Calypso Directive (43 page)

W
ILL STARED AT
the twin spires and ornate copper cupola of the Karlskirche from across the reflecting pool in the courtyard. Moonlight and the breeze danced a Viennese waltz across the surface of water—the reflection of the church was a grand mosaic—a thousand ripples moving in melody. Ironic that his journey would end here, at this church dedicated to pay homage to the hundreds of thousands of Austrians who had died of the plague centuries ago. It was no accident that he had insisted on this location for the final showdown with the Zurn brothers. Fifteen hours earlier he had entered the Karlskirche sanctuary and inconspicuously hidden the stolen glass vial under a wooden pew.

Special Agent Reed knew about the vials. Apparently, Meredith Morley had reported them stolen from Chiarek Norse. But in trying to extract details from Will about the location of the vials, Reed revealed that one of the vials contained a gene therapy, believed to derived from Will's DNA, Will had responded to Reed's questions with a lie, and said that both vials were lost when they shattered on the floor of the youth hostel. He had no choice but to lie, the remaining vial was the only bargaining leverage he possessed. Other than his life, that was. He doubted the FBI understood the true nature of his mutation; he had not told them about his meeting with Johansen. Will estimated the formula was worth tens of millions of dollars on the black market, and he was certain that even Raimond Zurn, despite all his fury, could be persuaded by that much money. If Reed and Nelson knew the vial's true worth, he doubted their government masters would let them hand it over to Zurn, even in exchange for Julie's life. All that mattered now was that the vial stay hidden until he could make the trade. He would do whatever was necessary to save Julie, just as she had done for him.

Albane patted Will's shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

“Nervous?”

“I'd be a liar if I said otherwise.”

“Good, then you're not overconfident. Overconfidence, in my experience, is an omen of failure.”

Will offered up an awkward smile, but said nothing.

“Raimond Zurn may be vicious, but I promise you, he has no idea what's about to hit him,” she said. She reached into her pocket, retrieved a button with an adhesive backing and fixed it to the inside of his shirt collar.

“What's that?” he asked.

“A microphone transceiver, disguised as a button. When you talk, we'll be able to hear everything you say.”

“Like a wire they use on cop shows on TV?”

“Exactly, just much smaller. Do you remember your handle?”

“Yes. It's Foxtrot.”

“Coordinator, this is Social. How do you copy Foxtrot?”

R. Parish—
RS:Coordinator
: “Social, this is your Coordinator. I copy Foxtrot, Lima Charlie.”

“Good. We can hear you perfectly.”

“How will I hear you? Shouldn't I have an earpiece or something?” Will asked.

“I don't think that would be a good idea. There will be a lot of chatter on the circuit, and if you're not used to it, it makes it hard to think. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience. It's better if you're not distracted. You're going to have your hands full just talking to Zurn.”

Will nodded. His eyes expressed all the emotions he felt without uttering a word to her. He pulled his jacket collar up and began walking toward the church.

The front entrance of the Karlskirche was situated behind six Corinthian stone pillars supporting a Doric portico mimicking the Parthenon in Athens, but these doors were kept closed and locked except for special occasions. Regular access to the church was via a set of tall wooden double doors on the west side. Viewing hours for tourists ended at five o'clock. Catholic evening mass began at six o'clock, and the church was closed to the public after the conclusion of mass. The west entrance was locked promptly after mass, and the church was closed until the next morning.

Kalen had arrived thirty minutes before the rest of the team, bypassed building security, and unlocked the doors from the inside. After a survey of the nave and transept, he exited the public area of the church through a set of doors beyond the altar that lead to the restricted areas of the church where he would complete his final preparations for the engagement.

Also already inside the church was Stefan Zurn, who had arrived before Will but after Kalen. To his delight, he had found the west entrance unlocked, which allowed him to sneak inside without having to fuss with breaking in. However, an unlocked entrance also meant that he was not alone. He took care not to make a sound as he crept along the dark west corridor. Before entering the nave, he stood motionless and surveyed the pews to ensure no one was praying in the church. Killing a man or woman of the cloth was not on his agenda.

Karlskirche was undergoing extensive interior renovations. A massive scaffold occupied the west side of the church, stretching from the ground level up, over one hundred feet in the air to the top of the cupola. The scaffold was so tall that an elevator had been installed within to facilitate travel to and from the dome. Marble structures everywhere were being polished to remove centuries' worth of candle smoke from their surfaces. Frescoes adorning the dome of the cupola were being meticulously freshened and retouched. The division between the old and the renovated portions of a structure was dramatic visual evidence of how the grandeur of the church had faded over the years.

For Stefan, the scaffolding had been an unexpected gift. A sniper's dream. The interlocking steel trusses were bathed in shadow. Horizontal platforms with interconnecting ladder stairs formed staggered tiers all the way up to the ceiling and offered him a firing angle to every location inside the church except for directly beneath him. It was almost too easy, he thought to himself as he worked his way up to the fifth level platform. Once in position, he assembled his sniper rifle from memory in the dark and chambered a round. Then, he waited.

•     •     •

WILL PUSHED AGAINST
the heavy wooden door of the west entrance. The hinges creaked as the massive door stubbornly gave way. The west corridor was dark, the only illumination coming from the end of the hall where it intersected the nave of the church. He stepped across the threshold and pulled the door closed behind him, erasing the triangle of moonlight on the floor at his feet. His stomach was uneasy. Fear and foreboding washed over him in waves. He was a soldier marching to battle; he was a condemned man shuffling to the gallows. He had agreed to the agents' plan to confront Zurn. It was a sound plan. Certainly a better strategy than he could have conceived. But in his heart, he did not expect it to work.

He walked slowly and deliberately into the nave. His eyes were now adjusted to the dark. Two candles flickered at the altar, which was located past the transept at the head of the church some thirty meters away. Moonlight shining through the glass windows of the cupola cast a bluish hue throughout the church. He moved down the center aisle. He extended his left hand and let his fingers brush lightly across the tops of the aged oak pews, one by one.

One, two, three … seven, eight, nine … thirteen, fourteen.

He stepped sideways into the fourteenth pew and sat down. He scooted along the bench until he was in the approximate middle. With his right hand, he reached down under the bench and swept back and forth, feeling for the vial. After a moment, he felt a lump and a texture he immediately recognized as the gauze tape. He peeled the tape free from the underside of the pew and retrieved the glass vial he had hidden—his insurance policy. He stripped the gauze tape off the vial and held it up into a beam of moonlight. The liquid inside shimmered as he tilted the glass tube side to side, watching the angle of the meniscus change.

Above, from his hiding place on the scaffold, Stefan watched Will's every move through his monocular night-vision scope. He zoomed in on the vial. He could see that the glass tube contained a liquid, but he did not know what the liquid was. Raimond had never mentioned a vial before. Maybe Raimond did not know about it. Maybe it was valuable. Maybe it was dangerous. He would have to inform his brother of this new development. Taking care not to make a sound, Stefan set the rifle down on the plywood decking. He retrieved his mobile phone from his pants pocket and began composing a text message to Raimond.

Will wrapped a piece gauze tape around the top of the vial, to help secure the rubber cap. He then slid the tube into his right pants pocket. He lowered his head into his hands.

A creaking noise broke the silence and startled Will out of his fretful monologue. The sound came from behind him. He turned his head and looked toward the back of the nave where it intersected the west corridor. He heard footsteps.

He exited the pew and took position in the center aisle facing the back of the church.

“It's time,” Will said into the microphone button pinned to his collar. “They're here.”

E. VanCleave—
RS:Technical
: “I just detected an electronic transmission from inside the church. Not one of ours. I'm running a trace.”

K. Immel—
RS:Physical
: “Who has eyes on Romeo Zulu?”

R. Parish—
RS:Coordinator
: “Social is trailing Romeo Zulu. Social, maintain radio silence: click once for yes, twice for no. Do you have eyes on Romeo Zulu?”

A. Mesnil—
RS:Social
: “
click
”

R. Parish—
RS:Coordinator
: “Is he talking on his phone?”

A. Mesnil—
RS:Social
: “
click, click
”

R. Parish—
RS:Coordinator
: “Is our Juliet with him?”

A. Mesnil—
RS:Social
: “
click”

A. Archer—
RS:Bio
: “Shit. Who's transmitting then? Did we confirm Udo Zurn's death?”

R. Parish—
RS:Coordinator
: “Yes.”

A. Archer—
RS:Bio
: “Then it's the other brother, Stefan. We need to locate him. According to their bios, the Zurn brothers like their guns.”

K. Immel—
RS:Physical
: “If Bio is right, then we've got a shooter on our hands. Shit, that complicates things. The north end of the nave has a balcony that houses a pipe organ. Good sniper location. The staircase off the west corridor leads up to it. I swept it clear, but someone could have ducked in after me. There is also a tower of renovation scaffolding beneath the cupola that could be trouble.”

A. Archer—
RS:Bio
: “Technical, can you pinpoint the location of the transmission?”

E. VanCleave—
RS:Technical
: “Standby … pinging the phone … the target is inside the church … initiating handshake. It's a mobile phone. Running a trace … the number is registered to one Mr. Stefan Zurn. Confirm Bio's hypothesis; the other brother is in the game.”

K. Immel—
RS:Physical
: “Social, do you have your Kevlar on?”

A. Mesnil—
RS:Social
: “
click
”

K. Immel—
RS:Physical
: “Social, divert to the balcony. Eyes only. Do
not
engage Sierra Zulu. Bio, if you're in the car, I need you inside ASAP, to cover Social.”

A. Mesnil—
RS:Social
: “
click
”

To his astonishment, AJ found himself reaching into the duffel bag on the back seat of the BMW and grabbing the Sig Sauer pistol he had taken from Raimond Zurn. Instead of wishing he were back in the familiar safety of his lab at BU, all he could think about was protecting his colleagues. He had bumbled his way through the sampling op at Chiarek Norse, with the Coordinator and Nicolora telling him what to do every step of the way—but he had survived. He had improvised during his meeting with Foster at the Hotel Sachar, and gotten lucky scuffling with Zurn—but he had survived. This time would be no different, he told himself. As he reached for the door handle, a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Slow down,” said VanCleave, his eyes fixed on AJ.

“They need me in there. You heard Kalen.”

“AJ, we're not real special agents. We're not the Navy SEALs. As a rule, we don't run around toting guns. We don't kill people. This organization solves people's problems, but we don't fight their wars for them. This case has mutated into the worst type of assignment, the kind The Tank wants nothing to do with. We're magicians, not warriors.”

The VanCleave before him was not the VanCleave AJ was accustomed to. The condescending pompous techno-god was gone, replaced by a concerned father figure.

AJ met his gaze and said. “VanCleave, I'm going.”

VanCleave shook his head. “Then you'd better take EDGAR with you.”

“Who's Edgar?”

AJ followed VanCleave out of the car and to the trunk. Inside the trunk were three, hard-sided, black suitcases. VanCleave opened the middle one and retrieved a device the size of a handheld camcorder.

“This is EDGAR. It's an acronym for Electromagnetic Detection, Geometry, And Ranging. This device uses modulated radar pulses to detect structures and movement through solid objects, a.k.a. walls. EDGAR will find your sniper for you, wherever he's hiding,” Van-Cleave said. “Turn it on, point, and look at the LCD display. Moving things turn red.”

“So it's a thermal imager, like firefighters use?”

“No. Thermal imagers measure irradiated heat. Imagers are passive. They can't see through walls or windows. EDGAR uses modulated EM signals to see through objects. Think Superman's X-ray vision.”

“If the sniper is not moving, how will it find him?”

“EDGAR is sensitive enough to detect even the slightest movement. It will ID a stationary living target based on the expansion and contraction of the chest cavity during respiration.”

“VanCleave, I
almost
feel liking hugging you right now.”