Текст книги "26 - Storm Cycle "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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ELEVEN

Dawson hurled the stack of photos at Sorens. "What the hell is this supposed to be?"

Sorens leaned over and picked up the photos from the floor of Dawson's hotel suite. The pictures were all the same: smears of light against dark backgrounds. "I told you they were difficult to make out."

"Difficult? Try impossible."

"We didn't know what Tavak and the Kirby woman were doing. We assumed they were going to take something with them." He made a face. "We weren't prepared for a message written in fire."

"It's your job to be prepared for everything. Why else do I pay you?"

Sorens held up one of the prints. "We can make out a few Egyptian characters on this one. I ran them by your expert, and he thinks it may refer to someone who may have been brought back from the brink of death."

"Brought by the great doctor, Peseshet?"

"That's not clear."

"Not clear to us. I'm sure it's clear to Tavak and Kirby by now, though. I need to know who this is. I have to get a step ahead of Tavak."

Sorens frowned. "It would be risky, but I could take the team back to San Simeon to night. We can pour the oil into the walkway and light it just as easily as Tavak and Kirby did."

"No, not just as easily. The guards will be on alert now."

"They work for the park service. Most of them are unarmed. If any of them get in our way, we can take them out."

"By all means," Dawson said sarcastically. "Why use a scalpel when a chain saw will do the job?"

"I thought you said we had to beat Tavak to the punch."

"I did. But nothing will slow us down faster than focusing even more attention on that temple. All we need is more people joining the chase." Dawson grabbed the photos back. "We may need to take another approach."

"Like what?"

"Mills presented me with an option that might keep us on the fast track. But that means going to him and begging for his help. Dammit, I hate like hell letting him call the shots."

Sorens was relieved to be off the hook. "Here's every picture we took." He handed him a flash drive. "Oh, and I suppose you heard about Medelin."

"Yes. I heard that they had a hard time making the ID. I guess a few thousand volts from a passenger train can do that do to a man."

What an icy son of a bitch. "Then I take it that you're not concerned that he bought it?"

"There might have been a slight possibility that I would have been concerned"—his gaze meeting Sorens's was as cold as his words—"if he hadn't failed me."

* * *

Detective Gonzalez pointed to the computer on his desk in the squad room of police headquarters. "Have you ever seen this?"

Finley looked at the screen. "College Confidential?"

Gonzalez nodded. "It's a social networking Web site for college kids. My niece is on it all the time. Kind of like MySpace or Facebook. There are discussion boards, e-mail directories… and webcam feeds."

Gonzalez clicked on a link which displayed a list of colleges and universities all over the world. He clicked on ARDMORE UNIVERSITY, which revealed another list of locales around campus: PRACTICE FIELD, PHI KAPPA THETA, STUDENT UNION, DIEHL QUADRANGLE, APPALOOSA GRILL. He clicked one of the buttons and revealed a flat, grassy expanse backed by several buildings.

"What's this?"

"It's the Diehl Quadrangle on the Ardmore campus. It's a live feed. Those kids playing Frisbee are there right now."

"So these are security cameras?"

"No. All these feeds come from the kids. In most cases, it's just a fifty-dollar webcam propped onto a dorm windowsill."

Finley looked up. "You don't think—?"

"Rachel Kirby's shooter got to the campus security cameras, but he might not have thought of these. I talked to our tech guys, and it's doubtful that any of these feeds was intentionally recorded. But if the computer connected to this webcam has been on the entire time, footage may be cached in RAM or on the hard drive."

"Even from the day of the shooting?"

Gonzalez shrugged. "One way to find out."

* * *

An hour later, Detective Gonzalez was walking across the campus quadrangle, his brow furrowed, holding his laptop computer in front of him like a high-tech divining rod.

Finley smiled. "I wish I'd brought my camera. This would make an amazing picture." He glanced at Sergeant Michael Tunison, a self-described ubergeek who was obviously uncomfortable outside the small windowless computer lab he ran on the police headquarters' third floor. "He's definitely not in your league, Tunison."

"Few people are," Tunison said. "That's why you called me in. Do you think Rachel Kirby is here on campus today? I'd like to meet her."

"Afraid not," Finley said. "She's traveling this week."

Tunison shrugged. "That's okay. I'd probably start stuttering and stammering and just make a fool out of myself."

"You?" Finley gazed at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. In my field, she's like a rock star."

"Whatever starts your engine."

Gonzalez stopped short, still staring at the laptop. "Here! Is this what we're looking for?"

Finley and Tunison huddled around and shielded the screen from the sun's glare. There were over half a dozen Wi-Fi devices listed. Gonzalez put his finger on one named WEBCAM1. "This one."

Tunison nodded. "Most webcams are connected by a USB cable, but a lot of them are wireless. If this is the one we've seen on the College Confidential site, that will make our jobs easier."

Tunison pulled out a small gray box with a bright LCD screen on its face. He spent a few seconds looking at it, then motioned toward the detectives. "This way."

Gonzalez and Finley followed him into the Donner Hall dormitory, then climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. They finally ended up in front of a dorm room at the end of the hallway.

Tunison studied his device a moment longer, then looked up. "It's here."

Finley rapped on the door.

"Who is it?" a male voice called.

"Houston Police Department. May we have a word with you?"

Silence.

Then there were hurried footsteps, the sound of a drawer being opened, then running water.

"What's happening?" Tunison whispered. "Should we go in?"

Finley smiled. "Naah, give him a minute."

Gonzalez turned to Tunison. "We're on a college campus, remember? The guy is most likely dumping a baggie of pot down the drain. Let him finish."

Tunison frowned. "Shouldn't we bust him?"

"Which would you rather do? Get cooperation on an attempted murder case or bust a kid for possession?"

The voice finally called out again. "I'll be right there!"

"Take your time," Finley replied.

After another thirty seconds, the water was shut off and the door was answered by a small, wiry young man with frizzy hair. His face was shiny with sweat.

"Bad time?" Gonzalez asked.

"No. I was just… studying."

"Good. I'm Detective Gonzalez, this is Detective Finley and Sergeant Tunison. You are… ?"

"Dana Moreshead. Is everything okay?"

"May we come in?"

"Uh, sure." He opened the door wide for them to enter. The room was small even by college-dorm standards, with posters that revealed a fondness for beer, pot, and Natalie Portman.

The kid caught Finley eyeing a poster that featured a U.S. flag with a marijuana leaf on it. He moistened his lips. "That's my roommate's."

Tunison stood at the desk, where the webcam was angled toward the window. As if empowered by the presence of tech gear, Tunison's entire demeanor changed, from nebbish kid to a born leader. He pointed to the camera. "Yours?"

Dana nodded. "Yeah."

"You stream video to the College Confidential site, right?"

"A lot of people do it," he said.

"I know," Tunison said. "Calm down. You're not in trouble. We're hoping you can help us out. How long has this computer been on?"

Dana shrugged. "I don't know. A couple months?"

"You're not recording this feed by any chance, are you?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm going to need to take this computer."

"What?"

"There may be some important evidence on your hard drive."

The kid glanced between Tunison and the two detectives. "Don't you need a court order or something?"

"Not if you give us permission," Gonzalez said. "If you choose to withhold permission, I'll wait here while my partner goes and gets a warrant."

Tunison moved the desk chair to get a look at the computer tower beneath the desk. "If there are any files on this you need, I can transfer them to a flash drive for you."

"Do we have your permission to take the computer, Mr. Moreshead?" Gonzalez strolled to the sink and gazed pointedly down the drain. "We'd truly appreciate your cooperation."

Dana froze. "Yes. Take it." He managed an uneasy smile. "No problem."

* * *

The Madonna Inn.

Rachel frowned as they pulled into the parking lot of the large hotel that was located approximately forty-five miles from Hearst Castle.

"A theme hotel?"

"Why not?"

"An odd choice. A Marriott would have been fine."

"But not as much fun. I thought you might need a complete change of pace."

"Whatever." She got out of the car and headed for the front entrance. "Just so it has a bed."

"Oh, they do. Of all descriptions. The theme rooms will amuse you."

"I can hardly wait. Next time you'll probably take me to Disney World."

"I'll work on it. But you'll find this a little more outrageous."

Outrageous was right, she thought, when the bellman escorted her to her room.

Hot pink walls and fur-lined mirrors.

"Good God."

Tavak chuckled. "I told you. Actually, you look very sexy surrounded by mirrors. It has a certain sensuality, doesn't it?"

"If you want to be hit over the head with it." She looked at him and realized he was right. The mirrors reflected the hot color and made Tavak appear in dramatic relief. He looked very lean, very muscular, and very, very male.

And she was experiencing a response to that maleness.

She tore her eyes away from him. "I can hardly wait to see what room they gave you."

"I can wait. I'm enjoying looking at you here." He turned away. "But I'm across the hall. Let's go and see what fantasy they chose for me. It's called Rock Bottom."

Very appropriate, Rachel thought when she saw the rock walls of his room.

"Not nearly as interesting. Though that waterfall on the wall is a little unusual," Tavak said as he propped his laptop on the small table. "I like to see you when you're out of your element. You looked great in hot pink. Why don't we set this up in your room?"

"This is fine." She watched Tavak set up the encrypted Internet connection with her lab. "But you're right, this hotel is definitely a change of pace from anything within the known universe."

"But memorable. If life is the sum total of our experiences, we should always seek the most memorable experiences we can." He grinned. "You're sure you don't want to go back to your room and bask in those fur-trimmed mirrors?"

"That's exactly where I'm going. But I'm going to turn out the lights and go to bed." She turned toward the door. "I can do without any more bizarre experiences to night. Good night, Tavak."

* * *

Rachel was up at seven and knocking on Tavak's door by seven forty-five.

"Good morning." Tavak opened the door. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as could be expected," Rachel said. "Those pink walls seemed to pulsate even in the dark."

"I could have changed with you, but the waterfall on my wall might have been more distracting." He nodded at the laptop on the table. "I've set up the connection. Val should be on the—"

"Tavak?" Val Cho's voice suddenly blared over Tavak's laptop speakers.

"Yes, Val." Tavak angled the laptop to include Rachel in the video feed they were sending to Houston.

Rachel leaned forward. "Hi, Val. Did you get the new symbols we sent you?"

Tavak pushed a key to enlarge the tiny desktop window to show Val full screen on his laptop. She was sitting at her desk in the computer lab.

"Yep. Simon has been entering them in. We've been wondering how many laws you had to break to get those."

Tavak smiled. "We won't go into that."

"The grad students you took to Vegas are talking about the party you had on the strip the other night. I'm still bitter I wasn't invited, you know."

"We needed people who could blend in. That's not Val Cho. If we ever need someone men can't look away from, we'll call you."

Even through the fuzzy laptop window, Rachel could see the faint flush on Val's cheeks.

"Simon tried to lay that line of bull on me," Val said. "I could have dressed down."

"Maybe next time," Rachel said. "I need you there to babysit Jonesy and make sure it's scaling to all the cycles we added last week."

"So far, so good. Norton didn't waste time hogging every bit of computing power we doled out to him."

"He hasn't called for a couple of days. I think we've finally managed to shut him up. How has Jonesy been doing on the code?

"Nothing yet. It's difficult enough to translate ancient languages that are meant to be understood. For this code, Peseshet's disciple could have been using a language that's now lost."

"That's why we need Jonesy to figure it out for us," Tavak said. "With your help, of course."

"I'm on it. But I don't need to tell you that the more pieces you can give me, the easier it will be to crack this."

"We're working on it, Val," Rachel said. "Thanks for all of your help." She leaned forward and cut the connection.

Tavak turned to her. "Val is a good person to have on your team. It's obvious she'd do anything for you."

"Not only is she willing, she's able. That's a rare combination."

He studied her for a moment. "You demand the best from her, just like you demanded it from those students in Las Vegas. People come alive when they suddenly find themselves capable of things they never imagined."

"Yet you're the one those kids are talking about," she said dryly.

"I know how to reward good work and how to align my needs with those of others, but that's not the same. I envy you."

"Why would you—"

"I may have some potentially good news," he interrupted. "We may not have to go digging for the next piece of the puzzle."

He obviously wanted to change the subject from the personal, she realized. Tavak had come too close to soberness and sincerity, and he was quickly backing away.

"When did you decide that?"

"Last night." Tavak picked up several sheets next to his portable printer. "I couldn't sleep, so I started looking into our pig who builds cities."

"You actually found him?"

"I believe so. But it would be more accurate to say that he's a pig farmer who built cities. Although a good deal of his wealth came from construction, he may have been even more successful raising pigs."

Rachel took the pages and glanced through them noticing that they featured photos and text relating to an excavation site. "Who was he?"

"A nobleman named Nimaatra. He lived during Peseshet's time, in the area where she lived. The upper classes didn't eat pork, but some, like Nimaatra, did make a fortune selling pork. And he was also a renowned builder."

"That's a unique combination," Rachel said. "There probably weren't that many people with those two specialties."

"My thought exactly. He was known for constructing large homes and institutions. He may have even built the headquarters for female doctors that Peseshet headed. He could have been another one of her grateful patients."

"Do we know where his tomb is?"

Tavak double-clicked an icon on his laptop screen, and a window opened up with video of a museum exhibit behind Plexiglas barriers.

"Most of the tomb is still in Egypt, but the most distinctive part is now thousands of miles away. This is probably what we need to look at."

Rachel leaned closer to the screen. The video was small, and the exhibit was occasionally obscured by museum visitors wandering in and out of frame. But she could clearly see a large, stone wall adorned with Egyptian characters.

"Where did you get this?"

Tavak smiled. "YouTube, believe it or not. We're looking at someone's vacation video. I haven't been able to find any photos of it online yet, but I sent requests out to a few friends. I'm sure I'll have a scan e-mailed to me in the next few hours."

"Where is this?"

"St. Petersburg."

"I'm guessing we're not going to be lucky enough that it's St. Petersburg, Florida."

"Afraid not. The Russian one. This is the Hermitage Museum."

"The Winter Palace?"

"One and the same. This tomb relief is a centerpiece. It depicts a feast as an offering to the gods."

"I think this may be a bit more difficult to break into than Hearst Castle was."

"A tad. Although a few thousand revolutionaries were able to storm those gates once."

"Maybe we can come up with a plan that involves a few less executions."

He smiled faintly. "If you insist."

"So what now?"

"We wait to see if the photographs tell us what we need to know, but I doubt we'll be that lucky. We'll probably need to be hands-on with that tomb wall."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"We show up and assess the situation. After that… "

"Yes?"

He shrugged. "Why, we'll find a way to get exactly what we want."

Again, that damnable calmness and confidence that had at first so annoyed her. But that was what she needed right now, Rachel realized. What Allie needed.

Allie.

"If we need to go to St. Petersburg, we can catch a flight out of Houston."

Tavak shook his head. "I'm sure we can get a direct flight out of L.A."

"I don't care. I need to see Allie before we go. It's important to me."

Rachel expected Tavak to argue with her, but he only gazed at her for a long moment before nodding. "Fine."

NSA HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

This should be my office, Norton thought.

He was seated in the outer office of Deputy Director Robert Pierce, trying not to let his annoyance show. Annoyance at being kept waiting. Annoyance at the pissant assistant who treated him like an outsider. Annoyance at the fact that he still wasn't working here at headquarters.

Shit.

Pierce appeared in his doorway. "Norton, good to see you. Come in."

Norton stepped into Pierce's sparsely decorated office, ignoring the obligatory posed photos of Pierce with the president and other VIPs.

Pierce motioned him toward a small seating area. "I was disturbed when I got your call. What's the latest on your situation down there?"

Norton sat down. "We're still not sure why Rachel Kirby was targeted by the campus shooter. Our first thought is that it may have been a random act or maybe someone she had angered, either personally or professionally."

"What makes you think it isn't?"

"The level of sophistication in the attack and the shooter's escape."

"Except for the fact that he couldn't hit the bull's-eye."

"Another inch, and he would have killed her. Considering the distance that the shot was fired from, it was still impressive targeting."

"And I imagine it wouldn't have been too difficult to slip out of a busy college campus."

"Not only did he slip out, but he managed to erase any record of ever having been there."

"What are we talking about?"

Norton filled him in about the tampered security-camera feeds, despite the fact that he had spent considerable time outlining it in a memo. Didn't anybody read anymore?

"Have you been working with the local police?" Pierce asked.

"No, but we've been monitoring their progress through sources in the department. We thought it would be best not to make our interest known."

"Good."

"But I've already been contacted by two detectives on the case." He paused. "They do suspect that our project may have something to do with the shooting."

"Do we have a file on these officers?"

"It's in progress. I'll send something to you by the end of the day."

"I'd rather not get involved there unless we have to. We'll see how persistent they are. And you're absolutely sure this Tavak hasn't compromised our data in any way?"

"Our IT guys have gone over his intrusions into Kirby's system with a magnifying glass. He couldn't have been less interested in any of the projects her system is working on. His only concern was using her system for his own project."

"What project? Did we take a look at it?"

"Of course. Tavak is trying to decipher a code of some kind. A code written in Egyptian hieroglyphics."

"For what purpose?"

"At his interview in Cairo, he claimed not to know. He indicated that it was more for scholarly interest."

"And you believed that?"

"No. John Tavak is a fortune hunter, not an academic. Some of our intel suggests that Mills Pharmaceuticals may also be on the trail."

"Interesting."

"In any case, once it was determined that Tavak posed no threat to our project, we dropped it."

Pierce tapped his forefingers together. "Let's take a closer look at Tavak's code. Put our cryptography guys on it."

"Tavak already has one of the world's most powerful computer systems trying to decipher it."

"Are you arguing with me, Norton?"

"No, sir. Merely commenting. May I go now?"

Wrong move. He should have been more patient, but Pierce had pissed him off.

Pierce nodded. "By all means." He leaned back in his chair. "Run along, Norton."

That condescending dismissal annoyed him even more than the questioning that had gone before. Norton got to his feet and moved toward the door.

"Excellent work," Pierce said quietly. "I knew you were the one to handle Rachel Kirby's project. But this is a team effort; I'd be very unhappy if I found out you were doing anything that would prove awkward for the NSA."

There it was in a nutshell, Norton thought. Who had tipped Pierce off? Or maybe it was a bluff. He forced a smile. "I don't know what you mean. I've always been loyal to the agency."

Pierce nodded and gazed down at the papers on his desk. "As you said, just commenting."

* * *

"Russia?" Allie dropped down in a chair and watched Rachel toss her duffel onto the bed and unzip it.

Rachel pulled out the clothes she had just taken to Egypt and threw them in the hamper. "Yes. St. Petersburg. Our flight leaves at eight thirty to night."

"You just got back here."

"Pit stop. I wanted to see you before I left."

"Why?"

"I need a reason?"

"I sometimes go days without seeing you when you're cooped up in that lab or at a conference. What makes you think I needed you to rush back here?"

Rachel stopped packing. "Has it occurred to you that I may have needed to see you?"

"We have time, Rachel. The peripheral vision is back, and I'm feeling pretty good right now. You don't need to do this."

"I told you, I just wanted to see you."

Allie studied her for a long moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Rachel pulled four shirts from the drawer and pressed them into her suitcase.

"Don't tell me that."

"It's the truth. Why would anything be wrong? This is the best hope we've had so far."

"Except that it all might be for nothing. Is that what's bothering you? You think this is my last chance?"

"Of course not."

She smiled. "Liar."

"It's just… " Rachel sat on the edge of the bed. "I think it's your best chance. At least right now. And I don't want to screw it up."

"You won't. You're incapable of that. You're like one of your supercomputers."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew how buggy some of them have been."

"It's not like you to doubt yourself. What's going on here?"

"It's sort of like a treasure hunt. With the biggest treasure of all just around the corner."

"Not quite around the corner," Allie said. "Russia."

Rachel chuckled. "Point taken. But it's a small world, after all."

"If that's supposed to remind me of that comforting Disney World song, you're failing big-time. There's nothing comforting about you getting shot and ending up in the hospital." Her lips tightened. "And, since you won't tell me the truth about what's happened since then, I can't be sure that you're not walking a tightrope whenever you walk out that door."

"I wouldn't do that." She didn't look at her. "I'm much too practical."

"But you admit you've been sugarcoating everything you've been telling me."

Allie was being as tenacious as a bulldog, Rachel thought. She couldn't lie to her. "I suppose I didn't want to worry you with no cause."

"I think there may be cause." Allie stood up and crossed the room to the bed where Rachel was sitting. "And before you leave here, I'm going to know the truth." She sat down on the bed beside her and took Rachel's hands. "You're not going to sugar-coat, you're not going to avoid the truth. You're going to tell me everything that's been going on." She looked Rachel in the eye. "Everything. If you love me, you won't cheat me by treating me like a child. It's not fair."

Dammit, she was cornered. Lie or risk worrying Allie. She should never have told Tavak she wanted to stop to see Allie.

"Allie, I don't want to discuss this."

"Tough. Talk to me."

It was Allie who was tough, she thought. Fragile in body but strong in spirit. She wasn't going to back down. She'd keep battering in that gentle way of hers until Rachel caved. "Damn, you're stubborn."

"It's a family characteristic. Talk."

Rachel sighed. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Egypt, then go on from there. Every detail."

Do it quickly. Just facts, no emotion. She began to talk.

After she finished, Allie sat in silence. Finally she got to her feet, opened the closet, and pulled out a suitcase.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"I'm borrowing your rolling bag."

"Why?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are."

"You don't have a choice. I can't let you fly to the ends of the earth, risking your life for me, when I'm stuck doing nothing back here."

"You need to take care of yourself."

"I will. But I also need to take care of you. We need to take care of each other. Like we did before I got sick and you started treating me as if I was made of glass. Remember the Dennison sisters?"

How could Rachel forget? Yet that memory had faded, obscured by an Allie haunted by illness. Before the onset of the disease Allie had been a tough little kid. She had never shied from a fight when neighborhood brats picked on her nerdy sister. Allie's finest hour came in their elementary-school lunch-room, when she once used a cafeteria tray to beat the hell out of three girls who had been punching and otherwise tormenting her. "This is different than the Dennison sisters," she said.

"Of course it is. I might need two cafeteria trays."

Lord, all those childhood episodes were coming back to Rachel. They had been so close in those days that they could almost finish each other's sentences. That camping trip in the Rockies when they'd both fallen in a creek and nearly frozen. The pinata Rachel had made for Allie's eighth birthday party that had been so strong they couldn't break it open. All the love remained, but that untroubled innocence had been taken away from them.

"I can do it, Rachel," Allie said softly. "Let me help."

"This isn't a good idea. I promise to call you every day."

"You won't need to. Because I'll be right next to you."

"Allie… "

"I need to do this. Don't you understand? All these years, there hasn't been anything I could do to help you. I couldn't direct the resources of a supercomputer to help cure my disease. I couldn't grab a microscope and investigate treatment options. But this… this is something I can do. When I'm feeling good, like I do now, I'm as strong as I ever was. Use this time. Use me."

Rachel stared at her sister, overwhelmed at the passion in her voice. Allie had never seemed so strong, so alive, as she did at this moment.

"I need this," Allie repeated.

"I can see that."

"So I'm coming with you. My passport is current after that trip Letty and I took to Italy two years ago. If you don't take me along, I'll follow you. I was going to do it anyway. There's no way you could lose me. It would drive you crazy having me wandering around by myself trying to tag along. You'll feel much more comfortable having me under your wing."

"You have it all thought out."

"I'm going to do this. I had to find a way to make you agree."

Rachel slowly nodded. "There appears to be nothing I can say to talk you out of it."

"You know me better than that."

"Yes, I do." Once Allie was set on a course, there was no way to keep her from following it.

"And what will this Tavak say?" Allie asked.

"I don't know." Rachel shrugged. "Not that I really give a damn. I can't let him run everything. He'll be here in a couple of hours to take me to the airport. We'll tell him then."