Текст книги "An Evil Mind"

Автор книги: Chris (2) Carter

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‘The fake buttons aren’t the same exact color as the original ones,’ he told Adrian Kennedy.

‘They’re close enough,’ Kennedy replied.

‘Maybe to most people,’ Hunter said. ‘But not for Lucien.’

‘Are you telling me that you think he’s noticed the color of the buttons on yours and Agent Taylor’s shirts?’

‘Trust me. Lucien has noticed everything, Adrian. He’s like a sponge.’

‘Well, this is the best we can do given our timeframe,’ Kennedy said back. ‘I need ears with you at all times, so we’re going to have to roll with this.’

This could be a costly mistake, Hunter thought.

Everything was already in place by the time Lucien was escorted out of the security exit by two US Marines, ten minutes later. He was wearing the same orange prisoner jumpsuit he’d been wearing throughout the interviews. His hands and ankles were shackled by metal chains that looped around his waist, restricting his movements – his arms would not come up past his chest, and his step would never go beyond one foot, making it impossible for him to run.

‘Something is missing from this equation,’ Lucien said to Taylor, as she opened the back door of the SUV to allow him to climb in.

‘Detective Hunter will meet us in the plane,’ Taylor said, knowing exactly what Lucien was referring to.

Lucien laughed. ‘But of course. He needs time to find himself and maybe check his emotions before this whole thing turns into a total fiasco, isn’t that so, Agent Taylor?’

Taylor didn’t reply. If she were to allow her emotions to take over, she would probably punch him in the face right there and then, and shoot both of his kneecaps off. Instead, she simply held the door open while both Marines helped him onto the backseat, locked his chains to the metal loop on the car’s floor, and handed the keys to Taylor.

‘I love your sunglasses, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien said, as Taylor took the passenger’s seat. ‘They’re very . . . FBI. Do you think I could get a pair, just for the sake of this trip?’

Taylor said nothing.

‘I guess that will be a “no” then.’

Lucien looked at his cuffed hands for a short instant; when he spoke again his voice was controlled and measured – no excitement, no anger, just a robotic flat tone. ‘How do you think this is going to end up, Agent Taylor?’

The driver, an African American Marine who looked like he could probably bench-press that entire SUV got the car in motion.

Taylor kept her eyes on the road.

‘C’mon, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien insisted. ‘It’s a fair question. I’m very interested in knowing what your expectations are. You’ve done great so far. You’ve managed to obtain information that has led the FBI to retrieve the lost remains of three victims.’ His eyebrows popped up and down once. ‘Assuming that your team is competent enough to follow instructions, you should also find the remains of the five victims I left in New Haven. And you have also managed to acquire information that might lead you to a live victim, which, if you succeed in saving her, will make you into a hero, Agent Taylor. That’s not bad going at all for just two days of interviews. So I think my question is quite fair. How do you think this whole thing is going to end up? Do you think you and Robert will become heroes, or will this turn into your worst nightmare?’

Taylor saw the driver’s questioning eyes flick toward her for a fraction of a second.

What she really wanted to do was to turn around and tell Lucien that they were going to find Madeleine Reed and finally put an end to her torture. Then they would bring him back to the BSU so that he could tell them where to find the remains of all his other victims. After that, he would either rot in prison or be executed by the state. Either way, it made no difference to her because she would never have to look at his face again. But she kept her composure and didn’t say a word. She didn’t even look at him.

Lucien wasn’t deterred.

‘Do you think he will do it?’ he asked in the same robotic tone. ‘Do you think Robert will avenge Jessica’s death? Do you think he’ll forget everything he’s upheld for most of his life and let his anger take over?’

No reply.

‘Do you think he’ll shoot me or will he use his hands – beat me up until I stop breathing?’

Taylor didn’t look, but she could tell that Lucien had that sickening smile on his face again.

They exited the FBI Academy compound heading north toward Turner Field landing strip.

‘How would you do it, Agent Taylor? If I had violently taken the person who you were so desperately in love with away from you, and left you with nothing but doubts and a lot of blood, how would you take your revenge on me?’

Taylor felt her blood warming inside her veins, but still, she swallowed every word that threatened to come out of her mouth.

Lucien swopped tactics.

‘How about you, Muscle-Munch?’ he addressed the driver. ‘If I’d broken into your home and savagely murdered your wife, and you’d been searching for me for twenty years, what sort of revenge would you take when you finally came face to face with me? You look like you could crush my whole skull with one squeeze of those banana-like fingers you have. I bet you and your wife have great fun with those.’

The driver frowned angrily and his eye sought Lucien through the rear-view mirror.

‘Don’t even think about answering the prisoner, Private,’ Taylor said, looking at him. ‘You will completely disregard whatever he says, no matter how offensive. You understand?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The reply came in a deep bass voice.

Lucien laughed out loud.

‘Let me tell you what I think, Agent Taylor. I think he will do it. I think Robert will break, and he will finally get his revenge. And I think that the only way you will be able to stop him, is if you shoot him. The big question is – will you?’

Eighty-Two

Hunter and two US Marines were waiting by the small, custom-made, five-seater Lear Jet when the black SUV with Taylor and Lucien pulled up next to the plane.

In the sky, heavy clouds were starting to gather, making it feel like the whole day was changing moods – bright was being substituted by dark, blue by gray.

Taylor stepped out of the car and handed one of the Marines the keys to Lucien’s restraints. They took charge of unlocking him from the backseat and taking him onboard. As they walked past Hunter and took the few steps that led up into the plane, Lucien turned and looked into Hunter’s eyes. He saw nothing but hurt and anger, and he had to fight an internal battle not to smile.

Only when Lucien’s chains had been securely locked to the special metal loops built onto the floor of the plane by one of its seats, did Hunter and Taylor board the aircraft.

Lucien’s seat was at the rear of the cabin, enclosed by a metal cage equipped with a military-grade, assault-proof electronic lock that could only be activated through a button by the pilot’s cockpit.

Taylor placed her jacket on the seat just ahead and to the right of Lucien’s cage, but didn’t sit down. Hunter took the seat across the aisle from her. The pilot was patiently waiting in his cockpit.

‘So, where in Illinois are we going?’ Taylor asked Lucien.

‘We’re not,’ he replied matter-of-factly.

Taylor hesitated a beat. ‘What do you mean? You said we were going to Illinois.’

‘No, I didn’t. I said we needed enough fuel to cover the distance from here to Illinois. If we have enough fuel to get to Illinois, that means that we also have enough fuel to get to New Hampshire. That’s where we’re going.’

Lucien’s seat was stationary, but all the others in the plane cabin could swerve a full 360 degrees. Hunter didn’t swing his seat around to look at Lucien, he kept it facing forward, but he wasn’t surprised that Lucien was still playing games.

‘New Hampshire,’ Taylor said.

‘That’s correct, Agent Taylor, “Live free or die”.’

‘OK, so where in New Hampshire are we going?’

‘You can tell the pilot to just head for New Hampshire. I’ll give him more details when we enter their airspace.’

Taylor passed the instructions to the pilot and returned to her seat. Like Hunter, she preferred not to face the prisoner.

A minute later, the plane had taxied to the end of the runway, and the pilot announced that they were clear for takeoff. The jet engines came to life, and within twenty seconds they were airborne. As the plane veered right, the few rays of sunlight that managed to break through the dark clouds reflected sharply off the aircraft’s fuselage.

Hunter fixed his eyes out the window as the ground below him slipped away. To him, the plane’s bottled air felt denser than ever, as if it had somehow been polluted by Lucien’s presence.

Taylor sat still, eyes forward, clearly trying to organize the multitude of thoughts exploding inside her head. She had a bottle of still water with her, from which she took a tiny sip every minute or two. It wasn’t because she was thirsty, it was just a nervous reflex, something her body practically forced her to do almost unconsciously in order to try to calm herself down.

Hunter was also struggling with his thoughts, but this time he had twenty years of anger and frustration that were dying to break free to deal with.

They’d been flying for over half an hour when they heard Lucien’s voice again.

‘Do you believe that someone can be born “evil”, Agent Taylor?’ he asked.

Taylor sipped her water again while her gaze moved across the aisle to Hunter. It looked like he hadn’t even heard the question. His full attention seemed to be in the world outside his window, not inside.

In Taylor’s silence, Lucien moved on.

‘You do know that there are a great number of criminologists, criminal psychologists and psychiatrists who believe that a person can be born “evil”, don’t you? Some sort of evil gene.’

Nothing from Taylor.

‘If they believe in an evil gene, that means they also believe that being evil, or overwhelmingly violent, can be a genetic condition. Do you think that’s true, Agent Taylor? Do you think a newborn can actually inherit being evil, being a killer, just like one can inherit hemophilia or color blindness?’

Another silent sip of her water.

‘C’mon, humor me, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien said. ‘In your opinion, can being evil and a senseless killer like me be a product of genetic inheritance?’

The thought making headlines in Taylor’s head right then was, Why didn’t they equipped this plane with a sound-proof, Plexiglas cage instead of a metal bar one?

‘Twenty-seven,’ Lucien said, resting his head against the chair’s backrest.

Reflexively, Taylor’s eyes peeked at Hunter again. He was still looking out the window, but she was sure he’d heard Lucien. Had he just completely changed subjects and was now giving them coordinates? She spun her chair around.

‘Twenty-seven?’

‘Twenty-seven,’ Lucien confirmed with a single nod.

‘Twenty-seven what?’

‘States,’ Lucien said.

A thin mask of confusion covered Taylor’s face.

‘I’ve visited sperm banks in twenty-seven different states,’ Lucien explained. ‘All under a different name, and with a life résumé that would impress the Queen of England. It’s all part of a very long, ongoing experiment.’

Taylor felt the acidic taste of bile rise up in her throat.

‘So, if you believe that being a killer can be a product of genetic inheritance, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien said, ‘then, in a few years’ time, we might all have some surprises.’

Just being in the same enclosed space and breathing the same air as Lucien was making Taylor feel queasy.

‘You’re not only sick,’ she said with a disgusted look on her face, ‘you’re completely deranged.’

The cabin speakers crackled once before the pilot’s voice came through.

‘We’re approaching the border between Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Do I have any new instructions?’

Lucien’s face seemed to come alive.

‘Let the adventure begin.’

Eighty-Three

Hidden location.

Two days earlier.

Madeleine Reed’s eyes blinked slowly and dopily several times before she was finally able to open them. Focus did not come instantly. In fact, it took almost two minutes for shapes to start making sense to her broken and exhausted mind.

She was still curled up against one of the corners in her captivity cell, with the dirty and smelly blanket wrapped around her fragile body like a cocoon. But no matter how tight she wrapped that disgusting rag around her, or how small she made herself against that wall corner, she couldn’t keep the cold away. The fever might’ve gone away, or gotten worse. She couldn’t tell anymore. Every atom in her body ached with such intensity that she was constantly on the verge of passing out.

The only sound inside her cell was the afflicting buzzing of Hies flying around the overflowing bucket of excrement in the opposite corner from where she was.

Madeleine coughed a couple of times, and her dry throat together with her face and head immediately felt as if they were on fire and about to explode. The nauseating pain made her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings for a moment, and she rested her head against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t drift off into unconsciousness once again.

She didn’t.

As she gathered herself together one more time, she looked at her unrecognizable bony hands and fingers. Her nails were all broken and their beds crusted with dried blood. Her knuckles were red and swollen like an old lady’s who suffered from acute rheumatism. She had never been that thin. She had never felt so weak, so hungry, so thirsty.

Madeleine realized that there were parts of her blanket that were still wet. Probably from when her body was soaking wet due to her high fever. She was so desperate that in a moment of madness she brought the blanket to her mouth and eagerly sucked on it, trying to get some of the moisture from the fabric onto her cracked lips and dry mouth. But what she got was a mouthful of dirt and such an obnoxious taste it immediately made her gag.

When she stopped coughing, Madeleine looked around her cell, but dehydration and malnutrition had already started to affect her physiologically and neurologically. Her eyes didn’t have the strength to focus on anything that was further than about a meter away.

Empty plastic water bottles were scattered around the floor. Not even a drop was left in any of them, but that didn’t stop Madeleine from reaching for one and trying again. She brought the bottle to her mouth and threw her head back, crunching and squeezing the bottle with both of her hands.

She got nothing.

Exhausted by the effort, she let the bottle fall to the floor again.

Her eyelids fluttered one more time. She felt desperately tired and overwhelmed by sadness, but she didn’t want to fall back asleep. She knew that the extreme tiredness was her body shutting down. It just didn’t have enough energy to stay awake. It didn’t have enough energy to keep all of her organs working properly. It was like a huge factory shutting down certain departments because it didn’t have enough resources to keep them operational.

Madeleine remembered watching a TV documentary about that once. How a dehydrated and malnourished body would slowly eat itself away. First its fat storages, then the proteins and nutrients from the muscles until it was all gone and its energy all depleted. After that, the body would start shutting down. Main organs like the liver and kidneys would stop functioning properly. The brain, which is made up of approximately 75 to 80 percent water, would really feel the damaging effects of dehydration. Its response would vary from person to person, and it would be completely arbitrary, ranging from very vivid hallucinations to a total meltdown. At that point, the damage caused to the cerebral mass would be irreversible.

With no more nutrients, the body runs out of energy, becoming overexhausted. But nothing on earth is as complex and as intelligent as the human body and the human brain. Even under such intense duress, its defense mechanism will work to the best of its ability. To try to save the little energy it has left, and to avoid the person dying in agonizing pain, the exhausted body will force itself to fall asleep. Once that happens, the body will slowly and quietly shut itself down completely and mercifully. The person’s eyes will never open again.

Madeleine knew she was dying. She knew that if she fell back asleep, she would probably never wake up again. But she also didn’t know what else to do. She felt so tired that even moving a finger felt like running a marathon.

‘I don’t want to die,’ she whispered to herself in a weak and out-of-breath voice. ‘I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to die in this place. Somebody, please help me.’

Then a crazy idea came to her. She’d heard stories of people who drank their own urine. As disgusting as that might sound to her, she also knew that to some people that was a sexual turn-on. But her fatigued brain was fighting to keep her alive. Anything else, disgusting or not, would come a very distant second.

Without giving it another thought, Madeleine reached for one of the empty water bottles again. With tremendous effort she got back on her feet, unbuttoned and unzipped her dirty and now ripped trousers, and pulled them down to her ankles. Her panties followed. Holding the bottle in the right position, she closed her eyes and concentrated as best as she could, squeezing her leg and stomach muscles tight.

She got nothing.

Her body was so dehydrated she had nothing to give. But she wasn’t about to give up. She tried it again, and again, and again. For how long, she had no idea. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a few tiny drops splashed against the bottom of the bottle. Madeleine became so happy she started laughing hysterically. That was until she looked in the bottle.

The few drops of urine she had managed to squeeze out of her were of a dark amber color, and she knew that that was a very bad sign.

The darker the color of human urine, the more dehydrated the body is.

If a person drinks a lot of liquids, like water, a healthy liver and kidneys will filter it very fast, taking in what the body needs and discarding the rest. The discarded liquids will fill the bladder. When the bladder is full, the person feels the need to go to the bathroom. Urinating is the body’s main way of getting rid of what the body doesn’t need, including toxins, but not always. If a person hydrates him/herself constantly, then the bladder will still get full due to all the excess liquid, but in that case, what the body is getting rid of is mainly the extra water or liquids the person has consumed. The toxin content of the urine will be minimum. The less toxins, the lighter the color of one’s urine. The opposite is also true.

Judging by the color, Madeleine knew that the few drops she had in that bottle were probably 99 percent toxin. If she drank it, it would be like drinking poison. It wouldn’t help her stay alive. It would speed up her death.

She stared at it for a long moment, the bottle shaking in her hand. She wanted to cry. In fact she did, but in her advanced stage of dehydration, her lacrimal glands could produce no tears.

Finally, strength left her and she collapsed to the ground. The bottle rolled away across to the other side of her cell.

‘I don’t want to die.’ The words barely escaped her trembling lips, but she couldn’t battle anymore. Her whole vision blurred as her eyes began closing. She had no more strength to keep herself awake.

She had no more hope.

She had no more faith.

She allowed her eyes to close, and began accepting what to her was now inevitable.

Eighty-Four

Since Lucien’s hands would not come up past his chest due to his restraints, he bent forward so he could scratch his nose.

Taylor had swerved her chair around to face him, while Hunter still kept his facing forward.

‘OK,’ Taylor said. ‘So we’ve entered New Hampshire’s airspace. Where do we go from here?’

Lucien took his time. ‘Damn, these are uncomfortable. You wouldn’t be so kind as to scratch my nose for me, would you, Agent Taylor?’

She scowled at him in silence.

‘Yeah, I didn’t think so.’ Lucien finally sat back up. ‘Tell the pilot to fly due north. Let me know when he is over White Mountain National Forest.’

The White Mountain National Forest is a federally managed forest that totals an area of 750,852 acres. About 94 percent of it is located in the state of New Hampshire. It’s so vast, no private aircraft flying over it could miss it.

Taylor passed the instructions to the pilot and returned to her seat.

They Hew for another twenty-seven minutes before the pilot’s voice came through the speakers again.

‘We’re just about to reach the south border of the White Mountain National Forest. Shall I keep on flying north or is there a new piece of this puzzle?’

Taylor faced Lucien one more time and waited.

Lucien was staring at the back of his hands.

‘Now it gets good,’ he said, without lifting his eyes. ‘Tell the pilot we’re going to Berlin.’

Taylor stared at him in disbelief. ‘Say that again.’

‘Tell the pilot we’re going to Berlin,’ Lucien repeated, casually. His gaze lingered on his hands for a while longer before moving to her.

Taylor didn’t move, but her expression went from surprised to angry in record time.

‘Relax, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien said, ‘I’m not referring to Berlin, Germany. That would’ve been too far-fetched even for me. But if you check the map of New Hampshire, you’ll find that just north of the White Mountain National Forest, there’s a small town called Berlin. Its municipal airport, interestingly enough, is located eight miles north, by another small town called Milan.’ He laughed. ‘How European, isn’t it?’

Taylor’s expression relaxed a little.

‘Tell the pilot we need to land at Berlin’s municipal airport.’

Taylor used the plane’s intercom to pass on the new instructions to the pilot.

Hunter had been thinking about this for a little while, and he could hardly believe how well prepared Lucien was. How long has he been planning this for? he asked himself.

The state of New Hampshire was one of the few that did not have a specific FBI field office. Its jurisdiction fell under the Boston field office in Massachusetts – way too far for Director Kennedy to have a backup team dispatched. Even though Lucien had given them detailed instructions that no one was to follow them, by land or air, Hunter knew Adrian Kennedy wouldn’t simply comply with the requests of a serial murderer. Kennedy would no doubt be extremely careful because he knew the life of a kidnapped victim was at stake, but he would also want to have a plan B in place. With no FBI field office in New Hampshire, that meant if Adrian Kennedy wanted a second, local team tagging Hunter and Taylor, he would have to contact the county sheriff’s department, or the local police department. Neither would be trained in high-profile surveillance, and that was a risk too far. Lucien had factored all this into his sick equation.

‘I’ve just contacted the municipal airport in Berlin.’ The pilot’s voice came through the cabin speakers one more time. ‘We’re clear for landing, and we’ll be starting our descent in five minutes.’

No one could see how much Lucien was smiling inside.

Eighty-Five

After being airborne for just under two hours, the Lear Jet touched down at the small landing strip in Berlin’s municipal airport in New Hampshire. It quickly taxied to a spot at the end of the runway, away from the other small planes, and waited. The pilot had already alerted the airport’s traffic control center that the plane was an official FBI aircraft on federal business, and not to be approached.

‘So what now?’ Hunter asked Lucien even before the plane came to a complete stop. This was the first time Hunter had addressed him since Quantico.

‘Now we get a car,’ Lucien replied, and pulled a dubious face.‘But this isn’t LAX, Robert, there are no car-rental companies in the airport’s foyer. Actually, there isn’t even a foyer.’ He jerked his head toward the window. ‘You’ll see. You’ll be lucky if you find a vending machine somewhere around here.’

Taylor threw a questioning look at Hunter.

‘You can call a rental company if you like,’ Lucien proceeded. ‘I’m sure you can get a number for one either in the town of Berlin or Milan, but it will take them about twenty to twenty-five minutes to get everything arranged and a car out here. If you don’t want to wait, I suggest you improvise.’

‘Improvise?’ Taylor said.

Lucien shrugged. ‘Commandeer a car or something. Like in the movies. You’re the ones with FBI badges. I’m sure the folks around here would be very impressed by them.’

Taylor considered what to do.

‘Remember that every second counts for poor Madeleine,’ Lucien added. ‘So feel free to take as long as you like.’

‘You stay here with him,’ Hunter said, already moving toward the plane’s door. ‘I’ll go.’

Taylor agreed with a nod. Right now she really didn’t want to leave Hunter alone with Lucien.

‘Let’s go,’ Hunter said as he stepped back into the plane.

‘We’ve got a car already?’ Taylor asked, jumping to her feet. Hunter had been gone for less than three minutes.

He nodded. ‘I sort of borrowed it from the guy who runs air traffic control here.’

‘Fair enough,’ she said. She didn’t need any more explanation. Taylor then unholstered her weapon and pointed it at Lucien. ‘OK, we’re going to do this nice and slowly. When Robert presses the release button to the door to your cage, the floor chain loops will also disengage. You will then stand up, slowly, step out of the cell, and stop. Do you understand?’

Lucien nodded, unimpressed.

Taylor gave Hunter a head signal. He hit the button by the door to the pilot’s cockpit before also unholstering his weapon and placing Lucien dead in his aim.

An electronic buzzing sound echoed loudly throughout the passenger cabin. Lucien’s cage door clicked open and retracted. The metal chains that kept his ankles and hands shackled together were also released from their floor and chair restraints.

‘Up slowly,’ Taylor said.

Lucien complied.

‘Now step forward and outside the cage.’

Lucien complied.

‘Walk toward us and the exit, nice and slowly.’

Lucien complied.

Taylor moved over and positioned herself behind Lucien. Hunter stayed ahead of him. He came down the steps first. Lucien and Taylor followed shortly after.

A red Jeep Grand Cherokee was parked just a few meters from the plane. Hunter walked over and opened the back door.

‘Nice car,’ Lucien commented.

‘Get in,’ Hunter replied.

Lucien paused and looked around him. There was no one about. Berlin’s municipal airport was nothing more than a landing strip of asphalt built next to a forest. There was no airport foyer, or lounge, or anything. Two mid-sized hangers, large enough to fit maybe a couple of private planes each, were located east of the runway. Just south of them were a few smaller administrative buildings. That was all there was, nothing else.

Lucien looked up at the sky. Night was fast approaching, and with it a cold breeze was settling in. His eyes stayed in the sky for a long while, searching, listening.

He saw and heard nothing.

‘Get in,’ Hunter commanded again.

With Geisha steps Lucien moved toward the car. Hunter held the door open. Like an educated lady, Lucien sat down first before bringing his legs in. With his hands and feet shackled to his waist, it was easier that way.

Hunter closed the door and signaled Taylor to go over to the other side. She did. Only once Taylor had taken her place in the backseat did Hunter get into the driver’s seat.

Taylor’s gun was still aimed at Lucien.

‘I want your back against the seat,’ she said. ‘And your arm on the door’s armrest at all times.’ She pulled down the back seat’s center armrest, creating a flimsy division between Lucien and herself. ‘You make any sudden movements, and I swear I’ll blow your kneecaps. Is that simple enough for you?’

‘Perfectly simple,’ Lucien replied.

Hunter started the car.

‘So where to from here?’ he asked.

Lucien smiled.

‘Absolutely nowhere.’

Eighty-Six

Hunter had been right. Director Kennedy would always have a plan B for any situation.

Exactly ten minutes after the Lear Jet with Hunter, Taylor and Lucien took off, a second jet left Turner Field landing strip in Quantico. This one was carrying five of Kennedy’s top agents, all of them expert marksmen skilled in covert operations. With them they had a satellite-tracking device that specifically tracked the GPS signal coming from Hunter and Taylor’s microphone buttons. They also had ears in the plane, as the surveillance microphones transmitted back not only to Director Kennedy at the FBI Academy, but also to the second jet and its agents.

Inside the FBI Operations Control Room back in Quantico, Adrian Kennedy and Doctor Lambert were following both planes’ progress on the radar screen. They had also been listening to every word that had been uttered between Hunter, Taylor and Lucien. As soon as their jet landed at Berlin’s municipal airport, Kennedy reached for the phone in his pocket.

‘Director,’ Agent Nicholas Brody, the team leader in the second jet, answered his cellphone before the second ring.

‘Bird One just landed,’ Kennedy said.

‘Yes, we saw,’ Brody replied. They were also following the first plane’s progress on their radar application.

‘Tell your pilot to start flying in circles right now,’ Kennedy said. ‘Do not, and I repeat, do not fly over airspace which is visible from the ground from Berlin’s municipal airport. I’ll call you back when you’re clear for landing.’

‘Roger that, sir.’

Agent Brody disconnected from the call, passed the new instructions to the pilot, returned to his seat, and waited.

Eighty-Seven

Hunter met Lucien’s cold eyes in the rearview mirror. The smile on Lucien’s lips was a mixture of arrogance and defiance.

‘What was that?’ Taylor asked, her patience more than wearing thin.

Lucien kept his gaze on the rearview mirror, his eyes battling with Hunter’s.

‘We’re going absolutely nowhere,’ he said again, his tone controlled and even.

Hunter calmly turned the engine off.

‘What do you mean, Lucien?’

‘I mean exactly what I said back in my cell,’ Lucien said. ‘The deal was – just the three of us, no one following. You break the deal, I take you nowhere. I thought I had made that perfectly clear.’