Zane wondered if he might be able to help the man, but those thoughts were immediately extinguished by the crack of two gunshots. The operative’s heart began to race as he realized the boat was under attack. Either the police or even Delphi operatives had arrived, and Zane realized if he wasn’t careful, he might get shot in the crossfire.
Figuring he had nothing to lose, he opened his eyes. The scene in front of him was chaotic. One of the Renaissance guards lunged toward the front and started the engine. Another stood and fired at whoever was attacking the boat. Then return fire hit the Russian directly in the chest. The man let out a scream of pain and tumbled over the side.
By then the boat engine was growling to life, which left Zane with only one choice. He had to go overboard. He wanted to help the man next to him, who was undoubtedly an innocent party, but staying behind and getting himself killed wouldn’t provide any help at all.
Up front, the Russian pushed the throttle forward, and the bow of the boat lifted in response. It was time to move. Using all of his remaining strength, the operative stood up, stepped onto the rail, and leaped into the water.
In all of the excitement, Zane had forgotten that the temperatures were going to be at or near freezing, so when he hit the water it was a shock not only to his body, but also to his mind. As he sank into the icy depths, he had the sensation of being stabbed with a thousand needles. Every muscle in his body was rendered inoperable by the cold.
He finally willed his body to move, kicking with his legs and slashing his cuffed wrists through the water like a single paddle. But despite his efforts, he made little progress and realized that his drugged muscles would eventually give out.
The good news was that he could hear the boat moving away. The bad news was that the force of the boats propeller push him toward the bottom of the river, making it less and less likely that he’d make it to the surface before running out of air.
His lungs screaming for oxygen, Zane made one final attempt to gain the surface. He kicked as hard as he could and wiggled his body like a walrus, but the tranquilizer in his system rendered his muscles a shell of their former selves. Every precious foot he gained was lost when he stopped to rest. At some point, his strength began to ebb to almost nothing, and his body began to sink. He tried to think of what else he might do, but his mind was also suffering from a lack of oxygen. All he could think about was sleep. Precious sleep.
The water then began to darken as he sank, but he couldn’t tell if that was due to the depth or because he was passing out. Then, just as he felt he was at the limit of consciousness, two hands seized him under each arm.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Zane seemed near death after Reid pulled him from the frigid waters of the Rhone. His skin was chalky white, and his arms rolled around like freshly boiled rigatoni. Reid looped an arm around his chest and swam him over to the dock using strong leg strokes. Carmen helped lift Zane out of the water and drag him into the paneled room.
Carmen’s phone began to vibrate soon after they propped Zane up against the wall. She saw that it was Skinner. “Hey, please tell me you have Mironov,” she said.
“I wish I could. Everything came up empty. I crossed the pedestrian bridge, but by the time I got to the front of the Bâtiment, he was gone.”
“Vanished just like that?”
“My guess is they were picked up by a vehicle and are on their way to a rendezvous with the boat somewhere downriver.”
“I see.” Carmen turned her head to look at Zane. Reid was massaging his arms and torso, trying to increase his body temperature. “I do have some good news. We have Zane.”
“What?”
“Long story, but he was in the boat and jumped out when the Renaissance team took off. Connor jumped in and pulled him out.”
“Outstanding.”
“Unfortunately, we believe they may have a new hostage, a Dutch physicist named Markus VanGelder. We also believe they may be on their way to CERN.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because Zane has been muttering about it ever since we pulled him out of the water. He picked something up while he was being held. It sounds like this event they’ve referred to might somehow involve something that’s going on at CERN.”
“Like an experiment?”
“We don’t know. All we know is that they’re likely headed that way, and I need you to head over there now yourself.”
“Roger that.”
“We’ll try to be there as soon as we can.”
Carmen ended the call. She dialed Brett and gave him a brief description of what had happened at the rear of the Bâtiment, including Zane’s plunge into the Rhone. Brett concurred with the need to get all three operatives out as soon as possible, and told Carmen he’d bring the car over and find a secluded place to park somewhere along La Rue de la Coulouvreniere, one block away from the Bâtiment.
By the time Carmen had placed the phone back in her pocket, she noticed that Zane was beginning to regain strength, although it was still obvious that he continued to suffer from the effects of the cold. He pulled himself into a sitting position and rubbed his temple for a minute or so. Eventually he looked up and mumbled, “We need to go.”
“We do,” Carmen assured him, placing a hand on his leg, “but you need to rest for just a few more minutes. Brett is going to—”
“No, we need to leave now,” he said emphatically, looking up at them for the first time. “People can hear suppressed shots, Carmen. The police will be swarming this place in a few minutes. If that happens, this whole deal is over.”
Carmen wanted to protest, but she knew he was right. Even if the police didn’t come, the banquet organizers would soon discover that Markus VanGelder was missing, and at that point the staff would conduct a room-by-room search of the building. If they wanted to get away safely, it had to be done now. She patted his leg. “I’m just not sure how much more your body can take.”
Zane smiled through the hair that covered his face. “It’ll take as much as it needs to take.”
Once they scanned the room to make sure they weren’t leaving anything behind, Reid and Carmen helped Zane to his feet, and the trio exited back onto the dock, which they followed around to the front of the building. A few women in cocktail dresses stared at them, but a sharp glare from Carmen made them quickly turn the other way.
After crossing the plaza, they traveled one block to La Rue de la Coulouvreniere. As soon as they stepped out of the shadows a set of headlights turned on a block away. A Peugot appeared, pulling up to the curb. Carmen helped Zane into the front seat before sliding into the back with Reid. As she closed the door, she heard sirens in the distance. The authorities were indeed on their way.
Brett turned the heat on full blast and adjusted all of the front vents so that they were blowing toward Zane, who was visibly shaking. “You’re in rough shape.” He put the car into gear and pulled out into the street, made a series of quick turns, and directed the car across the bridge to north Geneva. Once on the other side of the river, he began to work his way east toward the lakefront.
“Where are we going?” Zane asked, his jaw still quivering despite the rush of hot air across his body.
“Back to the hotel for now.” Brett kept one eye on the street and another on the rearview mirror.
“Turn it around,” Zane said. “I don’t have time to explain, but we’re going to CERN.”
Brett looked over at the operative and shook his head.
“Absolutely not,” Carmen said from the back seat. “You’re an inch or two away from hypothermia. Your body’s core needs to warm up first. Trying to do anything outside in these temperatures would be a death sentence. Besides, Cleavon is already on his way to CERN.”