CHAPTER 27

Hamid signaled to Lucien that everything was in place. They were ready to leave the warehouse. The three SUVs were loaded and the group of men stood next to their assigned vehicles. Lucien did a methodical scan of the warehouse, looking for any tell-tale evidence that they had been there. The warehouse had been leased through an offshore corporation, with the lease payment made by check from an untraceable offshore account. Lucien arranged the rental of the warehouse through a Swiss real estate agent who believed Lucien was a Belgium collector wanting to store vintage US automobiles for shipment throughout Europe.

“We need to hurry,” said Lucien.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Lucien spoke to the crowd of armed men. “No matter what, I don’t want the girl harmed.”

Hamid spoke first. “Understood, Sir.”

“Anybody, I mean anybody that gives her as much as a scratch on her head is as good as dead.” He scanned the room, looking into the faces of the men. “Is that clear?”

Hector and the men around him nodded their understanding.

Lucien gave an “all clear” signal and Hamid opened the overhead door. The three vehicles sped outside and waited while Lucien turned off the power switch that fed the warehouse. He pulled the overhead door down, locking it in place. Lucien entered the last SUV as Hamid waited, holding the door open. When Lucien was seated, the large Arab scurried to the other side and hopped in, signaling to the point vehicle.

The caravan of SUVs screeched down the street, headed to their appointed rendezvous.

***

Claudia, Professors Blackstone, Means, Thomas and Whitehead, along with the rest of the scientists, watched the two television monitors at the far end of the laboratory. Professor Thomas again checked the power supply that fed into the remote laboratory. Satisfied that everything was in place and ready to go, he nodded to Claudia.

Claudia returned the nod and looked around the room.

“Are we ready?”

She watched as each scientist concurred, standing at their respective posts, anxious to begin the experiment.

Professor Means clicked on the speakerphone, addressing the two grad students in the remote lab.

“Gentlemen, are we ready?”

“Yes, Sir,” the first one responded.

The second grad student made an adjustment on a monitor at the far end of the room and looked at the camera.

“Ready, Sir.”

Claudia glanced at Professor Means and Blackstone. She again nodded, pointing at the television monitor.

“Let’s do it.”

Professor Means looked at the monitor displaying the grad students and spoke into the speakerphone.

“Proceed, Gentlemen.”

Reaching across to the far wall, Professor Means flipped the switch that fed the electromagnetic power into the remote laboratory.

A loud humming noise filled the room.

***

As the experiment began, the front guardhouse was quiet, until the local bakery van pulled up to the gate. A light dusting of snow had covered the ground around the estate, marking the footprints of the guard as he walked out of the gatehouse holding his clipboard. The large step van was an everyday visitor to the estate. The staff was fond of the baked goods. Deliveries of the freshly baked bread and pastries were made four times a week. The head baker had curried great favor with Professor Blackstone when he surprised Claudia with a dozen of the Sacher tortes she was so fond of.

“Good day, Sir,” said the guard.

The driver was silent, nodding to the guard, who was scribbling something on his clipboard. He made several notations and looked back at the driver, slipping the clipboard under his arm. Curious, the guard approached the van. He stuck his head through the sliding door and looked behind the driver’s seat. A metal wall divided the front cab from the back storage area.

The guard looked at the driver. The tall, Hispanic driver was someone he had never seen before. There was something unusual about his appearance, something out of place. The driver’s white bakery coat was tight, and the guard could see muscles bulging through the ill-fitting baker’s uniform. Not exactly a bakery driver profile.

The guard spoke.

“Where’s Tony?”

The estate guard, hired by John, was a retired French military man who had been taught to be suspicious of all estate visitors. And no one had minded if he appeared overzealous when he checked entering vehicles. The entire staff was on high alert after John told Blackstone that he suspected a mole was leaking information to the outside.

“Tony called in sick. The boss gave me his route today.”

The guard looked through the sliding door at the driver and turned away, slowly walking around the vehicle. He looked under the chassis as the driver watched him in the side mirror. The guard pulled on the rear door handle, which was locked. He worked his way back around to the front of the van and faced the driver.

The guard smiled.

“So, where is it?”

The driver kept his smile. “Where’s what?”

“My box of donuts. Tony always drops off a box.”

“Oh, that. I forgot. Yeah, somebody mentioned that. Let me go around back and get you some.” The driver switched off the ignition and stepped out of the van.

The guard quietly put down the clipboard and followed the driver. Unseen by the driver, he reached inside the van and removed the keys from the ignition. Slipping behind the driver, the guard drew his pistol and tapped the back of the driver’s head.

“That’s far enough. For your information, the regular driver’s name is Pierre …and I don’t eat donuts.” The guard pointed at the driver’s boots. “Those are infantry boots. I wore the same make when I was in the military. You’re not from the bakery, asshole.” He pushed him against the truck. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”

“Hey, there must be some mistake,” said the driver. “I don’t know what you’re –”

“Put your hands in the air.”

The driver raised his hands.

The guard kept the one hand on his gun steady, and lifted his radio with the other. Right as he keyed the transmit button to speak, Hector slipped out of the bakery truck and silently approached the guard from behind. With one quick swipe, he slipped his serrated blade across the guard’s throat. Blood spurted against the van as the shocked guard struggled to stay upright. Hector threw him to the ground. The guard managed to keep a grip on his radio. As he thrashed about the ground, he squeezed the radio key and tried to speak. The gurgling of blood was the only sound that came from the dying man.

The rear door slammed open and three of Lucien’s thugs jumped out. One man spotted the radio in the guard’s hand. He ran over and kicked it, soccer style, into the woods.

Right at that moment, the three dark SUVs pulled in behind the bakery truck. Lucien stepped out and surveyed the scene. Hector reached down and pulled the ignition keys from the dying guard’s hand. He flipped them to the driver. The driver jumped back into the van and pulled it out of the way, concealing it from the outside road.

The three assault vehicles entered the compound.