The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5) - Page 75

She wanted to scream, she wanted to curse, but she was helpless. If she was a match, if he proved she was in the direct line, no, he wouldn’t kill her, he’d keep her around as his permanent blood bank for his brother. She felt grief flood her, grief for herself, grief for Gil, never to take another amazing photo, never to know a life with her, never to have children. She wanted to weep, but instead, she whispered, “Why did you kill Gil, my fiancé? He had done nothing to you. You cut his throat. Why?”

Roman lightly ran a fingertip over her eyebrows, smoothing them. “Ah, I suppose because he was there. I didn’t cut his throat, by the way, not exactly. Truth is, too, I am rather used to killing. I suppose you could say it’s second nature to me, my own special way. And he would have presented complications. Now, you’ll excuse me, Dr. Marin, but I have other things to attend to. I will be back, don’t worry about that. Ah, don’t try to escape. There is no way.” He waved the vial of her blood at her, smiled. “Think of all the beautiful blood you will give Radu.”

She heard Radu shout, “Roman. Roman, come, now!”

Roman bolted from the room, rushed to Radu’s side, where he sat hunched at his bank of computers.

“What, what is it?”

“Look, we received an email with a video attached. You need to see this.”

“Play it.”

There was no sound, and the composition was grainy and dark. There were two people in the frame.

Radu said, “Look, he’s handcuffed to the table. He’s a prisoner. Who is the other man, the one with his back to the camera?”

Roman looked closer. “Is that—Caleb Temora in handcuffs?”

“Yes. And look, the standing man turns, you can see half his face now.”

Roman watched carefully, felt his heart kick, felt adrenaline flood him.

“Roman, is that—”

“Barstow. That’s Barstow. Why does he have Caleb in custody? Why are they alone? When is this dated?”

“There is no date. No identification.”

“Who sent it?”

“The address is gibberish. It will take me time to decipher.”

Roman thumbed a tab in his mouth to calm his mind so he could think clearly, rationally. Barstow and Temora?

He said slowly, “So MI6 captured Temora where? In Syria, probably, in an ISIS camp, and Barstow brought him as a prisoner to London. I wonder if Barstow made him hack Radulov or if Temora volunteered to take me down.”

Radu said, “You have the drones hidden in Scotland, Roman. Only Raphael Marquez, Cyrus Wendell, and I know they’re there. I think Barstow wanted Temora to find them so he could get ahold of them, cut you out. Maybe he also wanted Temora to hack MATRIX in order to distract you, and Caleb decided he would try to destroy you instead.”

“By bringing down Radulov.” Roman felt a surge of rage and thumbed another tab onto his tongue. “Perhaps Barstow forced Caleb to write the hack on Radulov. Maybe Barstow didn’t only want the drone army location, he wanted me ruined and destroyed.” He paused a moment. “It’s all about the billion pounds, Radu, all about money, or what’s left of it.”

Radu said, his Voynichese even more guttural because he was upset, “Barstow is smart, but that would be beyond him, I think. No, I think Caleb wants to destroy you.”

“Why send the video then? Why show me he’s Barstow’s prisoner? Make me think he’s a hero?”

Radu shrugged. “Caleb worshipped you, Roman, but he also resented you. He saw you as the alpha male he had to defeat. When you stopped his pe

t project, he had only one goal—to prove he was better than you. I think he wanted you to figure this all out and recognize him as being the victor, so now he was the alpha. He sent the video to taunt you. I think he’s laughing at you, Roman.”

Roman nodded slowly. At last he understood. Barstow had wanted the drone army to swarm through Africa and defeat radical Islam, so he’d go down in history as a hero, like his blighter ancestors. But that was only a part of it. He thought again, Barstow wanted the money. Which had he wanted most? Roman had to laugh. A clever plan, but Temora’s video, regardless of his motives, was proof of what Barstow had done. He gave a moment’s thought to Vittorini, Alexander, and Donovan. He realized now they probably paid their share, and Barstow had kept it. He gave a moment’s regret to killing them. He lightly patted Radu’s shoulder.

“Of course you’re right, about all of it. It’s all so simple, really. The moment Barstow knew I had the drone army ready, the moment I told him he had to pay me, he had Temora hack into Radulov to find where I was storing them. What would he do? Send a special-ops squad up to Scotland to steal them?” He paused, stood. “Do you know, I really don’t care why Temora sent me the video. He is what he is, curse him to hell.”

“What will you do?”

“I must think, Radu. Something fitting for both Barstow and Temora.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Tags: Catherine Coulter A Brit in the FBI Mystery
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