The Carbon Trail (25 page)

Magee stared at the younger man. “What do you mean no? Who the hell are you to question a direct order?”

Richie gazed at him coolly. “If you calm down I’ll tell you. A lot’s happened since yesterday, boss.”

Magee glared and waited for him to start. Richie knew that he’d better make it good or he’d be pulling a twenty-four-hour shift.

“Karen and Emily Mitchell were kidnapped.” Magee’s gasp was gratifying and Richie struggled to keep the smug look off his face. “They were taken by a Russian woman called Elza Silin, on the orders of Ilya Tabakov.”

Evans leaned forward, interrupting. “But aren’t they part of the cell based at the café? Why would
they kidnap Mitchell’s family?”

Richie answered without looking at him. “They are, but I’ll come back to that later. Mitchell’s first loyalty is to his family, so when he found out that they’d gone he came out of the house to the sedan.”

It was Magee’s turn to interrupt. “How in hell did he know you were there?”

Richie laughed. “Give him some credit! The man has a PhD from Harvard and sedans aren’t invisible.”

Magee waved him on, making a mental note to improve surveillance training.

“Mitchell asked me for my help to find them and he said that he’d help us in return. To cut a long story short, Ilya Tabakov had commissioned the woman Silin to kidnap Mitchell’s family, to pressure him to continue his work. It seems they’ve been starting to doubt Mitchell’s loyalty in the past few weeks.”

“Why?” It was Evans’ question but Richie directed his answer to Magee.

“No idea, but they must have noticed something. Maybe it’s because of Mitchell’s tumour but he certainly seems a lot nicer than the man we were briefed on nine months ago. Anyway, we found Silin, but she had no intention of giving up easily. Shots were fired and she died.”

Richie winced involuntarily and Magee noticed for the first time that he was holding his left shoulder lower than his right.

“You got shot.” It was a statement not a question and Richie was surprised by the concern in Magee’s voice.

“Just a flesh wound. I’ll mend.”

Evans watched the exchange thoughtfully. Magee’s fondness for the younger man was obvious. It reminded him of how he’d used to treat him.

“And Mitchell’s wife and child?”

Richie nodded. “Alive. The girl’s in hospital with dehydration.” His lip curled angrily. “The bitch drugged her. But Karen’s fine; just cuts and bruises. I have them both under protection. I called in a few favours to keep it low-key.”

Karen. Both men had noticed the soft way Richie said her name. Magee bookmarked the lecture on over-familiarity for later.

“Silin had no intention of letting them go alive. Seems she had dreams of a white picket fence with Mitchell in Mother Russia and they were in her way.”

“So Mitchell’s relationship with Tabakov is completely blown?”

Richie shook his head firmly.

“No. Tabakov doesn’t know that I was involved. He thinks Mitchell acted alone to protect his family. If anything he’s being conciliatory with Mitchell now, apologising for ever doubting him, etc.”

He paused, considering his next words carefully and then he decided to say them straight.

“Mitchell’s a sleeper agent. Russian.”

The look of astonishment on Magee’s face made Richie wish he could take a photo.

“What? How did we not know this?”

Richie shook his head. “No idea. Mitchell seemed as shocked about it as I was. Says he’s only just found out. Apparently he was selected on the basis of his IQ when he was a kid and brought to the U.S. to assimilate when he was ten.”

“What’s his real name?”

“He doesn’t know, but he says Tabakov calls him Durak. It’s a term of endearment in Russia. Tabakov and Daria Kaverin became an uncle and aunt of some sort when Mitchell arrived here, but Mitchell swears that he can’t remember any of it.”

“Do you believe him?”

Evans knew that Magee’s question meant he valued Richie’s opinion. Maybe he’d better take the rude bastard seriously. Richie nodded slowly.

“Yes, I do. Mitchell says that he can’t remember anything at all before the past two weeks. Maybe it’s because of the tumour, I don’t know. But whatever it is I’ll tell you this, his loyalty isn’t with the Russians anymore.” He paused then thought of something. “Maybe he’s just lived here so long that he’s shifted allegiance to the States?”

Magee nodded; Stockholm syndrome without the kidnap. “So now what?”

“Mitchell made me a promise. If I helped him get his family back safe and sound, he would work for us against Tabakov.”

Evans snorted sceptically. “And you believe him?”

For the first time in ten minutes Richie looked at Tom Evans. His eyes were unreadable.

“Yes. I do.” Richie turned back to Magee. “Mitchell’s dying, sir and he wants his family safe. He’s also questioning the safety of putting his research in the Alliance’s hands.”

Magee cut in. “The Alliance?”

Richie nodded. “The Russians aren’t working alone. Iran is involved.”

“Shit!”

No-one spoke for a moment as the implications sank in. Richie broke the silence first. “Mitchell is going to keep working, so that they won’t catch on. But he’ll be giving us his research, not them.”

“If he doesn’t give them something they’ll kill him.”

“He’s not worried about that. His days are already numbered. But he’s asked for his family to be re-located.”

Magee nodded. It was small price to pay for life-changing research. Richie was still talking.

“Mitchell will give them some false research to play for time. He’s mocking it up right now. It’ll have to be close enough to fool their scientists, but it won’t be the real deal. Tabakov and the old woman will leave the country once it’s handed over. They think the Mitchell’s are going as well.”

Magee thought for a moment and then asked the only question that mattered.

“When?”

Chapter Thirty-Four

It was only a matter of time before the call came, and when it did Jeff Mitchell was prepared. Knowing that Karen and Emmie were safe had given him peace. Knowing that Ilya had ordered their kidnap had made him hate.

His cell-phone rang with the familiar number and Mitchell placed it on his desk, watching it vibrate just long enough to worry the man on the other end. It stopped ringing and then started again, sounding more desperate this time. Mitchell smiled, knowing that it was wishful thinking. Finally he pressed answer and sat in silence, waiting for the caller to speak.

“Durak.”

Mitchell smiled coldly at the phone, savouring the fear in the old man’s voice.

“Durak, it’s me, Ilya. Forgive me.”

Mitchell shook his head as if the man could see him. He would never forgive Ilya for what he’d done, but the best revenge would be the one that Ilya didn’t see heading his way. Mitchell enjoyed a minute of pleading then he lifted the phone and spoke, moderating his anger with a neutral tone.

“What do you want?”

Ilya said a silent thanks to the God that he didn’t believe in then he spoke again.

“I didn’t know Elza would harm them. You must believe me.”

Mitchell allowed righteous anger to tinge his words. If he seemed too ready to forgive it would be unbelievable, and Ilya’s belief in him was essential to their plan.

“You didn’t know. You didn’t know! Do you think I’m stupid?”

“It’s the truth, I swear.”

“Why should I trust you when you didn’t trust me?”

Ilya spoke again, conciliation in every word.

“I know, I know. I would feel the same if I were you. I must have been mad to doubt you. You are my son.”

Mitchell couldn’t resist the insult, knowing that it would hit the man right where it hurt.

“I am not your son. You kidnapped me from my parents, just as Elza kidnapped my family.”

Mitchell was shocked by the old man’s next words. “We did not kidnap you! Your father was proud that you would have a different life. You were the brightest and the best. He was ill and it was his dying wish that you should help your country.”

His father was dead! An image flashed into Mitchell’s mind. A wooden house at the edge of a lake. A woman standing holding a small girl’s hand. They were waving at him. His mother! And he had a sister! The urge to know more overwhelmed Mitchell and he took a risk.

“I want their names, Ilya. My mother and my sister.”

“I cannot, you know that. Please don’t ask me.”

He had to. Emmie had a grandmother and aunt somewhere that she didn’t even know. He owed her that knowledge. Mitchell’s voice cooled.

“Tell me or you can whistle for your research. And we both know what your Iranian buddies will do to you then.”

Ilya swallowed hard and Mitchell could read his thoughts. He was weighing the odds. If he told Mitchell then the Russians might kill him. If he didn’t then the Iranians definitely would. Mitchell heard the old spy’s surrender before he heard his words.

“If I give you their names will you swear to go back to work?”

“When I have them in my hand.”

Ilya sighed. The boy was hard, but then he’d taught him well.

“Tonight then. At the house, at eight.”

The phone clicked off and Jeff Mitchell stared into space, reaching into the past. Vague fragments of sound and people’s faces ran through his mind, until he stumbled again upon the wooden house. He felt its comfort warm him and he smiled, remembering his mother, and looking forward to eight o’clock.

***

“OK. You both know what you’re doing. Tom, go back and act like nothing has changed. Do whatever Scrabo asks. When Mitchell gives us the false research, we’ll get a copy to you to set up the exchange with the Koreans.”

“When?

Magee nodded at Richie to take over.

“Mitchell’s giving us the false version before he gives it to the Alliance. The handover to Tabakov is set for Sunday night at twenty-two hundred. Set up your meeting with the North Koreans for then. We need to exchange at the same time.”

Magee interjected. “I’ll act as liaison. It’s imperative that the two exchanges go down simultaneously. If word leaks out on either side, lives will be put at risk.” He looked at them both pointedly. “That includes you two.”

“OK. So Scrabo gets lifted at the North Korean exchange. He gets stopped and we get the N.K. agents?”

“That’s about the size of it. They’ll have valuable intelligence that we can use.”

“And Neil Scrabo?”

“Guantanamo probably, or federal prison.”

Evans smirked at the thought of the silver fox wearing an orange jumpsuit.

Richie leaned forward. “What about my side?”

Magee rubbed his chin thoughtfully before speaking. “If Mitchell leads us to the Alliance, the intelligence haul will be massive. Not to mention strengthening the U.S. stance in the Middle East. But we won’t lift Tabakov or Javadi immediately after the exchange. I want to see who else they lead us to.”

“Russia will have egg on its face.”

Magee shook his head. “It will embarrass the hell out of their government for sure, but all they’ll get is a rap across the knuckles and a few diplomats expelled. They kick out a few of ours; we do the same to them. It’s the game. The Iranians are much more valuable to us.”

Evans interjected.

“And Mitchell’s real research? It’s ground-breaking stuff.”

“Yes, it is. If he’s willing to hand the real stuff over and brief our science teams, then he’ll spend his last few months with his family in re-located peace. And his wife and child will be looked after when Mitchell dies.”

Richie nodded. It was a fair deal. Karen and Emmie would be targets for retribution, so they had to start a new life far away from New York. The idea made him unexpectedly sad.

Evans stood and shook hands with Magee then he turned to Richie, watching as he slid his hand into his pocket. Magee saw it too.

“You know Richie, sometimes you can be a real prick. Tom gave years of service to this country.”

Evans shook his head and gave a wry smile. “He’ll shake my hand when he realises that he’s wrong. I can wait.”

Evans opened the office door then nodded goodbye and headed back to work. Magee turned towards his desk and lifted a file, ignoring Richie for a full minute. Finally he looked at the younger man grudgingly, annoyed at his childishness towards his old friend.

“Well?”

“There’s something else I need to tell you, sir, but I’m not sure where to start.”

***

7 p.m.

Mitchell drove quickly into the farm clearing, scanning the small house for signs of life. The windows were dark and there were no cars parked outside. Good, he’d got here first. He had time to look around.

He parked quickly behind the one-storey building and punched a key-code into the door before scanning his thumb print onto a pad. All that security for research that they’d never get. Mitchell allowed himself a wry smile; it changed to anger at the memory of Emmie in the hospital that afternoon. She was chatting now, but warily, and the bruises on her face were stark reminders of Elza’s malice. He pictured Karen beside her bed, soothing her quietly, both of them permanently hurt. All sanctioned by Ilya, his ever loving Dad.

As Mitchell walked through the double-doors into the lab he halted suddenly, scanning the room. The cages still sat empty but now they were labelled with species, awaiting their new guests. He wouldn’t be there for the house-warming party. Mitchell switched on his computer and ran instinctively through the firewalls, long past wondering how he knew things that he couldn’t recall. He searched the directories for some sign of the Archaeus PDF but there was none. Good, he’d managed to wipe it completely. If he couldn’t find it, knowing that it had been there, then anyone else would have one hell of a job.

A sudden thought occurred to Mitchell and he glanced at the doorway, searching for something. Then he saw it. It was unmistakable; a degaussing loop wound around the door. Ilya had installed the ultimate security tool. Anyone who tried to remove the computer would wipe its hard drive as they walked through the door and the last vestiges of his research would disappear for good. Ilya’s security measures would lose him the very thing he wanted. Mitchell made up his mind to do it before the handover happened on Sunday. In the meantime he had work to do.

He searched every drawer and cupboard but they were all empty, waiting for him to list his needs. Excellent; the Alliance didn’t know how far he’d got with his research. All they knew was that he was working on animals and whatever fragments of information they’d had the wit to retain from the café. They trusted him enough not to watch him. Big mistake. It would be child’s play to create plausible fake research that they would believe.

Without warning an image of Greg Chapman flashed into Mitchell’s mind. Their connection was still a puzzle and he made up his mind to ask Richie about Chapman soon. The agency’d had him under surveillance for a long time; perhaps Greg Chapman had spoken to him? It wouldn’t explain everything that he knew about Chapman, but it would help stop him thinking he was going mad.

His brain tumour was a bastard and his memory was shot to hell, but Mitchell’s fingers still flew across the keys. He slipped in the flash-drive and clicked-on a file marked ‘trials’. Pages full of equations scrolled in front of his eyes. They might as well have been written by a stranger but Mitchell whistled in admiration at the work. It made perfect sense. Most scientists in his field had focussed on Graphene’s conductive properties, their applications to new carbon allotropes timid, if at all, but his work was different. He stared at a row of equations, smiling. By changing carbon’s form in living things he’d made it into a method of creation instead of just another element. It was brilliant, even though he did say so himself.

Mitchell ran through the pages quickly. Past the painstaking tests at atomic level to the first stab at making things work. Embedded videos flashed onto the screen, some of them so revolting that he wanted to throw up. He’d been working on two strands of physical research; enhancing the electrical power of existing species, like the monkey he’d seen three days before. And this; trying to create new species, bred specifically for the electricity they could generate. The results were revolting. Bloody messes and distorted forms, dead before they could breathe. His creations certainly hadn’t rivalled nature’s, despite his brilliance.

As Mitchell scrolled on through the months the results improved. Some new species lived for minutes, before sucking in their last gasp of air. Others had features that could almost have passed for animal; in the right light. He clicked on a file dated two months earlier and as the video started to play Mitchell gasped aloud. The creature in front of him was from no species that he’d ever seen. Small, smooth-skinned and pink, like a new born. New born what? It turned its head slowly, gazing at the camera with sunken eyes. They were red like an albino’s, but there was no photophobic blinking at the light, just the steady gaze of curiosity and a faint smile from the maw below.

Bile filled Mitchell’s mouth and he averted his eyes from the image, scrolling frantically for information. He found it under a heading labelled ‘Breakthrough: August 5
^th
’. He read how specimen CH1 had lived for two weeks and generated one thousand volts! The trial had provided valuable information. The scientist in him was scarcely able to believe the words. But there was no doubt. He’d managed to create a completely new species! Not a plant this time but a living thing, and it could generate electricity, just as the monkey had. Carbon research had joined Frankenstein’s. But he wasn’t a geneticist so how had biophysics taken him this route?

Mitchell stared into space for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that there was even more than this. Scrolling to the end of the document didn’t reveal it. Neither did a full search of the files. Whatever else there was it wasn’t on the flash-drive. Mitchell knew instantly that whatever he’d discovered was in the Archaeus PDF that he’d taken home. He shuddered in disbelief at what he’d done. How could he have promised this work to anyone, never mind to foreign powers? The sleeper agent in him smiled ruefully. What was foreign to him anyway? He came from somewhere very far away.

The sound of a car pulling into the clearing made Mitchell switch off the computer and pocket the flash-drive. He reached the wood-lined hall just as Ilya opened the front door. The old man was carrying an envelope in one hand; his other moved to his pocket. A gun. Mitchell smiled inwardly. It was what he would have brought if he’d been meeting a man who wanted him dead.

The men stood facing each other in silence. Mitchell watched as beads of sweat formed on Ilya’s brow, staring idly as one trickled down his nose and fell onto his shirt. The aged Russian gazed fearfully at him and Mitchell smiled, malice filling his eyes. His voice was clear.

“Someday I may kill you, Ilya…”

Mitchell paused long enough for Ilya’s hand to move towards his gun, then for his mind to register the word “someday” and hesitate. Was Mitchell playing with him? He was a man filled with hate and that made him a formidable opponent, but...

“But not today.”

The relieved slump of the old spy’s shoulders was almost comical to watch. Ilya stood hunched for a moment, looking like the elderly man that he was, then he held out the envelope to his adopted son. Mitchell walked forward slowly until he stood in Ilya’s personal space, watching as he stepped back in response.

Mitchell snatched the envelope and gazed at it, turning it over in his hand, then he glared at the old communist with open contempt. He was reluctant to ask Ilya anything more, for the power that it would make him feel, but he needed to know.

“Are they alive?”

Ilya spoke quietly, his gruff voice tired with fear. “Yes. They are well.”

“What do they know about me?”

“That you are a success in America and serving Mother Russia. They are proud.”

Mitchell wanted to throw up. ‘Mother Russia’; the words’ patriotism made him sick. He didn’t give a damn about countries, not Russia and not the USA. Neither of them could be trusted. All he cared about now was his family and not unleashing a lethal weapon on the world. He halted mid-thought, knowing that he had to give Richie his genuine research, to keep Karen and Emmie safe. If he had to, he had to, but even Richie would only get some of it and not without cast-iron guarantees on its use.