The Kremlin Phoenix (4 page)

“I hope you know what you’re
doing,” Wilkins said. “Will we remember this reset?”

“We remembered that I gave Goldstein
a message,” Mariena replied.

“And it definitely worked!” Zikky
declared. “The sensors proved we forced a tiny reset in the timeline.”

“It’s a question of scale,”
Mariena explained. “These small resets don’t affect us, because they’re so minor,
they haven’t really changed anything yet. The next timeline reset should be no
bigger than the last one, so it shouldn’t affect us either.”

“But if he does what you want,
that could be a big reset?”

“What I want, is to smash the
timeline to pieces!” she said bitterly.

“A big reset,” Zikky said
excitedly, “the mother of all resets, multiplied by two hundred and fifty
years. It could fix everything!”

“Or wreck everything,” Captain
Wilkins said uncertainly.

“You mean, wreck it worse than it
is?” Zikky asked incredulously.

“You’re right! Nothing could be
worse than this. Break the God damned timeline, if that’s even possible. We’ll
take our chances.”

 “It’s possible,” she said. “I’m
ready.”

* * * *

Present Day

Craig stayed in his office,
waiting for everyone else to leave. When he finished his work, he surfed the
net briefly before skimming Twitter looking for an interesting conversation to
jump into. He found a wrongheaded political argument which he decided to
comment on. He chose his words carefully, knowing he’d be flamed for his views.
When he was halfway through his tweet, a female voice broke into his thoughts.

“The MLI master list you’re
looking for is in the top right drawer of Jerry Goldstein’s desk.”

Craig looked up, surprised to
find Mariena in front of his desk, staring over his head. He’d not heard her enter,
and didn’t recognize her, but he took in every detail in a glance. Her light blue
jump suit fitted her snugly, without a single crease or seam. Over her right
breast was a circular emblem, a curving light blue thunderbolt against a black
background, flashing behind the letters
SEIII
. Over her left breast were
the words,
Del Rey
.

“How’d you get in here?” he
demanded.

“The key to the desk is hidden in
Goldstein’s liquor cabinet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” Craig said, suddenly anxious how this stranger knew he was looking for
information on MLI.

“Once you have the master list,”
she said, “You must give it to Valentina Petrovna. No one else.”

“Give what to who?” Craig asked
confused. “I don’t have the MLI master list, and I don’t know anyone by that
name.”

“It’s extremely important you do
exactly what I say. Remember, you must give the master list to Valentina
Petrovna only. No one else. And be careful, the people hunting this list will
kill you if they know you have it.”

“Kill me?” Craig stood up and
walked around the desk. “What the hell are you talking about? Who wants to kill
me? And how do you know about any of this stuff?” Mariena continued to gaze
towards the desk. He whistled and waved his hand. “Hey! I’m over here.”

Strangely, she seemed oblivious
to his movements.

His computer beeped, using the
customized tone indicating Nikki was trying to Skype with him. “One second,” he
said, leaning over his computer long enough to signal to Nikki that he was in a
meeting. When he returned his attention to the center of the office, Mariena had
vanished.

“What the hell?” He hurried to
his office door and checked the halls, wondering where she’d gone. There was no
sign of her, and no telltale sounds of other staff working late. “Top right drawer,
eh?” he muttered to himself, then headed for Goldstein’s office.

Craig slipped under the police
tape stretching across the door to Jerry Goldstein’s office, carefully avoiding
the chalk outline marking where the body had lain before the police removed it.
He searched the liquor cabinet, using a handkerchief to ensure he left no fingerprints,
but found no sign of a key. When he tried the desk drawers, he discovered they
were unlocked, but contained no MLI files.

“What the hell was she talking
about?” he wondered aloud.

He quickly searched the rest of the
office, but found nothing. Disappointed, he stepped back under the tape, closed
the door and started towards his own office when he noticed the stack of
folders on Goldstein’s secretary’s desk. She’d been in shock all day, done no
work and gone home early, leaving her desk untouched. Craig quickly looked
through the files on her desk, discovering an envelope inscribed in the old
lawyer’s own hand with the words:
J. G. Personal Archive
, dated
yesterday.

He turned the envelope over,
about to open it, when the elevator bell announced a lift arriving on the fifty
first floor. He darted back into his office and locked the envelope inside his
brief case as Ed McCormack hurried past reception carrying a plastic bag.

McCormack stopped on hearing
noise from one of the Senior Associate’s offices. “Who’s there?” he called in a
fragile voice, reaching into the plastic bag for the gun Powell had loaded for
him at dinner. He pushed the safety catch off with sweating hands and raised
the weapon.

Craig picked up his briefcase and
jacket and strode out of his office, trying to look as if he was just leaving.

McCormack heard the footsteps
approaching. The moment a man appeared from one of the smaller offices, he
squeezed the trigger, barely aware of his aim. The confined, glass walled space
reverberated with the sound of the gunshot as the bullet smashed through a
partition and harmlessly embedded itself in the floor.

Craig ducked instinctively,
startled by the sound of the gun.

“Shit! Don’t shoot Ed, it’s me!”

McCormack started shaking, dropped
the gun and ran to Craig. “Oh God! I didn’t know it was you! I’m so sorry! Are
you hurt? Did I hit you?” he asked remorsefully.

“I’m OK. Good thing you’re a
lousy shot. What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

“I guess I’m . . . a little jumpy,
after what happened to Jerry.”

A little
jumpy?
“Well, take it easy, you might hurt
someone.”

McCormack nodded. “I will ... I’m
sorry. I . . .”

Man, he’s
a wreck!
Craig thought.
This
thing with Goldstein has scrambled his marbles.
“That’s OK Ed. No harm
done.” Craig glanced at the neat hole in the office partition. “Although, it
looks like you killed the wall.”

McCormack looked absently at the
bullet hole, his mind on other things. “We’ll get that fixed in the morning.”

“Well, I’m off. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“OK, so long as you don’t take
another shot at me,” Craig joked. He’d planned to search through the desks of
Goldstein’s junior staff, but it was too late now. He decided to do it early
next morning before anyone else arrived.

McCormack rushed into his office,
snatched up his brief case, then hurried out so he could ride down in the
elevator with Craig.

“Are you going to leave the gun
on the floor?” Craig asked.

McCormack looked bewildered, then
remembered he’d dropped the gun. He quickly retrieved it, locked it in his
brief case, and almost ran to catch Craig before he left the office.

Craig gave McCormack a curious
look, sensing the senior partner was afraid to use the elevator alone.
He’s got the gun, and he wants me to protect him?

“Do the police have any idea who
would want to kill Jerry?” Craig asked, trying to make small talk.

“Ah, no . . . no leads”

Craig sensed he was holding back.
“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

Yes you do!
Craig realized as they stepped into the elevator, then remembered
Mariena’s warning that his own life could be in danger. “Ed, can I ask you a
confidential question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s the MLI master list?” he
asked as the elevator started down.

McCormack’s face turned white
with fear. “How do you know about that?”

“Goldstein said something to me,”
Craig lied.

“What did he say?” he asked
alarmed.

“That . . . you could get killed,
if you had it. What is it?”

“I can’t discuss it. And you
shouldn’t either.” He focused on the elevator floor indicator anxiously.
“Goldstein should never have mentioned it to you!” McCormack’s mind raced. “Maybe
that’s why he’s dead? He said something he shouldn’t have. And they know! They
might think we’ve all been talking! Oh God!”

Craig had never seen McCormack
babbling like this.
The poor guy’s scared out of his
wits!

When the elevator doors opened,
Craig took a few paces into the empty parking lot, then realized the older
lawyer was not with him. He turned to see a fear stricken McCormack peering warily
out of the elevator.

Damn,
Craig thought.
Get a grip, man!

“It’s safe Ed. You can come out
now.” Craig declared, regretting his contemptuous tone the instant he said it.

McCormack stepped into the
parking lot, oblivious of Craig’s tone, and straightened. “Yeah, it is safe. I
can see that.” He muttered, although the way his eyes searched the shadows, he
clearly believed he was anything but safe.

Craig opened his car door. “See
you tomorrow, Ed.”

McCormack seemed not to hear as
he rushed to the safety of his car, afraid of being left alone in the carpark.

Craig climbed into his car and drove
slowly towards the up-ramp. He glanced into the rear view mirror, watching McCormack
fumble with his keys as he approached his car.

Man, he’s rattled!

McCormack climbed into his
Mercedes Benz, then when the door closed, the car exploded into a ball of
orange flame.

Craig slammed on the brakes,
spinning around in his seat to look back through the rear window. The Mercedes
burned furiously, leaving no doubt that Ed McCormack was dead.

* * * *

Detective Harriman had been on his way
home when he got the call over the radio. He’d been surprised at the news, although
it confirmed his suspicion that Jerry Goldstein’s two partners had lied through
their teeth during their interviews. He drove into the underground carpark,
past a black and white patrol car, and parked near the fire engine. Several
fire fighters, having put the fire out, were rolling up their hoses getting
ready to return to their station.

Harriman took a moment to study
McCormack’s burnt out Mercedes, thinking,
this could
have been avoided, if they’d told me the truth!

Harriman flashed his badge at one
of the uniformed officers on the scene. “What have you got?”

The officer pointed toward Craig.
“That guy by the BMW called it in. His name’s Craig Balard. He worked with the
victim – saw the whole thing.”

“Do we know what caused the
explosion?”

“The fire chief said there were three
incendiaries, one under the engine, one under the front seat, one in the rear.
The forensic guys are on the way. Whoever wanted to blow this guy up wasn’t
taking any chances. And the victim knew it was coming. He was carrying.”

“Hmm,” Harriman said surprised.
He’d only spent a few hours with McCormack, but it was enough to tell him the
lawyer was not the type to carry a gun. Puzzled, he strolled over to Craig, who
was leaning against his car. “Craig Balard? My name’s Harriman.”

Craig shook hands. “I saw you in
the office today.”

“I don’t suppose you know what’s
going on?”

“No,” Craig said, realizing it
was the truth. “I wish I did.”

“Why’d he have a gun?”

“He was scared, but he wouldn’t
tell me of what.”

“Do you feel your life is in
danger?”

“No. Should I?”

“One dead lawyer is a murder. Two’s
a conspiracy. How come you were with him?”

“I was working late, and just
happen to come down in the elevator with him. That’s all. I’m a senior
associate. I do commercial stuff, mostly mergers and acquisitions. If it’s
something the partners are into, I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

Harriman made a mental note to
add Craig’s comments to his report. “Ever hear of them doing anything illegal?”

“No way. We use the law, we don’t
break it.”

“OK. Give your statement to the
officer and you can go.”

* * * *

Nikki Angelo was soaking her tired
body in a steaming hot bath when the door bell rang. Reluctantly, she climbed
out of the water, lightly toweled off and slipped into a robe. The bell rang
again as she peered through the peep hole. When she saw who it was, she mischievously
discarded her robe and opened the door.