Shadow Zone (24 page)

Merde.
“How did it happen?”

“Some kind of power surge. It’s no big deal. The situation is under control.”

She shook her head. The idiot probably thought Vincent was just using it to chill his wines collection. Of course he thought it was no big deal.

“Get your ass over there now,” she said harshly, forgetting all about soft and intimate. “Take a couple of your men with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Make sure the contents of that cabinet are protected.”

“Stadium security is taking care of it. But if you’d like, I can—”

“Stop wasting time. Get over there now.” Anna cut the connection. Dammit.

Calm down, she told herself. It was probably just like he said, no big deal. But still . . .

She gunned the engine and sped toward the Aviva Stadium.

Trinity College
Dublin, Ireland
8:40
P.M.

Kirov and Hannah stood in the shadows of a tall elm tree, watching as an occasional student walked across the dark campus. Hannah patted the pockets of her bulky jacket.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve checked your pockets,” Kirov said. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“I sure as hell am. I don’t like walking around with this stuff on me.”

“Just another couple minutes. As soon as we get Driscoll’s text message.”

Hannah watched Kirov as he angled his watch into the illumination of a streetlight. He was as cool as usual, and his attitude toward her was almost impersonal. She had not known how he would respond to her after that turbulent meeting. But Kirov was the same man she had come to know; confident, authoritative, in command of the situation. She wasn’t quite as cool as he appeared to be and tried to mask it. It wasn’t like her. Yet she kept remembering his face, the sexuality . . . Yes, the seduction of the senses.

Forget it. Clear your mind of everything but the job at hand as Kirov was doing.

Kirov’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the small screen and smiled. “Driscoll’s in.”

Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “Hallelujah. Let’s move.”

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

Kirov sprinted away, and Hannah moved quickly toward the botany building. Adrenaline surged through her, and the sensation was so strong and intense it felt almost alien, as if she had momentarily inhabited someone else’s body.

Get a grip. Focus.

She stepped off the sidewalk and ran around to the back of the botany building, toward an entrance that opened into a corridor of faculty offices. The entrance was locked at night, but Kirov had earlier slipped a piece of metallic tape over the doorframe’s strike plate.

Here’s hoping it was still there.

She pulled the door, and, to her relief, it swung open easily. She slid inside and bolted up the stairwell. Three flights later, she pushed open the door and stepped out onto the roof, where the large HVAC units roared.

She unfastened her jacket, pulled out two heavy plastic bags of liquid, and gently rested them on the roof. She tugged at her jacket’s lining, where she had taped a disposable aluminum cake pan. She pulled out the flattened pan and unfolded it to its original rectangular shape.

She unscrewed the caps on the plastic bags and poured their contents into the pan. Before she had even finished emptying the bags, smoke rose from the mixture.

Hannah smiled. If only Dad was around to see this. It was a home-brewed version of the liquid smoke that model-train hobbyists used in their locomotive engines. The familiar odor brought back a rush of memories of her father, his massive train collection, and the hundreds of feet of track that snaked throughout her childhood home.

The real fun would come when her concoction hit the building’s heated vents.

Hannah lifted the pan and emptied the liquid into the building’s air-intake unit.

Aviva Stadium
Dublin, Ireland

The stadium security officer grabbed Charlie’s arm. “What are you doing?”

Charlie held up the white lab trays he had pulled from Gadaire’s refrigeration unit. “I need to move everything to this portable air-cooled locker.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“The owner of this unit would probably say so,” Driscoll said. “He must have had a reason for keeping this stuff cool, whatever it is. We need to keep the door open to make our repairs. But I can leave it out if you’d like to take responsibility.”

The guard shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Put it in.”

Charlie placed the sample trays in their rolling locker, then cleared the refrigeration unit of several bottles of medicine and two champagne bottles. He closed the rolling case’s lid.

Driscoll opened his toolbox and smiled at the guard. “This won’t take long.”

CHAPTER
12

Kirov checked his watch and glanced up the sidewalk. Dr. Lampman would be walking past at any moment, fresh from his evening lecture course. But if Hannah hadn’t completed her mission, he would continue right past the botany building and make his way to the faculty parking lot.

Exactly what they did not want to happen.

Kirov squinted at the building. Was that . . . ?

Smoke.

A little bit at first, then much more, clearly visible in the rooms with lights on. It spilled out of several open windows on the second and third floors.

The building’s fire alarm sounded, and flashing red lights whirled inside, playing against the ever-thickening smoke.

Good girl, Hannah.

Kirov glanced back toward the sidewalk. Several students had stopped, and behind them, he recognized the awkward gait of Dr. Simon Lampman. Right on schedule.

The professor stared in horror at the building. He cursed aloud and ran toward the downstairs lab entrance.

Kirov was just a few yards behind.

Lampman fumbled with his keys, unlocked the door, and threw it open. Kirov caught it before it closed and watched as the man ran down the smoky, dimly lit corridor. Lampman charged into his lab. Kirov moved forward to see him open a cabinet, pull out a large leather case, and dump hundreds of papers on the floor. Lampman then unlocked two refrigeration units and carefully pulled out several trays, which he then stacked in the case.

The smoke grew thicker, and the alarms seemed even more piercing than before. Lampman was coughing, and Kirov felt his own eyes water. As nostalgic as Hannah had been for the odor of her liquid-smoke concoction, it only reminded Kirov of the putrid odor given off by the diesel backup generator of his old submarine.

He crouched into an alcove as Lampman carried the leather case toward another set of refrigerated lockers at the end of the corridor. On his way he stopped to open a drawer near the lockers and stuff two DVDs and a folder in the case. He unlocked the refrigerated lockers and transferred a series of translucent round containers into the case. With the case still open, Lampman paused. He glanced between the lab and the refrigerated locker in front of him, almost as if making a mental checklist. He nodded to himself, closed the case, and ran back toward the entrance.

Kirov stood up to intercept him, but he felt a sharp jab in the middle of his back.

“Careful, now.”

Kirov turned. It was the long-haired kid with the book bag. He looked older close-up, and certainly more menacing. Especially with the semiautomatic in his hand.

Lampman froze. “What’s happening?”

The kid did not take his eyes from Kirov. “Nothing to worry about, Doctor. Mr. Gadaire sent me to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“From people like this.”

The kid glanced at the leather case. “Do you have what you need?”

Lampman nodded.

“Good. We’re leaving. All three of us.”

Aviva Stadium
Dublin, Ireland

Driscoll showed the guard his digital thermometer. “Forty-two degrees. Perfect as perfect can be.”

“Good.” The guard motioned toward the wheeled case. “Now get everything loaded back in. I need to lock this place up.”

Charlie opened the lid of their rolling case and quickly pulled out the items he had placed inside. He and Driscoll moved the objects back inside the refrigeration unit.

“That’s everything?” The guard looked into the empty case. He then nodded toward the refrigeration unit. “Okay. Seal it up.”

Driscoll closed the door and once again keyed in the service code to lock the unit. He picked up the toolboxes while Charlie grabbed the handle of their wheeled case.

“That does it.” Driscoll gave the guard a minisalute. “Thanks for your time.”

He and Charlie walked out of the suite and made their way down the concourse. Charlie moved quickly, several paces ahead.

“Slow down,” Driscoll said. When Charlie drew closer, he whispered, “Not too quickly. Don’t want to look like we’re in a hurry.”

They took the elevator down to the parking garage, loaded up the van, and climbed inside the back. Driscoll opened the rolling case, then pushed the diagonal corners of the bottom panel until it sprang open. He removed the false bottom and examined the samples. “Well done. I didn’t even see you drop this down.”

Charlie smiled. “That was the idea, wasn’t it?”

They climbed up front, started the van, and pulled away.

Kirov felt the gun barrel pressed firmly against the base of his spine as he continued down the smoky corridor. He glanced back at the kid. “How do you think you’re going to pull this off? The fire department will be here any second, and I’m sure campus police are outside.”

“You’re right,” the kid said. “I should just kill you.”

Lampman looked as if he was having a panic attack. “I can’t be mixed up in this.”

“Too late,” Kirov said. “Do have any idea how many men have already died for those samples you’re holding?”

“You’re about to be one of them,” the kid said.

Move.

Kirov ducked and whirled around. Before the kid could reposition the gun, Kirov pounded the kid’s hand against the wall and pierced his wrist with a small needle. Seconds later the kid dropped the gun and fell to his knees. Two seconds after that, he was out cold.

Lampman backed away. “What in the holy hell . . . ?”

Kirov raised the needle. “This was meant for you. I’ll take that case now.”

Lampman clutched it close to his chest.

Kirov picked up the gun and put it in his waistband. “Now, please. I don’t want to have to use this gun, but I will.”

While Lampman thought about it, Kirov reached out and wrenched the case away from him.

Lampman made a sound of protest. “You can’t—”

“Tell the police whatever you like. But the truth won’t look good for you, and Gadaire’s not going to like police involvement. And if it’s your reputation you’re worried about, give that some thought too.”

Kirov ran down the hallway and disappeared in a plume of smoke. He extended his hands in front of him. Where in the hell was that back door?

Wait. That sound. The familiar purring of an engine outside. Ahead and slightly to the right.

Using the engine sound as his guide, Kirov moved down the smoky corridor.

How much farther could it be?

Then, finally, he saw an intense light from outside, shining through the glass doors and cutting through the smoke.

Kirov pushed the doors open and stood in the illumination of a motorcycle’s headlight beam. The motorcycle’s rider roared toward him and skidded to a stop.

Hannah flipped up her helmet’s windscreen. “What are you waiting for? Climb on!”

Kirov jumped on the back of the motorcycle. As fire-engine sirens wailed in the distance, Hannah gunned the motorcycle’s engine and roared away from the campus and onto Pearse Street.

Aviva Stadium
Dublin, Ireland

Anna stood in Gadaire’s office, her hands clenched as she stared into the refrigeration unit. “They’re gone!” She struck the adjacent cabinetry with the heel of her hand. She turned toward Carl Dyson, the arena’s director of security. “We’re missing some valuable items here. Where are those repairmen?”

“They just left,” another security officer said as he entered the room. “But I was with them the entire time. They didn’t take anything.”

“Idiot!” she said through her teeth. “How long have they been gone?”

He shrugged. “Minutes.”

She darted toward the exit. “Get back to your control room and pull up your surveillance video. I want a make, model, and license-plate number of the vehicle they were driving right now.”

Dyson stammered, “That isn’t possible. It will take time.”

“It’s possible if you want to keep your job. I want it before I get to my car.” She stopped in the doorway and turned around. “And before I leave the parking lot, you’ll also tell me what direction they were heading.”

“West on landsdowne road,” the stadium security chief said in Anna’s earpiece as she roared out of the parking garage. “And we’re positive it was a Mitsubishi Delica L400 van, navy blue or black.”

“Still no license plate?”

“No, we just looked at the guard gate camera feed, and there was mud spattered on it. We have a partial . . . It begins with the letters K and L.”

“Got it.”

“And we called the service company for that refrigeration unit, and they had no idea that it was in need of repair. They say it wasn’t their guys. We’re about to call the police.”

“No police.”

Silence. “Did I just hear you correctly?”

“I said no police. Mr. Gadaire would not want the attention.”

“A crime was committed on stadium property. I don’t have any choice but to—”

“The crime was committed against Mr. Gadaire and Mr. Gadaire alone. I’m telling you, no police. We’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll have to discuss this with the general manager.”

“Discuss all you want, but Mr. Gadaire will be extremely unhappy if his wishes aren’t followed. Call back when you have more information.”

She waited for the security chief to hang up before speaking to the other party on the conference call. “Did you get that, Ames?”

The security chief cleared his throat. “Yes. But we really might want to consider bringing the police into this.”

“I’m not going through this with you, too. No police. That’s what we pay you for. Where are you now?”