The Overseer (65 page)

“No, Xander, you know—”

“What I
know
—what
you
have taught me—is that to see it any other way is madness. No matter how seductive. And I will have nothing to do with it.”

“You
will
—”

“You’ll have to kill me, you know that, don’t you?” Lundsdorf did not answer. “Tieg? Votapek? Have they disappointed you as well? Oh, but then who will lead us out of the chaos? Now there’s a
practical
dilemma.”

“You need time—”

“There
is
no time. You’ve seen to that, for the past eighteen hours.”

“
No
!” Lundsdorf barked, the first hint of frustration in his voice. “I will not permit you to do this. When the time comes, you will accept your role. You must take the time to consider more carefully.”

Calmly, Xander pushed back his chair and stood. “No. That’s not going to happen.” He tossed the Machiavelli onto the table and moved to the door.

“You
will
reconsider,” answered Lundsdorf, regaining his control. Busy with the asparagus, he added, “Oh, yes, I meant to tell you. There will be no last-minute attempts to interfere. Miss Trent is dead.”

Xander stopped for a moment, his back to Lundsdorf. If nothing else, he had no intention of giving Lundsdorf the pleasure of a reaction. Slowly, he stepped past the guard, only to notice a second man off in the shadows, thin to the point of frailty, a set of nervous eyes trying to avoid contact. Xander recognized him instantly. Anton Votapek. And he knew he had heard every word. Without acknowledging him, Xander continued down the corridor.  

 

 

The first car left at 7:07, the second eight minutes later. Only Alison had remained at the cabin. O’Connell had mentioned another woman, someone who would arrive to take care of her. He had not explained; Sarah had not asked.

Each operative wore a turtleneck and black wool hat, the clothing pulled to the limits so as to leave a minimum of flesh revealed. And each carried a revolver fitted with a silencer, strapped tightly in a holster at the waist. Knives hung on the side of the belt, garroting wire coiled innocently through an open loop—the usual fare for such expeditions, worn with the familiarity of men well schooled in the art of infiltration. Sarah felt strangely at ease in her own gear, although her ribs made it impossible to carry anything on her shoulder, even the weight of a pack too much to sustain. Toby had taken hers without too much of a fuss.

It was 7:57 when the first car pulled to a stop along a stretch of road half a mile from the compound. The three men and Sarah got out and waited while O’Connell drove into the gulley between highway and wood; five minutes later, the car lay hidden under branches and foliage, plastic reflector caps from the lights tossed into the trees. In single file, they began to walk.

 

Jonas Tieg entered the study, an all-too-familiar knot in his stomach. The pain had grown less acute over the years, but it had remained an essential part of the ritual, a connection to a past beyond which he had never quite moved. Willingly or not, Tieg became the frightened twelve-year-old all over again, the old man behind the desk aware of his pupil, never choosing to acknowledge him. Tonight, however, that would change.

Without looking up from his book, Lundsdorf spoke. “I thought you were leaving, Jonas. You should be in California for the next few days. Or does your television show not need you?”

“I can leave in the morning,” answered Tieg, taking the chair across from Lundsdorf.

“I would prefer it if you were to leave tonight.” Only now did the old man look up. “I will be closing off access to the lab within the next hour or so. Again, it would be best if you were not here when that occurs.”

“I was hoping to—”

“I have heard your concerns, and I trust you understood my answer. Do I make myself clear?”

“Absolutely,” answered Tieg, “except you forgot to tell me how important Jaspers will be in our future.” He spoke with little emotion. “Obviously, my insecurities weren’t as far-fetched as you led me to believe.”

Lundsdorf placed the book on the desk and sat back, his hands clasped in his lap. “You have been listening to things that do not concern you.”

“I’m a little tired of being treated like a child.”

“And I am tired of treating you as such, but you rarely leave me any other choice. This business with Jaspers—”

“Is unacceptable,” Tieg cut in. “He must be eliminated.”

“Really? To soothe your ego?”

“To make certain that an old man’s fantasy doesn’t get in the way of fifty years of work.”

“Fantasy?” Lundsdorf smiled. “Tell me, Jonas, when I am gone, will you understand how to coordinate the three spheres—”

Now Tieg began to laugh. It was a response Lundsdorf never expected, enough to silence him. “The three spheres?” continued Tieg, no humor in his voice. For some reason, the knot in his stomach had disappeared. “I’m
already
coordinating the three of us, or weren’t you aware of that? Larry doesn’t make a move without me, and Anton … well, Anton, as you know, does what he’s told. So there’s really no need for Professor Jaspers, is there? As I understand it, even he realizes that, whatever motives he might have for declining your
generous
proposition. Unfortunately, it isn’t yours to offer anymore.”

“I see,” he replied. “And you have had this planned for some time, yes?”

“Actually, no. Unlike you, I recognize a certain unpredictability when it comes to fate. There are things we can control and things we can’t. Those we can’t are the ones—like Dr. Jaspers—to which we simply have to react. That’s what I’m doing now.”

“And if Jaspers had not appeared?”

“Who knows? I might never have—how do you always put it?—
questioned
my role
. Strange how your need to control everything—even after you’re dead—is the very thing that keeps you from seeing it all work out.”

“Your role has not changed.”

“Oh, I think it has.” Tieg removed a gun from his pocket and aimed it at Lundsdorf. “You have the codes to initialize the final stage. I need them.”

“And you think I will give them to you so that you may kill me.”

“I think your ego couldn’t bear the thought of being so close and never having had the chance to push the button, no matter what the outcome.”

“Why not wait for me to input the codes, and then kill me? Surely that would have been easier?”

“We both know you’d never let me into the lab. And we both know that, given my feelings for Jaspers, there’s little chance I’d live much beyond the next eight days. You’d be only too happy with Pembroke as your political prefect. So I die and become a martyr, one more tragedy within all the chaos, a fact that only makes my army of viewers all the more ready to do your bidding. No. I need the codes now. And you’re going to give them to me.”

A muffled shot rang out from beneath the desk. Tieg lurched backward, for a moment uncertain what had happened. He then looked down at his stomach and watched as a growing circle of red began to spread across his shirt. A second shot fired, jolting him back as his gun fell to the floor. He began to cough blood, his instinct to stand, but his legs would not support him. From the shadows, Paolo appeared.

“I was hoping it would not come to this, Jonas,” said Lundsdorf, calmly lifting his hand from his lap and placing the gun on the desk. “Hoping you would see beyond yourself to the future. Sadly, that is not to be.” He watched as Tieg coughed up more blood. “By the way, you are quite right. The vice president—or should I say
president
—will make a fine prefect, and yes, we will make certain that your death elicits the proper response from all your many devotees. As to Anton, again you are most perceptive. He does what he is told, especially when he is promised that Alison is not to be harmed. That, of course, is untrue, but he is somewhat too believing when it comes to that young woman. Nonetheless, he was quite clear as to your intentions.” Tieg reached for the desk, only to have Paolo’s hand clasp his shoulder and press him to the chair. “And, of course, Paolo.” Lundsdorf nodded. “His penance for Wolfenbüttel has been most helpful.” Lundsdorf pushed back his chair and stood. “You know, I did not anticipate this. So you see, I, too, know when it is necessary simply to …
react
.” He stepped around the desk and, in a strangely affectionate gesture, placed his hand on Tieg’s cheek. “You played your role as best you could, Jonas. Take comfort in that.”

A minute later, Tieg’s head fell to the side, his eyes frozen in death.

 

O’Connell had led most of the way, angling the quintet through the trees, the two men behind, followed by Toby and Sarah. Twenty yards from the gate, he raised his hand and dropped to his knees. The others did the same, save for the taller of the two hired hands, who continued on, prone to the ground, snaking his way through the underbrush on his arms.

They watched as he positioned himself about halfway between the gate’s wooden pilaster and the first fence post some eight feet farther down. Two pieces of strip wood lay horizontally between the two columns, the picture of a simple country fence designed to keep out only the largest of animals. To the party crouched in the trees, however, it was anything but simple. They continued to watch as the man removed a small box from his pack and placed it on a two-foot tripod about eighteen inches from the lower rail. A second box, then a third appeared, each placed at specific points between the two posts in a triangular formation. The man then seated himself within the triangle, removed yet another device—this one no larger than his palm—and aimed it at the first of the three boxes. No sooner had he done so than a thin strip of light seemed to jump from the gate to the first box, then to the second, then to the third, and finally to the far post, a razor-thin beam dancing two feet off the ground. He then placed the device under his hood and squeezed himself through the two pieces of strip wood. He was inside. No alarms. No jolts of electricity. He pulled the device from his hood, disengaged the beam, and signaled for O’Connell to take his position. One by one, they each entered the triangle; and one by one, they waited for the beam before breaching the fence. Though considerably more advanced, it was nothing more than a slip loop, much like the one Sarah had used to gain access to Schenten’s house. Within three minutes, they all lay prone inside the grounds of the compound.

Directly in front of them, the grass rose on an incline to a flat, open area; a cluster of five cabins dotted the far horizon and formed a strange pattern against the deep black of the sky. The main house stood apart, off to the left on another raised plain, though nearer than any of the cabins. Light from inside spilled out onto the grass, creating a gentle aura around the building. It was on that hill that they knew they would find the trip wires.

O’Connell checked his watch. He nodded to the second man, who immediately dashed up to the summit. Crouching, he pulled a set of lenses from his pack and began to scan the grounds. Infrareds. Less than halfway through his sweep, he suddenly pulled the glasses from his eyes and reached back to his holster. In the same motion, he signaled to the group below to flatten themselves on the grass. Pressed to the cold ground, Sarah heard the sound of a single
thwit
break through the silence. A moment later, she looked up. The man had moved off. O’Connell nodded for the rest to follow as Sarah took up the rear behind Toby.