CHAPTER SIXTY
You don’t need to tie a big chunk of meat to the lure, a tidbit the size of the end of your finger will do. Start by putting your hooded bird on the floor inside the house. Put the lure, garnished with the tidbit, on the floor about a foot away from it, then pop the hood off.
—American Falconry Magazine
The Old Garden
Twickenham
Richmond upon Thames, London
Roman leaned back against the wall, wiping the sweat from his brow. The delivery had gone well. The drone army was now in London, safe, and even better, accessible. Ready to use. Against Barstow? Possible. Very possible.
Back in the house, he went first to the cast. They were hungry and ready to fly. He pressed the button that exposed the roof to the sky, untethered them, and watched them take off, one by one. The eagles went last, their massive wings helping them soar straight into the sky.
“Good hunting, my lovelies. Be back before dark.”
They would, he knew. The cabal would hunt on the grounds and come back to him, sated and happy.
He left the roof open and went to the lab. Radu was standing over Isabella Marin, talking animatedly. Roman was shocked. Radu willingly talking to a stranger? Of course, she spoke Voynichese, and perhaps that made the difference. He wondered if she were indeed a blood match, how long she would survive, being exsanguinated over and over again.
Radu saw his brother enter and signaled for him. He went to the lab, and Roman followed.
When the hermetically sealed door hissed shut, he whispered, “She’s a match.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Excitement, perhaps? We should do the transfusion now.”
“She may have diseases. She may have anomalies.”
“No, Roman. The blood is clear. She is perfect. She is a descendant, as we are. She is the cure. The pages spoke of an angel who would come in the night. She is our angel.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so excited, Brother.”
“It’s hard not to be thrilled, after all these years. And she speaks our language, not unexpected, since she, too, is our own familial line. Let’s hurry, Roman, I want to move ahead with the transfusion immediately.”
“We don’t have time right now. I must deal with Barstow.” Roman shrugged. “If he fails to give me my money, I will kill him.” As he walked away, he reached into his pocket for a tab of LSD, thumbed it onto his tongue. To his astonishment, Radu exploded.
“Barstow’s been stringing you along for seven months, and you chose to believe him. And what has he done? He had Caleb Temora hack Radulov to ruin your company to destroy everything we’ve built. You know he won’t give you your money. He never intended to give you the billion pounds. He wanted it for himself.
“Look at you! Another microdose of LSD? And your wretched savior complex. Who cares about the terrorists taking over Africa? You tell me over and over I’m the most important thing in your life, to cure me is your highest priority. Well, prove it.
“We have our cure, and I’m ready. Save me, Roman. You know time is running out, we may not get another chance.”
“Calm yourself, Radu. We have all the time in the world. No one knows we’re here. No one knows where she is. As soon as I’ve dealt with Barstow—”
Radu shook his head. “You’ve lost all sense of reality, Brother. You murdered Isabella’s fiancé. It’s all over the news. They’re looking for her, everywhere. Looking for you, too, though they only know the name of your alter ego, Laurence Bruce. I refuse to lose my chance to be cured because you’ve acted recklessly, yet again. We’re going to do this my way. I know exactly what I’m getting into, and I want you to give me this one small thing. And then you can go after your filthy money, I care not.”
Rage built inside Roman. “That filthy money is what’s allowing you to have this home, away from all stimulation that might upset you. It’s what paid for your lab, to search for this cure. Do you not understand, Radu? All I do, I do for you. Everything I’ve done, always, is for you.” He was panting, he was so enraged, nearly beyond himself, and now his brother was questioning him?
Radu touched his brother’s arm, his voice calm again. “Then hook us up. I can hear her blood singing to me, Roman, like the pages sing to both of us. I’ve never felt this before. She is my life’s blood. She is the cure. We’ve been wrong all along. The Voynich, the pages, they’re only part of the story. It is Isabella: she is what we’ve looked for all this time. Roman, listen to me. Blood doesn’t lie. Isabella’s blood will save me. Now, stop making excuses, stop putting everything above me, and start the transfusion. Iago can watch over me while you go play with Barstow. It will take hours. You will have plenty of time. She really is my gift from God.”
Roman stared at his brother. He was right. “All right, Radu. Prepare yourself. I will ready Isabella.”
When Radu hurried out of the room, Roman rubbed his forehead, then slipped another dose into his mouth. He stopped by his office for his notebook. Like Radu, he kept notes on every experiment, on every observation. And this one would surely be the most important.
A small red light was flashing on his computer screen. He bumped the mouse and saw camera footage, knew immediately it was the flat in Belgravia. The flat’s perimeter sensors were activated. Someone had gone inside.
Something else to make him crazy. He calmed himself, scanned the flat but saw nothing. A system failure, a short circuit? No, he knew better. He flashed to the external cameras. There were two men in a black SUV sitting across from the entrance.
He said aloud, “Barstow. What are you up to?”
The light flashed on his desk phone, the speaker turning on with a gentle click. His brother said, “Where are you?”
“I’m coming.” He turned off his computer screen. If what Radu said was true, it didn’t matter what Barstow was planning. Roman had plans for this man he’d once believed was a patriot, like himself. A man, he’d realized too late, who had drawn him to a vast humanitarian project that was all based on lies. A billion pounds, that was Barstow’s only goal. He rather hoped Barstow would kill Temora, save him the trouble.
As he left his office, he saw the shadows flitting through the sky. The cast was returning.
He detoured up the stairs to the falconry, waited for his brethren to land back in their places, claws and beaks red with blood, then closed the roof and went to give his brother the potion, then Isabella’s blood. Two strong brothers, not one strong and one weak. Not after tonight.