I'd Rather Be In Paris (28 page)

"I have a problem,” Lawson said into the phone.

"Yeah, I know.” Del snickered. “He's dark and dangerous and knows how to piss off Stone without raising an eyebrow. So what's new?"

"This is a real problem. I need help."

"Okay."

"Dmitri's got Zara."

The line was silent for several seconds. “What do mean, ‘got her'?"

"Kidnapped."

"Holy shit,” Del whispered. “How did that happen?"

"Long story. Bottom line is I fucked up. Where's Pegasus?"

"Let me check.” Lawson heard Del's fingers tap his keyboard. “Looks like they're all here in the States on standby."

"For what?"

"Missing agent. He's been out of contact for three days now, and Pegasus is on call to ship out to Pakistan pending the DCI's orders."

It wasn't optimal, but it could have been worse. His team could have been in Middle or South America involved in a search and rescue. At least if they were in the D.C. area on standby, he had a chance of getting them to Europe within a reasonable timeframe. Especially if they were going to soon be on their way to the Middle East anyway. “I need you to go to Stone and tell him what's happened. I need Pegasus here in Switzerland and I need them ASAP."

"I'm a peon in the beast known as the Agency. I can't go to Michael Stone. You better call Flynn and get him to talk to the big guy. He pisses Stone off, but he also pulls a lot more weight."

Damn
. The last thing Lawson wanted to do was explain to Flynn how he'd screwed up and let Zara get kidnapped.

But for her, he would get down on his knees and kiss Flynn's feet if it meant he would get him his team.

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Zara sat still as stone in her chair. Lucie was seated on the couch and Dmitri leaned against the wall behind Stefano, staring at Zara. It was meant to unnerve her, so she ignored him.

"Did you know anyone killed in the September eleventh terrorist attacks?” Stefano asked.

While Dmitri was a crafty manipulator who liked to tease and taunt and draw things out, Stefano was a different animal. The Mafia leader preferred to get to the bottom line as quickly and efficiently as possible. A ruthless executive. She wasn't sure where his question was leading, but she answered honestly. “Yes. Several."

Stefano focused on a framed photograph on his desk. “My family as well. Two of my cousins and a half dozen college friends. The bride-to-be of my stepbrother. All lost in the World Trade Center Towers because a minority of men are bent on destroying the West in the name of God.” He shook his head. “Those attacks did not just affect Americans. They affected all of us."

Zara glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. It had already been close to two hours since she'd been kidnapped. Another six before the sun came up. Time, so far, was on her side.

"Islamic fundamentalists are a black mark on the twenty-first century,” he continued. “Their followers are ignorant, uncultured peoples who thrive on fanaticism and violence. They have brought their darkness to the United States and they continue to spread the same violence throughout the European community in an effort to make us fear them. This fanaticism has gone unchecked for too long. They should be made to pay for the destruction and killing they have committed. They should be wiped off the face of the Earth."

An eye for an eye. The Mafia way of life. Zara sighed. “The United States and Great Britain are trying to flush out and bring those responsible to just—"

Stefano slammed his hand on the desk. “The United States and Great Britain have done nothing but add fuel to the fire. Many of the Islamic leaders responsible for nine eleven walk free, continuing to pour money into their private militias and planning more attacks, not just on the United States but worldwide."

Dmitri crossed his legs at the ankles. “Two days ago, an al-Qaeda sympathizer drove a car bomb into a canteen of an air base in Belgium, killing over a hundred people. He was a disciple of Osama bin Laden."

Stefano's jowls shook with rage. “The same man was suspected of planning a suicide mission against the U.S. Embassy in Rome last year. He was questioned by the Italian authorities who in turn notified your government and requested help in prosecuting him. The Italian government was told to handle it themselves. The U.S. could not be bothered by such an insignificant matter. Do you know why, Agent Morgan? Because they were too busy sending more troops to Iraq."

Drawing in a deep breath seemingly to calm his rage, he sat back in his chair. “There are highly efficient ways of dealing with these Middle Eastern mongrel races. Ways of eliminating both the fanatic leaders and their followers. My colleagues and I have developed such a way.” He exchanged a look with Dmitri. “We will give them exactly what they want."

When he didn't continue, Zara broke her silence again. She needed to keep him talking. “Guns? Bombs? Weapons of mass destruction? How will that help your cause without hurting the innocent?"

Dmitri answered, his voice carrying excitement. “Silent bombs. Highly efficient, but less messy than traditional weapons. Easy to carry and disseminate and extremely deadly."

Zara's brain clicked. “Biological agents. That's why you recruited Dr. Vos Loo."

Stefano nodded. “Genetic engineering of biological agents can alter their incubation periods, the way they are spread and even the clinical syndromes they produce. Bacterium can be mixed with viruses to create the most deadly and the easiest-spread diseases the world has ever known."

"Vos Loo's father,” Dmitri said, warming to the discussion, “dabbled in creating alternate agents back in the 1950's for the Russian Biological Warfare Program. Unfortunately, none of them were used in anything more than laboratory experimentation."

"And all were supposedly destroyed at the end of the Cold War.” Stefano held up a finger and tapped it against his temple. “But the doctor kept his own personal notes and hid them in a secret underground lab here in Switzerland. Jon has continued his father's work."

Dmitri pushed off the wall. “It all works out perfectly, you see. The Middle Eastern fanatics want to buy weapons with the capability of distributing fatal diseases to the rest of us. Some of them came to me in the past, but I always turned them down. I didn't want to deal with them. Now, Stefano wants revenge for the senseless deaths of family and friends at the hands of these same fanatics. I find the idea very appealing. So along with Vos Loo's help, I've arranged a deal that gives everybody what they want. I supply the weapons and Vos Loo supplies the anthrax and smallpox agents."

Stefano chuckled softly. “Vos Loo has developed a virus which is fast acting and highly contagious like SARS but contains a deadly strain of a pathogen similar to anthrax. When the deal goes down, our Islamic buyers end up exposing themselves to a deadly disease without even knowing it."

Dmitri chuckled too. “Then the Muslim dogs take it back home with them and our biogenetically engineered version of the plague kills thousands of them, all of them if we're lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it,” Stefano retorted, the impatient, calculating commander again. “Calculated planning does. In a few days, we will have justice and achieve what the Superpowers have failed to do with armies, warfare and trials."

In other words,
Zara thought,
don't send an egomaniac superpower to do a hit man's job.

Stefano opened a laminated wood box on his desk and drew out a cigar. “Vos Loo's strain takes twenty-four hours from exposure to full-blown symptoms. However, by the time a high fever and chest congestion appear, it's already too late. The exposed person's white blood cells have dropped significantly. His lungs fill with blood and his fever spikes, causing brain-damaging convulsions. He goes into shock and respiratory failure. All major organs shut down. Within forty-eight hours, the virus will have run its course and the patient will be dead."

"In the meantime,” Dmitri said, “he has exposed countless others. His family, the men he prays with at temple, his business associates. All who in turn pass the disease on."

Zara challenged their logic. “As soon as the World Health Organization recognizes the cluster of disease, they'll isolate and quarantine those affected just like they did during the SARS epidemic."

Stefano dismissed her argument. “The WHO moves at a pace comparable to your Congress. By the time they understand the massive scale of the disease, the quarantine will be too late. Plus, it will take them weeks to figure out the antidote. In order to survive the virus, a specific combination of antibiotics and antimicrobials has to be administered within the first twenty-four hour period."

Ethnic cleansing. Dear God, how could they even be talking about such a thing? Zara shifted her gaze between the modern-day versions of Hitler and Milosevic in front of her and once again called on logic to help her out. “Cleansing Europe of Muslims, even if it's only the extremists, is a massive undertaking. You may make a dent in their community, but you will never eliminate the entire Muslim world."

Stefano rolled the cigar between his fingers. “An effective war campaign does not limit itself to striking the enemy on only one front. My plan is in fact multifaceted. As the world deals with the biological attack, new attacks will be initiated, originating from the most unlikely of sources. The Health Ministry itself will unknowingly distribute contaminated antibiotics. Blankets and other supplies provided by humanitarian aide agencies to the refuge camps in Afghanistan and Pakistan will be contaminated with smallpox. The Muslim world will be under siege. Few will survive. Those who do will have nothing to live for."

Scenes of death and disease filled Zara's mind. Her stomach roiled. “How will you keep non-Muslims from contracting the disease? If Dr. Vos Loo's virus runs amok, aren't you putting yourselves and your own families in danger?"

"Adherents to the Islamic faith are a very tight-knit family,” Stefano answered. “They keep to themselves. A few innocent people on the fringes may be infected, those who tolerate and accept Muslims into their community, but every war has its collateral damage and anyone who befriends this group of people deserves to die. My network of health administrators here in Europe and in America will be instructed on proper protocol for dealing with the outbreak should it affect large numbers of Europeans. The antidote cocktail will be made available for those I deem appropriate. All of us here are already receiving vaccinations as a precaution."

Zara glanced at Lucie. A deep line creased her sister's forehead, mirroring her own. She glanced back at Dmitri and Stefano. “So how will you expose your buyers to this supervirus Vos Loo's created?"

Dmitri's eyes danced and he rubbed his hands together. “You, Agent Morgan. You have just been elected to become a weapon of mass destruction."

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Director Flynn was silent for so long, Lawson was sure the man had either fallen back asleep or the connection had gone dead.

Interrupting the DO's sleep was a bad idea, especially since he was already on his shit list, but Lawson didn't have any choice. He had to have help. He'd roused Flynn out of his slumber and spilled the entire story about Zara's kidnapping in less than thirty seconds. Now he waited for Flynn's response.

Silence didn't bode well. Lawson paced the library floor. “Director?"

"Way to screw up, Vaughn.” Lawson could see him swinging his legs over the bed and sitting up. “What's your plan?"

"I'm heading out to do surveillance on the estate where Dmitri's at as we speak, but I can't proceed past that until I have backup. There are approximately thirty well-armed guards and a very sophisticated security system in place. I want my Team here as fast as I can get them."

Another pause which seemed to Lawson to last an hour. “Even if Stone is willing to send your team, it'll be hours before they arrive. What do you plan to do in the meantime?"

"I need at least one more man on the ground who can help me with surveillance until Pegasus arrives. Two or three would be better. If this group breaks camp or if any of the major players leave the compound, I've got no way to follow them. Do you have any Agency-trained operatives in this region?"

"Of a sort,” Flynn answered.

The spot between Lawson's shoulder blades twitched. “What sort?"

"Bernier."

This time it was Lawson's turn to let silence hang between them. “Come again."

"Your host at the Villa."

Like a kaleidoscope, images and snippets of conversations with Christian blended and refocused into a different picture in front of Lawson's eyes. Christian's knowledge of weapons. His detailed background checks and knowledge-gathering of people he didn't know. His extensive wardrobe.

"Holy hell,” Lawson said. “You've got to be joking. Zara's ballet teacher is a freakin’ spook?"

Flynn cleared his throat. “We've used him occasionally. He's proven to be a good access agent, getting information for us, and his villa's been a safe house for some of our people over the years in exchange for protection of his extensive art collection."

Lawson glanced at the doorway to make sure it was clear and then he lowered his voice. “I don't know squat about art, but shouldn't those pieces be in museums or something?"

"Even the Louvre has had major works of art stolen right off its walls in the middle of the day. Few museums are safer than Bernier's estate."

"Does he have any actual field experience?"

"Of a sort."

"Jesus.” Lawson laughed without humor. “You've got to give me more than that."

"I can give you one of the best spies in the business,” Flynn said. “Myself. I'll bring my goons from security, and another expert on terrorists who's at my disposal.” Lawson thought he heard a moan—a woman's moan—in the background. No wonder Flynn was extra pissed at him. “We'll meet up with you in approximately one hour. While you're waiting, develop a viable op plan for us."

This could not be happening. “
You
are coming into the field with me to rescue Zara."

"Hell yes,” Flynn said, sounding irritated. “Got a problem with that?"

A freakin’ ballet teacher and his boss were about to become his back-up team. He wasn't sure how the night could get any worse. “Just as long as you understand I'm in charge of the mission. Sir,” he added.

Several heartbeats passed and Lawson could have sworn Flynn was smiling. “We'll discuss that when I get there."

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