The Covenant of Genesis

you go, chaos follows . . . and people die. Well, no more. This is something the IHA is no longer willing to tolerate.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that, until a determination of your degree of culpability in the deaths of the expedition members can be made, as the Director of the International Heritage Agency I am suspending you from your post, without pay, effective immediately. The same goes for Mr Chase.’

Nina gaped silently at her for a moment before rage finally pushed the words from her mouth. ‘This is bullshit!’ she cried. ‘You don’t have that authority! Not without a review by the UN . . .’ She realised that both the UN officials now looked uncomfortable. ‘Son of a bitch,’ she muttered under her breath, before raising her voice again. ‘You’d already decided how this was going to end before I even walked in the room!’

‘The damage to the IHA, and to the United Nations, needed to be addressed as quickly as possible,’ one of the officials said feebly.

She glared at him. ‘Oh, so I get sacrificed on the altar of public relations, do I?’

The other official spoke up. ‘When the investigation clears you, you’ll be reinstated, of course.’

‘If the investigation clears you,’ Rothschild countered.

‘I’m sure it’ll be completely impartial and unbiased,’ said Nina bitterly. She stood. ‘Well, if I’m suspended, there’s no point my hanging around here, is there?’

‘There is one more thing, Dr Wilde,’ Rothschild said. ‘The memory card, the one with the pictures of the artefact . . . what happened to it?’

‘It got wiped,’ Nina answered.

‘So there are no more pictures of the artefact?’

‘No.’

‘I see.’ Rothschild pursed her lips. ‘Let us hope that means an end to the violence, then.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nina. ‘Let us hope.’

She turned away and left the room, closing the door behind her . . . then reached up to feel the memory card, still in her jacket pocket.

Still filled with anger, Nina gathered her possessions from her office, slamming books and journals and mementos of her past adventures into a cardboard box.

She paused as she picked up one particular souvenir - a framed photograph of herself at the White House, receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Victor Dalton for her part in saving New York from nuclear annihilation.

Dalton . . .

Following the FBI’s examination of the room, the telephone had been replaced along with the broken window. Nina hesitated, then: ‘What the hell.’ She called Lola’s replacement and asked to be put through to the President.

‘Of . . . the United States?’ came the uncertain reply.

‘That’s the one.’

It was a long shot; Nina had no idea if Dalton were even currently in Washington, and was sure he had an infinite number of other concerns. But she figured that she was owed a favour - at the very least, he could return her call.

The response was not immediate, giving her time to finish collecting her belongings. But eventually, the phone rang. ‘Hello?’

‘Dr Wilde?’ said a woman. ‘Please hold for the President.’

Another pause, then a click of connection. ‘Dr Wilde,’ said an instantly recognisable voice.

‘Mr President,’ she replied. ‘Thank you for taking my call.’

‘No problem at all. I could hardly keep a true American hero waiting, could I?’ He chuckled. ‘What can I do for you?’

Nina wondered for a moment how best to address the subject, deciding to get straight to the point. ‘Mr President, it’s about the appointment of Maureen Rothschild as the new Director of the International Heritage Agency. I don’t believe she is the right person for the job, and I think that her suspension of myself and Eddie Chase is completely unwarranted.’

‘Your suspension.’ For some reason, Dalton seemed unsurprised at the news. Surely he couldn’t already know about it?

‘Yes, sir. In my opinion, she made the decision based solely on her personal dislike of me, without any consideration of the damage it would cause to the IHA’s operations and its global security mission.’ Nina had a more forceful - and ruder - version of her argument circling in her head, but thought the diplomatic edit should do the trick.

Or not. ‘Dr Wilde,’ said Dalton, disapproval evident in his tone, ‘are you aware that Professor Rothschild was appointed as IHA Director on my personal recommendation to the Senate committee and the UN?’

‘Uh, no sir, I was not,’ Nina answered, startled.

‘She has my total confidence and support, as well as that of the United Nations. Are you saying that support is misplaced?’

‘I, er . . . Yes, quite frankly, Mr President,’ she said, a shudder running through her as she realised she had just challenged the most powerful man on the planet.

‘Then,’ said Dalton, tone even harder, ‘we’ll have to disagree, Dr Wilde. Professor Rothschild has my full backing. If her decision inconveniences you—’

‘Inconveniences?’

‘—then that’s unfortunate. But as Director, she has full authority. If you have a problem with that, you should take it up through proper UN channels, rather than trying to take advantage of your past service to this country for personal gain.’

‘That - that’s not why I—’ Nina began, but Dalton cut her off.

‘We both know that’s exactly why you called me, Dr Wilde. Now, I appreciate everything you’ve done in the past for the United States - I would hardly have awarded you the Medal of Freedom otherwise - but that does not grant you a hotline to the Oval Office to solve your personal problems. Do I make myself clear?’ When Nina couldn’t find an answer immediately, he sternly added, ‘Dr Wilde? Am I clear?’

‘Yes, Mr President,’ Nina mumbled, chastised.

‘Good. Now, I have business to attend to. Goodbye, Dr Wilde.’

The phone clicked, leaving Nina trembling in anger and humiliation, feeling as though she’d just been punched in the gut.

Dalton put down the phone, then turned his chair towards the windows looking out over the White House’s rose garden, a small but satisfied smile on his lips.

Nina Wilde and her fiance had made themselves his enemies four months earlier, without even knowing it, by destroying a secret weapon controlled by his black-ops agent Jack Mitchell. In the overall scheme of things they were very minor enemies, with no power to harm him in any way, but Dalton had still taken a certain pleasure in arranging for the vast apparatus of the United States government to bedevil their lives. Tax audits and overzealous immigration checks had been petty compared to depriving the couple of their jobs, however. The moment he’d learned about Nina’s enmity with Rothschild, he’d seen an opportunity for something more hard-hitting.

Now it was done, he could focus on more pressing matters - in which, like the proverbial bad penny, Nina Wilde and Eddie Chase had turned up. With them out of the way, that left the Covenant of Genesis.

His smile vanished at the mere thought of the organisation. Now there was a dangerous enemy - and one that even with his vast resources he couldn’t yet deal with, not without being destroyed himself. How they had obtained such politically - and personally - damaging knowledge he had no idea. But they had, and as their representative, an Israeli, had calmly explained, they would use it without hesitation if he did not