warmth. She stood there unmoving, losing track of time. Her breathing grew harder.
Finally, a voice spoke behind her.
'Are you coming to bed, Krista?'
She glanced over her shoulder. Ivar Karlsen stood naked in the doorway to his bedroom. At his age, he remained solid, his belly flat, his legs strong and muscular. And more important, he needed no pill to perform.
'Is everything all right?' he asked.
'Couldn't be better.'
She turned fully to face him. Dropping her phone into a pocket, she undid the sash of her robe and let the garment slither off her shoulders to pile atop the fur rug. She stood with her back to the flames, all too aware of the fire, all too aware of the icy chill of the castle room.
She stood where she belonged.
Between ice and fire.
THIRD
SEEDS OF DESTRUCTION
Chapter 18
October 13, 8:43 A.M.
Airborne over the Norwegian Sea
The sun remained low in the sky as the private jet soared over the Arctic Circle. During the late autumn months, there was little daylight where they were headed. The archipelago of Svalbard lay halfway between the northern coast of Norway and the North Pole. With over half of its land-mass buried under glaciers, it was home to little besides reindeer and polar bears.
Even Saint Nick would have a hard time calling this place home.
But for the moment, Painter enjoyed the leather and mahogany cabin of the private jet, a Citation Sovereign wangled by Kat. She also had their flight manifest altered to show that they were executives of a coal consortium. It was a decent cover. The major industry of the archipelago was coal mining.
The jet's cabin sat seven, so there was plenty of room for the four of them to stretch out. They had all managed to get a little sleep, needing it after the long night, but they'd be landing in less than an hour at Longyearbyen, the largest settlement on the Svalbard islands.
Painter leaned back in his leather captain's chair. He sat across a table from Senator Gorman. Monk and Creed shared a neighboring couch. It was time to lay all their respective cards on the table, to firm up the tentative game plan for the coming confrontation.
Painter knew they would have to move fast, to jump as soon as their tires hit the tarmac. They had fled Oslo knowing two things. First, that with Painter's cover blown and the senator being hunted, the place had grown too hot. Second, that their major suspect had already abandoned the city and was headed to the same frozen islands. It was their best chance to corner Karlsen and get some real answers.
The CEO of Viatus was leading a group of summit leaders to view the famous Svalbard Global Seed Vault. It was the Noah's Ark for seeds, meant to protect its precious cargo-over three hundred thousand seed species- against wars, pestilence, nuclear attack, earthquakes, even drastic climate changes. Designed to last for twenty thousand years, this Doomsday Vault was buried five hundred feet under a mountain, in what was considered to be the most remotely populated place on earth.
If they wanted a private conversation with Karlsen, far from prying eyes, this was the place for it. But such a meeting wasn't without significant risk.
'Senator,' Painter pressed one last time, 'I still think it might be best if you stayed in Longyearbyen. If we need you, we can pull you into the investigation.'
Painter continued to maintain the ruse that the three of them were from the office of the Inspector General, working for the Defense Criminal Investigative Service. They even had the badges to prove it.
'I'm going with you,' Senator Gorman said, nursing a cup of coffee.
Painter had noted that he'd spiked it with some brandy from the stocked bar. Not that Painter blamed the guy. Gorman had taken a series of hard blows in the past few hours. He had been a close associate, bordering on friends, with Karlsen.
Gorman's voice hardened. 'If Ivar truly had a hand in the death of my son...'
'We still don't know how much ties directly back to him,' Painter offered thinly.
The senator wasn't buying it.
'He fucking shook my hand.' Gorman slammed a fist on the table, rattling the coffee cups and saucers. He glared across the table. Plainly the senator would not be swayed from coming. Painter could only imagine the pain of his loss, followed by such a betrayal, but at the moment Painter didn't need someone flying off half-cocked.
Still, the man had one solid argument and stated it again. 'You'll need me to get close to Ivar.'
Painter folded his hands in his lap, recognizing the truth. Karlsen had left an hour before them, racing ahead of a storm blowing in from the pole. He would likely already be at the seed vault by the time they landed. And security there was tight, especially with the arriving dignitaries from the summit.
Senator Gorman continued. 'To get inside, you'll need both me and my ID pass. Even your badges won't get you past security. With my invitation, I can get at least one of you into the vault.'
It had already been decided that Painter would be that one. Monk and Creed would maintain a defensive perimeter outside and offer backup.
Painter had also reviewed the security at the seed vault. The place was sealed behind steel-reinforced doors, monitored by a sophisticated video-surveillance system, not to mention patrolled by the couple of thousand polar bears that roamed the island. Additionally, for this event, a contingent of the Norwegian army would be on hand to bolster security.
So crashing this party without the senator would be as hard as cracking into Fort Knox.
Recognizing all this, Painter finally relented. He straightened in his chair and eyed everyone. 'Then before we land, let's figure out what we know-and, just as important, what we don't. Once we hit the ground, we'll need to jump.'
Monk nodded. 'Where do we start?'
'With our primary target, Ivar Karlsen.' Painter focused on Gorman. 'You've worked with him for years. What can you tell us about him?'
The senator leaned back, clearly trying to rein in his anger, but his expression remained black. 'If you'd asked me that yesterday, I would've said he was a rugged, stand-up sort of guy, someone who knows how to make a buck, but also knows the responsibility behind such wealth. Sort of Rockefeller crossed with FDR.'
'And how did you first meet?'
'Through the Club of Rome. I joined simply to make political and business connections. What better way to firm up my career than to hobnob with an international group of industrialists, politicians, and celebrities.' He shrugged, shameless about his ambition. 'But then I met Ivar. His passion was electric, his rhetoric compelling. He firmly and wholeheartedly believes in preserving the world, safeguarding mankind's future. Sure, some of his suggestions for managing population growth may be extreme. Mandatory birth control, sterilization, paying families not to have children. But someone has to make those hard choices. It's what drew me to him to begin with. His no-nonsense manner and sensibility. But I wasn't the only one in his inner circle.'
Painter's interest sharpened. 'What do you mean?'
'Within the Club of Rome, Ivar gathered like-minded people, those who also believed tough choices were needed. We were sort of a club within the club. Each of us worked on special projects for him. Mine, like I said, was to use my political clout to expand biofuel development. But there were other projects overseen by various members of the circle.'
'Like with bees?' Monk asked, referring to the test hives he had seen in the subterranean lab. He rubbed at a stinging welt on his cheek.
The senator shrugged. 'I wouldn't know. We each ran our separate projects.'
'Then let's talk about the project that started this whole mess,' Painter said. 'Where all the bloodshed seemed to originate. It all flows back to the genetic research done at Viatus, specifically the testing of its drought- resistant corn. We know Viatus funded the research into extremophiles and that they discovered some fungal
