin dropped to his knees and grabbed a small rock. He threw it just as Jack fired. The shot went wide and Jack stumbled back, tripped on something and fell. Above them the sound of the helicopter was getting closer. Manin was on his feet and running by the time Jack got back to his. Jack fired again as Manin rounded the corner of the building and looked up just as the helicopter appeared overhead and turned on its searchlight, momentarily blinding him.

Jack turned and ran. The beam followed him as he headed for the trees. A German voice boomed from the loudspeaker above him, ordering him to stop. Jack ignored it.

He ran another hundred yards, stumbling several times and getting back up. The voice commanding him to stop was growing impatient. The trees suddenly ended as he reached a firebreak and he tripped again. When Jack looked up the helicopter was hovering just above the trees. A man was leaning out of the open side-door with a scoped rifle. Jack shielded his eyes from the light with one hand and fired several shots into the air. Then something hit him in the chest hard enough to throw him back to the ground. When he tried to take another breath it came not through his mouth, but through a hole just above his heart. The first shot was followed by another that caught him in the right shoulder. His last coherent, if not exactly pertinent, thought was that this is what an amputee must feel like. Then his head sank slowly back onto the soft grass and he thought no more.

– – –

As soon as Jack ran, Manin had sprinted for the car and set off back down the road. But he didn’t get far. Where the dirt track ended on the edge of the industrial complex there were now three cars blocking the entrance. Manin stopped, intending to go back, but saw at least a dozen armed police officers emerging from the trees on either side. He took a final look around, then rolled down his window and stuck both hands out.

The first officer to reach the car pulled the door open and several of his colleagues pulled Manin out and piled onto him. When he had been searched and cuffed, they raised him to his feet. As he was half dragged, half carried, toward the cars at the end of the road, a black Mercedes pulled in behind them and a man in a smart three-piece suit got out of the back. A heated exchange ensued between the newcomer and one of the police officers. It was settled a minute later with a phone call, after which the police officer seemed to relent. Manin was taken to the Mercedes and put in the back seat. A moment later, the man in the suit joined him. He nodded to the driver and the car quickly left the scene.

When they were back on the motorway, the man turned to Manin and said, “You were supposed to kill him.”

Manin regarded him for a moment and said, “He sent you?”

The man nodded. “We can’t exactly have our star general talking to the Swiss police, now can we? Did he give you the drive?”

Manin shook his head. “He didn’t have it. He also seemed quite sure my own days were numbered.”

The man laughed. “Did he now?”

“He did.”

“Jack was an incompetent fool. I’m more interested in hearing how you got on at Utska. Have you taken care of our problem?”

Manin reached into his pocket and produced the picture of Richelle.

“Good,” the man said. “Very good.”

The Callisto

Somewhere on the Baltic Sea
Wednesday 26 July 2006

0200 CEST

Richelle handed the mic back to the communications officer and turned to Williams. “Jack’s dead. He arrived in Zurich yesterday morning. We also have Victor Manin.”

They returned to Williams’s cabin where Francis was waiting.

“Has Manin talked?” Francis asked.

“He didn’t so much talk as sing,” Richelle said.

“Oh?” Francis said.

“The general is currently the guest of honor at my sister’s house in Zurich. Although he doesn’t know that.”

Francis regarded her with a wry smile. “He thinks he’s been sprung by his own people?”

Richelle nodded. “By his contact inside our organization, yes. Although he has no idea who it is. His instructions arrive through a drop at the central train station in Moscow.”

“And the drive?” Francis asked.

“We already know Jack was supposed to give it to Salnikov in New York, and why that didn’t happen. According to Manin, he had been told Jack would bring it to Zurich. He had been promised proof of the claims being made about our organization before he committed himself to the task of helping to take it down.”

“I guess if you knew what it was all supposed to mean, that makes sense,” Francis said.

“He also says Jack tried to kill him before the police arrived.”

“Because he still didn’t have it,” Francis said.

“It looks that way,” Richelle said. “And if Manin had no idea what happened in New York, I think it’s safe to assume that his contact doesn’t either.”

Francis considered this for a moment and said, “Titov seemed convinced that this person, the one your security chief says shut down the communications system, arrived on your orders.”

“I knew nothing about it,” Richelle said.

“No. But the question is, who would have been able to make it look like you did?”

“I’ve thought about that,” Richelle said. “Jack would have been able to originate the transfer request in New York, although it’s hard to believe Marius wouldn’t have noticed. The problem is, we can’t get a hold of Marius, or Carl Bosch for that matter.”

“I think you should prepare yourself for the very real possibility that they’re both dead,” Francis said. “The behavior of your friend Jack since he lost the drive has had desperation written all over it, including his partnership with Norton Weaver. Although knowing Weaver, he wouldn’t have been given a choice. That old bastard would have been as desperate as Jack to find the drive. It’s just the kind of asshole he is. I’m not a betting man, but if I were, I would put my chips on your insider as the man who arranged for this guy to show up just in time to take the heat. Do we even know where he came from?”

“I didn’t have time to ask,” Richelle said. “But I intend to.”

“You need to be careful,” Francis said. “The person you’re looking for will panic if they know you’re still alive. They may try to run.”

Richelle and Williams shared a knowing look.

“What?” Francis said.

“They can’t run,” Richelle said. “I don’t have time to explain why, and you might not believe me if I did, so just take my word for it.”

Francis ignored this cryptic comment and went on. “Fine. But to be on the safe side, who actually knows you’re on board?”

“Just my security chief.”

“Then I suggest you keep it that way,” Francis said. “Do you trust him, your security chief?”

Richelle laughed. “Brendan? It’ll probably take all three of us just to keep him from turning the place into a concentration camp until we find who we’re looking for. He was my father’s personal bodyguard for ten years.”

“Fine,” Francis said. “If it was up to me, I’d bring him on board as soon as we arrive, brief him and send him back to try and root out your traitor. Although if you think he’s going to go off half-cocked, maybe it’s better to send Captain Williams.”

“He’ll be fine,” Richelle said. “Once he understands the situation.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Williams said.

“Sir, we’ve arrived,” the crewman said.

“I’ll be right up,” Williams said.

Williams walked to the door and turned around. “What’s the plan, then?”

Richelle hesitated for a moment then looked at Francis and said, “Bring Brendan on board. Don’t tell anyone else I’m here and make sure the crew doesn’t either. In fact, have them come back inside once we’ve docked.”

Aurora

Wednesday 26 July 2006

0230 EEST

They were sitting in the galley of the Callisto. Richelle, Francis and Williams on one side of the table, the chief on the other. When Richelle finished speaking he shook his head and said, “My god. And Jack Fielding, of all people.”

“You knew him?” Francis said.

The chief looked uncertainly at Richelle.

“It’s okay, he’s fine,” she said.

“Not exactly,” the chief said. “I met him a few times at Utska when he was running the security team there. Never would have taken him for a traitor, though.”

“Join the club,” Richelle said.

“And I would have bet my right arm that Rainey was behind what happened to Darkstar,” the chief said.

“What did you say his name was?” Francis said.

The chief looked at Richelle again, clearly uncomfortable answering questions from this newcomer.

“Tell him,” Richelle said.

“His name is Mitch Rainey.”

“He wasn’t an employee of the FBI in DC by any chance, was he?” Francis said.

The chief looked startled. “Yes, he was. How the hell do you know that?”

“Jesus,” Francis said. “Mitch Rainey was the guy who helped Mike on the Fed investigation. Mike said one of their calls had been tapped and that he hadn’t heard from him since.”

“Where is he now?” Richelle said.

The chief lowered his head and said, “Actually, he’s missing.”

“What do you mean, he’s missing?” Richelle said.

“We believe Sarah Breland helped him get away.”

“Erik’s daughter?” Richelle said.

“Yes. She was… err… she was rather taken with him, I think.”

Richelle was shaking her head. “Christ, Brendan. What the hell is going on around here?”

“He was being held in his quarters. She left one of my guards unconscious. I guess it’s hardly surprising if she knew he was…”

The chief suddenly stopped. He seemed troubled. When he looked back up at Richelle he said, “There is something else. I think Heinz may be involved.”

“Heinz?” Richelle said. “Why would you say that?”

“He’s the only person here with open access to the system. He could easily have shut down the comm link and forged the transfer order.”

“So could you,” Richelle said. “That hardly makes you a suspect.”

“He was taken with Rainey,” the chief said. “Ask Erik. He invited him to stay. He also let him access the system unsupervised.”

Richelle looked stunned. The chief reached into the breast pocket of his coveralls and brought out a folded sheet of paper. “I didn’t want to show you this in front of anyone else. I had Heinz’s room searched before you arrived and found this in a box under his bed.”

The chief pushed the paper across the table. It was a photograph of her taken at Aurora several years earlier. In it she was standing next to her father. Both of them were smiling. But there was nothing sweet about the photograph now. It was covered in obscenities of every kind, both words and sketches. A crudely drawn ax was buried in her father’s head with the words
born in sin
written on the handle. There was a collar around Richelle’s neck and a leash running to her father’s hand. The words
daddy’s little cunt
had been written across her face. As she looked at it, her face went pale.