“He and Tesla never worked together again, saw each other again—but it didn’t matter. Appleton Kohath had figured out how to manipulate both the weather and the markets.”
Nicholas said, “So that huge 1913 storm, that’s how they got more development money.”
“Yes, straight-up stock buying, selling.”
“Nicholas, can you imagine, back at the beginning, Kohath sending Da Vinci’s papers to Tesla, saying, ‘Hey, lookee here, Da Vinci created a machine to control the weather but the old dude didn’t understand enough about electromagnetic energy to make it work. Between us, I’ll just bet we can make our own lightning bolt.’ ”
Nicholas said, “And so together they developed a machine to create weather half a century before our scientists were on their way to figuring it out.”
Ben said, “Yes, and the Kohath family continued to refine and perfect their storm machine to the point where they can do precision storms, like starting that horrific sandstorm in the Gobi.”
Nicholas said, “Or sending a storm and tsunami to level Washington, D.C.”
“What? What did you say? They want to destroy Washington?”
Nicholas told him what he’d overheard.
Ben said, “This is beyond scary. Does Zachery know?”
“Yes. Mike and I will try to pull the plug. Ben, keep going through all those papers. Be in touch with anything else you find that’s relevant.”
“Yes, all right. Oh, and there is one more thing you need to know.”
“More? I don’t know if I can handle more.”
“Were you aware they’re doing an inquest on Elizabeth St. Germaine?”
Nicholas set down his coffee. “No, Melinda told me it was cardiac arrest. Is that not the case?”
“Melinda said there were concerns about the fact her mother died alone, when everyone, including her doctor, said she was in good health. Melinda said the coroner did a tox screen. Did you know there was a threatened lawsuit by the Kohaths, all to stop the completion and publication of St. Germaine’s second book on the Kohaths, a book that would include all of Appleton’s early letters? In other words, the cat would be out of the bag and it’s possible the Kohaths would be busted. But then Elizabeth St. Germaine died, very conveniently.”
“Ben, you believe those insane twins killed her to stop publication?”
“You’ve met them, I haven’t. But from everything I’ve been reading, those two would stop at nothing to protect themselves and their weather machine. Listen, you have connections, do you think you could find out about St. Germaine’s tox screen? I haven’t said anything to Melinda, but she knows I’m worried.”
“I will do that right away, Ben, and call you back. As soon as I can get Mike out of here, we’re going after the Kohaths.”
Nicholas punched off and dialed a number from memory. Hamish Penderley, his old boss at the Met, answered on the first ring.
“Penderley.”
“Hello, sir, it’s Nicholas Drummond.”
“We don’t want any, or need any, Drummond. Not buying anything you’re selling today. Where the devil are you?”
“I’m currently in Italy. Good to talk to you, too, sir. How are things at New Scotland Yard?”
“Never dull. Now, I know you’re not remotely concerned about the state of the Met. You want something. Spit it out. But I do not want to know what you’re doing in Italy, nor do I want to hear about your involvement in that shoot-out in Venice.”
“No, sir, I won’t say a word about Italy or any shoot-out. I’m calling about Elizabeth St. Germaine. There’s an ongoing inquest into her death?”
“Did her daughter ask you to call and speed things up? Because I’ve told her all I know.”
“No, Melinda didn’t ask me to call. It pertains to a case I’m working on here involving the Kohaths, the family St. Germaine was writing about, until her untimely and very sudden death. If it wasn’t a natural death, sir, I really need to know.”
Penderley was silent for a moment. “You’re saying we should be looking at the Kohaths for this? That’s crazy, to murder someone over a bloody biography.”
“Please, tell me what you’ve discovered.”
Penderley sighed deeply. “Let me muck around in the file. I’ll call you back.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Nicholas’s mobile rang a few minutes later.
Penderley said immediately, “St. Germaine’s death was marked down as a cardiac arrest, but the coroner thought her heart looked off and sent out a for a toxicology screen, which isn’t back yet.”
“What do you mean, the heart looked off?”
“Says here, ‘Hemorrhagic congestion of the heart and lungs, consistent with heart failure.’ But her daughter said she didn’t have a heart condition, and her doctor confirmed it. It was enough to convince the coroner to send off the tox, and we went in and collected evidence from the scene. Only thing we found was a set of fingerprints on a tea tin that doesn’t belong to anyone in the household. Nothing to get too excited about because the tin was part of a gift hamper from Fortnum and Mason, and there were partial fingerprints over everything in it, as you’d expect, but that’s not what made us suspicious.”
“Nicholas, the card with the gift hamper said it was from St. Germaine’s editor at her publishing house, but the editor says no one sent her a gift, and Fortnum and Mason doesn’t have a record of the publisher’s credit card in the system. That’s why we decided to open the inquest. Not to mention this is Melinda St. Germaine’s mother, of course.”
“Was the basket a hand delivery?”
“Yes, the day before she died. The maid found the hamper on the front step, all decked out with a big bow. But St. Germaine didn’t have any sort of security cameras, so there’s nothing to hunt there. By the maid’s account, St. Germaine was delighted by the gift, had some biscuits and a cup of their tea. And that is why we ran the prints on the contents and sent them for analysis. Nothing’s back yet.
“And, Drummond, don’t pass this along to Melinda St. Germaine. I don’t need her breathing down my neck.”
“Right. Where’s the gift hamper now?”
“Evidence unit. As I said, the previous tests showed it was nothing more sinister than several packets of biscuits and a few exotic tins of tea. Tracing it has been a bust as well. Do you have any idea how many of these they sell in a week?”
“I’ll assume hundreds.”
“Right you are. Tell me, Nicholas, have you gotten yourself into trouble with the Kohaths?”
In a manner of speaking. “Are you familiar with them at all, sir?”
“I only have a passing acquaintance with David Maynes, the husband of the late Helen Kohath, rest their souls. Maynes keeled over during a squash match a few weeks ago.”
Nicholas went on red alert. “Really? Heart attack, was it?”
“That’s right. Shame, he’s so young. Of course, after his wife went missing, obviously dead, he went a bit loopy. Well, he was always on the loopy side, but it intensified, problems with his children and such.
“Do you remember hearing about her disappearance in the Gobi? She was in the headlines for a few weeks. They never found a trace of her. The whole crew disappeared, twelve people, I think it was. Desert swallowed them whole.”
“Sir, are you certain David Maynes died of a heart attack?”
“Nothing to say otherwise, there were witnesses. As I said, he was in the middle of a squash match.”
“Still, what are the odds that the two people at the center of a lawsuit suddenly drop dead of heart attacks within days of each other?”
Penderley groaned. “I didn’t connect that until right this minute. Do you really think there’s a conspiracy afoot?”
“Maybe. You have to admit the timing’s strange.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll check on Maynes’s death. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Thank you. And let me know about the tox screen on Elizabeth St. Germaine.”
“You know, Drummond, if you’d only stuck around—”
“I know, I could do the work myself. Take care of yourself, sir.”
He hung up and called Gray, not Adam. “I know you’ve got a lot of irons in the fire, Gray, but could you run something for me?”
“Sure.”
“Lilith Forrester-Clarke’s passport and credit cards for the past month.”
“Easy enough. Am I looking for anything in particular?”
“Travel to England from Italy, and the purchase of a gift hamper from Fortnum and Mason. Make that two gift hampers for two different people.”
“I’ll let you know. Mike okay? Yeah, Louisa called me. You guys are butt-deep in alligators.”
“Nearly to the neck. Mike’s asleep. She’ll be okay, I promise. Thanks, Gray.”
Nicholas called Adam. “Kitsune still flying?”
“Hello to you, too, Nicholas. Yes, they’re over the Atlantic now. Based on the trajectory, if I had to bet, I’d say they’re heading for the Caribbean. Depending on the plane, they’ll have to refuel there if they plan to go any farther. Clancy and Trident will be waiting for you in an hour, on the runway in Perugia.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
His mobile buzzed. It was Gray. He said only, “Bingo.”
Nicholas said, “Talk to me. What magic have you wrought?”
Gray said, “Our Lilith Forrester-Clarke was a very bad girl.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
London, England
Ben was impressed. Elizabeth St. Germaine had been thorough and organized, and every page of the manuscript held something new and interesting, sometimes shocking. But her notes were the best part. Through her eyes, he was beginning to see the Kohath family and their unrelenting obsession to find the Ark. They truly believed they were God’s chosen ones, and they alone could control the power of the Ark. And the weather machine—it was ingenious, really. Deadly, but ingenious.
He was knee-deep, literally, in Elizabeth St. Germaine’s material when a shadow fell over his shoulder. He looked up and smiled at Melinda St. Germaine. She wore a fitted black dress with cutout shoulders that was at once demure and shockingly sexy.
“Are you making progress?”
Ben laughed a little, gestured to all the papers. “Yes, absolutely. I could be here for weeks. Your mother was very detailed.”
“I’ve come to roust you for dinner. You’ll need to eat if you have any hope of making it through all of this.”
Ben was torn. He needed to keep pushing, but his stomach growled at the thought of food, and she heard it, punched his arm. “I guess a short break wouldn’t hurt.”
Melinda laughed. “Oh, no, sorry, Ben, but there’s nothing short about evenings at the St. Germaines’. I suppose I should warn you that dinner will last around three hours. We don’t do much halfway around here.”
Well, life isn’t fair, now is it? “I can’t. I’d love to join you but we’re on a tight time frame. I better stay here and keep working.”
He was pleased to see she was really disappointed, and surprised at how good it made him feel.
“All right, I understand. I’ll have something sent out to you.”
“Rain check?”
Melinda grabbed a pen, and wrote something on a note card and handed it to him. “When you’re in town again, you give me a ring. You can take me on a proper date.”
The world brightened. Date, a proper date. Ben grinned. “I’d like that. Very much.”
“Good. Maybe you can steal some of Mother’s letters or notes and I’ll complain to your bosses and demand that you have to return them. Here, to me, in London. That way I’ll be assured you will come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back. I have vacation time due. The moment we wrap this case, I’ll be here.”
Melinda lightly laid her hand on his shoulder. After the horror of the past weeks, she now had something to look forward to. Ben Houston, an American FBI agent, and a redhead, just like her. Who would have thought?
He rose and took her hand, said her name. “Melinda.”
She leaned up, kissed his cheek. “Get back to work. Don’t forget to eat.”
And then she was gone, trailing the scent of roses in her wake.
He looked after her until she was gone, then sat back down and pulled the St. Germaine’s notes to him, read over them again.
In 1909, Appleton founded a family-owned company called the Genesis Group, which quickly became an archaeological powerhouse due to a continued influx of money generated by attacks through the weather machine. As revenue flowed in, the company began to fund legitimate digs all over the world. But it was finding the Ark that was Appleton’s life’s work. He felt his family, as direct-line descendants from the Levites, were God’s designated inheritors of the Ark. Since the Ark is known to be a conduit to God, Appleton operated on a simple premise—when the Kohaths finally had the Ark in their possession, they would show the world they were the chosen ones, and would have the ultimate power, and God’s blessing, to do what they would to the earth. God’s blessing for evil as well as good?
Ben read through the rest, shaking his head. He’d run across genius like this before, melded with all-out craziness, but nothing on this immense a scale.
His phone beeped with a text from Nicholas.
Have you anything more for me?
Ben texted back.
The weather machine is a go. You must shut it down before it destroys Washington, D.C.
CHAPTER SIXTY
The Caribbean
The sun was high when Cassandra and Ajax landed in Cuba with their two prisoners. Both were awake, though Grant Thornton was still groggy from the drugs. Cassandra knew they were as dangerous as Nicholas Drummond, knew it would be smart to weigh them down and throw them into the ocean as quickly as possible, that if she didn’t kill them now, something bad would happen.
No, she was being foolish. She needed the thief, just as she had a feeling she’d need her husband for leverage. Then she’d take great pleasure in killing them both. There was nothing they could do to stop her.
It had been nearly a year since they’d last visited Grandfather on his island, but she always recognized the smell of the water and air, sweet and tangy, a lovely combination. Always before, it was as supplicants, but not this time.
They boarded the floatplane, secured the thief and her husband to the seats, and were soon airborne. The windows were open and the sea wind blew in their faces.
She said, “Ajax, you worked more of the trip over on Grandfather’s formula. Are you close? Have you figured out how to move the storm to Washington, D.C.?”
Ajax was sweating in the heat, tired and impatient. “I’m into his systems. I’ve learned how to intensify the storm, but that’s it. Getting it to go in the right direction is what only Grandfather knows. And those instructions are in his precious vault.”
“Then once we get the formula for determining directionality, you can make the storm strong enough to flatten D.C.?”
He nodded. “Without it, all I can do is force a heavy rainfall somewhere over the Atlantic. Hardly what we want or need.”
Cassandra looked over at the thief. The woman seemed to be focused entirely on her husband. Thornton was getting more clearheaded with the fresh wind in his face. They’d have to watch them closely, drug him again when they landed.
Cassandra found herself wondering if the thief had been awake and listening. Did she have any idea what Cassandra would demand of her?
Ajax was saying, “Grandfather is going to see I’ve intensified the storm, and he’s going to know I managed to get into his system.”
“Who cares? Soon now, he won’t matter. His last act will be to hand over the formula.”
Ajax looked down at the blue ocean gliding by beneath them. “We’ll be at the island soon. I hope you’re prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“Cassandra. Think. This coup has been simple so far. W
e’ve eliminated our father, the biographer, and Lilith. All of them are dead. But now we’re going to kill our grandfather, the only person left on earth who even begins to understand weather control. Once he’s dead, we’re on our own, completely. You must prepare yourself for this. Being alone, only the two of us. Are you ready to be alone?”
“Yes, just the two of us. Nobody to tell us what to do, nobody to question us endlessly. Oh yes, Ajax, I’m ready, more than ready.”
Ajax looked over at Kitsune and Grant. “Why have you bothered to keep them alive?”
She said low, “Grandfather’s vault. She can get into it if he won’t tell us the combination. Thornton? He’ll be our leverage. Then they’re dead. I think she’s perfect for the job, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Lilith certainly sang her praises. I sometimes thought Lilith admired her even more than she admired me.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? I never actually believed she’d be able to steal the staff from the Topkapi, but she did.”
Ajax tooks her hand, squezed her fingers. “Grandfather told me once he’d wired the vault with explosives. I asked him why, I mean, who would ever come close enough to break into his vault? He told me there were enemies festering all over the earth and it always paid to be prepared.”
Cassandra laughed. “I do hope the old fool was thinking about us.”
Ajax shrugged. “We’ll soon see, but honestly, I don’t think he’ll give us the combination. He doesn’t trust us. So we will have to use the thief. If she lives up to her reputation, if she does manage to disarm the safe, then all well and good. If not—then we’ll have to find another way, perhaps another thief.”
He looked out the window. “Get ready, it’s time to land and make our way to the island.”
She gave him a high five. “And kill that crazy old man.”
“Maybe he’s had a change of heart,” Ajax said.