The Alexandria Connection (19 page)

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Authors: Adrian d'Hage

BOOK: The Alexandria Connection
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‘The Australians will be very sorry they ever teamed up with the United States, I can guarantee it,’ Yousef said.

‘And the British?’ Jamal asked.

‘There we have more choice,’ said Khan, opening up another website. ‘They have sixteen commercial reactors, and as you can see, they range from Dungeness and Hinkley Point on the south-east and west coasts, on up to Hunterston and Torness in the mid-north. Dungeness is the closest to London, although the prevailing winds in London are from the southwest, so Hinkley Point would provide a better plume across the most populated areas. How many people can you call on in the UK?’

‘We have more operatives there than Australia . . . enough to attack two, possibly three of their reactors.’

24
EVRAN Headquarters, Dallas, Texas

S
heldon Crowley piloted his Aston Martin One-77 down the long, tree-lined gravel drive of his estate in Preston Hollow, Dallas. Only seventy-seven of this particular Aston Martin had ever been made, hence the name, and at US $1.85 million, it was one of the world’s most expensive cars. Crowley was irascible and impatient, and he always chose the fastest route, but even he wouldn’t be able to find space for the massive V12 7.3 litre car to reach its top speed: 350 kilometres an hour was in the realm of Formula One. He owned this car because he could, and because it was the rarest Aston Martin on the road.

The massive iron gates of Ploutos Park opened silently, and then just as silently closed behind him, and Crowley turned into leafy Inwood Road and headed for the gleaming twin towers of EVRAN’s headquarters in downtown Dallas, a bare five miles distant.

The security guard saluted and Crowley drove into EVRAN’s underground executive car park, pulling up beside his personal lift. He inserted the key and the lift rose silently to the eighty-second floor, where Rachel was already at her desk.

Crowley strode into his palatial corner office, which commanded sweeping views of the city through the two entire walls that were constructed out of toughened plate glass. The other walls were replete with several of the great masters, including Rembrandt, Michelangelo and da Vinci, all legally purchased at auction, and each with a price tag in the tens of millions. Crowley paused momentarily to take in the gridlock on the streets below, the cars, vans, trucks and buses all powered by derivatives of oil and gas. His thoughts turned momentarily to the Euclid Papyrus and the rumoured alternative energy system, and he made a mental note to check to see if Rubinstein had anything to report.

Crowley’s gaze shifted to the Dallas skyline. It gave him a particular satisfaction to have an office that looked down on humanity stuck in the gridlock on Elm and Commerce, in a city that was the fifth most congested in the United States. A brass telescope on a stand near one of the huge windows emphasised the point. It gave him even greater satisfaction to look down on the roofs of Dallas skyscrapers like the Bank of America Plaza and the JP Morgan Chase Tower, and the extraordinary prism architecture of Fountain Place with its 172 dancing fountains, which from up here looked like tiny bubblers in a park. Crowley had designed EVRAN Towers with just such dominance in mind. At 396 metres high, it was not only the tallest building in Dallas, it was taller than the Empire State Building and the fourth highest building in the United States after the new One World Trade Center on the north-west corner of the 9/11 site, and the Willis and Trump Towers in Chicago. The entire top floor of EVRAN was taken up by Crowley’s and Rachel’s offices, en suite bathrooms, sauna and massage rooms, and the boardroom complex, which included a spacious dining room and kitchen.

‘Good morning. I trust you slept well.’ Rachel’s greeting, as she stepped into Crowley’s office, was cool. She hated being in Dallas, although not because of the city. Her two-storey house provided by EVRAN on Dallas’ elite Strait Lane was at the top of the spectrum – it was more a matter of who else was here, and Rachel had never liked to share. Some time ago, she had promised herself she would force her boss to divorce his twinset-and-pearls wife, and the management of his Ploutos Park estate would be added to her suite of fiercely guarded responsibilities.

Crowley poured himself a cup of coffee from the percolator on the sideboard. ‘What’s the program look like today?’

‘In a word, busy,’ Rachel said, placing a printout from his electronic diary on the desk. ‘As instructed, I’ve left you a gap between nine and ten a.m. Will you be in the office?’ she probed.

‘There are some things you don’t need to be involved in.’ Crowley’s response was crisp. Any knowledge of Crowley’s meetings with assassins like the tattooed felon Elias D. Ruger was on a strictly need-to-know basis. Other than the head of Area 15, Eugene Reid, no one in EVRAN, including Rachel, had access into the Ruger compartment.

‘The board meeting’s at eleven, with lunch at one,’ Rachel replied, equally crisply.

‘They’re all here?

‘All here,’ Rachel confirmed. The last executive to turn up late for a board meeting had been fired on the spot. Not that the monthly EVRAN board meeting was anything more than a rubber stamp. The sparse minutes were only there to meet the requirements of the regulatory authorities.

‘Recording system?’

‘Checked and working for the boardroom, and in case you want anything recorded in a one-on-one, your office system is set to go as well.’ Unbeknown to his executives, Crowley’s conversations with them were all recorded, and the digital records secured with compartment passwords to which only he and Rachel had access. Crowley was determined that neither he nor EVRAN would ever be confronted by a Watergate-style tape. The less salubrious deals and directions were always discussed one-on-one in Crowley’s office, with Rachel the only other person in the room. If it ever went to court, it would be the word of two people against one, or at least, that was Crowley’s plan.

‘And you wanted to talk to Pastor Shipley about nailing down the evangelical vote. Do you want me to put that through now?’

‘Don’t bother. I spoke to that Bible-bashing asshole last night. He won’t have a bar of Davis, and won’t campaign for his nomination.’

‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised . . . I guess our weekend in Cannes is off the agenda?’ Rachel smiled and raised an eyebrow.

‘Have we get any dirt on Shipley yet?’ Crowley asked irritably, ignoring her look and doodling with his solid-gold pen – a Panthère de Cartier encrusted with over 400 diamonds and emeralds.

‘Perhaps. There might be a hole in his taxes. His Hermit Road mega-church rakes in just over US $40 million a year, which is tax-exempt, but for the past five years he’s only declared a salary of US $50 000. Yet as you’re well aware, he has a private jet and drives a Maserati. Area 15’s working on that little anomaly.’

‘No point in paying taxes if you don’t have to, and putting him in to the Inland Revenue Service isn’t going to get us anywhere. Where are we at with Carter Davis?’

‘I’ve spoken to his PA, and Davis will take your call when you’re ready. But before we get to that, Mr Reid wants to see you . . . he says it’s urgent.’

Rachel opened the door to allow Reid access, and then moved to one of the occasional tables where she quietly switched on the recording system, one of three points in the room from where it could be activated.

‘That’ll be all, Rachel.’

Surprised, Rachel maintained a neutral look and withdrew, closing the soundproofed door behind her. She was very rarely excluded from Crowley’s discussions, and it infuriated her when she was. She made a mental note to check the recordings.

‘There’s been a development in Cairo,’ Reid said. Like Ruger, the tall, thin head of Area 15 sported tattoos, including a flaming skull and crossbones on his neck. ‘You asked us to keep a watching brief on papyri in Egypt. Well, one has just surfaced. The Horus Papyrus.’

Crowley was instantly focused. One of the greatest threats to the dogma of Christianity had finally been found.

‘Our man in the Cairo Museum has sent us the following.’ Reid handed over the decrypted message, along with a photograph of the papyrus and a translation of the hieroglyphics. ‘O’Connor and Weizman met with Badawi, the director, and donated the papyrus to the museum’s collection, but on condition that Badawi hold off on any announcement while they search for the Euclid Papyrus. We’ve kept both under surveillance. As we speak, O’Connor’s back in Washington, which leaves Weizman vulnerable.’

Crowley shook his head. ‘The Horus Papyrus is unique, and that makes it worthy of a place in any collection,’ he said mentally making space for it, ‘but for the moment, its value lies in the threat it poses to the Christians and their dogma. The Euclid Papyrus is far more important, and Weizman and O’Connor might just lead us to it.’

‘That may be so, but as far as the Horus Papyrus is concerned, Aboud’s put an asking price of US $50 million on it.’

‘Where does that come from? It’s not in this message?’

‘We’ve been monitoring Aboud’s communications. He’s offered it to Rubinstein in Venice on the quiet, which is why I asked to see you urgently.’

Crowley coloured visibly. ‘So he thinks he can knock it off, and we’re going to be none the wiser. Double-crossing little turd. What’s Rubinstein’s response?’

‘He said he’d get back to him.’

‘And the Jew will add another ten million on top of that and offer it to me.’

‘Or the Vatican?’

‘Or the evangelicals,’ Crowley mused, a plan forming in his mind. ‘Leave it with me, and keep monitoring Weizman, O’Connor, Rubinstein and Aboud, twenty-four seven. In the meantime, I’m meeting with an old colleague of yours, Elias Ruger.’

Crowley scrutinised Reid’s face for any reaction to his mention of Reid’s one-time fellow inmate of the Illinois State Penitentiary, but there was none.

‘I’ve cleared him into Area 15, but only for assignments that affect him. You’re to provide him with intelligence on matters that I might authorise from time to time, beginning with the brief on O’Connor and Weizman’s activities in Alexandria and Cairo.’

Once Reid had left, Crowley buzzed Rachel. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. If Shipley’s in town, squeeze him in before the board meeting. If he balks, tell him I’d like to make another donation.’

‘Welcome to Dallas,’ Crowley said to Ruger, lighting a cigar. The concierge had shown them into one of the private rooms in The Leopard Club, just one of Dallas’ many gentlemen’s clubs that provided exclusive services, day and night. He waited while the young waitress, her attire leaving nothing to the imagination, delivered coffee.

‘I trust the accommodation we’ve provided is of a better standard than that of the state of Illinois?’

‘It makes a pleasant change.’ Ruger was just on six three in his socks, a huge bear of a man who kept himself very fit. His short, dark hair was tinged with grey, and his face was pockmarked – a legacy of teenage acne – with his right cheek scarred from a bar room brawl.

‘Well, I’m glad Judge O’Reilly has corrected things . . .’ Crowley let his words hang, leaving Ruger in no doubt who’d been behind his acquittal. ‘And now that’s out of the way, we need to discuss your future employment.’ Ruger had been briefed by the County Court bagman that the price of his freedom would be explained once he arrived in Dallas.

Ruger was a man of few words. His face expressionless, he nodded.

‘Like all big companies, to a certain extent, we rely on commercial intelligence, and both espionage and counter-espionage surveillance is provided by a department of EVRAN known as Area 15. The existence of this is on a need-to-know basis. Within Area 15, there are compartments – every so often, we face threats that have to be eliminated, if you get my drift.’

‘I don’t come cheap, Mr Crowley.’

‘And we don’t employ amateurs, Ruger,’ Crowley replied icily. ‘Money’s not the issue. It’s getting the assignments out of the way cleanly, without any trails. You’ve been provided with an apartment here in Dallas, with a retainer of US $100 000 a year, on the understanding that you drop whatever you might be doing when we call. Provided it doesn’t expose your arrangement with us, what you do in your spare time is up to you. As to assignments, that will depend on their nature, but if they involve high-value targets, they come in at around US $300 000. Any questions?’

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