Chapter Nine
Luke had a premonition of bad news when his cell phone rang as he entered his apartment.
“Carson’s dead,” Callum said.
Luke rubbed his temples and forced down the anger that burned to life inside him. He smashed his fist into the table. “Goddammit. How did that happen?”
“He knew I was tailing him and set an ambush. I had no choice.”
“No way,” Callum said. “I’d bet he already knew we were on to him.”
“What about the body?” Luke asked.
“Not going to be a problem. I’ve set it up so it looks like a hit-and-run.”
Another cover-up. But there was no reason for the authorities to connect a car crash in New York with a hit-and-run in the UK. Of course the Conclave would know they were connected. “Okay,” he told Callum. “Come back here. There’s nothing more we can do about Carson.”
After the call, he headed into the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water. He needed to work out their next move, and right now, he had no clue.
Taking a seat at his desk, Luke switched on the computer and stared at the screen for a long while, finally pulling up the recording of Carson’s interrogation of the doctor.
“Tell me about Professor Merrick. What’s your connection?”
“I don’t know him. I never heard of him until yesterday.”
“How did you hear?”
Screams that died to whimpers.
“A patient. It was a patient. I wanted to consult with Merrick on a case.”
“Give me a name.”
For a moment, Luke thought the man wouldn’t answer.
He whimpered again and finally spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Jenna Young. Her name’s Jenna Young, but she doesn’t know anything, nothing. I heard Merrick might have information on her illness—it was a consult, nothing more.”
There was a small silence before Carson spoke again, this time presumably on his cell phone.
“He knows nothing. I’ll follow up on a lead, a Jenna Young, but as far as Descartes goes, he’s clean.”
A few moments of silence as he apparently listened to the other side of the telephone conversation.
“It’s done.”
Then the quiet thud of a silenced revolver.
So what did Luke have? Project Descartes, a dead general practitioner, Griffith, his patient, Jenna Young, and finally, a Professor Merrick. With the exception of Descartes, Luke had never come across any of those names before.
What could the connection be?
He typed in Jenna Young, added the name of the village where the doctor had lived, and came up with one candidate immediately.
The picture flashed up on the screen. The beautiful blond from the car park. Jenna Young.
He read the brief bio. Twenty-six years old. Mother and father both dead. She had a doctorate in anthropology and worked in the Museum of Anthropology in the center of London.
He’d get the analysts working on her. At first sight, she appeared clean, but from experience, he knew that meant nothing. In the meantime, he was going to discover exactly what Ms. Young knew about Descartes.
He could set someone tailing her, but perhaps there was a better way. Picking up his phone, he tapped in a number.
“I need a cover.”