The Genesis Plague (2010)

of the long corridor that connected to the lobby. ‘I’m sure you have many questions.’
    Unsure of the context of his remark, Brooke and Flaherty remained silent.
    ‘However, if we’re all going to be honest,’ Stokes added, ‘shouldn’t you use your real name, Ms Thompson?’ He looked deep in her eyes. ‘Ms Brooke Thompson. Isn’t that right?’
    Brooke gave Flaherty an uneasy glance.
    Flaherty spread his hands and squared his shoulders. ‘Look Stokes—’
    ‘I must admit … I don’t know who you really are, my good man. And I don’t like that.’
    ‘Smith. John Smith,’ Flaherty replied curtly.
    Stokes grinned tightly. ‘Of course. Have it your way, Mr Smith.’
    The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. ‘Please,’ Stokes motioned them inside.
    ‘Maybe we’ll take the stairs,’ Flaherty said.
    ‘Fine by me, though it’s seven flights to the top.’ Stokes boarded the elevator and kept his thumb on the control panel to hold the doors.
    With reluctance, Brooke and Flaherty stepped in beside him.
    ‘Good choice.’ Stokes pushed the top control button, the doors glided shut, and the elevator began its imperceptible ascent. Gospel music pumped in from overhead speakers.
    ‘How was your flight from Boston?’ Stokes asked.
    ‘Smooth sailing,’ Flaherty said. In close quarters, he noticed Stokes was wheezing. And the crisp overhead lighting highlighted a film of perspiration that masked the preacher’s face.
    ‘Are you CIA or FBI?’ Stokes asked.
    ‘Neither,’ Flaherty replied truthfully.
    Stokes gave him an appraising stare. ‘I’m not surprised. Feds love to travel in pairs and wave their credentials around. Makes them feel special. You’re not the cowboy type. So let me guess … You’ve got a Boston accent’ - he thought aloud - ‘Bostonians prefer to stick to their own.’ Simple deduction led to only one conclusion: must work for the same outfit as the mercenaries who’d found the cave. ‘Therefore, I’d guess you’re with Global Security Corporation.’
    ‘Lucky guess,’ Flaherty replied flatly. ‘Agent Thomas Flaherty.’
    ‘All right, Agent Flaherty. Now we’re getting somewhere.’
    The elevator came to a stop and the doors whispered open. They stepped out into a cosy antechamber trimmed in cherry wood and with modern leather furnishings and an empty reception desk.
    Stokes led them around the desk and through a double door that brought them into his office.
    ‘Please, have a seat,’ Stokes said, indicating the wingback chairs on the guest side of his desk. ‘Something to drink? Soda, coffee, tea, water? Got the hard stuff, too, if you so desire.’
    ‘No, thanks,’ Flaherty said.
    ‘Ms Thompson?’
    ‘I’m fine,’ she said, trying to reconcile how this charismatic televangelist had sent an assassin to kill her.
    Stokes sat behind his desk and folded his hands over his chest.
    ‘You actually would make a handsome couple,’ Stokes admitted. ‘But why are you really here?’
    Flaherty got to the point. ‘Our intelligence shows that during the past twenty-four hours you’ve been communicating with US Marine Colonel Bryce Crawford. He’s been making encrypted calls to a landline in this building. That phone there, perhaps?’ He pointed to the phone on Stokes’s desk.
    ‘Perhaps,’ Stokes replied.
    ‘So you’re aware that Colonel Crawford’s platoon is assisting an extraction effort currently under way in the Iraqi mountains?’
    ‘I am.’
    Stokes’s candour surprised Brooke.
    ‘I assume you’re also aware that Frank Roselli was killed in a freak car crash today. Not far from here, in fact.’
    Stokes paused before replying. ‘Very unfortunate.’
    ‘Funny thing is, the coroner suspects foul play since Roselli died of asphyxiation behind the wheel before careering into a telephone pole.’
    ‘Not a heart attack?’ Stokes said.
    ‘No. But I’m sure that’s what you’re gunning for,’ Flaherty said. ‘You don’t seem too broken up for a man who just lost a close friend.’
    ‘I’ve seen plenty of death in my day, Agent Flaherty. After a while, one gets numb to it.’
    ‘Seems you’ve killed plenty in your day too.’
    Keeping his composure, Stokes responded with, ‘I killed lots of bad guys so kids like you could eat McDonald’s, drive SUVs and have 3.2 children. Liberty comes at a price. The only thing I’m guilty of is being a diehard patriot.’
    ‘But why did you try to kill me ?’ Brooke asked.
    Not ready to