The Golden Vendetta by Tony Abbott

Author:Tony Abbott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Central Italy

June 6

Early evening

After waiting most of the day for Paul Ferrere, who was unavoidably detained in Paris, Roald and Terence made the decision to head to the immense facility at Gran Sasso without him. The both hoped it wasn’t a dumb move, but after yet another call from Dr. Petrescu, there seemed little choice.

Seven miles outside the underground laboratory, Terence pulled their rental car up to the first of several checkpoints. Four security guards came out of a pair of roadside buildings.

One said, “Please shut off the engine and leave the keys inside.”

“We will park it for you,” said another. “You will take an official car inside.”

Roald shared a look with Terence. “All right,” he said.

A few minutes later, a gray car appeared. A short middle-aged man got out of the rear and put on a large, nervous smile. “Dr. Roald Kaplan! And friend?” He extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you both.”

Roald tried to read the man’s face, but he couldn’t tell much. Dr. Petrescu seemed to be trying too hard to smile, but it was difficult to tell for sure.

“We must enter, but first security photographs, yes?” the man said. “In the hut.” He briskly led the way inside one of the checkpoint buildings, where both Roald and Terence stood for individual and joint photographs.

“Perfect, perfect,” said Dr. Petrescu. “And now, we enter.”

The man was pleasant enough, but something was off. Roald didn’t like the feeling. “Doctor, your phone calls—”

“Not now,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Please. The car.”

A uniformed driver drove all three of them into an immense complex of buildings at the foot of the large forested mountain. There they entered a steel doorway, which closed behind them, and drove another twenty minutes, coiling downward, until they arrived at a subterranean parking garage.

“This way, gentlemen.” Dr. Petrescu used a card-access terminal and took them into an elevator, pushed a sequence of numbers, and had his handprint scanned. They descended several floors below the garage and exited into a long hallway.

Roald felt his senses go on alert. He made a note of everything, aware that Terence was doing the same. The walls of the hallway were brushed aluminum, the lighting recessed, the carpet beneath their feet dense and noise-suppressing. Roald shot a look at Terence. His friend’s face was grim.

Dr. Petrescu’s office was large, with a wide interior window overlooking a very large laboratory below. It was like something out of a James Bond film—a pristine lab bustling with activity—except that in this case, instead of a villain out for world domination, their host was a highly respected nuclear specialist.

Something was definitely off.

Roald’s senses tingled as they did when he felt the presence of one of the Order’s agents. The Order wasn’t there, at least not visibly, but something of Galina’s presence seemed to assert itself, and it worried him.

“You will see that we are nearly ready,” Dr. Petrescu said. “Some five of your colleagues are only hours away. Beyond them, I am awaiting only three nuclear physicists who had to alter their plans, you see.

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