Germ

'I think that's the idea. He's the boogeyman for historians and CIA types.'

She disconnected the phone from the laptop and turned it around in her hand while she talked.

'I guess he's kind of a cult celebrity,' she continued. 'Look on the Internet. There are fan clubs dedicated to this guy. Some say he was reared from infancy on the skills of his family's tradecraft. At six years old he learned how to pick locks. At eight he learned that severing the spinal cord at the base of the neck prevents targets from getting off one last shot after you've killed them. It's this lifelong training that makes him so good. And some people think his very lineage adds to his prowess, that each generation yields a better assassin than the generation before him—not because of the training, but because it's in his blood.'

'Knock it off,' Allen said, flashing an unsure smile.

'You asked,' she said.

'Maybe there's something to it,' Stephen said. 'After all, Julia, you saw him come back from the dead.'

Her mouth went dry. She had see him slaughtered, only to appear the next day ready for a fight. That was creepy enough, but did it lend credibility to stories about him? To her, it did.

The tinted window next to her hinged at the top. She levered open the bottom to its maximum opening of about four inches. She was about to drop the phone through when it rang.

She looked at Allen, who scowled.

'Private number,' she said and answered.

'Touche, Ms. Matheson.'

The voice made her think of her great-aunt's letters. The writing was thin and shaky, as though written on a paint mixer.

'I thought you'd like that,' she said.

'You're a very capable woman. As I said, I believe we can help each other.'

'Without knowing who you are, I don't want your help, and you certainly won't get mine.'

Silence.

'At this point,' he said, 'I must tell you that we are dealing in matters of national security. I must be assured that anything I tell you will be kept in the strictest confidence. This goes for you and Allen and Stephen Parker. I am recording this conversation.'

'You're kidding, right?'

'I've very serious. Divulging what we say to anyone—the media, your mother—will result in your arrest and imprisonment. Is that clear?'

Her stomach tightened. Did he say mother simply to stress the comprehensiveness of the prohibition, or was he saying something? Did he know about her mother, her being alone, her illness? Was he threatening her?

'We've got killers after us, and you're telling me you'll throw me in jail for talking?'

'I can't say more without your indicating that you understand the confidential nature of our conversation and the consequences for violating this confidence.'

She suspected he was more interested in establishing his credibility with her than binding her to a gag order.

'I understand and agree.'

'And what is your whole name?'

She told him.

'Now, please, let me speak to Dr. Parker and his brother.'

She hesitated. Was he trying to establish that they were together? Was there any reason to keep it secret? She couldn't think of any. She handed the phone to Allen.

He listened, then said, 'Allen Douglas Parker.' Listened. 'I agree.' He handed the phone to Stephen, who went through the process, then held the phone over his shoulder for Julia to take.

'Okay, now—'

'My name is Kendrick Reynolds.'

'Kendrick Reynolds?'

Allen's eyes got big. He mouthed the name.

'Do you know who I am?'

'Of course. Former secretary of state. Former director of the CIA. Advisor to, what, eight presidents?'

'Ten,' he corrected.

'Billionaire,' Allen added.

'I assume,' the man claiming to be Kendrick Reynolds said, 'you can confirm my identity through the computer files you stole.'

'You said you can help us.'

'I can protect you.'

'The way you protected Goodwin Donnelley and Despesorio Vero?'

'My point exactly. They were on their own, away from my protection. Their fate does not have to be yours.'

'And how do we help you?'

'I believe you have something Despesorio Vero was bringing me.'

'To you? He showed up at the CDC. I heard tapes of his calls. He never mentioned you.'

'I am the only person who can stop Karl Litt.'

'From doing what?'

'Honestly, I do not know.' He sounded even more tired than previously. 'But considering Karl's . . . expertise, I have some ideas.'

'Such as?'

'A biological attack on the United States.'

'And who is Karl Litt to you?'

'A bad investment.'

'You're in business with him?'

'He worked for the government at one time. Now he doesn't.'

Allen touched her shoulder. He whispered, 'Could they be tracing the call?'

She nodded. 'Give me a number where I can reach you.'

'Ms. Matheson, you can end this now. Thousands of lives—'

'A number or we never speak again.'

She waited. After a long moment, he recited a number and a security code. She closed the flip phone and dropped it out the window.

sixty-one

Kendrick Reynolds cradled the handset and looked at his assistant. Captain Landon watched him carefully, unsure of Kendrick's mood.

'Interesting,' was all Kendrick would say. He pulled a breath through the mouthpiece of his God-head pipe, found it had gone out, and plucked it from his mouth.

Maybe it was for the best that Julia and the Parkers knew precisely who they were dealing with. He didn't know about Stephen Parker, but reports on Allen Parker pegged him as some sort of medical Einstein, and just now Julia had made her intelligence abundantly clear. These were the kind of people who didn't believe in 'the man behind the curtain'; they wanted names and faces and resumes.

Now they have mine, he thought.

That both frightened and exhilarated him. If laying himself bare before people who had the evidence not only to destroy his future but to dismantle his past resulted in finding Litt and burying that very evidence against himself—well, this could turn out to be his most brilliant play yet. What a way to end his career. Absently, he ran a finger over the face of God.

Of course, Matheson and the Parkers themselves were loose ends that would need tying up. But for now, he needed only to get his hands on whatever it was Vero had left and Litt was trying to get back. Something, definitely. The woman had all but admitted to having it.

His eyes refocused on the captain. 'Anything?' he asked.