The Decrypter: Secret of the Lost Manuscript (Calla Cress Techno Thriller Series: Book 1) (27 page)

He took the stone back to the workstation and set it on the table.  Walking to a secured locker, he found a radioactive suit.  Once suited, he breathed hard, recognizing the severity of what he was about to do. 
Look for traces of uranium. 

He had read about ways to safely detect uranium from remote locations.  ISTF had started such experiments in this very lab, and now, he would attempt one.  The technique was known within scientific circles as near infrared spectroscopy. 

Jack returned to the station and switched on a spectrometer.  Using a fiber optic probe with a powerful light source, he scanned the surface of the carbonado to identify the chemical properties of its surface.  The test responded positively.  How much at this point, he couldn’t tell.
The energy levels in this one stone alone could possibly power electricity use for the entire globe for weeks. 

What is this thing?

Jack unsuited the research garment, shut off the machines and put the rock in his bag.  He turned off the lights and exited the lab. 

Outside the lab door, Liam’s hands were folded across his chest, having nodded off at his station.

“Great!” muttered Jack under his breath.
 I thought he’d gone.

The coffee mug on the table had spilled over, leaving a brown coffee stain on the closed car magazine.

Jack’s cold hand nudged him.  “Hey!  Liam?”

Liam’s body startled.  He woke up, fixing his sleepy eyes on Jack’s face. Liam scanned around him.  “What is it?  Heck, I didn’t realize.  I…must’ve been exhausted.”

Jack helped him up.  “You should go home.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.”

Liam set the spilled coffee cup upright and wiped the table surface with some tissues from his pockets.

Jack patted Liam on the shoulder as he turned to go. “Okay, good night,” he said as he marched off to the elevators.

Liam now fully awake, waited several seconds, until Jack had turned the corner.  He surveyed the corridor.  When he was satisfied that it was all clear, he vigorously rubbed his facial skin.  His epidermis shifted revealing a different face, concealed under his meta-material disguise. 

He wandered to the broom closet, a few doors from the laboratory.  Glimpsing around, he dropped his used flummoxing device - a custom-made, thin film that integrated signature reduction capabilities for the face and head region.  It landed in the waste disposal and shot down the shaft on the wall.

Slate grimaced, glancing down at the body on the broom closet floor. Liam’s lifeless body was still unconscious, gagged more than an hour ago.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DAY 8

12:27 P.M.

ISTF Intelligence Offices, London

Eichel pulled out his passport.  He slid it under the window to the uniformed security guard behind the protective glass.  He had never visited any intelligence services offices before, let alone ISTF.  The only reason he knew it existed was thanks to a chance meeting.

He had met Mason several years ago at the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas.  Atraps Technologies Inc., a security systems, technology company, had been exhibiting CCTV cameras, including analogue and IP-based surveillance technologies.  Both men had attended Atraps Corporation’s keynote speech and witnessed a demonstration by the CEO - a rather young entrepreneur.

Atraps was a small start-up with incredible potential.  Though not inventors
per se
, the owners were mastermind visionaries, having taken over the industry in such a short period of time.  Their approach to implementing breakthrough security systems had attracted Mason’s and Eichel’s curiosity.  Though small, the company had attained incredible success with its neoteric devices. 

Government and private owners were interested in acquiring Atraps’ technologies.  But the two co-founders, Michael and Kyle Atraps, were no fools.  As recent engineering graduates from MIT, they sought the highest bidder and owned the rights to each new system they developed.  Time was no object; they knew what their discoveries were worth in today’s market.

During the demonstration of a new network configuration and administration platform, Eichel and Mason had struck up a conversation.  They’d conversed like old friends going out for drinks at the popular Dynamo Lounge Club.  That night, Mason had extended an invitation to Eichel.  ‘It would be good to exchange ideas whenever you’re in London,” Mason had said.

Eichel was taking Mason at his word. 

The iron clad, security gate clanged opened.

“Here’s your passport, Mr. Eichel.  Please go through these main doors for the security scan.  You can leave your belongings in a secured locker for retrieval after your visit.”

After his security search, Eichel meandered into the main lobby and gave his name to the receptionist.

“This way Mr. Eicha.”

“Eichel,” he corrected.

She twitched her firm lips and escorted him to the elevators.  They stepped out onto the fifth floor, into an austere, minimalist lobby.  “Mr. Laskfell will be with you shortly.”

She left him standing in the middle of the atrium fiercely guarded by security cameras.  For several minutes, he wondered if he should sit in the only lounger chair provided in the deserted foyer.

“Herr Eichel!  How good to see you again!” boomed a voice from behind.

Mason gave him a firm handshake and put a courteous hand on Eichel’s shoulder.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Mr. Laskfell.”

“Let’s go have a chat in the restaurant.”

Eichel could not fathom why Mason didn’t want to meet in the privacy of his office, given he’d explained part of the nature of his visit.

“This way.  If I remember correctly, you told me you enjoy a good English roast.  They may be serving one today.”

“Thank you.”

Mason led him into a busy, staff restaurant on the same floor.  It was nothing like any staff canteen Eichel had seen before.  It might as well have been a prime restaurant, with its vivid décor and modish paintings.  The tables were strewn with overly elaborate tablecloths and full sets of cutlery.  The only similarity between this eating space and a regular staff canteen was that one queued up for meals.

At the entrance, Mason requested a private room off the main restaurant from a member of the kitchen staff.

The male waiter led them to a closed off glass enclosure.  “You can use the Lark room, Mr. Laskfell.”

Mason invited Eichel to take a seat.  “We’ll have the roast and two bottles of sparkling Perrier,” said Mason as the man left to attend to their order. 

The dining hall overlooked the River Thames and in the distance, Eichel spotted the iconic, Ferris wheel, the London Eye.

“I still have not been up there,” said Eichel.

Mason turned to view the cantilevered, observation wheel.  “The Millennium Wheel?  It’s just a frivolity, but we're proud of it.”

Mason studied his visitor with a meticulous smile.  “What brings you to London, my friend?”

Eichel scrutinized his face.  “I wish I’d come under more social circumstances.  I'm investigating the disappearance of national treasures.”

Their drinks arrived and Mason filled sparkling water in the chilled glasses.  He offered Eichel one.  “You’re now based in Berlin?  I remember you were in Munich the last time we met.”

I remember.

  It had been during his probation that he’d taken a short, escapism holiday to Las Vegas arriving in time for the Consumer Electronics Show.

Eichel did not acknowledge the remark.  “Mr. Laskfell, I'm sure you’ve heard of the details of the Deveron Manuscript.  It was taken from the Pergamon Museum along with another artifact.  One of your people, Allegra Driscoll, also disappeared from the crime scene.”

Mason didn’t like where the conversation was heading.  “Our intelligence arm is looking at this carefully.  We’ve launched our own investigation.”

“When we met, I didn’t realize you were working for ISTF.  Must be my luck.  I’m honored that you’ve let me into your circle.”

Mason held back a foul remark and twitched in his seat. “Have I?”

“Just the person I need for my investigation. That’s why I wanted to see you.  Is there anything you can share with us in Berlin?”

“Like what?”

“Come on, I had a chat with Calla Cress. Something also tells me she works for you.”

Mason ignored his comment and inclined his head to one side. “What do you want?” 

Eichel searched his face for a reaction before continuing.  “Frau Cress came to the museum looking for Frau Driscoll, another of your associates.  Her allegiance is to the British government, and possibly ISTF.”

“Is that so?” Mason asked.

“Have you or MI6 dealt with the Deveron document in the past?”

The small time cop was prying. Digging into matters that did not concern him. Mason’s head shot forward.
 “If we have, I wouldn’t know.  It’s not a high priority here.  We don’t investigate historical artifacts, unless they pose the utmost threat to national or international security.”

Eichel grinned.  “But isn’t that the myth about the Deveron?  An international threat, at least for those that get to the secrets it supposedly holds.”

“It never crossed my mind.”

Eichel stared at him for a moment, incapable of moving.  “What about the Russian chemical being funded by Rupert Kumar the billionaire?”

Mason twitched unintentionally.  In an effort to deter Eichel’s interest, he offered half-truths.  He would get Slate to pose as an agent.  That should get rid of Eichel’s meddling. 

He flinched visibly under Eichel’s stare.  “I can put you in touch with our agents.”

“Thank you.”

Mason stood to leave.  “Mr. Eichel, I’m sorry, but I have business to attend to.  Do enjoy your meal on the house.  Lillian, my assistant, will attend to your comfort.”

Eichel jerked to his feet.  “You’re leaving so soon?”

“I’m a very busy man.”

“Of course.” A quizzical look struck Eichel’s face.  “Do you smell smoke?”

Seconds later, a deafening siren squealed through the facility as fire alarms resounded throughout the building. A stern voice took to the in-house public address system.

Attention!  Attention!

This is not a drill!

Evacuate the building by the nearest safe exit!

Please leave the building immediately!

Do not use the lifts!

Report to the assembly area!

I repeat.  Evacuate the building immediately!

* * *

6:12 P.M.

“Think about it,” Calla said.  “Who in history has been the most influential, in terms of military power?”

 “Oh…I don’t know, Julius Caesar, George Washington, Cyrus the Great…Alexander the Great?”

“Yes.  Exactly.  Alexander the Great.  The key must be in Greece.”

“Why Greece?  There must be a few other military powers to choose from such as… let’s see ones from the antiquity and modern eras.  How about those in the Middle Ages?  What’s your point of reference?”

Calla beamed with the confidence of one who’d worked it all out.  “Alexander, the young king of Macedonia, became leader of the Greeks.  He was also lord of Asia Minor and the pharaohs of Egypt.  He became the great king of Persia at the age of twenty-five.”

Nash gave her an encouraging nod.  “Okay?”

“Alexander never lost a battle in the twelve years that he led his army across thousands of miles.  He founded over seventy cities and created an empire that stretched across three continents covering around two-million square miles.”

With eyes that gleamed, she took hold of Nash’s hand.  “
And
, he was only thirty-three when he died.”

Nash retreated and took a seat.  “So we’re to look for the second carbonado in Alexander’s birth place?”

Calla nodded.  “Nash.  I know I sound crazy, but it’s a hunch.  It’s all I can think of.  Where else can we look?  We don’t have much time.”

“Where in Greece?”

“Pella.  The ancient capital of Macedonia.”

Impressed not only with her curator knowledge, but also her determination, Nash’s lips curved into a grin.  “Okay, but let me call someone I know in Virginia who’s an expert on Greek history.  He’ll fill in any missing gaps for us.  We should leave tonight.”

Something grew coldly determined inside her as her lips curled into a smile.  “I was thinking of using a private jet. Allegra’s.”

 Nash stole out of the room and made his way to the upper floor and then to the bathroom. He bolted the latch.  Placing his ear against the door, he heard Calla make a few phone calls. 

He dialed a number in the US on his cell phone, and moved away from the door not wanting to be heard. He had to dial two times before he got through.