"A survivor?" Painter could not hide his own surprise.
"The caller wants to meet at the bar of the senator's hotel. To give further details. He'll only meet with Gorman alone."
"I don't think that's wise."
"Neither do we. That's why you're going to be at that bar. The senator knows that a DoD investigator is already in Oslo. He personally requested you be there. You're to maintain a low profile, to intervene only if necessary."
"When's the meet?" Painter asked.
"Tonight at midnight."
Of course, it would be.
Painter finished the call and tossed the phone back to Creed.
"What?" Monk asked.
Painter explained, which only deepened Monk's frown.
Creed spoke a fear they all shared. "It might be a trap. Meant to draw you out into the open again."
"We should call off the operation at Viatus," Monk suggested. "Go with you as backup."
Painter considered that option. Monk had been out of the field for some time, and Creed had barely gotten his feet wet. It would be risky to send them over to the research facility by themselves. Painter studied Monk, weighing the variables.
Monk guessed the intent of his attention. "We can still do this, sir, if that's what you're thinking. The kid might be green, but we'll get it done."
Painter heard the certainty in the man's voice. With a sigh, he stopped overanalyzing the situation. He wasn't at his desk in Washington anymore. This was fieldwork. He had to trust his gut. And his gut was telling him that events were rapidly escalating out of control.
Delay was not an option.
"We stick to the schedule," he said forcefully, brooking no argument. "We need access to that server. From today's attack, it's clear someone is getting both bolder and more agitated. A bad combination. We can't let them lock us out. So we'll just have to split up tonight."
Creed looked concerned, but not for himself. "Sir, what if you're attacked again?"
"Don't worry. They had their one free shot at me." Painter reached the sink and picked up the WASP dagger that he'd confiscated from the assassin in the park. "Tonight, I'll be the one doing the hunting."
6:01 P.M.
Bundled in a fox-fur-lined coat and hood, Krista strode down the central path of Frogner Park in the west-end borough of Oslo. She had an apartment that overlooked the snowy park, but she could not stand to wait indoors any longer. She carried her phone with her.
The sun had set, and the temperature had plummeted.
She had the park to herself.
She continued along the path through the sculpture garden. Her warm breath frosted the air. She needed to keep moving, but tension kept her stiff.
Spread around her were more than two hundred sculptures created by Gustav Vigeland, a Norwegian national treasure. Most of the sculptures involved nude stone figures frozen in various combinations and twisted poses. Presently the sculptures were covered with snow, as if wrapped in tattered white cloaks.
Ahead rose the towering central sculpture. It sat on the highest point of the park and was lit up for the night. It was named the Monolith. It always reminded Krista of something out of Dante's Inferno, especially at night. Maybe that's why she was drawn to it now.
The sculpture was a circular tower four stories high carved out of a single block of granite. Its entire surface was a writhing mass of human figures, tangled, twisted, entwined, a dark orgy in stone. It was supposed to represent the eternal cycle of mankind, but to her, it looked like a mass grave.
She stared up at it, knowing what was coming.
What we are about to unleash...
She shuddered inside her coat and clasped her fur-lined hood tighter to her throat. It was not remorse that kept her trembling, but the sheer enormity of what was unfolding. It was already under way, had been for over a decade, but in the next days, there would be no turning back. The world was about to change, and she had played a primary role in it all.
But she had not acted alone.
Her phone, still clutched in her pocket, vibrated. She took a deep breath and exhaled a stream of white mist. She had failed today. What would be her punishment? Her eyes scanned the dark parklands around her. Were they already closing in on her? Death did not frighten her. What terrified her was being taken out of the game now, at this last moment. In her haste and desire, she had acted rashly. She should have contacted her superiors before attempting to take down the Sigma operative on her own.
She lifted the phone and tucked it into her hood.
"Yes?" she answered.
Alone in the park, she did not have to worry about anyone eavesdropping. The satellite phone was also encrypted. She readied herself for whatever would come.
Still, she was not prepared for the voice on the line. All warmth drained out of her. She might as well have been naked in the cold park.
"He lives," the voice said flatly. "You should have known better."
With her breath trapped in her chest, she could not speak. She had only heard this voice once before in her life. It had been after her recruitment, after a brutal initiation, when she'd carried out an assassination, killing an entire family, including a newborn baby. The Venezuelan politician had been supporting an investigation into a French pharmaceutical company, an investigation that needed to be stopped. She had also taken a bullet through her leg from the man's security team, but she still escaped without leaving a trace behind. Not even a drop of her own blood.
During her recovery, she had received a call, congratulating her.
From the man on the phone now.
It was said he was one of the Guild leaders, those who were only referred to as "Echelon."
She finally found her voice. "Sir, I take full responsibility for the failure."
"And I imagine you've learned from this mistake." The tone remained flat. She could not tell if the speaker was angry or not.
"Yes, sir."
"From here, leave the matter to us. Steps are being taken. But a new threat has arisen, more immediate than Sigma sniffing at our door. Something you'd best handle on the ground there."
"Sir?"
"Someone knows there was a survivor of the Mali massacre. They are meeting with Senator Gorman tonight."
Krista's fingers tightened on her phone. How could that be? She'd been so careful. Her mind raced through the last few days. She'd kept herself well hidden. Anger warmed through her terror.
"That meeting must not happen," the speaker warned and told her the details of the midnight rendezvous.
"And the senator?"
"Expendable. If word reaches him before you can shut this down, take him out. No evidence must be left behind."
She knew it wasn't necessary to acknowledge that.
"As to the operation in England," the man continued, "all is in place there?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know how important it is that we find the key to the Doomsday Book."
She did. She stared up at the Monolith's writhing tower of bodies. The key could either save them or damn them.
"Do you trust your contact over there?" he asked.
"Of course not. Trust is never necessary. Only power and control."
For once, a hint of amusement tinged his words. "You were taught well." The phone connection ended. But not before a last few cryptic words. "Echelon has its eyes on you."
Krista remained standing before the Monolith. With the phone still at her ear, she shuddered again-with relief, with terror, but mostly with one certainty.
She must not fail.
Chapter 14
October 12, 4:16 P.M.
Lake District, England
Gray eyed his transportation doubtfully.
His transportation stared back at him, equally unsure, stamping a hoof for emphasis.