Chapter Six

The buzz of his cell phone woke Luke from a light sleep. The heavy blinds cut out most of the sun, but outside it was still bright daylight. He glanced at his watch. Four o’clock in the afternoon. He’d told Talbot, the man currently keeping tabs on Carson, not to call unless something was going down.

So far, Carson had been a big disappointment, and Luke was starting to believe that if he was linked to the Conclave, then he’d been inactivated. That wasn’t totally surprising if his contact in New York was believed compromised. Callum had faked a car accident with Fischer’s body, but it was hardly likely to fool the Conclave.

Luke sat up and grabbed the phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Talbot. “What’s happening?”

“Carson is tailing someone, but I’ve got to say it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Who is it?”

“A Dr. David Griffith.”

Luke thought for a moment. “He’s a doctor? Could he be a scientist? Maybe they need him for something.”

“Unlikely. He’s a medical doctor—a GP. I’ve had Stefan do a quick background check, and there’s nothing that would suggest any involvement. The guy’s a nobody.”

Irritation flicked at Luke’s nerve endings. “He can’t be a nobody. There has to be a connection, we’re just not seeing it.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Frustration clawed at his guts. Every instinct told him he was on to something, but things weren’t adding up. He’d devoted most of his adult life to unraveling the secrets behind the Conclave, yet the more he learned, the less he understood.

The Conclave had infiltrated just about every major organization on the planet, but as far as he could tell, at least at the higher levels, each man they recruited knew only one or two others. The person who had recruited them and eventually the one they recruited themselves. Any mistakes were ruthlessly eradicated.

Luke’s father had been one such. No doubt, he’d appeared an ideal potential member, with his wealth and connections to the arms industry. But he’d also been a deeply honorable man. He’d attempted to expose the Conclave and had died as a result.

“Luke?”

He shook his head to dispel the memories. “Stay with Carson until Callum gets there to relieve you. Do not lose him, but don’t show yourself, either, and don’t approach him. We need him to believe he’s in the clear. Keep me advised of your position. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

He shut off the phone and got out of bed. He’d caught up on his sleep over the past week while he’d waited for Carson to make a move. Now he itched with impatience for something to happen.

He showered, made coffee, then switched his laptop on and opened up the secure server. He typed in “Dr. David Griffith” and read the report with increasing confusion. Talbot was right. There was nothing. Not even a speeding ticket. The man was perfect. No one could be that perfect. Was that a sign that he was more than he seemed? Luke couldn’t see it. He had an instinct for people, and that instinct told him that the doctor was everything he appeared.

He thought for a few minutes then typed in “Dr. David Griffith” followed by “Descartes.” He hit search and scanned the results, but there was no connection he could discern, and in the end, he slammed the lid down.

He’d go see for himself, maybe something would occur to him. And he had a feeling that time was running out.

Maybe they’d be better off picking up Carson. Though they were likely to get only the same useless information.

Just the next low-level soldier in line.

No, he had to let this play out.