Martin Grey walked into the room cautiously, eyeing Dorian Sloane as if he were an apparition. The Director of Immari Security stood on the far side of Martin’s corner office on the 66th floor of the Immari Jakarta Headquarters. Sloane looked out over the Java Sea, watching the boats come and go. Martin thought the younger man hadn’t seen him come in, so he was startled when he spoke. “Surprised to see me, Martin?”
Martin realized Sloane had watched him enter in the glass’s reflection. He saw Sloane’s eyes there now. They were cold, calculating, intense… Like a predator watching his prey, waiting to strike. The incomplete reflection hid the rest of his face. His hands were clasped behind his back. His long black trench coat looked so out of place here in Jakarta, where heat and humidity forced even bankers into less formal attire. Only body guards, or anyone with something to hide covered up so much.
Martin made an effort to look casual. He strode to his oak desk in the middle of the giant office. “Yes, actually. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time—”
“Don’t. I know it all, Martin.” Sloane turned around slowly and spoke deliberately, never taking his eyes off Martin as he walked toward the older man behind the desk. “I know about your little ice fishing expedition in Antarctica. Your meddling in Tibet. The kids. The kidnapping.”
Martin shifted his feet, angling to get behind the desk, to put something between the two of them, but Sloane altered his vector, approaching to the side. Martin stood his ground. He wouldn’t back away, even if the brutal man cut his throat right there in his office.
Martin returned Sloane’s stare. The younger man’s face was lean, muscular, but rough — not rugged — years of hard living had taken its toll. It was a face that knew pain.
Sloane stopped his prowling march three feet from Martin. He smiled slightly, like he knew something Martin didn’t, as if some trap had been sprung, and he was simply waiting. “I would have found out sooner, but I’ve been quite busy with this Clocktower situation. But I think you already know about that.”
“I’ve certainly seen the reports. Unfortunate and untimely, to be sure. And as you mentioned, I’ve had my hands full as well.” Martin’s hands started to shake slightly. He stuffed them in his pockets. “I had planned to reveal these recent developments — Antarctica, China—”
“Be careful, Martin. Your next lie could be your last.”
Martin swallowed and looked at the floor, thinking.
“I just have one question, Old Man. Why? I’ve collected all these threads you’ve spun, but I still don’t see your end game.”
“I haven’t betrayed my oath. My goal is our goal: to prevent a war we both know we can’t win.”
“Then we agree. The time has come. Toba Protocol is in effect.”
“No. Dorian, there is another way. It’s true, I’ve kept these… developments to myself, but for good reason — it was premature, I didn’t know if they would work.”
“And they haven’t. I read the reports from China, all the adults died. We’re out of time.”
“True, the test failed, but because we used the wrong therapy. Kate used something else; we didn’t know it at the time, but she will tell me. We could walk into the tombs by this time tomorrow — we could finally learn the truth.”
It was a long shot, and Martin was almost surprised when Sloane broke his unblinking glare. His eyes looked away, then down. A moment passed and finally, he turned around, pacing back toward the windows, taking up his original position when Martin had entered the room. “We already know the truth. And as for Kate and the new therapy… You took her children. She won’t talk.”
“She will to me.”
“I believe I know her better than you.”
Martin felt his blood rising.
“Have you opened the sub yet?” Sloane’s voice was quiet.
Martin was surprised by the question. Was Sloane testing him? Or did he think…
“No,” Martin said. “We’re following a more extensive quarantine protocol, just to be on the safe side. I’m told the site is almost secure.”
“I want to be there when they open it.”
“It’s been sealed for over 70 years, nothing could have—”
“I want to be there.”
“Of course. I’ll inform the site.” Martin reached for the phone. He couldn’t believe this break. The hope felt like a breath of fresh air after being under water for three minutes too long. He dialed quickly.
“You can tell them when we get there.”
“I’d like nothing more—”
Sloane turned away from the windows. The bloodthirsty stare had returned. His eyes burned holes in Martin. “I’m not asking. We will open that sub together. I’m not letting you out of my sight, not until this is over.”