That didn’t help. All that happened was that the possibilities hardened in my mind. Karen was being operated on. At best, she’d be denied the natural birth she wanted. At worst, her life was in danger-as might be that of Magnus Oliver Wells. I cursed myself for allowing her to make decisions about his name. An atavistic superstition about tempting fate overcame me and I staggered against the wall.
‘Karen, I love you, I need you,’ I whispered. ‘Come back to me. Bring him back.’
Then a cruel fear lanced into me. The Rothmanns. Whatever Dr. Rivers said, the Nazis’ conditioning process could be doing this to Karen. If she’d been harmed, if the birth of our son had been jeopardized, I would seek Heinz Rothmann out and make him pay.
That cold fury was all that sustained me until Kitano came through the doors, pulling a white coat over his bloody scrubs.
Peter Sebastian was in an FBI plane that had taken off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport a quarter of an hour earlier. He was feeling pleased with himself. The Director had approved his plan, had even congratulated him on it, and had authorized him to fly immediately to the camp in Illinois.
Sebastian had always counted himself a devious operator. He wouldn’t have reached the illustrious level he had if he hadn’t known how to outflank the competition and cover his ass, but recently he’d exceeded his own expectations. At this rate, he’d have a shot at deputy director within the next couple of years. After that, even director would be within his range.
Then again, he thought as he sipped black and unsweetened coffee, he had to pull this scheme off. If there were any more hate-crime murders, if the so-called Hitler’s Hitman killer continued to run rings round him, the Director would be forced to replace him. You were only ever as good as your current cases, and Sebastian was running at 0–4. Still, that had its own advantages. Desperate measures were necessary and had been green-lighted. This was exactly the kind of situation that Sebastian flourished in.
A call came through on the secure phone. It was Arthur Bimsdale.
‘No sign of the suspect Gordy Lister, sir. Major Carstens has circulated the description to the whole of the Philadelphia force.’
‘Have you considered sending it to law enforcement at the previous scenes?’
‘Already done, sir. All four have got it out to their homicide departments and to the people on patrol.’
‘Very good, Arthur,’ Sebastian said. Bimsdale was beginning to shine, which might be problematical.
‘Em, where are you, sir?’
‘That’s classified, Special Agent.’ Sebastian looked out of the cabin window.
It was already dark, the only lights those of another aircraft in the distance.
‘I see, sir. What are your orders?’
Sebastian had thought about that. ‘Get back to D.C. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Bimsdale paused. ‘There’s something else, sir.’
‘Spit it out,’ Sebastian said impatiently. One thing that his assistant had still to learn was to be more forceful.
‘Gordy Lister. I’ve accessed his file. He has a brother.’
‘Is that right?’ Once again Arthur had surprised him. ‘What about him?’
‘He lost his legs in a car accident thirteen months ago.’
‘Where’s this going, Special Agent?’
‘Well, I’ve run a check on him. Michael John Lister. He worked as an electrician, sir. Standard household repairs, that sort of thing. Except he recently bought a fully converted Jeep Grand Cherokee and moved into a condominium outside Tallahassee, Florida.’
‘Well, well,’ Sebastian said, surprised again. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve talked to this Michael Lister.’
‘He’s known as Mikey, sir. No, I haven’t. What do you think about surveillance by the field office down there?’
‘I think it’s less than likely that Gordy Lister will show, but it’s definitely worth a shot. Good work, Arthur.’
They concluded the call shortly afterward. Sebastian was satisfied. Bimsdale was like a dog with a fresh bone, which had distracted him from the issue of Matt Wells. When they’d spoken earlier in the day, his assistant had asked why the Englishman was so important. What would he say now that Sebastian was on his way to make Wells a major player in the investigation?
He looked out into the darkness again, the murk that lay over the eastern states. Desperate measures was right. If his plan misfired, the deleterious influence of Heinz Rothmann would spread across the land like a plague. Americans had always been prey to political extremists. Even more were attracted to religious fundamentalism. Rothmann’s combination of Nazi ideology and a perversion of Christianity could unleash a wave of violence much worse than the four murders he had so far inspired. There was no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that Rothmann was behind the killings, no doubt at all. The fact that the Nazi had pioneered a successful brainwashing technique made the situation even more dangerous, even if Dr. Brown’s process might negate it. That was why Matt Wells, with his history of conditioning, was such a vital link.
Peter Sebastian found himself thinking about what the Englishman was going through. He had been informed that Karen Oaten was in the medical center. Matt had been through the birth of a child before, although the FBI man had no idea how he had coped. Neither did he know how the writer’s relationship with his ex-wife had been. He found it hard to imagine that Matt had been more in love with her than he was with Karen. Here was a couple that lived for each other, and their shared experiences at the hands of the Rothmann twins had clearly made the bond between them even stronger.
Sebastian thought back to the births of his own children. Astrid’s had been straightforward, over in a couple of hours, while Roy had been reluctant to emerge into the world and had reduced his wife Emma to a groaning wreck. Which reminded him-he should call Emma and tell her that he wasn’t going to get home much in the immediate future. Since the Hitler’s Hitman murders started, he had seen very little of his family, returning home to Glenmont outside D.C. only to pick up fresh clothes and eat hurried meals. Astrid and Roy didn’t care. They were only interested in hanging out with their friends and indulging in the strange pursuits of modern youth. Emma should have gotten used to the demands of his job, but she had stopped being supportive in recent years, preferring the company of her female friends, even on the limited occasions he was around. Maybe she had a lover. Maybe she thought he had one, but he had never been tempted-not even by his previous assistant, Dana Maltravers. She had been some woman. Her concealed background and prolonged betrayal of the Bureau meant that she would be in federal prison for a very long time.
As the jet began its descent to the airport at Rockford, northwest of Chicago, Sebastian thought of Matt Wells again. He put his hand into the pocket of his suit and felt the box that contained the engagement ring he had procured. It would be the least he could give the Englishman.
Twelve
Kitano looked at me briefly, and then at the floor.
I felt like I was about to faint and throw up at the same time. My vision blurred and my ears rang as if I had suddenly been immersed in freezing, muddy water. I felt a hand on my arm.
‘Mr. Wells,’ the obstetrician was saying, ‘do you need to sit down? Mr. Wells?’
My senses recalibrated themselves.
‘Tell me what happened,’ I said, pulling away from him. I knew his hands had done terrible things. ‘Tell me!’
Kitano looked over his shoulder. Two soldiers were watching me.
‘Leave us,’ the surgeon ordered.
‘Tell me,’ I said, my voice hoarse.
‘Mr. Wells, you should sit…’ He broke off, realizing that he was in danger. ‘All right, have it your way. I’m very sorry, we did what we could, we really tried very hard.’ He looked away. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘My…my son…is he…’ I couldn’t bring myself to say it.