“Never heard of him,” Jade said, when Dr. Allenby had supplied Roche’s name.
Allenby had mentioned Roche’s enduring fascination with Dee and hinted at the man’s somewhat volatile nature; Jade had learned the rest for herself.
“I can see why this guy tops the list of suspects,” she told Dorion as they researched Roche on the Internet that evening at their hotel. “He’s obsessed with Dee. And he definitely has the money to get whatever he wants.”
Roche did not occupy the same tier of wealth as Ophelia Doerner, but the former Minister of Parliament, turned professional conspiracy theorist, netted a hefty annual income from his publishing empire, syndicated radio show, and personal appearances. Among those who either worshipped or feared him, he was a household name, but as was the way of such things, outside of that niche, few knew of his existence. Those who had merely heard of him dismissed him as a kook.
Even among his supporters, there was some debate about whether his more extraordinary claims were meant to be taken literally. Some averred that the “changeling” plot was merely a metaphor for the fact that rapacious bankers and deceitful politicians had relinquished all trace of their humanity in their quest for wealth and power. Jade thought that explanation probably made a lot more sense; Roche was too successful to be completely “off his nut,” to quote Allenby.
That he was obsessed with Dee was evident, not merely from the numerous books he had written, but also from the fact that Roche was known to be a collector of Dee memorabilia and had for more than a decade lived in Mortlake, not far from the site of Dee’s summer house — the very place where Perez had used the crystal Eye to interpret the manuscript describing the chamber beneath Teotihuacan.
“How do we find out if he has Dee’s crystal?” asked Dorion.
“I thought I might just ask.”
“You’re just going to walk up to him and say ‘Please, may I look at you stolen property?’”
“Something like that,” she smiled, and then stretched. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I am seriously jet lagged. I think I’ll turn it.”
Dorian rose from the table. “I don’t suppose you would care to join me for a nightcap?”
The invitation caught Jade completely off guard, and for a moment, all she could do was gape at him. He seemed to sense her discomfort and quickly backpedaled. “Or if you’re not feeling up to it, I understand. It has been a long journey.”
Jade was still trying to process what she was hearing. Dorion was a nice enough guy, smart and charming, and completely different from…him. She had even gotten past that awkward first impression; given their shared experience with the dark matter-fueled premonitions, they had a lot in common. Yet somehow, he just wasn’t the sort of man she could see herself with.
I haven’t exactly had much luck with the kind of guys I can see myself with.
She couldn’t help wonder what Professor was doing right now. Perhaps sharing a romantic dinner with Ophelia in some Greek café, swooning over her plastic beauty.
Maybe I’m overthinking this.
But dalliances and one night stands weren’t her style. For all her flaws, and she knew she had a few, she didn’t like playing games with other people’s emotions. Maybe Dorion wasn’t interested in something meaningful — he was French after all, though she couldn’t get a read on whether he was the love ‘em and leave ‘em type — but that wasn’t what she wanted.
So what do you want, Jade?
“I’m really beat tonight.” She tried for a disarming smile. “Maybe some other time?”
She wasn’t sure if she really meant it, or if she was just trying to let him down easy. Maybe both.
“Of course. Let me walk you to your room.”
She accepted the chivalrous gesture and when they reached her door, she even gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Bright and early,” she said, before closing the door on him.
As tired as she was, sleep eluded her for a long time thereafter. Yet, it was not doubt about whether she had made the right decision in turning Dorion away that occupied her thoughts. Instead, it was the image of Professor and Ophelia together that kept her tossing and turning.
FIFTEEN
Hodges felt Gutierrez’s scrutiny cut through him like a laser beam, and yet the handsome billionaire had not spoken a single word of recrimination. Instead, the man had listened patiently to Hodge’s report, asking pertinent questions in an incisive tone, without even once giving voice to his exasperation at the evident failure.
It had not been difficult to establish the identity of the mysterious savior who had appeared to whisk Chapman and the others away at the last second, but that knowledge only complicated matters. Ophelia Doerner wasn’t somebody he could go after with impunity. The only option he felt he had was to return in disgrace to Mexico, make his report to Gutierrez, and accept the consequences.
The billionaire continued to regard him across his desktop, then he abruptly leaned forward and picked up a mobile telephone. He composed a brief text message, then set the phone down again.
“You were right not to pursue this woman,” he said, finally breaking his long silence. “It would have complicated matters, though what she is trying to do is exactly what we are trying to prevent.”
“So what happens now?”
Gutierrez waved the question away, but then elaborated. “Damage control. I think it is safe to say that your cover is blown. You’ll be working directly for me now.”
It wasn’t a job offer; Hodges had just been drafted.
An electronic ringing sound, like a first-generation cordless phone, signaled an incoming Skype message, which Gutierrez answered with a keystroke. Hodges could not see the screen, but he recognized the voice from the other end of the call. “Andres? What’s so important that you pulled me off the back nine?”
“It’s your sister, Lee. She’s interfering with our prosecution of an Alpha event.”
Hodges’ eyes went wide. The person on the other end of the call was Laertes Doerner, Ophelia’s brother. That Gutierrez and Doerner were on a first name basis did not surprise Hodges; that Doerner was evidently part of the Norfolk Group did, though on further reflection it made perfect sense. Despite the family reputation for advocating the kind of polarized political views that often fostered the sort of upheaval that the Norfolk Group was trying to prevent. At the end of the day, Doerner, like any other wealthy man, was mostly interested in self-preservation.
There was a disgusted snort at the other end of the line. “Fi’s a dreamer, Andres. Whatever she’s mixed up in can’t be of any consequence.”
“An Alpha event, Lee. You know as well as I do what that means. You helped draft the protocols.”
“Well, sure I—”
“This call is a courtesy, Lee. I am going to be overseeing this affair personally. If you want Ophelia kept safe, then you need to be completely forthcoming. It’s the only chance she has.”
There was a long silence, in which the only sound from the speakers was a faint crackle like static white noise, and then Doerner gave a defeated sigh. “What do you need from me?”
“She left Costa Rica a few hours ago. I presume she’s on one of your planes. I need to know where she’s going.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
There was a click and the white noise vanished.
Hodges sat very still mentally processing the fact that he had just listened in on a conversation between two of the richest men on earth.