The Orpheus Deception by David Stone Read Free Book Online

done. In Trieste. It took eleven hours. He drank five bottles of Stolichnaya, one after the other.”

    “He was always a drinker. The other big one, that had to be JoJo. It was always the two of them, DoDo and JoJo.”

    “Yes. Josef Perchak.”

    “I know I shouldn’t ask, but why them? Of all people?”

    “Two birds. I wanted to show you what could be done. And it was necessary for Kerk and Perchak to be retired from the project.”

    “But they were good men. Hard to replace. And the villa . . . it cost a lot of money. I’ve been there myself. What will you do with it?”

    “Nothing. It’s yours, if you want it. Larissa will send you the papers. Why them? Because they were embarrassing. The way they were living there—the people of the town hated them—they were behaving like drunken clowns, throwing euros around, making scenes in the cafés. Sooner or later, the police would start wondering about them. It was better to be safe, and, as I said, I needed a demonstration.”

    “Well, it’s very impressive, Branco. But . . . too fast . . .”

    “It was in an undiluted form. Contained. In the—”

    “This . . . substance . . . once it is released, how is it to be contained? It will multiply, will it not? Exponentially?”

    “No. It is neutralized by salt water.”

    “You are certain?”

    “Korshunov was. And Langford confirmed it.”

    “Both are dead,” said the man in gray silk, his tone mildly accusing.

    “All are dead,” grunted Gospic, dismissing the point. “Benito Que, in Miami. Then Wiley, Pasechnik, Schwartz, Set Van Nguyen, in Australia.”

    “His wife . . .”

    “She was reached in November of that year. As you know.”

    “The papers said she was killed by anthrax. On the subway.”

    “Yes,” said Gospic. “That’s what they said.”

    “Then, in Moscow, Glebov and Brushlinski?”

    “And Victor Korshunov, also in Moscow. And Langford, in England. And, of course, the plane from Tel Aviv, with Berkman, Eldor, and Matzner.”

    “Impressive. I am amazed. All this by Kerk’s own people?”

    “Not all. The Australian end was done by freelancers from Jemaya Ismail. They had no idea why. Just did it. And the American work was done by our associates in Matamoros. Also freelancers. JoJo had the Tel Aviv job done by the Chechyns.”

    “You trusted the Chechyns?”

    “I trusted them to do the job and make it look like the Ukrainians, who are famously incompetent, did it by accident. I did not trust them with why.”

    Groz shook his head, his expression solemn.

    “DoDo and JoJo were our old comrades-in-arms, Branco.”

    “Yes. As I said, it was necessary for the integrity of the project.”

    Groz showed his long yellow teeth again, his face creasing in a smile.

    “I suppose so. Such a long . . . time frame, in this matter.”

    “We were not in at the beginning. We came in after the breakup of Yugoslavia. There was an opportunity, after the Soviets dropped the Biopreparat project.”

    “You picked it up.”

    “I picked up some of the people. They were scattering everywhere. Looking for work. Iraq. Iran. North Korea. Some went to America. Some came to us.”

    “You saw a use?”

    “Poppa felt that the discoveries would be useful. Someday.”

    “The long view,” said Groz.

    “Yes. That is what Poppa is good at.”

    The gray man nodded, pursing his lips like a Mother Superior; he opened his mouth to say something more when a burst of shrieking laughter erupted from the three little boys. They scattered across the balcony as the old gundog writhed to its feet, baring its blunt teeth, its red-rimmed eyes wide with fright. It began to bark, its hackles bunching up in folds.

    One of the boys struck out at it with the handle of the spoon. The old dog seized the handle and wrenched it away, snapping the spoon in two. Another boy, the one belonging to Stefan Groz, kicked out at the dog.

    The old gundog dodged away from the kick and then charged suddenly