Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (23 page)

Sweat dampened Conrad’s palms. Connelly’s face was frozen.

Lewis straightened. ‘What are you worried about, Donaghy?’ he said, his tone dismissive. ‘The US army can take on a bunch of guerrilla fighters with their arms tied behind their backs.’

The CIA agent was silent for a beat. ‘Lewis, can you see my face clearly?’

‘Uh-huh,’ the FBI agent confirmed with a puzzled frown.

‘Do I look like I’m goddamn joking to you?’ snarled Donaghy.

‘Enough, the both of you!’ barked Connelly.

‘The details that our operative glimpsed before he took off suggest the enemy is incredibly well-equipped,’ Donaghy continued in the chilly silence that followed. ‘Their soldiers have the latest combat gear and weapons.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s some pretty heavy money behind these operations. The people providing the training to the men and women recruited in these troops were professional mercenaries. If our operative is right in his assumption, God only knows how big this army could be. It’s pretty clear they are preparing for a battle.’

‘What makes you think this has anything to do with our current investigation?’ said someone out of sight of the Sit Room camera.

Conrad recognized the Homeland Security agent’s voice.

Connelly looked to her right. ‘We’d have to be complete fools to ignore this, Petersen!’ snapped the Director of National Intelligence.

‘I don’t understand how the hell an army that size could stay hidden,’ said Lewis, his doubt plainly displayed on his face. ‘And where would all the people they enlisted have come from?’

Conrad had just asked himself the same questions. The answers had been frighteningly easy to come across.

‘The world is a big place, Lewis,’ the immortal said quietly. ‘Whole cultures and species once rose and vanished from the face of the Earth without us having the faintest inkling it was happening.’ He broke off for a beat. ‘Think about it—there are currently millions of disgruntled individuals out there who blame their dire existences on this planet’s most powerful nations, be it through those countries’ direct actions in wars or inaction, which create abject poverty, famine, and disease. Angry, disillusioned people are easy targets for extremists. From the heads of state who were attacked yesterday, it’s clear someone doesn’t like the political and economic dominance of these nations. And the fact that Russia and China were also targeted tells us that this is not simply an East-West divide.’

A glum silence descended on the comms lines.

‘I have to let the President and the Joint Chiefs know about this,’ said Connelly finally. Her eyes flitted to the other individuals in the Sit Room before falling on Conrad through the video link. ‘Will you tell the other man who assigned you this task about these latest events?’ she added quietly.

‘Sure,’ said Conrad.

The connection ended. The screen went dark.

‘Holy crap,’ Stevens murmured shakily.

A sudden ringing broke the leaden silence in the cabin.

Anatole reached inside his suit pocket and took out a cell. His eyebrows rose when he looked at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ he said wryly. ‘It’s Dvorsky.’ He answered and passed the phone to Conrad.

‘Hi,’ Conrad said into the mouthpiece.

‘This situation is turning out to be more complex than I originally anticipated,’ the leader of the Bastians announced in a strained voice. ‘I’m not looking forward to telling Westwood and the UN Security Council about the latest finding from our end.’

Conrad tensed. ‘What is it?’

‘Our people had a look at the hair sample you sent us. We didn’t get any match on the Bastian databases,’ said Victor.

‘Why should that—?’ Conrad started, perplexed.

‘We uncovered something far more worrying,’ Victor cut in. ‘That woman you chased in Crystal City? She’s a human-immortal half-breed.’

Conrad’s fingers whitened on the cell. Laura took a step toward him, alarm dawning on her face. He made a reassuring gesture with his other hand. Relief replaced her anxiety.

‘A half-breed?’ he repeated.

‘Yes,’ said Victor. ‘And we’re not just talking any immortal lineage here. She’s the descendant of a pureblood Crovir. As such, she is a rare species indeed. There are only a handful of immortals alive today who can claim to be the direct descendants of the original beings who created our races.’

Blood thundered deafeningly in Conrad’s ears. He could never have foreseen something of this magnitude coming out of this investigation. ‘How is that possible?’ he said with a frown. ‘I thought the offspring of an immortal and a human—’

‘Dimitri Reznak crossed path with a sect of similar origins eleven months ago,’ Victor interjected. ‘We’re liaising with his scientists to cross-check the genetic data from this woman in case there’s a link.’ There was a short lull. ‘The descendants of a pureblood immortal-human offspring do not possess the number of lives we do, but they share our other abilities, namely faster healing and an extended life span.’

Conrad was aware of a barrage of anxious stares as he gazed blindly into space and started to come to grips with the overreaching ramifications of this latest development. ‘You’re right. This puts a whole other light on this situation.’

He told the Bastian leader about their findings in Germany and the recent leads coming out of Washington.

‘It seems we’ve seriously underestimated the enemy,’ Conrad concluded grimly. ‘Whoever they are, they may have been planning this thing for years, if not decades.’

‘And now they’re getting ready for a war,’ Victor concurred in a deadly voice. ‘The political and economic upheaval caused by the assassination of the world’s most powerful leaders would have created the perfect window of opportunity for them to strike. The affected governments would invariably have been too slow to mobilize their military in the face of a fresh attack.’

The Bastian leader paused. Conrad could picture the frown darkening his mentor’s face.

‘But still,’ Victor continued pensively, ‘however big their army is, they could not hope to win against the combined forces of the humans and immortals.’

‘True,’ Conrad muttered. The same thought had crossed his mind. ‘That’s
if
they know about the existence of the immortal societies. We must be missing something.’

‘I agree,’ Victor said after a short silence. ‘And I suspect it’s something big. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything more.’ The Bastian leader ended the call.

Conrad returned the cell to Anatole and apprised the others of the immortals’ discovery.

Anatole pulled a face. ‘Yeah, I heard about that sect. According to Reznak, they were a bunch of unholy fanatics.’

Headlights flashed through the windows of the Learjet. A transporter van braked to a stop next to the plane.

Laura stepped to a porthole. ‘It’s Schulze.’

The German security agent met them at the bottom of the aircraft’s steps.

‘It was hard going getting a deal out of my superiors and Bauer’s boss, but you’re in,’ he announced with a grin. ‘We’re on our way to Leipzig now. Another team’s already at the site.’

A rush of gratitude flowed through Conrad. ‘Thanks, Schulze.’

They climbed in the van and set off into the night. The clock on the transporter’s console was reading nine pm when they reached Leipzig. Schulze pulled up behind an unmarked police car and a mobile crime scene investigation unit parked outside an imposing, Neoclassical corner building overlooking a dark park. Conrad recognized the exterior of the edifice from Luther Obenhaus’s intelligence photograph.

Schulze stepped out and went to confer with the police officer in the car. He returned a moment later. ‘Obenhaus’s condo is on the top floor. Criminal Police and Crime Scene are already up there.’

They headed inside the building and walked past the distraught night superintendent to an old, black and gold cage elevator on the far side of the lobby. The metal doors clinked behind them. A faint rattle shook the floor of the cabin as they ascended to the sixth floor.

A policewoman guarded a pair of oak doors at the end of a silent corridor. She checked Schulze’s ID and studied Conrad and his team cursorily before letting them through.

Luther Obenhaus’s apartment took up the top east corner of the complex. It was filled with an eclectic mix of old and modern furnishings and reeked of luxury. Conrad studied the original artworks gracing the wood-paneled walls of the hallway and reception rooms. He caught a glimpse of an opulent, Italian-marble kitchen and a similarly styled bathroom.

Despite his gambling problems, it was evident Obenhaus had not spared any expense when it came to his personal comfort.

A team of detectives and crime scene technicians were busy working the place. Schulze found the investigator in charge and made the introductions in English.

‘Bauer told me about you guys,’ said the female detective, whose name was Peters. She had a hint of a Berlin accent. ‘Thanks for saving him.’ She flashed a smile at Conrad. ‘From what we’ve determined of the place so far, you’re gonna want to see the study.’

Obenhaus’s home office was one of the larger rooms in the apartment. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the communal gardens. A grand piano dominated a corner of the carpeted floor.

Peters indicated the computer on a walnut desk. ‘We’ve had a look at that already. There isn’t much on it. Looks like our guy was using a portable hard drive.’

Conrad’s heart sank at her words. He recalled the damaged equipment they had discovered at the dead man’s lodge.

‘Don’t worry,’ Peters added. ‘There are still plenty of files to go through.’ She gestured to the folders lining the bookcases along the walls.

A technician appeared in the doorway of the study. ‘Excuse me. I think you guys should take a look at this,’ he said in German.

They exchanged curious glances and followed the man across the suite and down a corridor to a bedroom. A wood panel on the wall opposite the door stood ajar. Conrad’s heart leapt. There was a steel safe in the brickwork behind it.

‘I’ve seen similar set-ups in apartments like this one,’ the technician explained. ‘There’s always a safety deposit box in these kinds of places.’

They crowded around the opening and observed the coded security panel on the strongbox.

‘We might have to wait until morning before we can get one of our specialists to have a go at this,’ said Peters pensively.

‘Why don’t we ask Maximilian Obenhaus?’ Laura suggested. ‘He might know the code.’

‘Good idea,’ said Conrad.

He borrowed her cell and made the call. ‘Hi, Mr. Obenhaus? I’m sorry to bother you. I know this is the last thing you want to hear at the moment, but I’m with the police in Luther’s apartment in Leipzig. We found his safe. Would you happen to know the code?’

‘Try Wagner 050845,’ said Maximilian Obenhaus after a thoughtful pause. ‘Wagner was born less than a mile from that apartment building. He was Luther’s favorite composer.’

‘And the date?’ said Conrad, curious.

‘It’s our mother’s birthday,’ the Obenhaus Group president explained. ‘He’s used that combination in the past for some of his other security details.’ Muffled sobbing echoed in the background. ‘Mr. Greene, please find the people who did this to my brother,’ he added in a hard voice.

Conrad hesitated. ‘I will.’

He ended the call and wondered whether he would be able to keep the second promise he had made to the German that day. He returned the phone to Laura, stepped up to the safe, and punched in the key. The strongbox clicked open with an electronic beep.

Inside were a wallet of documents and a stack of foreign currency. Peters carefully lifted out the folder. Something fluttered to the floor. Conrad bent and retrieved a small white card.

‘What is it?’ said the female detective curiously.

Conrad turned the card over in his gloved hand. There was a single, hand-drawn symbol on the front. It wasn’t one he recognized.

‘Would you mind if we take a picture of this?’ he asked the detective.

Peters hesitated for a beat. ‘Can’t see what harm it’ll do,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Let’s take a look at the rest of this stuff.’

They returned to a reception room overlooking the terrace at the rear of the property. Peters emptied the document holder onto a dining table and spread the contents across the polished surface. They studied the handful of files.

A whistle left Anatole’s lips. ‘Wow. The dude was in deep shit.’

Satisfaction flared through Conrad. Yet another piece of the enigma had been solved; he had been correct in his assumption that Luther Obenhaus had been in it for the money.

The paperwork inside the safe was a summary of the man’s financial accounts over the last five years. According to the figures, the former director of the Obenhaus Group had been in debt to the tune of ten million dollars, thanks to several poor investment choices and heavy gambling losses. His fiscal misfortune appeared to have started well before he stopped receiving income from his company shares.

Peters straightened and sighed. ‘Well, I think this is it for the time being. We’ll take a look at his banking transactions when we get back to head office.’

Schulze turned to Conrad. ‘I’ll call you if we find anything.’

Conrad gave him a brief smile. ‘Thanks, that would be—’

The sound of shattering glass came a second before a blue and white, antique porcelain vase exploded on a console table next to them.

‘What the—?’ Peters started, her eyes widening.

Another bullet punched through the terrace doors and smacked into Laura’s thigh. She gasped and jerked backward. Conrad slammed into her and carried both of them to the floor just as the third bullet skimmed inches past his temple and struck a chair.

The others dove to the ground around him and scrambled for cover as the glazing collapsed in glittering fragments.

‘Get down!’ Peters shouted at the shocked crime scene tech standing frozen near the window.

More shots whined through the air and thudded into the furniture and floorboards. A mirror disintegrated on the opposite wall and showered the room with deadly shards. Feathers from perforated cushions and upholstery filled the air with white down.

Conrad unwrapped his arms from around his and Laura’s heads, his pulse jackhammering in his throat.

‘I’m okay,’ she breathed, dark pupils dilating in a green expanse inches below him. Her heart thudded rapidly against his chest, while her breath warmed his cheek, sending a tingle down his spine.

Conrad pulled her to a sitting position. His eyes shrank into slits when he saw the blood staining her trouser leg. They shuffled back against the wall.

Anatole scuttled next to them. ‘They must be on the roof!’ he shouted as he reached for his gun.

Bullets continued to pound the room. Debris clouded the air. The fine art on the walls was being shredded to a pulp.

Peters grabbed the radio unit at her waist and barked an emergency alert in German as she staunched the bleeding from a cut on her head. ‘Control, we have one or more shooters at the following address! Please send backup! I repeat, shots have been fired at the following address!’