Local time – 6:00pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Prague, Czechoslovakia.
Adam Edelstein felt like a man torn between catastrophe and triumph. One girl was deciding his fate. The conference schedule had been abandoned and most of the Bilderberg members were buzzing around on phones, busily making plans. The main conference room had been turned into what looked like an army command centre, except men were wearing suits instead of fatigues. Edelstein had so far chosen not to share with his nuclear committee the worrying news that his agent, Daniel, hadn’t been contactable in two hours. He had already scrambled three more agents to the place where Daniel last called in, but they wouldn’t be there for another half an hour. He was used to worrying about his agents when he lost contact with them, and for good reason. But it wasn’t just Daniel he was concerned about now. It was the nuclear weapon Daniel was sent to collect. Edelstein was now flitting from one group of Bilderbergers to another, avoiding the questioning looks from the likes of Leo Freeman, who was waiting for updates. His mobile buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, willing it to be Daniel. Much to his annoyance, it was a colleague from his office in Israel.
The man spoke in a clipped, efficient tone, used to providing as much information as possible in a short amount of time.
‘We have a match for the pilot who flew Alex North and companions to Pakistan from Prague. Michael Preston.’
‘That name rings a bell. Have we come across him before?’
‘Yes. He was the shooter on the Marsden case. Seems his skills have been purchased again.’
‘I assume you’re not just talking about his piloting skills.’
‘I had the CIA run his face through the Maxwell file, and they’ve got a couple of matches of them playing golf together.’
‘Maxwell’s financing him then?’
‘Correct sir. We got a match for Preston’s face from the security footage at Prague airport, as well as the photo Daniel sent of the car bomber at the police station.’
‘Jesus!’
‘And something else. I ran the face past MI6 and they got a match too.’
‘Where?’
‘They have security camera images of Bernie Cook’s walk home on Friday night. It seems Preston was in London before flying to Prague and hiring a private jet.’
‘Lethal injection?’
‘Yes. It appears he trashed Bernie’s house looking for something when the old lady was at the hospital. We are also testing DNA evidence from the murders at Alex North’s hotel. We obviously found her match at the crime scene. But Preston got careless. His shoe size matches the bloodied footprint in the attic bedroom, and there’s skin under the young man’s fingernails. We’ve got Preston’s DNA on file, we’re trying to match it now.’
‘He has been a busy boy then, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes sir.’ The researcher hung up, leaving Edelstein momentarily stuck on the spot. His worried look caught Leo’s eye. Before Edelstein could make an excuse to be somewhere else, Leo bounded across the room and blocked his path.
‘Any updates on the weapon?’ Leo asked.
‘No. But we’ve drawn a straight line back to Maxwell. His guy took Bernie out. And planted the car bomb in Prague, and did the murders at North’s hotel.’
‘Fuck. He’s really outdone himself this time.’
‘We need to find a way to contact Alex North. I don’t know how she’s managed to get involved with these people. She’s the key to stopping this now.’
‘It doesn’t make sense. Bernie was supposably very close to her. Why would she be working with the people who killed him?’
‘It’s got me stumped. The team in London assured me she was an ally. Maybe she’s been a double agent all along? Maybe she’s on Maxwell’s payroll too?’