I don’t have much time. We’re going to be on the move again soon. I have more photos. I’ve uploaded them to the server. Finally caught scary Darius on camera. I hope you can find out who he is because now I’m certain he came specifically to hook up with Matthew, but not to further COE’s goals. I’m thinking he might be after Matthew’s incredible invention of the tiny undetectable bombs—his special gold coins, he calls them—just like I am. It’s like Darius is weaving a spell around Matthew, encouraging him to think bigger, think about what he could do when he’s perfected the bombs, the power he would have to actually stop the terrorists who killed Matthew’s family.
My feeling is that this man who calls himself Darius is something else entirely, something evil, something soulless. I know he has a definite purpose in mind, and whatever it is, it isn’t good for Matthew or any of us. I know this all sounds melodramatic, but he scares me deep down where monsters live.
I’m sure now that Matthew trusts him more than he does me because he’s closed me out. Darius’s doing? Probably so. Matthew’s mood swings are more pronounced and happen often now, and that, too, is frightening, but nothing like Darius. No, nothing like Darius.
Now, something critical: I overheard Matthew and Andy talking about the oil companies and accessing their databases, but when I came in, they clammed up. Does Darius know about this as well? Is this also one of his ideas, and if so, what are they up to? You must identify Darius, as soon as possible. I’m really afraid of him. Believe me, he is dangerous, very dangerous.
Vanessa, I’ve got the photo. Great job. I’m on it. Now accessing oil company databases, that is worrisome. I’ll start digging. See if you can’t get Matthew to open up about this, okay?
As I said, Matthew’s closed me out. Now he only tells me what he thinks I need to know for the placement of my Semtex bombs, that’s all. All Matthew’s told me is we’re going to head to San Francisco next week.
What’s the target?
I’m pretty sure it will be the Rodeo San Francisco plant.
I’ll make sure the security is aware.
Good. Let me know when you have the ID on Darius. Uncle Carl, he scares me, he really scares me.
And she was gone.
? ? ?
Grace had run the photos but drawn a blank. He’d run them against every known database in the U.S. arsenal. Nothing.
It wasn’t until this morning after the meeting with the vice president, when Temp had told him about the assassination, that he knew in his heart, without a doubt, that Vanessa’s Darius had to be Zahir Damari.
He’d let the FBI run the two photographs using their extremely sensitive facial-recognition system. Maybe they’d be able to give them one hundred percent confirmation, but he didn’t need the proof. He knew.
If Vanessa’s instincts were right, not only had Zahir Damari been hired to steal Matthew Spenser’s new technology, he also planned to assassinate the vice president. If Hezbollah and therefore Iran managed to get their hands on the small gold-coin bombs, Carl feared for the safety of the world. Imagine having those small undetectable bombs in a world of chaos and anarchy. You’d be at the top of the food chain.
He read several of Vanessa’s recent e-mails. She’d found out from Crazy Andy—that’s what she called him—that they’d bought some cyber-software to attack the computer systems of a company. Thanks to the FBI in New York, that particular cyber-attack had been shut down.
He called up other videos, stared at her beloved face, so like her father’s, a beautiful face, his eyes, but she had her mother’s, Isabella’s, glorious red hair. Poor Isabella, dead at thirty-three of a brain tumor. She’d never truly known her daughter, the woman she’d become.
Vanessa wouldn’t die, she simply couldn’t.
“Mr. Grace?”