“WHAT NOW? WE can’t go back to your apartment.” Will said to Julie as they walked down the stone steps outside Johansen’s office.
“We need to keep moving, but I’m so exhausted I can’t think clearly. We need to go somewhere where we can rest,” Julie said, taking hold of Will’s hand. “Just for a little while.”
“What did you have in mind? A hotel won’t work. Too many security cameras, and don’t they require ID to check into hotels in Europe?”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I have another idea. I know somewhere private, safe, and off the grid.”
He squeezed her hand back and said, “Okay. Lead the way.”
• • •
WILL SURVEYED THE small modest bedroom with a measure of skepticism. Sunlight filtered through the room’s only window onto a white and blue flowered duvet, covering a double bed. A simple five-drawer dresser, stained the color of honey, occupied the wall to his right. To his left, a door fitted with an ivory and brass antique knob was partially open, revealing a tidy bathroom. It was tiled entirely in white, with accenting blue tiles interspersed in a diamond pattern on the floor and shower walls. He set Julie’s backpack on the hardwood floor, and then took a seat at the foot of the bed.
“How do you know this place?” he asked. “Are you sure we can trust that woman?”
Julie chuckled. “Auntie Heigel? Of course we can trust her. I’ve known her for years, since I came to Vienna.”
“Auntie Heigel, huh? Is she really your aunt?”
She lowered an eyebrow at him playfully. “No, that’s just her nickname. One day she started referring to herself as my Tantchen Heigel. So, I honor the convention. She’ll always be my auntie.”
“How did you meet her?”
“I rented this room when I first moved to Vienna. I stayed here for eight months; it took me a while to find an apartment I liked that I could afford. She’s a good, honest woman. Mother of two. A recent widower. She’s been like a second mom to me.”
He nodded.
“Relax, Will, we’re safe here. Vyrogen can look up my apartment address, but nobody knows about this place.”
“If you say so.”
She walked over and sat down next to him on the bed, her thigh pressed against his. She looked at him, but said nothing.
“Vyrogen is never going to stop hunting me,” he said, his voice solemn.
She nodded.
“I don’t want to be on the run forever. I don’t want to live like a fugitive.”
“I know.”
“I wish I didn’t have the immunity mutation. I wish I could go back to the way things were before. Living in ignorance . . . blissful ignorance.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “We can’t control the cards we’re dealt. All we can do is find the courage to play the hand we’ve been given. Most people wouldn’t have had the cunning and courage to escape from Chiarek Norse. Most people would have folded their cards and quit the game. You didn’t do that, Will, because you’re a fighter. You are still fighting . . . right?”
He nodded.
They sat together in silence for a long while before he spoke.
“Johansen said if he was the one whose DNA was encoded with a skeleton key mutation, then he would publish his genome for all the world to see.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“He’s looking at the situation like open source software—applying the same principle to my DNA.”
“Give your genetic code away for free and see what people can build with it. Like Wikipedia,” she said.
“It would save millions of lives.”
“Yes, you would,” she said and laid her hand on his thigh.
“Morally, it’s the right decision.”
“I agree.”
“Once everyone has access to my genetic code, Vyrogen will have lost their competitive advantage,” he said, with hope in his voice.
“That sounds logical,” she said. “But going public exposes you. And, if Johansen beats Vyrogen to the punch and kills their patent efforts, it might incite them to seek retribution. Are prepared to face those consequences?”
“Yes.”
She gazed at him.
“What?” A wave of lustful, nervous expectation rippled through his body.
“I’m proud of you.”
He blushed. “It’s what anybody would do.”
“No, it’s not. Your journey has led you to a crossroads today. On the left is the path of self-preservation: keep running, keep hiding, forever looking out for yourself above all else. On the right is the path of self-sacrifice: exposing yourself, giving away your genome, standing in defiance of your enemy. You’ve chosen the harder path, the noble path. That takes courage.”
“I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I was trapped in a deep dark hole, and when I called for help, you came and pulled me out. You’re my angel.”
“I’m happy you found me again.” She paused a moment before she continued in a softer voice. “I’m just beginning to realize how much I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Before he could move to kiss her, her lips were on him. Wet, flush, and warm. He gently cradled the back of her neck with his hand, his fingers becoming entwined in the fine strands of her hair. His tongue found hers—circled, caressed, and tasted.
She pulled away from him, gasping, grinning. He leaned in for another kiss, but missed. She moved in front of him, straddling his knees. She touched his lips with her finger. Staring into his eyes, she began to unbutton her blouse, slowly, one button at a time.
• • •
“HOW LONG HAVE I been asleep?” Julie asked.
“An hour, maybe,” Will replied, turning to face her. He set Kathryn Foster’s diary down on the mattress next him, reached over, and stroked her forehead, tenderly along the hairline.
“Mmmm. That’s nice . . . Did you sleep?”
“Couldn’t. My mind was racing.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Reading this,” he said, holding up the diary for her to see. “I’m drawn to it. I feel like one of them.”
She propped herself up to a reclined sitting position against the headboard of the bed, next to him. The bedsheet slid to her waist, exposing her breasts, but she made no attempt to cover herself.
“Tell me about it,” she said.
He picked up the diary and opened it to the page where he had placed the black silk ribbon bookmark. Instead of trying to recount the individual diary entries, he wove the events and details into a coherent narrative. She listened, enraptured, to a tale of love, self-sacrifice, courage, and tragedy. He concluded by reading Kathryn Foster’s dying words, and it left them both in tears.
“It’s a remarkable story,” Julie said at last, wiping her cheeks. “Paul Foster reminds me of you.”
He smiled at her. A long, but comfortable silence lingered in the room, as they both drifted off into private musing, until Julie’s stomach interrupted their daydreams with a loud, rolling growl. They both burst into laughter.
“Sounds like I’ve got a monster in there,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. What time is it anyway?”
She reached across his body to grab her mobile phone from the bedside table. She pressed the power button, turning it on, and was greeted with a notification that she had a voicemail waiting. As she listened to the recorded message, Will saw her go pale.
“That was my roommate Isabella. She’s in a taxi on the way to the hospital. Two brutes showed up at the apartment looking for us. They broke every finger on her left hand. She called to warn me,” Julie said, her voice shaky. “She said if they find us, she’s certain they’ll kill us.”
“I’m sure it was the same guys who jumped me in Prague. Bastards . . . I’m sorry about Isabella.”
“I want to go see her in the hospital,” she said and began to hurriedly get dressed.
“You can’t. That’s exactly what they want. They’ll be waiting for us.”
Her phone chimed again, signaling that a text message had been received. “Will, you’d better look at this,” she said and tossed him her phone.
To Will Foster:
We know about Vyrogen,
We’re here to help.
We can get you home and clear your name.
Special Agent Nelson - FBI
Will stared at the lines of text on the phone’s color LCD display.
“I don’t buy it. How would the FBI know I’m with you? It’s a setup, orchestrated by Vyrogen.”
“What do we do?” Julie said.
“Nothing. Ignore it. Turn your phone off so they can’t trace us here,” he barked, grabbing the phone.
“Will, we need to consider all the possibilities here. The FBI could protect you.” She started rubbing her left hand. “What happened to Isabella changes things. These bastards are out for blood. Maybe we need to rethink our plan.”
“C’mon, Julie. It’s obviously a trap.”
“Not if the FBI really is investigating Vyrogen.”
Will’s brow furrowed. “You’re too trusting. I’ve been burned once by putting my faith in ‘The Establishment,’ I don’t mean to be burned again.”
“Okay, then let’s test whoever sent this message. If they fail the test, then we know it’s a trap. But if they pass, then we consider talking with them.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
• • •
“WE’VE GOT SOMETHING,” said VanCleave, picking up his phone.
“Kalen, get a Coordinator on the line and ping Ponte’s phone. If we’re quick enough we can triangulate their location,” Albane ordered.
“I’m on it,” Kalen replied.
VanCleave turned the screen toward his colleagues who had gathered around his phone.
Need proof to trust u.
“Excellent. He’s still with Ponte, and we’ve got his attention,” Albane said. She scrawled a note on a sheet of paper and handed it to VanCleave. “Send this.”
VanCleave nodded and thumb-typed:
Investigation of Vyrogen’s Chiarek Norse facility
uncovered illegal research on human test subjects.
There have been suspicious deaths, but you survived.
Went to Ponte’s apartment, found roommate tortured.
You and Julie are in terrible danger. Call me at 1-555-724-2341!
• • •
JULIE’S PHONE CHIMED with receipt of the text message. She read it aloud.
“He knows about Chiarke Norse, and Isabella, but that’s not definitive proof. It could be the bounty hunters pretending to be FBI,” Will said.
“Those mercenaries wouldn’t have access to Vyrogen’s research records,” Julie said.
Will rubbed his chin. “True, but why wait to contact me until now? Where were they when I was locked up in that hellhole?”
She shrugged. “Good point. Let’s ask them.” She thumbed a message back:
Why wait until now to contact me?
Where were you when I was locked up
inside that hellhole being tortured?
“Will, I’m calling Isabella now. I need to make sure she’s safe,” Julie said, with eyes that screamed, “and don’t even try to stop me.”
• • •
VANCLEAVE READ JULIE’S reply for the group.
“So now we know,” Albane said, pacing. “Foster is a victim, not a mule for an industrial espionage plot. I need to inform Nicolora.” With her mobile in her hand, Albane left the room and walked into the adjoining suite.
“Do we have a fix on their location yet?” Kalen asked.
“Yes. They’re here, in this building near Stephansplatz,” Van-Cleave replied. He pointed to a red dot on a digital map on his tablet computer.
After several minutes, Albane returned. “Nicolora wants us to arrange a meeting. If Foster cooperates and confirms our preliminary findings of Vyrogen foul play, then we have instructions to protect him until we can turn him safely over to the real FBI. If not, then we’re still on the case for Vyrogen.”
“I’ll send a message requesting a meeting.” VanCleave said.
Albane nodded. “Let Foster pick the location. We want him to feel in control.”
• • •
“HE WANTS TO meet,” Julie said, looking at the incoming text message. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”
The strain in his voice made her want to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be okay. That she would protect him and that together they could take on any foe. But after what happened to Isabella, she knew she couldn’t protect Will. She wasn’t rich or powerful or well connected. Yes, they could keep running, but eventually the money would run out. Eventually, they’d be caught or maybe even killed to ensure their silence. The FBI was Will’s best chance to get his life back.
“Isabella confirmed that an American calling himself Agent Nelson rescued her after the thugs left her for dead. I think we should meet him—somewhere public that he can’t grab you and stuff you in the back of an unmarked van. I know a good place; it’s called the Hotel Sacher. It’s a popular tourist attraction, well lit, and crowded. Most importantly, the hotel has security.”
“How far away is it?”
“Walking distance. It’s near the Vienna State Opera House.”
“Julie, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet him together.”
“Why not?”
“If it’s a trap, they can grab both of us. We need to split up. If something happens to me, you can call the Austrian police. I need you as my backup.”
“All right. I’ll watch you from across the street at the State Opera. It sits on the corner of Kärntner Strasse and Philharmoniker Strasse.”
“Where should we meet if I’m forced to ditch?”
“Stephansdom Cathedral. It’s the most famous and crowded church in Vienna; we’ll be safe there.” She powered on her computer and using Google Maps, showed him a bird’s eye view of the streets around Hotel Sacher and Stephansdom.
“Okay. Sounds like a reasonable plan,” Will said, feigning confidence. His mind drifted back to the taser match in the middle of Wenceslas Square in Prague. Nobody in the crowd had intervened to help him there. Why would this be any different if things went south?
Although he acquiesced, she could see he was riddled with doubt. “I have an idea. Why don’t I meet Agent Nelson instead of you?” she suggested. “It keeps you safe and your location secret. I’ll go to the meeting alone, ask questions, and report back to you here.”
“Absolutely not. No way.”
“Why not? Give me one good reason?”
“First, it puts you in danger. And second, this is my fight, not yours,” Will barked.
Julie’s faced turned red. “Oh really! So all this time, everything that’s happened since I picked you up in Prague hasn’t put me in danger? Really. Interesting, because I seem to recall you telling me repeatedly that I’m in danger as long as I’m with you. And since when did this become your fight? I thought we were in this together?”
“You’re twisting things. That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh? That’s what it sounded like to me. Why don’t you tell me, Will. What did you mean?” She crossed her arms and stared at him.
He gently set his hands on her shoulders.
“Julie, listen to me. I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. What I meant to say was that I appreciate your offer. It is very brave of you to want to protect me and to risk yourself for me, but this is something that I need to do.”
She glared at him. He pulled her to his chest until he felt her relax in his arms. “Okay. What time do you want me to tell him?” she mumbled, her face buried in his shirt.
• • •
Café Sacher.
7:30 pm
VanCleave’s phone buzzed. “He agreed to meet,” he announced. “1930 at the Café Sacher.”
“Game on,” Kalen said and started moving toward the door. “I need to scout the location. C’mon VanCleave, I need your help, and we don’t have much time.”
“Give me ten seconds; I’m just sending him an acknowledgement,” VanCleave replied. Then, chasing after Kalen, he added, “I’m taking the BMW, Immel. You’re insane if you think I’m riding bitch on the back of your damn motorcycle.”