The Methuselah Project (28 page)

“I understand. It will be done, Herr General.”

“See that it is. Preferably before more tongues wag. Now what is the latest intelligence on the American?”

“Fortunately our people had enough foresight to order a locator implant for him. Elimination was my recommendation after his first escape, but the implant became my backup—”

The general in the civilian suit slashed the air with his hand. “
Ach
, cut the praise for your hindsight and foresight, Jaeger. Get to the point. Can we determine Greene’s location? Or at least in which direction he’s headed?”

“Absolutely. To the United States. To Atlanta, to be exact. Once my people realized he was at the airport, they penetrated the major airlines’ computers and scanned the passenger names. They got a hit. Hans Heinkel. He will be landing soon.”

The senior man looked toward the ceiling and took a deep breath before speaking. “He’s in the United States? Already? Please tell me we have an elimination agent based somewhere near Atlanta.”

Jaeger hedged. “Yes and no. As it turns out, we do have an elimination agent near Atlanta. A no-nonsense businessman who goes by the code name of the Jeweler.”

“That’s right! Mueller the Jeweler. Top security clearance, and he’s one man who has never fumbled an assignment.” The general’s words provided a verbal cuff at Jaeger. “His eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I hear Mueller has taken to tracking his quarry with binoculars, but no matter. Have you gotten in touch with him?”

Jaeger cleared his throat. “Unfortunately Mueller is not in the United States at the moment. He fancies himself a big-game hunter and is currently on holiday. He’s on safari in Namibia.”

“Namibia?”

“In the south of Africa. The Jeweler is somewhere in the bush.”

The thick eyebrows sagged, and the general grimaced as if in physical pain. “Raw sewage would smell sweeter than the news you bring, Jaeger. Have we no other elimination agents who can reach Greene and terminate him before he compromises us? No one at all?”

“At this moment, we have only one organization member in that immediate vicinity. A Fräulein named Katarina Mueller. She is the Jeweler’s niece. Unfortunately she is not yet fully trained or indoctrinated.”

“Please don’t tell me she’s an unrefined Kadett.”

“No, Herr General, she’s not a Kadett. But she’s not much higher. She recently received the promotion from Kadett to Leutnant.”

With a sigh, the general closed his eyes in an expression that, under other circumstances, might have signified the death of a comrade. He shook his head, settled himself into his espresso-brown executive chair of full-grain leather, and clasped his hands together with both elbows propped on the desktop. “Recommendations?”

Jaeger sank onto the high-backed chair in front of his superior’s desk. “Here is my proposition. Obviously a freshly promoted Leutnant is unsuitable for a termination assignment. Most likely she would balk and become a security risk herself. But perhaps we can still put her to use until we maneuver an experienced eliminator into position.”

“Put her to use?”

Jaeger spoke quickly but with passion: “Being a newly promoted Leutnant, Katarina Mueller will expect field training at any time. If her uncle hasn’t revealed the nature of typical training assignments—and there’s no reason to believe he broke protocol—Fräulein Mueller will suspect nothing if we confer on her a mission that is extremely unorthodox.”

“Go on.”

“Imagine that we transmit Greene’s photograph and approximate coordinates to the Fräulein. We could explain that her field exercise is to locate and observe the subject, whom we pretend is an organization member simply acting out a role for the sake of her field exercises. Obviously her uncle possesses organization-issued equipment, including a Pigeon that can trace Greene’s GPS implant. The Jeweler’s most recent reports say he has trained her in the efficient use of basic equipment. As often as prudent, she should report Greene’s location and activities to us. That way, when we move an elimination agent into position, he’ll have full knowledge of Greene’s movements. He’ll know whether he needs to liquidate others too. That would contain the damage. Case closed.”

The general squinted at Jaeger, as if so doing would aid in seeing the recommendation more clearly. “What if this Katarina Mueller communicates with Greene, even accidentally? If we tell her that he’s simply an organization controller playing a role, won’t contact with him contaminate the scenario you propose? The man might even confide in her.”

“Not a problem, Herr General. We simply fabricate a cover story and feed it to her in advance. For example, we could advise her that our man might pretend to be a person of some importance. Or we could suggest he is at liberty to concoct a preposterous cover story for the sake of her training. As long as we tell her to expect something possibly bizarre, she will trail him carefully but will not believe a word, even if he babbles the absolute truth about himself and Methuselah.”

The general’s eyes narrowed even more, but a devilish grin played about his lips. He stroked his chin. “Yes. If she believes the whole episode to be a fantasy fabricated and controlled by the organization, she will suspect nothing. Excellent, Jaeger. Who knows? Maybe we should consider such exercises for future Leutnants. It would add an intriguing dimension to their training.”

Pleased with the general’s praise, Jaeger parted his thin lips, revealing two rows of slightly yellowed teeth. “Then you authorize the order?”

“
Ja.
Make the assignment, exactly as discussed. I can’t stress enough that Katarina Mueller must suspect nothing. She’s young in our ways. Her fidelity is untested. Meanwhile, we need to position a man capable of removing Greene. Where’s the Griffin?”

“The Griffin? He just arrived in Cork, Ireland. He’s on another assign—”

“Cancel the other assignment! This Greene muddle just became top priority. Get the Griffin on a plane to Atlanta immediately. Don’t wait for a commercial airline. Requisition one of our Lear jets. The Griffin can return to Cork and hit the other target after Greene is out of the picture.”

Jaeger stood. “Right away, sir.”

“One more thing, Jaeger. I want to oversee this Greene affair personally. Forward copies of all reports directly to my attention. Especially the final notation—the one in which you describe the details of Captain Greene’s untimely demise.”

“As you wish, General Wolf.” Jaeger strode across the wine-colored carpet and paused at the oaken door. When the general depressed a button on his desktop, a buzz sounded. Jaeger twisted the handle and exited, shutting the door behind him.

Once again, General Wolf sucked in a deep breath, which he exhaled slowly. Jaeger’s scheme sounded plausible, the best course under foul circumstances. Still, it was a shame to shut down Methuselah. He’d dreamed of its eventual success ever since his grandfather had briefed him on the project. Even though the team hadn’t yet achieved its goal, they had ruled out thousands of variations, thus advancing the Methuselah Project that much closer to a breakthrough. Of course, not every officer in the organization knew of Methuselah, but each one who did had shared his hope the procedure would be rediscovered and perfected during his own lifetime.

The general tilted back in his chair. “To live a thousand years,” he murmured aloud. “What would it be like?”

On impulse, he rose and strode to the collage of photographs decorating one of his office’s four walls. There he admired the portrait of his grandfather as a younger man, resplendent in his spotless SS uniform, the left arm cocked just enough to brandish the proud Viking cuff title on his tunic’s sleeve. Although only black-and-white, the photograph still conveyed some of the ice-blue eye color so common among the Wolf family.

As he’d often done before, the general pictured a cadre of comrades who lived without graying, who manipulated politics, industries, international banks, the media, public opinion … At first, they might have to assume new identities every few decades, but a corps of Methuselah leaders could literally rule the world without the world realizing it.

General Wolf returned to his chair and swiveled to open the doors of the liquor cabinet behind it. His hand hesitated in front of the old bottle of cognac his cousin had given to congratulate him on the promotion to general. Certainly tempting, but no. He would save that bottle for the celebration after Greene became history. Instead, he selected the newer bottle he himself had purchased in Bordeaux and poured a glass. As always, before sipping he relished the combined aromas of warm caramel, dried apple, cocoa, and spice. He tipped the glass to his lips and savored its mellow richness on his tongue.

Might it be possible to continue Methuselah even after Greene was dispatched? He would decide later, after he could ascertain the full extent of the damage. For the moment, though, so many foolish blunders rendered clear concentration difficult.

He swallowed the silky-smooth blend of spirits.
Perhaps the experiment can proceed without him. I’ll be able to think more clearly once Captain Greene is dead.

S
ATURDAY
, M
ARCH
7, 2015

T
HE
M
UELLER HOME
, D
RUID
H
ILLS DISTRICT
, A
TLANTA

S
tepping up to the full-length mirror, Katherine repositioned her hair on her shoulders. Satisfied, she stepped back again to take in the whole effect.

Not bad. The extra volume the stylist had given her hair really looked good. Who knew? Maybe she and Robyn would bump into a couple of handsome bachelors, either at the cinema or afterward, while they sipped their traditional cappuccinos at Panera Bread. The image of Jason Carmichael came to mind. No, she didn’t want to see that face again. She would share that misadventure with Robyn tonight. It should provide a laugh while proving that Katherine had made strides against codependence.

The thought of good-looking men resurrected the memory of the blond twins she’d observed at her promotion ceremony back in Tampa. Their Hollywood-quality cheekbones and dimples remained etched in her memory, and their higher ranking in the organization promised intelligence. Unlike her former karate sensei, Frank Lawson, those two were probably proficient at conversation. Sadly, though, neither man had requested her name or phone number. They hadn’t taken notice of her at all. Would she meet them at some future ceremony?

Keep your hook in the water, girl. The ocean is full offish, and Saturday night is prime time for fishing.
She regarded her reflection again. Sure, the ocean teemed with fish, but maybe they spotted something unattractive about her bait? No woman could see herself through others’ eyes. Did those few freckles turn men away?

A digitized version of the Beatles’ classic “I Want to Hold Your Hand” broke the silence. Katherine reached for her cell phone. Probably Robyn calling to say she was running late. “Hello?”

“Katherine Mueller?” The caller pronounced her name with zero trace of the Southern twang she normally heard from Georgians. The voice sounded European, similar to Uncle Kurt’s.

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“My organization has been intending to contact you.”

The caller placed extra emphasis on the word
organization.
No doubt about the origin now.

Field exercises. Please don’t let them start tonight, not before the movie.

“Now that we are sure you are home, we are dispatching an electronic communiqué to you. We know you’ve been anxiously awaiting field training. The exercise begins now, this minute. I suggest you check the message and start your assignment without delay.”

“This minute? But I had plans for tonight. I was about to—”

“Miss Mueller, I cannot make up your mind for you. But part of the exercise is to assess your resourcefulness, to gauge your creativity and your ability to adapt to shifting challenges. If you hope to rise within our ranks, you might want to postpone your personal plans until a later date.”

Katherine forced herself not to sigh. A groan might even cost valuable points on the evaluation. “Okay. I’m on it. I’ll check my e-mail right away.”

“Excellent. I’ll inform my superiors you are beginning the hunt.”

“The hunt?”

“Read the communiqué. It explains everything.”

The line went dead. Peeved at the infringement on her personal time, Katherine pushed open the carved ebony doors of Uncle Kurt’s study and tapped the keyboard of his computer. Within moments she was reading the incoming message from an address she’d never seen before.

When she finished wading through the screen of information about her quarry for the exercise, Katherine clicked open the attachment and studied the subject’s photos. The man in the first image wasn’t smiling. He looked resentful, almost rebellious, with his chin tipped up a bit, accentuating a strong jawline. In the next photo, the man sported a full beard and mustache, but something about his eyes caught her attention. Their independent, defiant glint struck a harmonious chord inside her. This man bore an expression she’d never seen on an HO member.