Chapter 17

 

 

DAY 8

 

12:27 p.m.

ISTF Intelligence Offices, London

 

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

 

He’d 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 analog 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 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 stepped 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. Was he to 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 couldn’t 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 decor 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.”

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 didn’t 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 raised an eyebrow. “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 didn’t 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. “What about the Russian chemical being funded by Rupert Kumar the billionaire?”

Mason twitched 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?”

“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,” she said.

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.”

 

 

Nash’s lips curved into a smile. Calla was smart and knew what she was talking about. “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,” he said.

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. He had to dial two times before he got through as he pressed the smartphone against his ear. “Colton?”

“Yeah?”

“She knows about Pella. We leave as soon as flights are sorted.”

“Okay, you know what to do.”

Nash ended the call and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He stared at the phone before switching it off. Yes, I do.

 

 

 

 

Staff hurtled to the nearest exits, some in a flurry, others more systematically. Smoke proliferated through the entire restaurant, descending from the kitchen. Women squawked as they hurled to the nearest exits; the men tried not to show any alarm. Mason was gone, and he decided to move steadily behind the horde of evacuees. Heavy smoke consumed the hallways, leaving an intoxicating dust cloud in its path.

Eichel increased his pace, hastened to the stairs and started a systematic march down the escape passage. The exit led through a dark hall, lit by a single bulb, lined with several secured doors. Eichel followed the frantic crowd, many of whom were coughing. A lone door stood at the bottom of the flight of stairs. As employees maneuvered the narrow staircase, a faint knock from within the steel frame of the concealed door sounded. “Someone is in there!”

Several people scrambled past him impelled by a desperate urge to flee.

None stopped to help.

“Did you hear that?” he shouted above the commotion. “Someone is trapped inside!”

He checked the visitor’s badge on his jacket and slid it against the door reader. It failed to open the lock as the banging inside the room intensified. Two male security guards scurried past him. He seized one by the arm. “Please, you must open the door. Someone is in there.”

The first man galvanized into action and thudded on the door as those inside pounded louder.

“Okay, stand back,” he told Eichel.

Eichel drew back as the first security officer swiped his card against the reader. The steel door clicked open and the three men threw their combined weight against its resistance, forcing it open. Three tight-shouldered women filed out coughing as their tear-stung eyes tried to gain focus.

“Thank you!” said the first.

The guards marched them out to safety and pointed them in the direction of the evacuating crowds. Eichel intuitively scurried into the room to find stragglers. He took note of a fourth woman, benumbed on the floor. He darted to her and checked her pulse. She was alive but must have fainted in shock. He flung her over his shoulder and trudged with heavy feet toward the door. As he heaved their weights forward he caught sight of a sign.

 

 

Classified File Room

 

 

Eichel tried to move his feet but somehow they wouldn’t obey him. He glimpsed back. Tattered and dusted files in brown labeled boxes piled to one side of the room. The far end of the room stored a row of dated computer systems. Must be the room where they digitize classified files.

He picked up his pace, heaving the hundred and thirty pounds or so on his back to the main getaway route. When he stepped into the escape passage a security guard patrolled the halls directing fleers. Eichel forced himself to follow steadily, then glimpsed back. “Please. Please. Take her out! She’s unconscious and needs attention. I’ll see if anybody else is hurt.”

The security guard hesitated a moment and scrutinized Eichel from head to foot, his eyes falling on his visitor’s badge before nodding. “Okay, hurry!”

Eichel shifted the woman onto the guard’s shoulders and waited until he was out of sight before returning to the room. The smoke had decelerated as he glimpsed back in the hallway to make sure he was alone. He padded the piles of boxes and continued to the shelves that stood next to the computer systems. He settled at a machine and pressed down the ‘on’ button.

The screens failed to respond. “Mensch! Must’ve been automatically shut down as a security measure.”

 Nothing leaped out at him. He paced back to the boxes and checked each one, until his investigative eye glanced at the top box on the second pile, and its clear label.

 

 

D

 

 

Bingo!

“This must be it!”

He hoisted the unwieldy box. It collapsed under its weight and spilled its contents over his boots. With his pulse threatening to set to charging he knelt on the floor and salvaged the stacks of bound documents. Soon, his eyes rested on a file.

 

 

TOP SECRET:

The Deveron Manuscript

 

 

He debated whether to take the whole thing. The decision that followed went against his conscience and every training he possessed. He considered the severity of escaping with it from the building given the mania caused by the fire. Eichel spotted two copiers by the door. Perhaps these hadn’t been shut off. Seizing the files he hastened to the first copier and checked it. Its mechanics roared into operation.

He unbound the Deveron papers and one by one and loaded as many as he could through the feeder. Quiet footsteps thudded the floor by the door, startling him. He pulled himself together and braced himself for an intrusion.

None.

The feeder swallowed more sheets, one paper at a time.

Mensch! There’s no time.

The sirens had stopped. He had to get out. Eichel had managed to copy close to half the twenty-page or so file. He retrieved the originals and bound them, before returning the folder to the discarded stack on the floor. The collapsed boxes wouldn’t be questioned given the evacuation.

He placed the copies underneath his shirt and buttoned his jacket. Satisfied with his loot he re-joined the last evacuees out to the assembly area. Once outside, he breathed in the fresh air, having ignored the amount of toxic smoke his lungs had inhaled during his thievery. He collapsed into a crossed-legged heap on the ground and leaned his head in his hands. A young Asian woman set a hand on his shoulder. “You all right?”

He glared up. “Yes. What happened in there?”

“The fire started in the restaurant and spread quite quickly. We’ve been told that no one has been hurt.”

 Sixty agonizing minutes followed before the emergency authorities declared the premises fire and smoke free. Eichel moved purposefully toward the exit. He kept a steady pace as he removed his spectacles and wiped the smoke off with his handkerchief.

A bitter discomfort settled in his gut. He’d lost his visitor’s badge.

Eichel dabbed his brow.