Halon-Seven Read Online Free PDF Page A

Halon-Seven was all that Walter could think of. He needed to be sure. If Bayer knew the secret, he would surely execute the research team and take the project for himself. As much as Walter didn’t want to see the project perverted, the thought of those kids being gunned down somehow seemed more tragic.
    “The book!” Bayer bellowed into Meade’s face. The man was squatting down in front of him but Walter was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard a word Bayer was saying.
    “Where is the book?” Bayer demanded once more.
    The man was growing red in the face. Walter took a measure of pride in that. His vision was growing more dim and clouded but he could still see the rage in Bayer’s visage. “What book?” Walter finally managed in a hoarse whisper.
    “Your contact told us about the book! We emailed you about it. Just as he promised, you responded immediately. He said you’ve been searching for the book for many years. He told us you hired him to locate it for you…”
    Walter’s mind was spinning. His head was pounding and he couldn’t breath. Why was Bayer asking him about the book? What had Heinrich told— That was it! Heinrich told Bayer about the book! That was their code, their cover story. Heinrich referred to Halon-Seven as if it were a book in all of his communications. That was their arrangement. But when Bayer showed up with his gun-toting goon, Heinrich had maintained the deception. Bayer didn’t know about Halon-Seven. Heinrich, ever the crafty smuggler, spun a yarn about being hired to locate a copy of J.K. Holloway’s lost novel .
    That was it. Walter had received his dying wish. The heartless bastard, Bayer was still in the dark. Walter knew his team would be safe for the time being. Thankfully, there was a contingency plan in place. Arrangements had already been made. In the event of his death, the Meridian project would land in capable hands.
    One last surge of pain coursed through Walter’s body. He felt it from head to toe. The next thing he knew he was lying face down on the filthy linoleum floor. He heard Bayer and the gunman yelling but their voices were miles distant. With some satisfaction, Walter knew there was nothing more they could do to hurt him. He realized his end had come, as he had feared, with his heart giving out before it was time. He had the Russians to thank for that. If they had just left well enough alone. Strangely, though, he now felt ready. His physical pain was slipping away, replaced by a sense of calm as his mind adjusted and accepted the inevitable.
    There was just one thing left undone. One thing that he cared about before he moved on. He knew he was dying of a heart attack. As such, no one would ever know he’d fallen victim to Bayer’s ambition. He wanted to leave a message, point a finger at Bayer and let someone know what had happened. But that time was passed. There was no way left to communicate.
    A smile crossed Meade’s lips in the last moments of his life. There, curled in the fetal position on that horrible floor, he thought of a way to communicate. He couldn’t tell anyone who had led him to this point, but he could leave a clue indicating his death was not entirely due to natural causes.
    Struggling for one last breath of air, Meade clasped his hands together. He wrapped the pointer and middle finger of his left tightly in the grip of his right hand. Prying on his fingers, he twisted with all of his remaining strength. The last sound he heard in life was the snapping of the bones in these two fingers. Strangely, there was no pain. Only relief. His message was sent. He only hoped the warning would not go unnoticed. It was up to Cyrus now.

Chapter 2

    The Gold Coast, Chicago, Illinois
    Present Day
    Saturday, 4:11 pm

    With no subtle show of reluctance, Tyler Alcot lead the two detectives into the large sitting room of his penthouse apartment. He didn’t care to encourage the men to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.