Chapter 27
DAY 12
1:00 A.M
West London
Calla staggered through Allegra’s front door chilled, wet and famished. What happened to Jack and Nash? It had been close to fifteen hours since she’d left.
The phone in the hallway rang. Dr. Bertrand.
She scampered to pick it up, almost tripping over the rug.
“Calla Cress?”
The voice on the other end of the line was foreign, possibly German. “Yes?”
“Hello, Frau Cress. I need to speak to you.”
Calla had heard the voice before. Wasn’t it that German cop?
“Raimund Eichel. We met in Berlin.”
“How did you get this number?” Calla asked.
“I tried all the numbers you gave me but they didn’t work. I then asked your government for Allegra’s number.”
She placed a hand on the bag and held it close to her chest. The European police must be on a hunt for it by now. She’d had a couple of nasty surprises with the Metropolitan police.
Calla decided to play it cool. She set her back against the wall and sank down to the warm floor. “What can I do for you, Herr Eichel?”
He sounded matter of fact. “I’m in London. Would you have some time to help me with my investigation? You see, I’ve a few more questions about Allegra Driscoll.”
I don't have time for this. Calla shifted her feet. “Herr Eichel, I’ve already told you all I know about Allegra. I don’t have any additional information.”
“Could we just meet? Please.”
A discreet beep interrupted the call, signaling a second caller was trying to get through to Calla’s receiver. She recognized the international country code for France.
“I’m afraid I can’t talk right now. I’ve another call coming in.” She would stall him. “Perhaps we could speak next week. I have to go.”
She activated call-waiting and scrolled to the redial button to pick up the second caller. “Hello?”
“Calla. It’s Doctor Bertrand. Sorry for the late call but I know you wanted me to call as soon as I had any news. Do you have a moment?”
A choking lump skulked down her throat, glad she was already seated. “Yes, I do have a moment.”
“I wish I could tell you the news in person.”
Her heart sank into her belly and she thought for a moment. “Perhaps I can dial you in via video-conference. Do you have video-conferencing facilities?”
“Yes we do.”
He confirmed the details as Calla reached for a pencil from the hall table. “Give me a moment. I’ll dial you on the video-conferencing unit.”
Within minutes, wrapped in a snug bathrobe, Calla sat face to face in conference with Dr. Bertrand. She took a deep breath.
“There’re two things, Miss Cress. Have you been in contact with any form of radioactive substances in the recent past? Or even earlier, such as in your adolescent years?”
The carbonados!
“Why, doctor?”
“Your body shows signs of radioactive poisoning.”
A distraught feeling crawled through her veins. His words had wounded her. “What do you mean?”
“The results showed that you have significant amount of radionuclide Polonium 210 in your blood stream.”
“What’s that?”
Dr. Bertrand frowned, compassion not once escaping his eyes. “A few years ago Polonium was identified only after the death of a Russian government spy.”
“What sort of element is it?”
“There’s been much misinformation in the news and other media about what amount constitutes a lethal intake of Polonium 210. Nevertheless, Polonium 210 is one of more than twenty-four known Polonium isotopes, all of which are radioactive. It’s a very rare element in nature and is present in uranium ores.”
“How does one come in contact with it?”
“Doctors on both sides of the Atlantic have begun to seriously consider the possibility of nuclear terrorism. Many were unable to detect Polonium earlier because it doesn’t emit gamma rays. Gamma rays are encountered with most radioactive isotopes.”
Calla’s heart broke. “I’m not sure I follow, doctor.”
Bertrand continued. “Unlike most known radiation sources Polonium 210 emits only alpha particles, which don’t pierce even a sheet of paper or the epidermis of human skin. They’re essentially invisible to normal radiation detectors. Have you had any injections, intakes of substances, recent or previous, that you may deem questionable?”
“I don’t know doctor. So, it’s administered orally?”
Bertrand’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “Gamma and alpha rays are classified as ionizing radiation. If you have inhaled or ingested any such substance, Calla, it can cause significant radiation poisoning.”
“I do remember the reports in the media about that case. From what I recall most hospitals can’t even detect alpha particles,” Calla said.
“My research has been extensive and led me along many thought-provoking cases. Your case is rather unusual. You are right, most hospitals only have equipment to detect gamma rays but I’ve invested in newer technologies.”
That would it explain the peculiar looking equipment she’d seen in his offices. Calla questioned him further, digging her bare toes into the carpet. “Does that also explain the escalation of my vision and physical changes?”
“I can’t say. I still need to study your results more carefully to see if we can find a quick remedy to reduce the Polonium and what level of danger you could be in.”
The doctor wouldn’t use the word danger lightly. “I see.”
“I don’t want to alarm you. The results aren’t completely conclusive. If you want we can continue to perform more tests,” said Bertrand.
The thought of being a lab rat didn’t intrigue Calla. “Can I have a couple of days? I just need to digest all this information.”
“Of course. There’s one other possibility regarding your symptoms.”
Calla held her breath. “What’s that?”
“You could also have a genetic abnormality or disorder.”
1:30 a.m.
Chelsea, London
The shaky video played on the mini screen. Fluttering noises and muffled sounds resounded through the gadget’s minuscule speakers.
“Zut alors! Must’ve had my finger in the way.”
Eva spent the good part of the early hours of the night scouring through the film. The light on her work desk reflected off the mini video screen. Not really sure what she was looking at she played the film several times, rewinding and zooming in for better observation.
Mason will love this.
He wasn’t giving away much but his position at ISTF was no secret to her father. She’d eavesdropped on several conversations between the two. Right now her interest was in the falling shadow.
At first glance it could be anyone. This must be her! “Mason knows something about this.”
With his help she contemplated getting the images in front of professionals. Eva reached for her phone and when Mason picked up she shrilled with the excitement of a playful child. “You’re gonna love this!”
“Your clock is ticking,” Mason said.
“I’ve something you’ll find interesting but I can’t discuss this on the phone.”
12:20 p.m.
Maxim’s Restaurant
Kensington, London
Eva observed steady traffic from a quiet table in Maxim’s private dining area. She peered at the door hoping to catch Mason’s attention as soon as he came in. Several minutes later a waiter ambled in her direction followed by Mason.
As he settled into the seat opposite her, her pulses set to pounding conscious of the scornful eyes that were focused on her. Mason glared. “You have ten minutes.”
Eva frowned. “Are we back to Miss Riche?”
Mason clasped his hands on the set table and sent an arctic stare through her. “I’m waiting for your contribution from your end of our deal.”
The waiter returned with a glass of chilled water. Mason arched his squared shoulders, his scrutinizing eyes unsettling Eva as she welcomed a flicker of warning in her gut. For the first time since meeting him she averted his gaze, slouching in her chair and lowering her eyes. “Take a look at this,” she said. “What kind of training programs are you conducting within ISTF?”
Mason kept his focus on her squirming face. “What’s your drift?”
She shoved the shaky video in front of his uncompromising face. “Something commissioned by ISTF?”
He took a quick look. “What’s this?”
Eva leaned forward, her unsteady voice lowering. “What are you intelligence people cooking up?”
Mason scanned the room as busy waiters went about their chores in anticipation of lunch crowds. He refused to entertain her curiosity and shifted his gaze back to her face. “I thought your story was on the Deveron Manuscript?”
Her finger flipped through some video files, scrolling the side dial of the miniature device. She thrust it once more in his direction. “Look again. Explain this?”
Mason skimmed the video, unmoved. He leaned closer, and re-scanned the material. Shaky and noisy at best he made out a falling object from a skyscraper. The amateur shot had been filmed from the ground looking up. He recognized what looked like a human being, gracefully dropping from the Shard.
Eva observed Mason’s face as she took him through the footage. His professionalism kept him guarded and indifferent. She toyed with the gadget’s features and stopped the video, zooming into its pixelated glow. “Do you recognize this person?”
Mason held his gaze but gave away no emotion. He grasped the camera for a closer look, and then handed it back to Eva. “It amazes me that you have time for this sort of thing. I thought you were a serious journalist.”
Anger began to well in her. “But—”
“Listen, my advice is that you resolve to astute investigating by charting factual evidence.”
Dignified and demure as a royal she pursed her full lips. “You and I know that I’m onto something.”
“What exactly?”
“This is Calla Cress. Just before I filmed this last night she was involved in a high-speed chase that nearly wrecked my car along with several others.”
“Time is of essence here.” He narrowed his dark eyes. “Where’s this going?”
“I followed them.”
“Highly unlikely. But even if what you say has the slightest accuracy, which I seriously doubt, how does that help you?”
“Calla has found something to do with the Deveron Manuscript.” She tossed her hands in the air. “Come on! The rumor on the street is that the Deveron is no ordinary document. In fact, many looking for it believe it leads to new sources of nuclear or other energies! I've done my homework, Mason!”
Eva leaned forward waiting for a response.
He didn’t twitch.
Something grew coldly resolute inside of her. “You guys at ISTF have found that nuclear source and used whatever you’ve found to develop some wicked stuff. At least that’s the story I’ll print unless you tell me otherwise.”
Mason inclined his head, a menacing frown descending upon his face. “Don’t play with fire if you’re covered in flint. Your video is very incomprehensible, my dear. My advice to you is, stick to the gossip columns.”
“Not likely—”
“I forbid you to publish any of this nonsense.”
“I don’t think the invention of human flight is nonsense,” said Eva. She lowered her voice. “To follow your analogy, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. My take on it is that ISTF has been using Calla to test some of the nuclear materials the Deveron document has produced. I’m no fool, Mr. Laskfell. I know when I have a story.”
“And what story is that exactly? That the government is testing human flight equipment. Every journalist knows that. Any prankster today can create android-powered, mechanically assisted flying techniques.”
“What’s keeping her afloat? Either ISTF is onto a new technology that governments would kill for or I’m a raving idiot.”
“I beg to differ.”
Touché!
Eva’s head swung in a slow, side to side motion, realizing she would need to take a different approach. She leaned her back against the padded chair and placed the camcorder in her bag. “I too have heard of the mysteries surrounding that manuscript. Maybe our own government has uncovered a secret so deep that they have no intention of revealing it to the public. Isn’t that how ISTF plays?” She mused a little. “Is it even safe? Tested?”
He hunched forward. “Your ten minutes are up.”
He threw several bills on the seamless tablecloth and pushed himself up from his chair. “Good day, Eva.”
She gripped his arm with both her hands and dug her nails into his tailored suit, her manner ruthless and firm. “Just verify my story and I’ll publish it. I need the full backing support of ISTF. Think of the publicity it will give you. Your discovery.”
“Miss Riche, whereas your number one quest is to dominate the limelight keep in mind that craftier people have more imperative things to attend to.”
He filched his arm from her manicured grip and tipped his head before threading his way toward the exit. She brought a hard fist down on the table that sent her glass hurtling to the tiles. “Imbécile!”