Storm cycle, p.7
Storm Cycle, page 7
“Sometimes money doesn’t matter. Evidently it didn’t to him. According to the report, his parents treated him like some kind of prize showpiece to display to friends and business clients. He got tired of it and walked away from the good life when he was eighteen and never looked back. He disappeared from the think tank where he was the star attraction and set out to taste the world. Or maybe I should say gobble it up. In the next five years he did everything from fighting as a mercenary in Africa to smuggling artifacts out of China.”
“He has a criminal record?”
“No, only under suspicion. But the report from Interpol was pretty damn conclusive.”
“Is he still smuggling?”
“Not for a long time.” Simon hesitated. “Considering his later activities, I’d guess he got very bored during those first years. It might have been different experiences but not much challenge. Even as a kid he needed constant stimulation and was something of an adrenaline junkie. He was a mountain climber, into powerboat racing, a pilot. At one time he made his living repossessing airplanes.”
“What?”
“He was paid to repossess fighter planes for manufacturers that didn’t receive payment from the third-world countries which had purchased them. Extremely risky since he had to sneak into military bases and literally steal the planes back.”
“Crazy.”
“And profitable. It pays upward of a million dollars a plane. But he only does that occasionally these days. Lately he’s been working at solving archaeological and technical problems. He can read hieroglyphics and several other ancient scripts and has become something of an expert on antiquities. His focus is recovering lost or stolen objects, kind of a high-tech repo man.”
“Like stealing those planes?”
“Not exactly. If a company buys a defense network and refuses to pay for it, Tavak finds a way to shut it down until the money is paid. He also tracks down priceless objects that may have been pilfered from museums and private owners during time of civil unrest and steals them back. Very lucrative, very dangerous.”
“My God, he really is an adrenaline junkie.”
“Without a doubt. Maybe you can use that. He’s going to be difficult to handle. You’re going to need all the firepower you can find.”
“I’ll handle him. I’ll stick his ass in jail if he doesn’t cooperate.”
“Good luck. After I hang up, I’ll send you a photo of Tavak.”
“I’ll be seeing him in person within the hour.” She paused. “Have you heard from Dr. Carson at Allie’s foundation?”
“Yes, but I probably shouldn’t tell you what he said about that excerpt you sent him.”
She tensed. “He thought it was bullshit?”
“No, he was thrilled. Off-the-charts excited. Remember that crushed ‘bone of Horus’ that was listed as a primary ingredient in the cure? Turns out that’s what ancient Egyptians called magnetic lodestone. Just in the past couple of years, the University of Miami has come out with some research that suggests that magnetic nanoparticles, or MNPs, can stimulate growth in damaged central nervous system axons.”
Rachel almost had to remind herself to breathe. “If this pans out, Peseshet may have been almost five thousand years ahead of her time.”
“Maybe. But there’s a lot more to her cure that we don’t have. As you know, the body sends chemical signals to inhibit growth of damaged neurons in the central nervous system. But if her cure delivers what this tablet promises, she may have discovered a way to stop those chemical signals. It could be a combination of plant extracts, sediments, or who knows what. In any case, Carson wants more.”
“I don’t have more.”
“That’s what I told him. But I knew after you got Carson’s input that you wouldn’t stop until you did.”
“You’re damn right I won’t.” Hope. For the first time in years, a glimmer of hope in the distance. “Tell Carson to get back to me if he thinks he’s got anything. Have you been in touch with Allie?”
“Yes, she said for you to call her so that she can tear you apart.” He added, “And since I did the dirty deed and broke the news, you’d better do it. Someone else besides me needs to get it in the neck.”
“I’ll call her. Thanks, Simon.”
“Call me if you need me.” He hung up.
She stood there for a moment while the news Simon had given her sank in. Hope. Carson was brilliant and not prone to jumping on the bandwagon if there wasn’t some basis for doing it. There was a possibility that what she was doing here wasn’t completely irrational.
He wants more.
So did Rachel, and that need was a deep and terrible hunger.
All right, then start moving. Reach out and take what Allie needed.
She pressed the button to access the photo Simon had sent her. It was a snapshot of Tavak standing beside an airplane, dressed casually, dark hair ruffled by the wind. He looked younger than thirty-eight, she thought. He was tall and deeply tanned, with sun wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. His nose was too long, his lips too full, but his blue eyes glittered with life. He was not a handsome man, but the vitality and intelligence in his expression were almost mesmerizing.
High impact, she thought.
Everything about Tavak had been high impact since that first moment she had opened that e-mail.
Ignore it. She closed her phone and headed for the exit. It didn’t matter if Tavak was a power house. She had met strong men before and stood toe-to-toe with them. Tavak would be no different.
FIVE
Rachel hesitated as she stood before the small house to which Norton’s instructions had sent her.
Knock or just go inside and face the bastard?
Knock. Norton had said Tavak was guarded, and she didn’t want to surprise them and possibly get shot.
The small, dark man who opened the door beamed at her. “You are Miss Kirby, yes? I am Nuri. That is John Tavak at the table. We have been waiting for you.” He flung the door wide. “He has been very impatient. Such ingratitude. I give him food, I play chess with him, I tell him interesting stories about my family, and still he wants to leave me.”
“Your family obviously numbers more than a small city,” Tavak said. “After you went to the second generation you lost me.” He stood up and inclined his head. “I couldn’t be happier to see you, Rachel Kirby.”
High impact, she had thought when she had seen his photo. But seeing Tavak in person, she realized that description had been an understatement. His eyes were electric blue in his tanned face, and the aura that surrounded him was also electric. He was dressed in a white shirt, dusty brown boots, and jeans, and that tall, muscular body possessed a sort of tough elegance.
“Don’t be happy.” She slammed the door behind her. “Because I’m not in the least happy to see you, Tavak. You’re a thief and a sneak and the worst kind of criminal. I’d like to cut your throat.”
He smiled. “But then I wouldn’t be any use to you at all.” He drew out a chair for her. “Won’t you sit down? Nuri, could we get a glass of wine for the lady?”
“Certainly.” Nuri got another glass from the cabinet. “My uncle grew the grapes for this wine. Did I tell you that, Tavak?”
He made a face. “Many times.” He took the chessboard from the table and set it on the bed. “And about his wife who divorced him and his daughter he sent to the Sorbonne and is going to change the world.”
“She will, you know.” Nuri poured wine into the glass and set it on the table. “She’s very smart. She only needs a chance. Sit down. Sit down. Would you like some fruit?”
“No,” Rachel said impatiently. “I don’t want wine. I don’t want fruit. I want to talk to Tavak alone. Will you wait outside?”
“That’s discourteous,” Tavak said. “Nuri is our host.”
Nuri chuckled. “That is true.” He patted the gun in his holster. “I must protect you from her. She seems very fierce.”
“Get out,” she said through bared teeth.
Nuri’s smile didn’t waver, but he started for the door. “As you wish. I have orders to obey you without question. Be gentle with him. He owes me money from that last chess game.”
She watched the door shut behind him before she turned back to Tavak. “Talk to me.”
“Where shall I start? Oh yes, I’m eternally grateful for you being so prompt in meeting my need. It was close. Very close.”
“I don’t want your gratitude. You know why I came. I had to find out if you were telling the truth about that tablet or just making up a story to manipulate my emotions.” She paused. “I don’t like being manipulated, Tavak. It makes me want to be ugly. And I can be very ugly.”
He chuckled. “So I’ve heard. The stories about you are definitely scary.”
“They didn’t intimidate you enough to keep you from hacking into Jonesy.”
“No one else had the power I needed so I decided to brave the dragon.”
“Were you telling the truth about this Peseshet and the cure she discovered? Regeneration of the central nervous system?”
“Absolutely. As far as I know. I won’t know for certain until I actually find the tablet.” He paused. “Or tablets. I’ll be satisfied with one cure, but it would be a bonanza if we found others. As I told you, her prime focus wasn’t cellular regeneration.”
“But that’s my prime focus, my only focus.”
“I realize that,” he said quietly. “But this is something that could have a profound impact for millions of people across the entire spectrum of nervous system diseases. I’m talking Alzheimer’s, Lou Gehrig’s Disease, Huntington’s . . . not to mention the fact that it might enable paraplegics to walk again.”
“Pardon me if I don’t get too excited, but over the years I’ve learned to adopt a wait-and-see attitude toward any kind of miracle cure.”
“I’m sure you’ve already transmitted that little teaser I sent you to your Dr. Carson for an opinion. What did he say?”
“You can guess what he said.”
He nodded. “Otherwise, you’d be much too practical to go off on a wild-goose chase like this. And how is your sister?”
“None of your business.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Now how can I get my hands on that tablet so that I can see for myself whether or not it’s a piece of crap?”
“That’s the question.” He sat down at the table and gestured to the chair across from him. “And it’s not one I can answer to your satisfaction in a few sentences. You can stand there and glare at me, but it’s not going to make explanations go any faster. Why don’t you sit down and have a glass of Nuri’s wine? It’s not bad.”
She didn’t move.
He lifted his glass to his lips. “I know that standing over me is supposed to give you a psychological advantage, but it won’t work. Because you don’t need an advantage. I pay my debts.”
“You couldn’t pay for all the cycles you’ve stolen from my projects.”
“You never know. I told you that from the beginning I was planning on sharing information if I found the tablet.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Probably not.” He leaned back and stretched his legs before him. “Just thought I’d put it on the record.”
“Give me answers. I could have you thrown in jail. Norton with the NSA didn’t like having you infiltrate Jonesy. All it would take is a word from me, and they’d—”
“NSA? I was wondering who you used to spring me. The CIA was amazingly lackluster in their questioning. Norton asked a favor, and they sent in the cavalry.” He tilted his head, thinking about it. “He moved fast. Does he always jump when you snap your fingers?”
“You’ll know if I don’t find out what you know about that tablet.”
“You’re tense.” He pushed the glass Nuri had poured for her a few inches. “The wine will relax you. I promise that I won’t think it’s a victory that we’re drinking together.”
She stared at him in frustration. He was totally relaxed, totally casual in his confidence. Threats had not fazed him at all. Go at it from another direction. She sat down, her back arrow straight in the chair. “What do you want? What can I give you?”
He studied her. “You’d give me anything, the whole damn world, wouldn’t you? You shouldn’t be so transparent, Rachel.”
“There comes a time when putting up barriers doesn’t matter any longer.” She stared him in the eye. “And yes, name it. If I don’t have it, I’ll get it for you.”
“You do like to pamper a man, don’t you?” His gaze wandered to the bandage on her temple. “You’re hurt. What happened?”
“That doesn’t matter. What can I pay you? If you don’t have the tablet, you must have an idea where it is. Dammit, you’ve used up enough of Jonesy’s cycles to remap the human genome about five times over.”
“Information can only take you so far. After that, it’s analysis and working out the puzzle.” He sipped his wine. “You know that, Rachel.”
“Yes. Give me the information, and I’ll do the rest.”
“That’s just what I’d expect from you.” He added, “And from Peseshet. Did I tell you how much you’re alike? I’ve been working so close to both of you in the last months that I feel as if I know you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You’re wrong. I think I know the basics, and I’m looking forward to finding out the rest.” He held up his hand as she started to speak. “I know. Information. Okay, here goes. I told you that Peseshet was the overseer of an institute of female doctors at about 2500 B.C. All knowledge of her existence was lost until her son’s tomb was unearthed in 1929. Even that gave us only her name and profession. Nothing else was known about her until recently.”
“I couldn’t find anything more, period.”
“Because the other info was discovered only a few months ago by Arthur Jamerson, the curator of a small museum in Brighton, England. Jamerson was more ambitious for himself than for either history or the benefits to mankind. The museum’s Egyptian displays were totally unimportant. They had been in that tiny museum in Brighton for over a hundred years. Among the artifacts was a false door from a tomb that had been virtually forgotten for over a hundred years.”
“A false door?”
“A wall that looked like a door. These tombs, or mastabas, almost always featured false doors with elaborate carved reliefs. The Egyptians believed that this representation of a door would allow the deceased to pass to the afterlife. They’re fairly common, and the Egyptian government sold them by the hundreds in the early twentieth century. There was nothing special about this one until technology finally caught up to that Brighton museum. Jamerson had the wall X-rayed and discovered that it encased another wall. Carved on the secreted wall was Peseshet’s story recounted by one of her physician disciples, Natifah.” He paused. “And a portion of a cure of some sort. Something to do with healing nerves that had thought to have been destroyed. Cellular regeneration. Remember, Peseshet practiced while the pyramids were being built. There were undoubtedly many construction accidents, so she had a steady stream of patients on whom to try out her treatments. And, most likely, many opportunities for autopsies to observe how her treatments did or didn’t work.”
“But it’s only a portion of a cure. Dammit, that’s nothing.”
“No, that’s a start,” he said. “And enough that Jamerson copied down the procedure and sent it to an associate, Ted Mills, who was head of a pharmaceutical company in the U.S. Mills was cautiously excited. He wanted to know where the rest of the formula could be found. That was enough for Jamerson. He knew how much money medical breakthroughs could bring a man. He decided to go after the big prize. He falsified his X-ray results so that, as far as anyone at his museum knew, their Egyptian exhibit remained just as unremarkable as everyone always assumed it was. Jamerson searched until he found someone who he thought might possibly be able to find out more about the rest of the formula.”
“You?”
“Me.” He inclined his head. “I’m sure you have a dossier on me by now and know my credentials are unique. I met with Jamerson, and he handed over the transcription on the Natifah mastaba wall to me.”
“What did he pay you to take the job?”
“Less than I’m worth. But the possibilities intrigued me.”
“I want to see that transcript of the message on the mastaba wall.”
“Of course.”
“Now.”
He shook his head. “Eventually.”
“I’ll go to Jamerson and get it.”
“It would be a long trip. I imagine he resides in hell these days. Greed and corruption aren’t looked upon kindly at the pearly gates.”
She stiffened. “He’s dead? You?”
“No, I took his job. I never kill the goose that lays the platinum egg. He was killed by Charles Dawson, the bastard you were so kind to save me from last night.” He scowled. “But they wouldn’t let me go back after him. I’m not pleased about that. Dammit, there’s too good a chance that he probably went back to that tomb.”
“I don’t give a damn what you’re pleased about. Norton was supposed to save your life and pen you up for me. That’s all.”
“I’ll bet you’ll give a damn before very long. You’ll probably feel as pissed off that Dawson is still walking around as I do before this is over.”
“Why? Just who is this Charles Dawson?”
“Dr. Charles Ansel Dawson. He has several degrees, one of which is medical. He’s very bright, has all the ethics and conscience of a cobra, and is completely egotistical.”
“Sounds like you.”
“No. We differ on a number of fronts. I do have a few grains of conscience.”
“So you say. Is Dawson after the Peseshet cure, too?”
Tavak nodded. “He’s the hired gun for Ted Mills. That’s what he does for a living. He’s principally a cleanup man. When pharmaceutical companies get into hot water abroad for illegal practices, they hire Dawson to come in and make sure that their names and reputations aren’t compromised. He does anything he has to do to clean up their dirty laundry.” He shrugged. “And sometimes his cleanup is worse than the filth the pharmaceutical companies spread.”
