There was a barely audible gasp from the woman at the end of the passage.
I pulled the blade out of Thorne’s ribcage and watched him fall to his knees. Blood blossomed across his shirt and dripped onto the expensive Venetian carpet. He coughed and took a rasping breath, a stream of red bubbles staining his lips.
‘I could kill you now,’ I said dispassionately. ‘But I won’t.’ My gaze shifted from him to the woman in the blue gown. ‘Not until I get to the bottom of whatever it is that you’re up to.’
I turned and walked away, my steps even and my grip steady on the handles of the daisho.
Ashely and the Schwatzs had cleared a path to the cellar. I stepped over the bodies of fallen Crovirs and caught up with them in the service tunnel under the gardens.
Ashely blinked when he saw me and slowly lowered the Glock aimed at my chest. His gaze skimmed over my swords as I sheathed them. He loaded a fresh magazine into the gun. ‘You ready?’
‘Yes.’ Voices rose in the distance behind us. ‘Let’s go.’
We were almost at the lake when the first wave of Crovir Hunters reached us. A staccato of gunshots erupted around the gardens. Bullets sang through the night, peppering the ground at our heels and raising clumps of soil and grass. Deadly shards erupted from the statues that populated the gardens.
I turned, dropped to one knee, raised my guns, and squeezed the triggers rapidly. Ashely staggered to a stop at my side, the shots from his Glock echoing mine. Shadowy shapes fell in the darkness; more appeared to replace them. I rose and followed Ashely to the woods.
We entered the shelter of the trees in a hail of gunfire and raced for the boundary of the estate, our breaths pluming the chilly air with pale puffs. A crescent moon shone brightly in the clear autumn sky, its light bathing the woodland in a silvery glow. Heavy footsteps thudded behind us as the Crovirs gave chase.
We got to within a hundred feet of the outer perimeter wall when the second wave of Hunters blocked our path. Shooting erupted from all around. We dove inside a nearby thicket and took cover behind the trunks of some young poplar and black locust trees.
‘I hate to say it, but this isn’t looking good!’ Ashely exclaimed.
I inspected the terrain, pulse racing anxiously. There were no visible exit routes.
Bullets thudded into the undergrowth around us. Chips of bark and plant debris rapidly clouded the air.
As I contemplated drawing the Crovirs away from the others long enough to give them a chance to escape, a gust of wind blew leaves and twigs down onto our heads. The sound of rotors followed a moment later.
A beam of light cut through the night and danced across the ground close to where we hid. I squinted upward and blinked dirt out of my eyes.
A black chopper appeared in the sky and pulled up sharply above the treetops. The cabin doors opened. Two rope ladders dropped down and swung violently in the downdraught.
‘What are you waiting for?’ shouted the voice in my earpiece. ‘Get on!’
We rose, ran the few steps to the ropes, and jumped. Gunfire crisscrossed the air around us. They were echoed by the stutter of machine guns from above. Shots riddled the forest floor and the bodies of several Crovir Hunters. The rest retreated under the cover of the trees.
The helicopter rose and banked sharply to the left, the four of us still clinging to the rope ladders. We were over the wall of Benisek’s estate within seconds.
I reached the door of the aircraft’s cabin behind Ashely and was pulled inside by someone.
‘Thanks!’ I gasped and looked up into Costas’s grim face.
‘Don’t mention it,’ grumbled the Schwatz noble. ‘Someone had to get your sorry asses out of there.’
Grigoriye smiled faintly from the opposite side of the aircraft.
I was just starting to get my breath back when the co-pilot passed me a headset.
‘Are you guys okay?’ someone barked in my ears. It was Gabriel.
I looked at the others. Except for some scratches, everyone appeared to be in one piece. ‘Yes, we’re fine.’
An audible sigh came across the connection. ‘I’m glad to hear it. We stalled for time as long as we could. I think Santana suspected something.’
My eyes moved to the darkness outside the cabin window.
‘I met her,’ I said quietly. The numbness that had shrouded me since my encounter with Thorne and Santana was starting to fade.
There was a hush from the headset. ‘Did she say anything to you?’ Gabriel asked finally.
‘She watched me fight Thorne.’
This time, the silence was short-lived. ‘Did you kill him?’ The tension in Gabriel’s voice was mirrored in the strained looks on the faces of the immortals inside the helicopter.
I hesitated. ‘No. I wounded him.’
Bruno glanced at me with a troubled expression. I felt the unspoken question in the air.
Gabriel was the one who voiced it. ‘Could you have?’
I leaned back in the seat and stared blindly at the roof of the helicopter. ‘Yes.’
This time, Gabriel’s sigh was barely perceptible above the noise of the rotors. ‘I’ll see you back at the house.’
Chapter Nineteen
Godard was waiting for us in the foyer of the mansion.
‘We heard what happened from the Schwatz Hunters,’ he said gruffly when we walked through the doors. He strode across the floor and pulled me roughly into his arms.
I stiffened in his embrace. If the older man noticed, he didn’t give any indication of it. He stood back and looked me over with a worried expression. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine.’ I looked over his shoulder and saw Sheila smiling from the doorway of the study.
‘We have the data you sent,’ she said.
‘Good,’ I said with a nod. ‘Have you looked at it yet?’
Sheila shook her head. ‘We were waiting for you.’
A group of Schwatz Hunters entered the hall behind us. Roman, Gabriel, Costas and Grigoriye were in their midst.
‘Well done.’ Roman smiled. ‘For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to make it.’
‘So did we,’ said Ashely. ‘You never told us about the helicopter.’
Gabriel grinned. ‘It was Costas’s idea. He thought it might come in handy.’
The Schwatz noble scowled in the face of our stares. ‘They were nearly at the wall anyway,’ he muttered, his ears reddening. ‘So, we looking at this data or what?’
We gathered in the study a moment later. The Schwatzs had been busy in our absence; the room now resembled the control deck of a modern warship.
‘These are the folders you sent us,’ said the Schwatz tech seated behind three keyboards. He was working several monitors simultaneously, his glasses reflecting the light from the screens; a large projector screen took up half the wall ahead of him. ‘They were encoded with another layer of encryption, but we managed to decipher most of them.’ He clicked on a mouse. ‘Here’s the first file.’
We stared at the information on display.
‘That’s the data from Hubert’s latest research,’ Sheila said impatiently. ‘We know this already.’
‘Okay.’ The Schwatz’s fingers moved over the keys. ‘Here’s the second one.’
A familiar image filled the screen. It was the black and white photograph of Sheila and Hubert Strauss from Burnstein’s computer. More data streamed down the display.
The tech whistled softly. ‘I have to say, they got a helluva lot of info on you, Miss.’
Sheila’s expression darkened. ‘They even have details of the Zurich account.’
‘They probably hacked into the bank’s computer system,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘According to the Head of Accounts, no one else had asked to see it.’
‘All right, let’s look at the next file,’ said Gabriel.
Burnstein’s folder contained financial information about his corpo
ration and the various projects the company was involved in. The one on Strauss chronicled the progress of the scientist’s research and held detailed background information on him and his colleagues.
The one entitled GeMBiT was still encrypted. It took a short while to decipher the code.
The Schwatz tech finally leaned back from the keyboards. ‘That’s the best I can do.’
We studied the screen. It was filled with reams of scientific jargon. I saw Sheila stiffen. I tensed.
‘What does it mean?’ said Gabriel. He had also picked up on Sheila’s mood and looked warily from her pale face to the projected data.
Sheila was quiet for a moment.
‘May I?’ she asked the Schwatz tech. She gestured to the keyboards.
‘Be my guest,’ said the immortal.
Sheila took the seat he vacated. She reached for the mouse and scrolled down the pages on the display.
‘If I’m correct, this is a program of GeMBiT’s principal areas of activities as planned by Burnstein over the next few months.’ Her tone was strained as she read out the details. ‘The first stage appears to be aimed at manufacturing a number of transfusions of the genetically modified cells from Hubert’s research for use on test subjects in their labs in Washington.’
Lines creased Gabriel’s brow. ‘Transfusions?’
‘The process is very similar to stem cell transplant,’ Sheila explained. ‘You can introduce cells that have the ability to evolve into different types of tissues into the body of a patient to carry out specific functions.’
A sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. I suddenly knew what the Crovirs were planning to do. ‘Like making someone immortal?’
Sheila’s eyes moved to me. ‘Yes.’
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s cheek. ‘What’s the next step?’
‘If the trial works, they plan to mass produce the serum.’
The significance of her words finally started to dawn on everyone else in the room. Restless murmurs rose from the Schwatz Council members.
‘Are they planning to give this transfusion to the Crovirs?’ asked Gabriel.
Sheila’s fingers moved on one of the keyboards. Lists appeared on the display.
‘Not all of them. Just the people on here.’
We stared at the projection screen. There were some five hundred names on it. I frowned when I saw Chapman’s halfway down the sixth list.
It was Roman who spoke next.
‘That’s most of the nobles and other significant figures in Crovir society, as well as two hundred Hunters or so,’ said the Schwatz leader. ‘Basically, anyone who supports Santana is on that list.’
‘How generous of her,’ murmured Grigoriye.
A vein throbbed on Costas’s forehead. ‘If she does this, she will—’ He stopped, visibly struggling for words.
‘She will have a truly immortal army at her feet,’ Gabriel continued icily. ‘One that would be eternally loyal to her and do her bidding, no questions asked.’
‘It will only lead to another war.’ Godard sat down heavily in an armchair, his face gray. He stared at Roman. ‘There’ll be no stopping the Crovirs this time. They will wipe us out from the face of the Earth!’
Roman remained silent, his expression grim.
Ashely interrupted the somber hush. ‘Let me get something straight—can they actually do any of this without Sheila’s blood?’
We all looked at Sheila.
‘No, they can’t,’ she replied quietly. She turned and studied the rest of the information on the screen. Her eyes suddenly narrowed.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘There’s something on here I don’t understand. They mention a vaccine that is to be administered a couple of weeks prior to the start of the transfusion process.’ She looked at me with a puzzled expression. ‘I have no idea what it’s for.’
An image flashed through my mind. I thought of the last file I had downloaded from Benisek’s hard drives.
Dimly, I heard Gabriel say, ‘Is there no mention of it anywhere else?’
Sheila shook her head. ‘No. Not that I can see, anyway.’
I felt my blood grow cold as I recalled the title of the folder.
‘Ashely, you got that memory stick?’ I said in a voice that sounded strangely detached even to my own ears.
Sheila went still at my tone. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘There was another file on Benisek’s computers. I didn’t have time to send it through.’
I took the USB device from Ashely and plugged it into one of the hard drives. A box opened up on the screen. I scrolled down the list of files and clicked on the one titled “Red Death”.
For once, the data was not encrypted.
Silence fell across the room while we examined the information streaming on the display. Even though most of it was in scientific terminology, the essence of the thing was horrifyingly clear.
‘Dear God.’ Sheila’s fingers rose tremulously to her face. Her whispered words echoed the palpable dread in the air.
‘What is it?’ Ashely studied the fearful expressions around the room with a frown.
‘Being the only human here, I take it you’ve never heard of the Red Death?’ said Gabriel.
‘No,’ said Ashely. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘Seven hundred years ago, at the time the Black Death was sweeping through Europe and killing millions of humans, another highly contagious and fatal disease called Red Death wiped out more than half the population of immortals on Earth.’
Ashely’s eyes widened. ‘Wait. Are you talking about the plague?’
Gabriel nodded. ‘Yes. Although the bubonic plague killed many humans, it did not affect us immortals.’ His lips pinched in a bitter smile. ‘We had our own version to contend with.’
‘The Red Death was an extremely contagious form of a viral hemorrhagic fever,’ Sheila explained. ‘Once infected, the end came within a matter of days. And that wasn’t the worst of it.’
Ashely’s eyebrows rose. ‘It wasn’t?’
‘No. The worst part was that most of those who survived became infertile.’ Sheila looked around the room. ‘To this day, we are still nowhere near the number of immortals that existed prior to the plague.’
‘What exactly is Santana planning?’ said Godard. He rose from his seat and stepped forward with a purposeful stride, his walking stick striking the floor forcefully.
Sheila turned back to the monitor. ‘From the information here, it seems Burnstein and his team isolated a strain of the virus sometime last year.’ She frowned. ‘And they’ve been busy trying to modify it since.’
‘Modify it?’ Costas grunted. ‘How?’
Sheila scrolled down the screen. ‘It looks like they genetically reengineered it.’
The Schwatz Council member scowled. ‘Why?’
I glanced from the complex information on the monitor to Sheila’s pale face, a cold sweat breaking across my brow.
‘To make it more deadly,’ she said dully, confirming my suspicion. A gasp left her lips a moment later.
‘What’s wrong?’ I took a step toward her, tension humming in my veins.
‘This can’t be right,’ Sheila whispered.
The only sound in the room for the next few seconds was the clattering of her fingers on the keyboard. Her hands finally stilled. She sat back in the chair.
‘Sheila?’ said Godard. He placed a hand on her shoulder.
Sheila’s voice, when it came, was low and horror-struck. ‘This virus has the ability to cross species.’
‘Cross species?’ our grandfather repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
Understanding exploded in my mind. An icy chill ran down my spine.
‘It can infect humans? Non immortals?’ I said stiffly, staring at her ashen face.
I knew the answer even before she returned my gaze unflinchingly and nodded once. Shocked murmurs erupted around the room.
Gabriel pointed at the screen. ‘Do they know this?’ he barked.
‘You mean the Crovirs?’ A mirthless chuckle escaped Sheila’s throat. ‘They intentionally designed it that way.’
There was a moment of stunned silence.
‘Santana is mad!’ snarled Gabriel. ‘If this virus is set loose—’
‘Not only will it wipe out the immortals,’ Sheila interrupted bitterly, ‘it’ll take out more than half of the world’s human population with it.’
‘What’s she hoping to achieve by this?’ asked Ashely in a deadly voice.
‘No one knows the working of that woman’s mind,’ mumbled Godard. ‘This only goes to show how crazed she has become over the centuries. Even the Crovir First Council appears to have no control over her!’
I thought of the woman I had met earlier that evening and felt my blood run cold at his words.
‘She must be stopped,’ Roman asserted, his tone edged with steel.
The ensuing silence was broken by a hesitant voice.
‘I’m sorry to point out the obvious here, but didn’t someone just mention a vaccine?’ asked Anatole.
‘Yes.’ Sheila scrolled down the screen. ‘It seems they’re still in the process of manufacturing it.’
‘Do you think you could make another one?’ I said, voicing the unspoken question in the air.
A frustrated sound left her lips. ‘I’m afraid it’s an area I know little about,’ she said. ‘I would need the help of experts in the field of Cellular and Molecular Microbiology, not to mention Immunology.’ She watched us with a defeated expression. ‘Even if I could get my hands on a sample of the virus, it could take weeks, if not months to produce another vacc—’
She stopped abruptly. Excitement flared in her eyes. She turned to the keyboard. The monitor flickered and data from a scientific website appeared on the screen.
‘There is this relatively new technique called reverse vaccinology. It uses the pathogen’s genetic information instead of the usual method of culture to identify immunogenic antigens that can be targeted for vaccine development.’ She looked up into our blank expressions. ‘It could halve the time taken to produce a vaccine,’ she explained animatedly.