What do you mean?”
“You and your father have put me in a very difficult position here.”
“Director, we need help. We need to find that trap and get it back here before someone gets hurt. We have a responsibility!”
“We have a responsibility to think,” Kohler said, his tone hardening. “This situation could have very, very serious repercussions for CERN.”
“You’re worried about CERN’s reputation? Do you know what that canister could do to an urban area? It has a blast radius of a half mile! Nine city blocks!”
“Perhaps you and your father should have considered that before you created the specimen.”
Vittoria felt like she’d been stabbed. “But . . . we took every precaution.”
“Apparently, it was not enough.”
“But nobody knew about the antimatter.” She realized, of course, it was an absurd argument. Of course somebody knew. Someone had found out.
Vittoria had told no one. That left only two explanations. Either her father had taken someone into his confidence without telling her, which made no sense because it was her father who had sworn them both to secrecy, or she and her father had been monitored. The cell phone maybe? She knew they had spoken a few times while Vittoria was traveling. Had they said too much? It was possible. There was also their E-mail. But they had been discreet, hadn’t they? CERN’s security system? Had they been monitored somehow without their knowledge? She knew none of that mattered anymore. What was done, was done. My father is dead.
The thought spurred her to action. She pulled her cell phone from her shorts pocket.
Kohler accelerated toward her, coughing violently, eyes flashing anger. “Who . . . are you calling?”
“CERN’s switchboard. They can connect us to Interpol.”
“Think!” Kohler choked, screeching to a halt in front of her. “Are you really so naпve? That canister could be anywhere in the world by now. No intelligence agency on earth could possibly mobilize to find it in time.”
“So we do nothing?” Vittoria felt compunction challenging a man in such frail health, but the director was so far out of line she didn’t even know him anymore.
“We do what is smart,” Kohler said. “We don’t risk CERN’s reputation by involving authorities who cannot help anyway. Not yet. Not without thinking.”
Vittoria knew there was logic somewhere in Kohler’s argument, but she also knew that logic, by definition, was bereft of moral responsibility. Her father had lived for moral responsibility-careful science, accountability, faith in man’s inherent goodness. Vittoria believed in those things too, but she saw them in terms of karma. Turning away from Kohler, she snapped open her phone.
“You can’t do that,” he said.
“Just try and stop me.”
Kohler did not move.
An instant later, Vittoria realized why. This far underground, her cell phone had no dial tone.
Fuming, she headed for the elevator.
26
The Hassassin stood at the end of the stone tunnel. His torch still burned bright, the smoke mixing with the smell of moss and stale air. Silence surrounded him. The iron door blocking his way looked as old as the tunnel itself, rusted but still holding strong. He waited in the darkness, trusting.
It was almost time.
Janus had promised someone on the inside would open the door. The Hassassin marveled at the betrayal. He would have waited all night at that door to carry out his task, but he sensed it would not be necessary. He was working for determined men.
Minutes later, exactly at the appointed hour, there was a loud clank of heavy keys on the other side of the door. Metal scraped on metal as multiple locks disengaged. One by one, three huge deadbolts ground open. The locks creaked as if they had not been used in centuries. Finally all three were open.
Then there was silence.
The Hassassin waited patiently, five minutes, exactly as he had been told. Then, with electricity in his blood, he pushed. The great door swung open.