Prophecy. An ARKANE thriller. (Book 2) (20 page)

“Friends, it is evident that we are reaching a critical point in humanity’s journey. We must begin to make sacrifices for the greater good, for never before have we been so threatened by our own choices, and every individual must take responsibility for the planet’s future. Zoebios aims to bring greater health and education to the world’s people, but at the same time, we must reduce the number of our species. We cannot continue at this rate of growth and we are well past the point of sustainable population. Now is the time to change our future.”

Morgan noted that he was an excellent speaker, making eye contact with many in the audience. She felt him look at her several times and then pass on. He was practiced at the art of working a crowd, but then he was the face and voice of his own organization, clearly experienced at persuasive performance and the manipulation of public opinion. She made her way to the side of the room near to the statues of the four seasons where she would stand out in her scarlet dress. It was important not to chase him for he was a man who could have anyone and anything so she must be just out of his reach, seemingly uninterested.
 

Milan finished his speech with another toast, the room effervescent with enthusiastic applause. As he stepped down from the dais, Milan was crowded by people pressing him with donations. Women wanted just that little bit of personal attention and the men were determined to shake his hand out of respect for his business prowess. But Morgan could see he was clearly moving in her direction through the crowd and she turned to study the statues as he approached.
 

“Again we meet in front of ancient and beautiful objects, Dr Sierra.”

His voice was flirtatious as Morgan turned back to face him.
 

“But thankfully these are not quite so macabre. It was an interesting speech. You’re quite the orator.”
 

Milan smiled. “I see you’re wearing my gift.” He reached out and touched the garnet cross gently, his fingers near to her breast. Milan lent closer to her ear.
 

“I hate these events. I prefer my socializing to be more … intimate.” He brushed a stray curl away from her face and Morgan realized she probably didn’t need to try too hard to get him away from this crowd. She took a step back for it was too early to acquiesce.
 

“But these people all came to see you,” she said. “Surely you don’t want to disappoint them?”

“You’re right, I must make my rounds.” His regret was obvious. “But perhaps you would wait for me and we could go somewhere more private after the party? I’d love to tell you more about the plans Zoebios has for the future. I think you’ll be most interested.”
 

“Perhaps,” Morgan said, looking around at the crowd, trying not to appear eager. “If I’m still here later.”

Milan smiled at her coy reticence and strode back into the throng, immediately surrounded by supporters wanting a word.
 

*****

As the evening progressed, Morgan was determined not to seek Milan out again, but it was a fine balance between ignoring him and trying to make sure he didn’t disappear with anyone else. She needed to be sure it was her that he left with. If she could just get access to one of his private terminals, they might find the evidence they needed to link him to Thanatos and shut down the audio programs.
 

She flitted between the groups of donors, engaging in sparkling conversation with as many eligible men as she could before moving on when they became just a little too interested. Occasionally she spotted Jake through the crowd where he seemed to be paying special attention to the lady in the peach dress. Morgan was sure to always keep Milan within sight and be certain he knew where she was too. Their movements became a dance of courtship, an ever decreasing circle engineered to ensure they ended up together.
 

It was getting late and people were finally starting to leave. As Milan helped the Foundation seniority with farewells, Morgan caught his eye and indicated an arched doorway to her right, assuming he would follow when he could get away. A nearby waiter offered her another drink. She took one gratefully and stepped into the next room, away from the crowd at last. She took a long draught, in need of some courage since this femme fatale business was hardly her usual persona. She just hoped she could take it far enough to get the access they needed. Martin had been unable to hack into the deepest levels of Zoebios, so this was their only way in.
 

The room she entered was a long gallery, cramped with glass cases and dominated by a tall basalt pillar. Morgan recognized it as the Law Code of Hammurabi from the Mesopotamian court in Babylon, dated to the eighteenth century BC. She went to examine it more closely, expecting Milan to be a little longer. It was the most important legal compendium of the ancient near east, drafted earlier than the biblical laws. The text was cuneiform, containing the history of Hammurabi as well as legal judgments and a lyrical epilogue. She reached out to stroke the ancient surface, giving in to the sensation of wanting to connect with the past.
 

There was the sound of a step in the corridor and she pulled back, turning to face the doorway, expecting to see Milan. Instead, a security guard walked in.
 

“Are you fine Madame?” the man enquired.
 

“Yes, of course, thank you. I was just looking at the stele.”
 

Morgan took another long sip of the champagne to hide her nerves, the glass almost empty now. The security guard came to stand next to her at the pillar.
 

“It is magnificent, isn’t it,” he said. “Many tourists walk straight past it. Perhaps they don’t understand the unique insight it gives into the ancient culture that had such an impact on early civilization.”
 

As the man spoke, Morgan began to feel dizzy. It wasn’t alcohol, she hadn’t drunk that much. The man came closer and clutched her arm. She couldn’t speak, her tongue had grown thick and heavy in her mouth and the strength went from her legs.
 

“It’s alright, Madame, just lean on me. Relax now.”
 

In a haze of fear, Morgan realized she had been drugged. As she collapsed into the arms of the security guard, her last thought was of Jake, willing him to find her.
 

Louvre, Paris, France. 11.15pm

Sometimes it was necessary to change the plan mid way through an operation. That was the nature of warfare, of espionage and Jake kept colleagues at a distance, preferring to be called aloof than to suffer loss as keenly as he had once before. But these defense mechanisms shattered when he realized that Morgan was gone. He walked down yet another corridor of the Louvre Palace, knowing even as he did so that he wouldn’t find her in this maze of culture. He stopped in front of a striking painting by Delaroche. A young woman in white lay as if sleeping in calm water, her pale face lit by moonlight and the gold of a halo. Her hands were tightly bound with a leather strap and above her a dark figure loomed, looking down on his victim. A portrait of the aftermath of violence, Jake thought, seeing Morgan’s face in the water. He turned away, his stomach clenching. It was time to get some help.
 

Martin Klein picked up on the first ring.
 

“Jake, what’s happened? Morgan’s gone dark.”

Even in his concern, Jake smiled at the efficiency of his friend. He knew he had a good team behind him and hope kindled as he explained.

“We were separated in the crowd as the evening ended. I could see her scarlet dress on the other side of the reception hall but I had to be sociable in order to maintain cover and turned away for a minute. Only a minute Martin…”

“I know Jake, it’s OK. We’ll find her. What then?”

“People were starting to leave and then suddenly she wasn’t there. I’ve done a full sweep of the reception area now everyone has left. The Museum staff let me interview the security team once they found out I was on assignment. But there’s no way I can look through the whole of the Louvre and surrounding buildings. It would take weeks, there are hidden passageways everywhere.”

“Did she go with Milan Noble? After all, that was the point of the evening?” Martin asked.

“She certainly spent a lot of time talking with him.” Jake remembered the way Morgan had looked at the man, touched his arm, laughed with him. Her hair had caught the light and drowned it in dark waves. He shook his head. “But she didn’t leave with him. I didn’t speak with him either as I didn’t want to blow my cover, but he was one of the party saying goodbye to the donors and he left alone.”

“He must have a team then or maybe it’s someone else. What about security cameras?”

“They’re claiming I can’t view them until the morning so I need your help, Martin.”

“Already on it. Give me ten minutes.”

“OK, I’ll head back to the houseboat and call you back.” Jake was confident that Martin would find something. He was a virtuoso of code and would hack the Louvre from one of his special terminals, independent of other ARKANE equipment so it couldn’t be traced or hacked back.

Jake left the Louvre and walked along the embankment path by the Seine. The Paris night would have been beautiful if Morgan had been by his side. He thought again of that scarlet dress and how earlier he had helped her climb out of the boat, holding her hand for the first time since the dying flames of Pentecost. He had been so conscious of her touch but it was brief and she had let go as soon as she was on the sidewalk.
 

The houseboat was moored under the Pont des Arts, where couples left padlocks with their names on to lock their passion into the city of love. He could see the Île de la Cité, green trees dripping over mottled grey walls and Notre Dame lit from below, a beacon of faith that Jake just didn’t find inspirational tonight. He knocked on the hatch of the houseboat and heard the sound of the lock being drawn back. A concerned face looked out. Jean Pierre Moreau stood back to let Jake inside.

“Where’s Morgan? I was going to come and find you. I’ve been going crazy.”

“You and me both, JP. What time did her tracker go dark?”

“It was six minutes before you radioed to say she’d gone. Look at the logs.”

Jean Pierre indicated the tiny computer station they had installed in the houseboat. The mission had only called for a small local contingent and JP had worked with Jake before. The two were fast friends. An empty wine bottle still stood on the table from their dinner last night, strangely out of place with Morgan missing.
 

“The trace disappears at the Jardin du Luxembourg.”

Jean Pierre nodded. “So she’s in a car. It’s too far to make it there by foot in that time. It must mean she’s being held in south Paris or at least heading south.”

A light pulsed on the console. Jake clicked to answer the incoming call from ARKANE.

“Spooky, what do you have?”

Martin’s fond nickname was due to his uncanny ability to find nuggets of information in an infinity of data. He never failed to deliver even if it took him years to do so.
 

“I’m sending the raw footage of that time period over now Jake. You can click between the windows to see the various camera angles, but there’s no sound.”

The streaming video popped up in another window and Jake saw the party he had been at only hours before. The quality of the picture was excellent. From one camera angle, he could see Morgan talking to Milan Noble by a statue in the corner. She smiled up at him.
 

“Fast forward, this is too early,” Jake said, not wanting to see her flirtatious manner with the man. The footage sped forward. Milan moved away to talk to donors while Morgan walked around the gallery talking to various people but always moving on. Then she stopped and indicated towards another room before heading through an arched doorway, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter on the way in.
   

“Stop it there Martin. Is there a view from the room she’s about to enter?”

“That’s the code of Hammurabi room so yes, there’s a feed.”

The screen changed to a smaller room, cluttered with display cases that obscured angles. Morgan walked in alone, holding the glass tightly as if it was an anchor for her sanity.
 

“Elle est magnifique,” JP whispered. Jake said nothing but watched as she went to stand in front of the basalt pillar. She reached out to touch it, then she pulled her hand away sharply and looked towards the entrance she had just come through.
 

“She’s heard something.”
 

Jake watched as Morgan’s face relaxed. A security guard came in and she played the part of the interested tourist. He came to stand next to her and she took a larger swig of the bubbles. Then she reached out, unsteady on her feet, her face confused. The guard held her elbow to support her and then put his arm around her waist as she slumped against him. He looked around to see if anyone had seen, then spoke into his radio.
 

“The champagne. She was drugged.” Jake banged his fist down onto the table and watched as another guard came in and together they half carried the unconscious Morgan away from the gathering and out another door. “Bastards. They weren’t official security guards either, at least not from the detail that I interviewed afterwards.”

JP leant forward.
 

“Are there any more feeds, Martin? Where did they take her next?”

“The cameras show them outside entering a small black Fiat. I’m looking for CCTV now to track where it went next.”

Jake was pacing up and down as far as he could on the tiny houseboat floor.
 

“What do you think, JP. Was it Noble? He seemed mightily interested in her.”

Jean-Pierre shrugged.
 

“She’s a beautiful woman and I wouldn’t blame him for being interested. But he didn’t pour the drink and we still aren’t sure that he’s involved in any of this. I don’t think he has to drug the women he’s interested in either. I mean the guy has looks, money, power. Why go to those lengths?”