As she pondered how she might get a better look, she heard a soft scraping sound behind her. What was that? She was tempted to stand and look around, but she couldn’t determine from which direction the sound had come, and didn’t want to announce her location to whoever might be creeping around.
And then she heard it again, a slight shuffling sound that seemed even closer than before. Connor? She doubted it. There hadn’t been time for him to clear the top.
Without standing, she swiveled slightly, looking back between the two SUVs. She also bent down and looked under all the vehicles. Nothing, although it was possible someone was hiding behind one of the tires.
“Connor?” she hissed. As soon as his name left her mouth, she regretted speaking out loud. She continued to listen, but there was only silence.
Her heart thumping, Carmen crab-walked toward the rear of the vehicles with the Beretta in her right hand. Once there, she looked left toward the stairs. As she leaned forward and peered around the bumper of the SUV, a shadow appeared. Someone was standing directly over her.
As the Italian pivoted to fire, a blow came down on the back of her head.
The physically fit Scott Reid bounded up the stairs three at a time, arriving at the top within seconds after leaving Carmen. The Oracle had once said that Reid was in better shape than most Navy SEALs, so it was no surprise that he barely felt any effect from the short run.
Mindful that someone might be stationed on the top level as some sort of lookout, Reid crept over to the open door leading to the parking area. He slid his finger over the trigger of his Glock and stuck his head out.
There were only three structures breaking the flat concrete surface — the covered stairwell he was in, another stairwell on the opposite end, and a small building in the center. As Reid peered at the building, he soon realized that it housed the elevator shaft.
The storm was unleashing its full fury now. The wind made pirouettes in the snow, and the occasional gust lifted up clouds of white. Reid speculated the weather was the primary reason they hadn’t seen any Renaissance foot patrols. If no one knew you were there, why advertise it by having your men walk around in the snow?
The operative had just about decided to head back down when he caught a hint of movement near the stairwell on the other side. What was it? Was someone moving around or had a gust of snow made it appear that way? If it was a person, then whoever it was had disappeared into the doorway.
What should he do now? If a guard were standing just inside the door, he would notice if Reid tried to cross the deck. On the other hand, Carmen might be in danger.
Reid glanced at his watch. They were under operational silence, which could only be broken in the event of an emergency, so he decided not to raise anyone on the radio just yet. If the Renaissance guard had been working from the ground up, he would likely descend all the way to the bottom without stopping. And if that were the case, it was probably safe to cross over and follow him down.
Before heading out, Reid pulled out his monocular and trained it on the dark opening to the stairwell. There was no movement and no signature of a body or silhouette. Everything seemed to be clear.
Rather than running, the operative decided to walk confidently toward the other side of the deck. About halfway across, he pulled out the monocular once again. That time, he could see clearly inside the stairwell and made a quick determination that no one was there — at least, not in sight.
At the stairs, Reid stepped to the railing and looked down. He saw and heard nothing, so he began a slow and careful descent. When he reached the second floor, he heard something that caused him to stop dead in his tracks. People were talking below, and it sounded as though it was coming from outside the building. The voices were raised and forceful, and his instincts told him that couldn’t be good.
Stepping through the door with his Glock raised, Reid made sure the second level was clear. He saw a line of vehicles directly ahead but no movement. He would check on Carmen as soon as he determined what was happening below.
Reid moved over to the concrete wall and crouched. He rose up on his toes and looked toward the street below. What he saw made his heart begin to pound in his chest. There were a total of four men standing in the snow. Two were talking in animated fashion, waving their guns around like gangbangers, while the other two held a limp body between them. Reid would have recognized that body anywhere. Carmen Petrosino.
Reid blocked out the emotion that had started to sweep over him. If she was still alive, she certainly wouldn’t be well served if he lost his wits.
One of the men, perhaps someone of higher rank, began to talk in an agitated tone. He was apparently giving instructions, because soon thereafter the two holding Carmen disappeared around the corner of the building. The man signaled for the others to follow him, and they started back toward the parking deck.
Were they coming to the second floor? Reid didn’t have to wait long for his answer. About a minute later, he heard the distinctive sound of an elevator chime behind him. The men had arrived, probably to ferret out any other intruders that might be out there. The proverbial cat was out of the bag, so Reid knew that within a very short period of time, he would soon be outmanned and outgunned.
As the elevator door opened, Reid turned and darted back into the stairwell. He hoped he hadn’t been seen but didn’t have time to stick around and figure it out. The operative ran down the stairs to the ground level and stepped out into the driving snow.
After making sure there was no one in the immediate area, he removed his phone and tapped out a number. It was time to break the silence.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The CERN control room consisted of four large semicircular cubicles, each lined with computers and monitors of various shapes and sizes. When the Large Hadron Collider, or LHC, was in operation, the room was an epicenter of activity, with physicists and their assistants rushing around the room, checking the data being produced by the high-speed collisions taking place in the tunnel underneath the earth.
On that night, the room was dim, with the only light coming from the glow of the monitors. Seated in front of the largest monitor was a large, powerful man with pockmarks on both cheeks and a large scar running down the right side of his face. Few knew that Jorg Koehler had received extensive computer training while serving in the German military, but he was almost as adept with technology as he was with hand-to-hand combat.
Crowded behind Koehler were Mironov, members of his security team, and Markus VanGelder. A smile broke over Mironov’s face as the screen came to life. The excitement of the moment gripped him as he realized that the event was actually beginning to come together. In fact, they might begin to see the first signs of entry within the hour.
As Koehler continued to bring up the CERN command system, Marrese stood at one of the windows and stared out into the darkness, oblivious to what was taking place behind him. It was his grand moment, and as his eyes drifted up into the night sky, his only regret was that he would not be able to see the portal open in the heavens. The result would be the same, but he was a visual man and would have preferred seeing the monumental event take place from start to finish.
“The time has come.” Mironov appeared at Marrese’s side. “Won’t you come join us?”
“Not now. My role is different than yours. I’m preparing myself for the arrival. Even though the night sky is covered, I can sense that the heavens are already moving just beyond, swirling in anticipation.” Marrese gestured toward the night sky, and Mironov looked. “We haven’t even started the machine, and yet the heavens are already preparing for what is to come.”