The Covenant of Genesis

agree to their . . . request.

And what a request. If the public ever learned what he had done to appease the Covenant, it would end his career more quickly than the release of any of the organisation’s other information about his dealings.

Fortunately, he had at least been able to persuade the Covenant to let one of his operatives join them. One of his best operatives. A man who would find any possible opportunity to eliminate any threats to him . . . and maybe even shift the balance of power to where it belonged.

In his favour.

He turned back to his desk and picked up one particular phone. ‘Get me Michael Callum.’

The tall, granite-faced man, hair a bristling pure white, pushed a button on his secure cell phone to end the call. ‘That was the President,’ Callum told the other occupant of the luxurious Washington, DC hotel suite.

‘So I gathered,’ said Uziel Hammerstein, unimpressed, as he lit a cigar. Callum looked pointedly at the ‘no smoking’ sign by the door. The Israeli made a vaguely amused noise. ‘What, are you going to have me sent to Guantanamo for smoking?’

‘So what did your esteemed leader have to say?’ came an English-accented voice from the phone on the glass coffee table between the two men.

Callum frowned at the voice’s undisguised sarcasm. ‘You’ll be glad to know, Professor Ribbsley, that Nina Wilde is no longer a problem. She’s been fired, and the digital images of the tablet have been erased.’

‘Good,’ said Ribbsley. ‘I doubt she would have been able to translate any of the text, but once I knew I was looking at a navigational chart, it didn’t take long to work out where it led. She might have been able to do the same. Of course,’ he went on, his cutting tone returning, ‘if Hammerstein’s goon had done his job rather than letting her throw him out of a window . . .’

Hammerstein bared his teeth, the cigar clenched between them. ‘Careful, Professor. Just because we’ve agreed to your demands doesn’t mean I have to put up with any of your crap. Goldman wasn’t just a colleague, he was a friend.’

‘My condolences on your loss,’ said Ribbsley, in a deliberate monotone.

Callum regarded the Israeli coldly. ‘Your man shouldn’t even have been operating on our turf.’

Hammerstein leaned back in the leather armchair, blowing a smoke ring across the table at him. ‘The Covenant works wherever it has to, Callum. Our mission is more important than your politics.’ The white-haired man narrowed his eyes.

‘Speaking of your mission,’ said Ribbsley, ‘have the preparations started yet?’

‘Vogler is in Australia already,’ Hammerstein told him. ‘Zamal is on his way. Your flight is being arranged right now.’

‘First class, of course.’ Not a question: an expectation.

‘Yes, first class,’ said Hammerstein, sharing a contemptuous look with Callum.

‘Excellent. In that case, I’d better finish packing. See you down under, gentlemen.’

‘You shouldn’t have caved in to his demands,’ snapped Callum the moment the call ended.

‘We had no choice. We needed him to translate the tablet Vogler recovered from Indonesia - and we’ll need him to translate any new finds at the site.’

‘Even so, if it’d just been money he wanted, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Not even Ribbsley could be that greedy. But this . . .’

‘Ribbsley’s a man of very particular tastes. Unfortunately. Which is why we’re allowing you to act as . . . caretaker.’ A faint smile. ‘I assume Dalton has already authorised you to take care of things when the mission is completed.’ The Covenant leader stood. ‘I have to go. There’s a lot of work to do, and Australia is a very long flight away.’ He left the suite without any pleasantries of departure.

Callum stared at the door after it closed. Dalton had indeed granted him licence to take care of the problem of Ribbsley’s demands . . . and more besides. The Covenant had gone too far. This was a direct threat to the authority of the President of the United States, and had to be dealt with.

But subtly. The Covenant had enormous power behind it. He had to wait for the right opportunity, pick his moment, or the consequences could be ruinous.

When that moment came, though . . . he would be ready.

12

Chase entered the apartment and flopped down on the couch. ‘Hi, honey, I’m home. Don’t I get a kiss hello?’

‘Thank God,’ said Nina, hurrying in from the kitchen and kissing him. ‘I think we’ve both got a lot of catching up to do.’

‘Yeah,’ Chase said, taking in her cuts and bruises with a concerned expression. ‘You want to go first?’

‘No, you,’ she said, sitting beside him. ‘Why the hell were you in Cuba?’

‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t getting another of those.’ He nodded at the Fidel Castro figurine on a shelf, a ceramic cigar-box holder now used to store loose change. ‘No, I had words with those pirates - Bejo’s fine, by the way - and saw some bloke paying them off.’

‘What about the tablet?’

‘He took it. And your laptop.’

‘Damn. So this guy, was he Cuban? Did you follow him there?’

‘No, I was taken - by a bunch of your guys.’

‘My guys?’

‘Yanks. Three goons dressed like Agent Smith. They stuck me on a plane to Guantanamo Bay.’

‘What?’ Nina gasped. ‘Why would they take you there?’

‘Because I know someone there. So do you. Sophia. She’s . . . she’s dead.’

‘Oh,’ was Nina’s only immediate response. She had absolutely no love for Chase’s ex-wife, but could tell that however stoic he seemed outwardly he was affected within. ‘What happened?’

‘She tried to escape and got shot. They wanted me to see the body. It was a mess.’

She put her arm round him. ‘Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry . . . Are you okay?’

He didn’t answer for a moment. ‘I’m . . . I don’t know,’ he admitted, shaking his head. ‘It’s weird. I couldn’t stop thinking about her on the flight back.’

Nina’s face twitched in disapproval, but she managed to keep it from Chase, barely. ‘In what way?’

‘I’m going to miss her, in some weird way. I didn’t think I would after everything she did, but . . .’ He sighed, to his surprise feeling a weight growing on his heart the more he spoke. ‘She didn’t use to be like that. Not when I first met her - hell, I wouldn’t have married her if she had been. And I know that she blamed me for some of how she turned out.’

‘That’s crazy,’ Nina told him firmly. ‘You don’t believe that, do you?’

‘No, but . . .’ Another sigh, and he stared down at the floor. ‘I’m pretty sure she did.’

‘Oh, Eddie . . .’ She hugged him sympathetically. ‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened to her. Any of it.’

Another moment of silence, then he looked at her. ‘So what about you?’ he asked, glad to change the subject.

Now it was Nina’s turn to recount recent events. ‘Wait, I got fired?’ asked Chase when she finished.

‘You weren’t fired, you were suspended,’ Nina corrected. ‘Although I kinda get the feeling Rothschild wants to make it the same thing. Miserable old bitch.’

‘Sod her - what about this bloke who tried to kill you and Lola? Have they found out who he was?’

‘No, nobody’s identified him yet. I’m not even sure what part of the world he was from; I didn’t recognise his accent.’

‘I recognised mine,’ said Chase. ‘The guy who paid off the pirates was Swiss.’

‘Swiss?’

‘Yeah. His name was Vogler. And he’s part of something called the Covenant of Genesis.’ He noticed Nina’s reaction. ‘You know what it is?’