Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (25 page)

Laura nodded curtly and disappeared across the threshold of her room. Stevens was in the suite next to her. Conrad became aware of a hot stare from the opposite side of the corridor.

Anatole glowered at him. ‘What is
wrong
with you?’ he hissed. ‘Barely two hours ago, you looked like you were about to tear each other’s clothes off, and now—’

‘Oh shut up!’ snapped Conrad. He closed the suite door forcefully behind him and stalked into the bathroom.

He was drying his head with a towel when a knock sounded at the main door. Conrad crossed the floor and yanked it open, lips parted to deliver a well-deserved tirade. His voice died in his throat.

Laura stood facing him in the passage outside. Moisture glistened in her hair under the muted glow of the spotlights in the ceiling. A sweet scent wafted from the coffee-colored curls. She was wearing a fresh change of clothes and a steadfast expression.

Heat flashed in her eyes as she took in his appearance. Her gaze moved from his bare chest to the towel around his waist. She stepped inside the room and slammed the door shut.

‘We need to talk,’ said Laura. ‘But first, let’s get this out of the way.’

She closed the distance between them, looped her arms around his neck, and planted her lips firmly on his.

Conrad remained rooted to the floor, shock immobilizing his limbs. A wave of desire rose through him, drowning out all reason. He unfroze, hands rising to clutch the sides of her head. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth as he let out a low groan.

They came together frantically, their movements savage and uncontrolled. He tore at her clothes, a hiss of frustration leaving his lips when his fingers fumbled on the buttons of her trousers. She peeled off his towel and pulled her shirt over her head, her breaths coming hard and fast. She was naked in five seconds, and they were flat on the bed in the next two. His mouth closed greedily on hers, the force of the kiss almost painful. Her fingers clenched in his hair and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

The next hours were a blur of fevered, mindless hunger. They each knew what made the other moan and gasp. His lips on the curve of her left breast, her teeth on his ear, his fingers dancing up the inside of her thighs, her hands stroking his spine, the spot on her waist that made her shudder, the one on his abdomen that caused all his muscles to clench. They held each other desperately, their touches almost bruising; each sigh, each pant, each cry was a sweet sound that inflamed Conrad’s senses further.

They made love until the small hours of the morning, finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs and damp sheets. Laura lay on top of Conrad and fell asleep with her head cradled against his shoulder.

He woke a while later to the wetness of her tears on his skin.

‘If you had those powers then, would you have—?’ she started tremulously.

Conrad brought his lips to her forehead and swallowed convulsively. ‘In a heartbeat,’ he whispered.

She cried then for the boy who had been more a son than a stepbrother to her. For Conrad knew Laura had raised William Hartwell as she would have their own child. She spoke falteringly of the anger and self-hatred she had felt for not having seen what her brother had been going through at the time, and for having failed him. Because the one she truly blamed for his death was none other than herself.

Conrad wrapped his arms in a vice-like grip around her slender form as he listened to her broken sobs. His heart shattered all over again and a choked sound escaped him when she asked for his absolution for the centuries they had lost because of her willful foolishness.

He waited until her cries quieted before lifting her chin and staring into hazel depths he would happily drown in. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he breathed.

A fragile smile dawned on her face through the tears still clouding her gaze. Air froze in Conrad’s lungs. Her radiance stole his breath away. He raised his head and gently captured her mouth with his lips.

It took only seconds for the kiss to turn feverish. He rolled and pinned her to the mattress, desire clawing at his insides once more. Her eyes darkened to the color of a storm-tossed sea. She clung to him, her hands digging possessively into the small of his back. His fingers traced her thigh where her wound had been mere hours ago. Rationality fled as they lost themselves in the other once more, their heated gasps filling the room while their bodies flowed in perfect synchrony.

It was Anatole’s voice that roused them a couple of hours later. ‘Hey, lovebirds, we gotta go!’

Laura blinked and gazed muzzily at Conrad.

There was banging on the door. ‘You guys hear me in there?’ shouted Anatole.

Conrad sighed. ‘You have my permission to shoot him first.’

She grinned, kissed his chin, and wrinkled her nose at his stubble. ‘We better go or Harry’s gonna think I’m a complete hussy.’ She leapt out of bed, grabbed her clothes from the floor, and strolled naked into the bathroom.

Conrad watched her seductive form disappear before he swung his legs to the carpet. He wrapped the discarded towel around his waist, crossed the room, and yanked open the door. ‘What?’ he barked.

Anatole paused with his fist raised mid-strike. A dirty smile dawned on his face.

Conrad glanced down the corridor. ‘Where’s Stevens?’

‘He’s checking us out. Lewis called him when he couldn’t get through to you or Laura. They’ve got something on the poison.’

Conrad grunted. ‘We’ll be downstairs shortly.’

‘
Rigghhht
,’ said Anatole. ‘There’s no time for shower sex or any other kind of hanky-panky.’

Conrad glared at the red-haired immortal and slammed the door shut in his face. He looked down and slowly fingered the kiss marks on his chest. His lips curved in a grin. It took all his will power to shake off the warm glow overfilling the once frozen depths of his heart. His smile faded at the thought of the monumental task that still lay ahead.

They were at the airport half an hour later and linked up to the Sit Room within a minute of entering the Learjet. Connelly and Lewis stood framed inside the video screen.

‘Hey,’ greeted Connelly. ‘The Germans sent us their analysis of the drug you got your hands on.’ Her eyes shone as she glanced at Lewis. ‘Like the FBI suspected, the only way to identify it was to obtain the original sample. The primary compound is a poison called Batrachotoxin.’

Conrad’s fingers tightened on the backrest of a chair, a tremor of excitement shooting through him. ‘Isn’t that what the Columbian Indians of the Embera Choco region use to coat their blow darts?’

‘Yes!’ said Lewis. ‘Although it’s originally found in a specific family of beetles and some indigenous birds who ingest the insects, Batrachotoxin’s most famous source is the Golden Poison Frog.’ The FBI agent made a face. ‘Our guy in Crystal City didn’t stand a chance. Around one tenth of a milligram of the stuff is enough to kill an average-sized man. His muscles and heart would have seized up seconds after it hit his bloodstream. Now
this
is where things get intriguing. The mode of delivery was through a sophisticated film disc that dissolves at normal body temperature. More interestingly, the poison was combined with a second compound to help speed its absorption through the skin.’

Laura raised an eyebrow. ‘I doubt that stuff is available over the counter.’

Lewis smiled mirthlessly. ‘Correct again,’ said the FBI agent. ‘Batrachotoxin, or BTX, is sold by a number of companies around the world. The buyers are pharmaceutical corporations and medical research labs working on specific application areas such as anesthetic, antiarrhythmic, and anticonvulsant therapies. We’ve contacted the sellers who are known to trade in the poison to see whether they’ve had any new buyers on their books, or if any of their current clients have been requesting more BTX than usual.’

Conrad leaned forward tensely. ‘And?’

‘We got four hits,’ said Lewis. ‘The first one is a lab in Finland that’s recently increased its demand for BTX. The next two are research institutes in California and Chicago with a similar rise in orders. The fourth one is a drug company in France that only started purchasing the toxin some eighteen months ago.’

The four locations flashed up on a world satellite map on the screen.

A thrill of anticipation ran through Conrad as he studied the monitor. ‘Good work, Lewis. Can you send us the details of the European sites?’

Lewis grinned. ‘Will do. We’ll have our teams in LA and Chicago check out those two research institutes.’

Conrad’s gaze switched to the Director of National Intelligence. ‘Can I talk to you in private?’

Connelly arched an eyebrow in faint surprise. ‘I’ll call you on the Learjet’s private line.’

The plane’s phone rang seconds later. Conrad answered it.

‘What is it?’ said Connelly.

‘Apart from the people who were in the Sit Room, who else knew we were going to Leipzig?’ Conrad asked.

There was a brief silence at the other end of the line. ‘No one.’

‘The enemy knew we were going to be at Luther Obenhaus’s apartment,’ said Conrad. ‘That’s why they sent an assassin after us. Whoever the mole is, they heard our conversation last night.’

Connelly’s voice was stiff when she spoke again. ‘I’ll look into it.’

Conrad ended the call and turned to Laura. ‘Why don’t you and Stevens take the lab in Finland? Anatole and I will check out the one in France.’

Laura asked Stevens for his satellite phone. She handed the cell to Conrad, her fingers lingering on his. ‘That way, we can stay in touch,’ she murmured.

Conrad smiled and squeezed her hand lightly.

The Learjet’s pilot arranged for a private charter Sikorsky helicopter to take the two immortals to Paris. Minutes later, Conrad and Anatole stood on the tarmac and watched the plane lift off for Helsinki.

‘I’m happy for you,’ said Anatole after a while.

Conrad turned and observed his friend’s serene expression. ‘Thanks. That means a lot.’

Chapter Nineteen

N
adica glanced at her watch, teeth gnawing at her lip. They had been inside the building for just under twenty minutes. A restless energy tautened her limbs as she observed her guards load the first of the consignment of metal crates onto the back of the trucks.

A curse erupted from the bed of one of the vehicles. It was followed by a loud clang. Nadica ran to the rear of the truck and saw the overturned container. She climbed aboard, strode to the dismayed figure standing next to it, and backhanded him across the face.

‘You fool! The contents of that chest are worth more than all your miserable lives put together!’ she hissed.

Red marks flared on the guard’s pale cheek. He lowered his head and stared numbly at his feet. ‘I’m sorry, mistress,’ he mumbled. ‘It slipped from my grasp. I’ll be more careful.’

A savage thrill surged through Nadica as she watched the man tremble. ‘Next time, I’ll cut off your hands.’

She turned and leapt down from the bed of the truck. The service elevator opposite the loading bay opened. Six men walked out with another three steel containers. She headed for the lift.

Conrad and Anatole landed at the international airport in Orly just before noon. With Connelly having alerted the French Intelligence agencies, the Ministry of Interior, and the Judicial Police to the potential US operation inside their territory, they passed through security without a hitch.

A pair of navy blue Merc sedans stood waiting at the curb outside the main terminal building. Victor Dvorsky had also dispatched a team of local Bastian Hunters to assist them.

Anatole made a private phone call as they strolled toward the vehicles. Conrad caught him smiling and eyed the immortal curiously while the driver of the first car got out. Anatole took the keys and a pair of fake IDs off the Hunter. The man nodded curtly, twisted on his heels, and headed for the second vehicle. Conrad would only ask the Bastians for help if he desperately needed the backup.

Anatole slipped behind the steering wheel of the sedan and glanced at the badges. ‘Says here we’re French Central Intelligence.’ He beheld the dashboard and console with a grin. ‘Oh good. It’s a stick.’

Conrad hesitated as he closed the passenger door. ‘Maybe I should drive,’ he muttered.

Anatole gaped. ‘Do you even know how? You were in that jungle an awfully long time!’

Conrad glared at him and clipped the seatbelt in forcefully. ‘I swear you say this stuff to piss me off.’

Anatole’s cell phone chimed an alert. He checked the screen, smirked, and slipped the phone back in his jacket.

‘Who was that?’ said Conrad, curious.

‘Horatio,’ came the nonchalant reply.

Conrad looked at the clock on the control panel. It was six fifty in the morning in Rio de Janeiro. He cocked an eyebrow at his second in command. ‘What did he want?’

Anatole shrugged. ‘He’s mad that he lost a bet.’

Suspicion flared inside Conrad. He scrutinized the red-haired immortal with probing eyes. ‘What bet?’

Anatole maneuvered the car onto an expressway. ‘It’s not important. Let’s just say he owes me a crate of that expensive cachaca he likes so much.’