Black Rose

CHAPTER 51

Gutenberg was on the phone with Jaques de Guillame, the French Foreign Minister, one of his allies on the board of AEON. Krivi, Thorvaldson and Kamarov were the others. He hadn't heard from Kamarov in days and he seemed to have vanished. In Russia that meant only one thing.

Gutenberg could feel the reins of power shifting. First the laboratory had been destroyed in Zürich. Then Valentina had betrayed him. And now his carefully planned trap had turned into a disaster. The failures were giving Senator Mitchell the opportunity he sought to ease Gutenberg from the leadership position. Mitchell didn't understand what Gutenberg would do to prevent that.

"Who was it? I want to know who it was," Gutenberg said.

"There is no positive identification," de Guillame replied. "However, I believe it was the Americans. A group of four Americans with diplomatic passports landed at Caen on the afternoon of the day your house was attacked. They left quite early the next morning. The customs official on-duty said one of the men appeared injured. The others had to help him onto the plane. The van they rented shows mileage consistent with a trip from the airport to your vineyard."

"Which Americans?"

"Who knows?" Gutenberg could almost feel the Frenchman shrug over the phone. "CIA, perhaps."

"Too risky for them," Gutenberg said. "You're sure it wasn't someone else? The Russians, for example?"

"Definitely not the Russians," de Guillame said.

"That is what I needed to know. Perhaps the American president's covert unit."

"I know about them. But it seems unlikely Rice would risk the embarrassment of failure."

"He would simply deny knowledge."

"What are you going to do, Johannes?"

"We continue with the plan but with a change in priority. Washington is more of a threat to us than the Chinese. I want to target America first. There's always time for Beijing."

"Mitchell isn't going to like that. You know he wants to hit the Chinese first."

"By the time he realizes what's happened, it will be too late. The disease will be well established and out of control."

"I thought we'd left these internal struggles behind. You know how destructive they've been in the past."

"It doesn't have to be that way this time," Gutenberg said. "It's up to Mitchell. He shouldn't have tried to undermine my leadership."

"You have my support. Just keep that damn stuff away from France," de Guillame said.

"Don't worry, Jaques. I see no advantage in targeting Europe. Some places have to be preserved. Besides, we live here. Krivi has already produced a large stockpile of vaccine. If by some mischance the disease reaches the continent, you will be well prepared and in position to use the situation to your advantage."

De Guillame chuckled. "You really should have been a politician, Johannes. You would have done quite well."

"I prefer the shadows," Gutenberg said. "I'll leave it to you to claim the spotlight."

"Please keep me informed," de Guillame said.

"Of course."

"Goodbye, Johannes."

In France, de Guillame set his phone down and thought about the conversation he'd just had. Johannes had sounded strained over the phone. Things had not gone well in the past weeks. Perhaps it was time to consider shifting his allegiance. A confrontation between Johannes and Mitchell was coming soon, he was sure of it. In the past, these struggles for power within the organization had caused many deaths and great disruption. It was important that he picked the right side.

He looked out the windows of his study at the verdant gardens and lawns surrounding his château. It was coming on dark, the light rapidly fading. Soft lights showed in the careful landscaping.

De Guillame's mansion was in the Paris suburb of Versailles. He'd inherited the estate from his father, but if that had not been the case he would have chosen to live here anyway. Versailles had always been a seat of power in France. It was fitting that he lived there.

The Versailles Palace was not far away and De Guillame was fond of visiting the magnificent building. He looked out the study windows at his garden and let himself imagine what it must have been like to be king, before the revolution. He would have enjoyed being king.

Absorbed in his fantasy, de Guillame failed to notice a dark figure slip into the study. It wasn't until the thin wire of a garrotte slipped over his head and bit into his throat that he realized anyone else was there.

He choked and gasped and scrabbled with his fingers at the wire, trying to reach the hands that were killing him. Blood ran down under the collar of his tailored blue shirt.

"Dos'vedanya," a soft voice whispered in his ear.

Valentina waited until de Guillame's feet stopped kicking. She unwrapped the wire from his neck, wiped it clean on his jacket sleeve and replaced the garrotte in a pouch at her belt. She went to the doors leading into the garden and slipped away into the dark.