Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (13 page)

He was a half a block away before the first car—its blue lights flashing—screamed past. Almost in a blur, the vehicle’s gray, blue, and red markings streaked by, the word
Polizei
in white letters on the side of the car.

The officer shot a look at Gerrit as he drove past, seeming to study him. Gerrit walked until he reached the corner. Turning, he saw officers running toward the front door of the apartment next to where he’d emerged. More police cars were coming.

They’re going to the wrong place.

As he rounded the corner, another thought began to nag at him.
They were sent to the wrong address. Someone was watching him?
He had no time to think this through. Time to run.

Gerrit clutched the briefcase as he looked for a cab. There was one stop he must make before returning to his hotel. Then he was getting out of town as fast as possible. This operation just took a turn for the worse, and he must figure out what just happened.

He knew one thing. If he stuck around, sooner or later he might end up behind bars.

I just became a person of interest.

G
errit turned the key in the lock to his hotel room and slipped inside a darkened room. No one lurked outside to talk to him. Good sign. He took two steps toward the bedroom before he sensed someone in the room. He turned to face the intruder, mentally searching for something close to use as a weapon.

A lamp flicked on, illuminating Richard Kane’s features. “I see you managed to escape unscathed, Gerrit. You bring anything back with you?”

The two men eyed each other. Gerrit looked away, searching for anyone else standing in the shadows. They seemed to be alone.

“The briefcase and everything with it is lying at the bottom of the Danube.”

“What a waste. That computer was a gift to you.”

“Was Adleman’s body another one of your gifts?”

“That was a surprise to us, too.”

Gerrit couldn’t tell whether the man was lying. “Once they discover the body, the cops may well come looking for me as a person of interest if they start canvassing the neighborhood. Someone might have seen me.”

“Don’t worry. We will protect you. Just leave Vienna as soon as possible.”

“Protect me from what? From whom?”

“Have a seat, Gerrit. We need to talk.”

Gerrit remained standing. What the heck was Kane up to?

“Suit yourself.” Kane paused. “I have had my eye on you for some time. You’re a man with many talents and I want you to come to work for me…for us. You’ll be well compensated, and you will be doing work that is really meaningful. To you. To our country. To the entire global community.”

“I already have a job. And I have unfinished business back at home.”

“I know why you’re really in Seattle. It’s about your folks and uncle, right?” Kane hunched forward. “I can help you with that unfinished business, Gerrit. Whatever it takes. I…we…want you to find out what happened to them. I promise you unlimited resources will be at your disposal. And you can use whatever contacts we have to open those doors. You need to put this business behind you in order to focus on the future. Our future.”

“And who is
we
?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that question.
We
are all those who believe we are entering a new era, a new world order that recognizes the potential and danger of new technology.”

Gerrit shifted the weight on his feet.

Kane clasped his hand together as if to pray, resting the tips of his fingers under his chin. “Technology is about to lead us into a world beyond comprehension of the average citizen. I know you are aware of these developments as a scientist and recognize the potential.”

Gerrit found himself nodding, even though he disliked the man sitting across the room. “This is not new. Governments have been gearing up for years.”

Kane shot him a look of irritation. “Governments do not have a clue what the future holds. They are too busy looking over their shoulders, making sure their backsides are covered, that they don’t see what is right in front of them.”

The man rose and began pacing the room. “Molecular manufacturing—nanotechnology some call it—is about to make significant breakthroughs that will make the industrial revolution look like a hiccup in man’s history. On the military side, biological, nuclear, and chemical weapons capable of mass destruction will be made cheaply and numerously while hidden in quantities too small for us to detect. Rogue nations will be able to join the arms race—nations we have been able to prevent from getting their hands on this technology and resources so far. The rules are about to change and these countries will soon become viable threats to our national security.”

Gerrit watched the man, still pacing, seem to lose himself in his own one-sided conversation. He’d just let Kane ramble.

“Not to speak of the economic tsunami that will roll over us when molecular manufacturing becomes feasible on the open market. Inexpensive manufacturing costs coupled with replication of designs will cause economic upheaval and environmental devastation on a global scale never before seen.”

He stopped pacing and turned toward Gerrit. “We have to contain and control this before it gets out of hand.”

“Who is
we
?” Gerrit asked again, trying to prod the man into divulging those Kane represented. “The United States has been on top of this for more than a decade. Isn’t that what the National Nanotechnology Initiative and the White House Office of Science and Technology policy is all about? Coordinating efforts so our country can control and contain this information?”

“Ever known a politically motivated body to do what is in the country’s best interests?” Kane scoffed. “They are too busy protecting their own budgets and keeping their own power base to spend time on the greater good.”

“So people like you—and whoever you work for—have the country’s best interests at heart?”

Kane shook his head. “Not just our country’s—the world’s. The whole world must share in these breakthroughs with some controls and power resting with a few reasonable leaders.”

“And who decides this?”

“The group I represent will decide this. We will keep politics and self-interest out of the equation.”

Gerrit couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Listen to yourself. Whomever you represent, they are setting themselves up as the ultimate power brokers. The ruling elite. How does democracy and representation by the people factor into all this?”

“People have elected representatives to protect the country’s interest. These representatives—like Senator Summers—can see the national security issues voters might not recognize. We in the U.S. work to ensure these interests are protected. In turn, I work with other like-minded individuals around the world who are working with world leaders, representing countries with similar agendas. Together, we can help shape international policy to allow these responsible countries to retain control collectively in this new era.”

“You mean a one-world order?”

“I mean a one-world collective looking out for the interests of all people. An organization of leaders powerful enough to cut through regional politics to shape human history, to effectively protect our world from those who wish to destroy us.”

“As if the United Nations has done a bang-up job getting people to work together. And how do you decide who’s the enemy?” Gerrit asked.

“The world community of leaders, supported by their constituents, will delegate those decisions to those in the best position to protect our global community.”

“You mean someone like yourself?”

Kane shrugged one shoulder. “Whoever is called upon to serve.”

“And what are you willing to do?”

“Whatever it takes.” Kane’s reply came back like a rifle shot. He slowly lowered himself into his chair. “My question to you, boy—are you willing to do whatever it takes? The lines are drawn and the war has begun. I need to know which side you’re on.”

“What happens if the interests of the United States conflicts with your global community’s interests? Which side will you take?”

Leaning forward, Kane peered at him with hardened eyes. “I choose the survival of mankind.”

“Even if it means bringing the U.S. to its knees in submission to other countries?”

The man leaned back. “Which side do you choose?”

“Time for me to head home, Kane. I consider myself a patriot. We will never see eye to eye on this issue.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Gerrit. I had such high hopes for you. Maybe after you have time to chew on this, you’ll change your mind.”

Gerrit threw his suitcase on the bed and began packing. “Don’t hold your breath. We’re finished here.”

Kane just held his hands out as if in surrender. “Whatever happens will fall on your head. I gave you a chance.”

“You’re asking me to betray my country. That’ll never happen in my lifetime.”

“Be careful, Gerrit. Without me, you’ll be on your own with no connections. A very dangerous place to be.”

“
On my own
has been the story of my life. I’m used to it.”

Kane just shook his head before walking out the door.

San Francisco, California

T
ouching down on U.S. soil, Gerrit began to breathe easier. Maybe Kane never alerted Interpol and the Austrian police about his presence at the crime scene. At least not yet.

He glanced at his watch as he strode through San Francisco’s International Terminal, weaving through a crowd of passengers as he worked his way toward Terminal 3. He slowed down when a departure monitor flashed information that he had more than an hour before boarding his connection to Seattle.

Great. More time wasted.

Sixteen hours in flight, not counting a short layover in London, left him feeling sore and tired. He needed a shot of caffeine and spotted a Starbucks a short distance ahead. He had plenty of time to grab a cup and relax before boarding. His checked luggage would probably beat him to Sea-Tac.

The adrenaline rush of passing through security in Vienna—looking over his shoulder for Kane’s people—had ebbed a long time ago. Making the switch in London had been this side of boring. Vienna police apparently hadn’t singled him out in their investigation, so he surmised Kane hadn’t burned him—yet. Gerrit became more relaxed the farther he traveled from Europe.

He guessed that walking away from Kane was not an everyday occurrence. There would be repercussions at some point, but when the man might drop that hammer could be anybody’s guess. Gerrit agonized through every security checkpoint and the stress tired him out. He needed a java fix.

As he approached the counter, a woman laid her hand on his arm. “Detective O’Rourke. May I have a moment of your time?”

Startled, he drew back for a moment. The woman was tall and gracefully lanky, a few inches shorter than his six-foot frame. Her hair, dark and straight, cascaded over her shoulders, and he estimated her age just shy of forty. Wearing hardly any makeup and with eyes the color of his coffee, she possessed a quiet beauty that might easily be overlooked in a crowd. Unless a man took a closer look. Right now, she caught his full attention.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiled. “I am sorry to alarm you like this, but it is very important that we…how do you say, speak alone.” Russian accent, but not native. Her chocolate-brown eyes glanced away as she seemed to be searching the crowd. She motioned toward a table farthest down the corridor. “Shall we sit?”

Now it registered. Jewish and Russian? Odd combination. He gathered his coffee and followed her to the table. “How do you know my name? Have we met?” He sipped the coffee and studied her, knowing he’d never crossed her path.

She settled into the chair next to him, making sure she faced the crowd as they conversed.
Just like a cop
. “We know about your meeting with Richard Kane in Vienna. And we know you’ve been followed ever since—a team of three, two men and one woman.”

Gerrit glanced around. No one seemed particularly interested in them, although several men glanced their way in passing. “So, where are they?”