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WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12
The time was 7:45 AM Pacific Time, 10:45 in New York. Louis Compton had his expanded team on full alert with round-the-clock monitoring of the situation, both electronic and physical. Rebecca Carlile had not returned to her apartment, and it was clear that she was staying put in the NBC offices.
Everything had gone into a frenzy last night when NBC News announced they would broadcast a special edition of Top Story on Thursday evening; and there was no doubt what would be on that program. Gregory Noble went spectacularly nuts. Louis smiled to himself as he recalled the flaming rant, Noble storming around the conference room, spewing curses and swearing vengeance on Simon Barstow and everyone helping him.
The money was ridiculously good, but Louis Compton was regretting the day he had come to work for that man. It made him feel good seeing that asshole get shafted by Barstow—not that it would stop Louis from doing his job, and that meant killing Simon Barstow.
They had planted four listening devices in the NBC executive offices, and Louis had two people reviewing the feeds continuously. It was clear from the intercepts that content development for the upcoming Top Story program was on very close hold. Ninety-nine percent of everything picked up was just business-as-usual office chatter. The expected discussions on program development were conspicuously missing. However, there had been slip-ups; there were always slip ups. They had caught three mentions of Simon’s name since the devices were placed. It was further confirmation of what Rebecca was cooking up.
They’d just caught a break. One of the analysts monitoring the NBC intercepts had forwarded an audio clip that was only fifteen minutes old. On the recording, someone was giving instructions to a second party to secure an off-site location for the broadcast. Louis glanced at the text file that accompanied the clip. It identified the speaker as Tom Matthews, the show’s producer, and it identified the other person as his assistant, Kevin Rogers.
Louis keyed in the contact number for his field commander in New York.
Gray answered instantly. “Yes, sir.”
“Assign one of our operatives to shadow Kevin Rogers. I want to know every move he makes over the next thirty-six hours. I’m sending a text file with pictures.”
A pause on the other end. “Got it. Assigning an asset now. Anything else?”
“How are you deployed?”
“Two operatives in the lobby of the building, one assigned to each of the four exits, and one at the elevator and stair entrance to parking. I’ll be able to start rotations later today when more of our people arrive.”
“Good,” said Louis. “Any movement on Kevin Rogers comes to me immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Louis disconnected and keyed in another set of digits.
“Hello, Louis.”
“Trayla, I have a priority request.”
“Go ahead.”
“Full-spread surveillance on Kevin Rogers.” Louis keyed in another short string of numbers. “Text with particulars is on the way.”
“Got it,” said Trayla after a brief pause. “It will take about ten minutes to set it up. I’ll pass the intercepts real-time to your analysts. That makes two full surveillance packages, one on Carlile and now one on Rogers. Anyone else?”
“I’d like the full spread on everyone over at NBC News,” said Louis, “but I don’t have the analyst capacity to handle any more intercepts. We’ll just have to rely on keyword monitoring and trust that Albert will pick up anything critical. Can you track financial transactions?”
“Depends. We have a limited capacity in that area. What are you trying for?
“A recent intercept indicates they may move the broadcast to a remote location. They know there’re sitting at ground zero and that we have them targeted. They don’t know what level of force we might bring into play, so I’m betting they’re going to do the show remotely to throw us off.”
“I get it,” said Trayla. “Moving the broadcast to a remote location will likely involve immediate financial transactions, and those might point us in the right direction.”
“That’s the way I figure it.”
“We might get lucky. A big part of how we do our work is to follow the money. Financial transactions are always encrypted, but we have our ways. It’s often difficult or impossible to get the specifics about a transaction, but we can usually get who initiated the transaction and with whom, like, for example, if certain NBC credit accounts are involved.”
“Exactly.”
“All right, then,” said Trayla. “I’ll set it up in Albert. It’ll be like stumbling around in the dark, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Keep me posted.” Louis broke the connection.
*****
IT WAS 12:25 PM.
David answered the knock on the door. “Hey, guys. Come in, come in,” he said enthusiastically as he welcomed the two travelers into the apartment. He gave Julie a big hug and then Simon before leading the way into the suite.
Julie looked around the combined living room and kitchen area. “This is nice.”
David had rented a two-bedroom suite at an Extended Stay America in Brooklyn. It wasn’t fancy, but it was large, clean, and comfortable. Each bedroom had its own bathroom, so it suited their needs well.
“You’re the first to arrive,” said David. “Frank called about an hour ago. They should be here in forty-five minutes. Unfortunately, there’s only going to be three of them. We’ll have to make do.”
“What happened?” asked Simon.
David shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably just not enough time. But with the revised deployment plan, four of us should be enough.”
Julie took her small bag and walked toward a bedroom to check it out. “I hope you’re right,” she called over her shoulder.
Simon followed Julie toward the bedroom. He turned around. “David, we didn’t get much sleep last night. We’d like to rest a bit before the others join us. Is that okay?”
“Not a problem. Go ahead and get a quick nap. I’ll wake you as soon as they get here.”
“Thanks,” said Simon as he closed the door.
What seemed like just seconds later, David knocked at the door. “Simon, Julie, the guys are here.”
Roused out of a sound sleep, Simon was barely able to respond. “Yeah. Okay. I hear you. Be out in a minute.”
A couple of minutes later, Simon and Julie walked into the living room, where the four men were sitting around, engaged in conversation. Julie was barefoot and dressed in shorts and a rather tight fitting T-shirt, her hair still tousled from sleep. The men stopped talking as the two walked across the room.
“Holy smokes,” exclaimed Frank when he caught sight of Julie. “You’re Julie Carston? You’re forty-one?”
“Behave, Frank,” said David. “I told them the basics, Julie. They know who you guys are, not all the details, but the basics.”
Frank continued, undeterred. “Yeah, David told me about how you two sort of started all this ruckus, with the immortality thing, I mean. But I didn’t really understand until right now. Good Lord, you look like you walked off a photoshoot for Teen Glamor magazine.”
A mischievous smile crossed Julie’s lips. “Yeah, it’s like déjà vu all over again,” she said lightheartedly. “All through my doctorate program, in my mid-twenties, people had trouble taking me seriously because I literally looked like a teenager. I’ve always looked young for my age.”
“No shit,” said Frank, a huge grin growing on his face. He turned to Simon. “And you’re Dr. Barstow. Forty-eight? Seriously? Man, this is awesome!”
“Yes, it is,” said Julie as she sashayed right up to within inches of Frank, looked up into his eyes, and put her index finger firmly on his chest. “So, you’re Frank. It’s a pleasure to meet you...Frank,” she said in an exceptionally deep, sultry voice as she offered her hand. “I’m Julie.”
Frank stood dumbstruck for a few seconds, mouth hanging open, then realized there was an expected response. Sheepishly, he reached out and took Julie’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am, uh, I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Carston.”
“And, Frank,” Julie said in a more serious voice while gesturing toward Simon, “this is Dr. Simon Barstow, my fiancé.”
Frank stepped forward and shook hands with Simon. “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Barstow.”
“Yes, pleased to meet you as well, and thank you for coming to our aid. It means the world to have your help.”
Before Frank and Simon could get further into it, Julie turned to the other two men who were standing awkwardly off to the side. “And, Frank, these gentlemen are...”
“Ah...right. These two gentlemen,” Frank said with a bit of flair. “Well, these fine gentlemen,” he said again with extra emphasis on gentlemen, “they are the rest of the team. Allow me to introduce Jake,” he said with a nod to the taller of the two, “and this other fine specimen of Latino manhood is Ricardo—but we just call him Rick.”
“Wow, you’re such a bull-shitter, Frank,” Jake said dismissively. He turned to Julie. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Julie, I mean, Dr. Carston. And, may I add, you are quite lovely.”
“Well, thank you, Jake; the pleasure is all mine. And this fine gentleman behind me is Simon.”
Jake stepped forward and took Simon’s offered hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir. David told us about the two of you, but meeting in person is still quite a shock.”
“Yes,” said Simon. “I’ve been told it has that effect.”
Ricardo took that moment to step forward. As he bowed, he reached forward and brought Julie’s hand up to his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. “Senorita, you overwhelm me. I am pleased and gratified to be at your service.” He stood up ramrod straight as he released Julie’s hand and turned toward the other men. “That, gentlemen,” he said in a reproving but playful tone, “is how you greet a lady.”
Jake turned to Frank. “I’m sorry, Frank, my mistake. You’re not the master bull-shitter at this party.”
“Stow it, both of you,” said Frank. “Dr. Barstow, Dr. Carston, we’re here because David asked us to help. All three of us know David from years back. You’re lucky to have him as a friend.”
“We know. We’ve found that out in many ways,” said Simon.
“So,” said Frank. “Do we have a plan?”
All eyes turned to David. “We do, of a sort. It’s not fleshed out yet, but it seems workable in principle. Rebecca Carlile had the basic idea. Then Simon, Julie and I worked out the details and added a couple of twists.”
The team settled in for an hour of preliminary planning. Jake and Ricardo left for a couple of hours of reconnaissance work and returned to the hotel just before four. Then the team hunkered down for several more hours of intense work. Frank had brought a laptop and portable printer, which they used to download and print maps. They then worked on deployment positions and routes with timetables. They called Rebecca twice for quick consults and coordinated with Richard Jackson at one point to confirm he could carry out his part. It was a good plan. But all the hardened veterans in that room knew one thing for sure: no battle plan, no matter how well thought-out, no matter how meticulously constructed...no plan survives contact with the enemy.
*****
“TALK TO ME.”
“Mr. Compton, Kevin Rogers is on the move. Operative four just picked up Rogers entering the parking garage. There was a driver in a company car waiting for him. He passed the information to operative two, who picked up the vehicle as soon as it left the garage. Operative two is following at this time.”
“There’s a tracer on the car, correct?”
“Yes, sir, per your instructions. The device is functioning properly and we have a good visual and electronic track on the vehicle.”
“Excellent.” Louis broke the connection and keyed in another number.
“Hello, Louis,” Trayla answered.
“Kevin Rogers is on the move. Do you have a good track on his cell phone?”
“Just a second... Yes, we have a good track. His phone is moving north along Park Avenue.”
“Good, he’s got his phone with him. I need a complete record of every place Rogers goes until he’s back at NBC.”
“I’ll have a complete record, and I’ll send you positional updates every five minutes.”
“Excellent.” Louis broke the connection.
Louis slowly let out a sigh as he settled back in his chair. For the first time in days, he allowed himself a small bit of self-satisfaction. Maybe, just maybe they’d caught the break they needed. He leaned farther back and closed his eyes. He rarely permitted this indulgence during the day, but a brief moment of meditative calm now might prove useful if things heated up like he hoped they would.
The buzzing of his phone woke him instantly. It was Gray.
“Hello.”
“Sir, the car dropped Rogers off in front of the Lockford Building. He just went in.”
“Let me know when he leaves.” He broke the connection and dialed Trayla.
“Yes?”
“Rogers is on foot. Are you monitoring real-time?”
“Yes. He’s in the Lockford Building on East 74th Street. GPS shows he’s going up. Looks like the twenty-first or twenty-second floor. I’m calling up tenant occupancy now... Got it. Kinetics Studios is on the twenty-first floor. They’re listed as a local cable news provider.”
“Good. And, Trayla...”
“Yes?”
“Nice work. Bye.”
For the first time in days, Louis Compton smiled. He keyed in a number.
“Yes,” said an impatient voice on the other end.
“Mr. Noble, we finally got a break.”
*****
IT WAS JUST MINUTES before seven. Frank and his two men had departed to get themselves a room in another hotel and some food and rest. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. Simon and Julie were still at the dining table, finishing up the last of the pizza that had been supper.
David keyed in a phone number.
“Hello, David,” Richard Jackson answered. “Perfect timing.”
“I assume you’re in a good place to talk.”
“Per arrangement,” Richard confirmed. “Just walked out of the office. Trayla’s been a busy little beaver today. I am so looking forward to tomorrow. She’s about to get exactly what she deserves.”
“Hopefully,” said David. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. A lot can go wrong between now and tomorrow’s broadcast.”
“Right. I’m keeping my head screwed on straight.”
“That’s good. This is the endgame coming up, and we have to keep focus. Have you finished putting together the package?”
“Just about. I can easily finish it up in the morning. Are we still targeting the delivery for five PM tomorrow?”
“Right now, yeah, still at five. It’s going to be tricky. A lot depends on things happening in the right order at the right time.”
“I’ll be ready,” said Richard. “Good luck to you guys.”
“Thanks, Richard. If everything goes as planned, we’ll see you tomorrow night. Take care.” David disconnected and set the phone on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned back on the couch and looked over to where Simon and Julie were still engaged in quiet conversation, holding hands and gently leaning toward each other. He smiled as he thought about what the two of them had been through and how well they were holding up.
“Hey, Simon,” David called across the room. “About time to call Rebecca?”
Simon glanced up at the clock. “Yeah, guess it is.”
Simon got up and went into the bedroom, reemerging a few seconds later with his phone in hand. He keyed in Rebecca’s number.
“Hello.”
“Rebecca, it’s Simon. Are you in a good place to talk?”
“Just a second.” There was a considerable pause, then: “Okay, we can talk.”
“How are you doing?”
“Actually, pretty well. I’m staying put here in the building, in our executive offices. That makes me feel better. I was getting spooked, thinking that Noble’s thugs might be just around every corner.”
“Are you having second thoughts about moving the program location out of the building?”
“No, no second thoughts about that. It’s just too dangerous for everyone here to have such a tempting target. Security in a building like this is a joke for someone who is really committed to breaking in. There are too many innocent people who might get in the way and seriously hurt if Noble came after us here, and he would come after us. Plus, doing it here would be the one and only time Noble would know precisely where you are—just too tempting, and too dangerous.”
“Okay, then. We’ve made most of the preparations on our end. How about you?” asked Simon.
“A few loose ends to tie up tomorrow and we’re good. I know we were originally talking about recording this interview ahead of time at a remote location and then editing in the interview along with live coverage during the program. I’m sorry all that got changed with this moved-up schedule.”
“It’s not a problem, Rebecca. Doing the interview live will have more impact, and your boss is right. Things are moving so fast that we really have to do the special program tomorrow. Julie and I need to do this and then be done with it, completely done with it. Speaking of being done, any progress on helping us out with starting new lives?”
“As a matter of fact, there may be movement in that area. A very influential and very wealthy friend contacted my office today about being interviewed for this developing story. It turns out that this person is intimately familiar with this immortality virus you released into the world.”
“You’re saying this person received the Gift, I mean, received the Longevity Gene?”
“As I understand it, that’s right—up close and personal. I wasn’t available when he called, but he wants to share his thoughts on this, and I’m inclined to do his interview personally. He’s not a close friend, but we’ve known each other for many years and have always been on friendly terms. He’s a good man, and he’s also the type of man who just might be inclined to help you once he knows your story.”
“Well, we can always hope.”
“That’s right, Simon. Stay positive. This may not turn out to be the connection you need. But it’s a start, and it’s a good one. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll keep trying until something does.”
“Thanks, Rebecca. I mean that from my heart. From both of us, thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do. What time do we need to talk tomorrow, to tie up any loose ends?”
“Let’s plan on four PM; that’s three hours before the broadcast. If anything really critical comes up before then, I’ll call. So, keep your phone handy.”
“OK, talk to you tomorrow.” Rebecca disconnected.
She walked back to her office and wearily sat down at her desk. She picked up her regular, non-secure phone and placed a call.
“Hello,” answered a strong male voice on the other end.
“Senator Fitzpatrick, this is Rebecca Carlile.”
*****
AFTER THE SHORT CALL, Rebecca sat still for a few contemplative minutes. She closed her eyes and tried to settle her thoughts. It wasn’t working. She got up from the desk and walked around the office, twisting at the waist and stretching her arms over her head and out to the side as she made several circuits.
The stress was starting to get to her, and she needed frequent rest and stretching sessions to keep from seizing up. She stopped as she thought about how her body was responding. Twenty years before, she would have shrugged this off without giving it a second thought. But now, at forty-four, she could feel the toll it was taking.
She stood still in the middle of her office and closed her eyes, turning inward to focus on how she felt. The small aches and pains she had started to collect just a few years ago were still there, maybe a little more aggravated than before this multi-day work marathon had started. No change, she admitted to herself, no change at all. She cast the thought aside. There was time, she told herself. Simon had said there was time. But part of Rebecca, down deep in her subconscious, suspected the truth, and that part was starting to weep.