“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.