Plot/Counterplot
Plot/Counterplot
WILLIAM BERNHARDT
Published by Babylon Books, 2022.
Table of Contents
Praise for William Bernhardt and Plot/Counterplot
Prologue
The Courtship
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
The Seduction
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
The Consummation
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
The Afterglow
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by William Bernhardt
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Praise for William Bernhardt and Plot/Counterplot
“A man on the run... a woman on the run... in a thriller that hits the ground running... then running faster... then absolutely flying. And you're flying, too, flying through the pages with one of the masters of the modern thriller at the controls. William Bernhardt knows when to soar and when to dive, when to make you sweat and when to let you breathe, when to throw this flying machine into a barrel roll that will absolutely shock you and when to bring you home safe and satisfied. A terrific entertainment.”
William Martin, New York Times-bestselling author of The Lincoln Letter and December '41
"Exposed has everything I love in a thriller: intricate plot twists, an ensemble of brilliant heroines, and jaw-dropping drama both in and out of the courtroom. William Bernhardt knows how to make the law come alive."
Tess Gerritsen, New York Times-bestselling author of the Rizzoli & Isles thrillers
“Splitsville is a winner—well-written, with fully developed characters and a narrative thrust that keeps you turning the pages.”
Gary Braver, bestselling author of Tunnel Vision
“William Bernhardt is a born stylist, and his writing through the years has aged like a fine wine....”
Steve Berry, bestselling author of The Kaiser’s Web
“Once started, it is hard to let [The Last Chance Lawyer] go, since the characters are inviting, engaging, and complicated....You will enjoy it.”
Chicago Daily Law Bulletin
“[Court of Killers] is a wonderful second book in the Daniel Pike series...[A] top-notch, suspenseful crime thriller with excellent character development...”
Timothy Hoover, fiction and nonfiction author
“I could not put Trial by Blood down. The plot is riveting—with a surprise after the ending, when I thought it was all over....This book is special.”
Nikki Hanna, author of Capture Life
“Judge and Jury is a fast-paced, well-crafted story that challenges each major character to adapt to escalating attacks that threaten the very existence of their unique law firm.”
RJ Johnson, author of The Twelve Stones
“Final Verdict is a must read with a brilliant main character and surprises and twists that keep you turning pages. One of the best novels I’ve read in a while.”
Alicia Dean, award-winning author of The Northland Crime Chronicles
“Thrillingly interwoven plots are Bernhardt’s forte, a talent he once again demonstrates full-blown in his latest superb thriller...”
Booklist (for Dark Justice)
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Library Journal
Copyright © 2022
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For my mother
Prologue
Three Months Before
The bitter subzero wind chilled Dr. Scheimer—but not nearly so much as the thought of what they were about to do. Ice pelted his cheeks like shrapnel. He could taste the cold. He could feel it at the base of his spine. But the shivers rippling through his body could not be blamed on the temperature.
He stood on the edge of a snow-covered precipice, 2200 feet above the shoreline, staring out into the Pacific Ocean. For the first time in his life, he was glad Liesel was no longer with him. He would be ashamed for her to see him here, so lost, so far astray.
“PROTECTIVE HEADGEAR ON,” read the text message on his iPhone. The shrieking wind made audio communication impossible. So the greatest minds in the world of physics exchanged messages by text, as if they were teenagers. Perhaps they were, at least in terms of emotional maturity. How could such well-educated people be so easily manipulated? How could they be so smart about science but so ignorant about the lessons of history?
He gazed out at the target on Kudil Island. Kudil was one of the larger uninhabited islands in the Aleutian chain, but it was not connected to the Alaska Marine Highway. Kudil had the advantage of being far from the view of any casual observer. Even shock waves of enormous intensity would not be felt outside this remote Alaskan wilderness. Perfect for a test that must be shielded from public view.
On the island, they constructed a small town of facades and shacks in a field of endless white. They positioned a scarecrow in the dead center. The object of the experiment was to see how close they could come to hitting the scarecrow. The goal was to do as little collateral damage as possible while still eliminating the primary target.
Scheimer and his fellow scientists were dressed in protective suits covered by insulated cold weather clothing. They hoped that would be enough. The trouble was, no one was ent
irely sure what they were protecting themselves against. Solar flares? Heat? Tornado velocity winds? A space-time wormhole? Scheimer had read that when Oppenheimer and his colleagues conducted the first atomic bomb test, some believed the explosion would ignite the atmosphere and incinerate the earth. That did not happen.
But with this test, anything was possible. The science was so new, and the anomaly that made it possible was so unpredictable. The only fact Scheimer could be sure of was that his work had made this gigantic advance in the destructive power of mankind possible.
“KEY HAS BEEN INSERTED.”
He knew what that meant. Somewhere in Hawaii, at the base of a massive volcano, a project technician had initiated the activation sequence. The coordinates would be fed in wirelessly through a linked laptop. The tip of the firing mechanism would glow a hellish red as it pivoted into position.
They were actually going to do this. This was going to happen.
He felt a padded glove on his arm. “Be still, old friend. All will be well.”
He wished he shared Dr. Johann Karelis’ barely audible optimism. He and Karelis had been colleagues since their college days in Berlin. They had both come to America after the Wall fell. Karelis resisted the lure of government employment for years. The advantages—ready financing, plentiful resources, and a certain degree of autonomy—were not enough. The disadvantages were well known to every scientist since the time of Galileo. Eventually, the financiers would expect results, and establishing the tenets of the physical world would be insufficient to keep them happy.
The generals wanted something they could use.
Scheimer passed the infrared binoculars to his friend. “You tell me what happens.”
“As you wish.” Karelis raised the glasses to his eyes.
“TARGETING IS COMPLETE. COUNTDOWN INITIATED.”
Targeting the energy required a series of coupled equations to be encrypted into a targeting device—the Key. With the Key, the device could be used by those who did not have a Ph.D. in Physics. It could be used by anyone who knew how to type coordinates into a computer.
Developing those equations had been the primary focus of Scheimer’s work. The work he now regretted more than anything he had done in his entire life.
Scheimer felt an aching at the base of his stomach. He knew the beam’s journey would be virtually instantaneous. It would rematerialize directly over the target. If it traveled any longer it would acquire too much energy. They wanted this to be a controlled test. They wanted to measure its potential. Without igniting the atmosphere and destroying the world.
According to Oppenheimer, while observing the Trinity test, he was reminded of a line from Hindu scripture: If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one. Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
But this was so much more.
Without warning, the steel gray sky exploded with a sudden flash of bright white light. Even though he wore protective headgear, Scheimer covered his eyes. The light still penetrated to his brain. It turned golden, then an intense violet. He was buffeted by a gale force wind that rocked him to his knees.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. The sky returned to its previous gray. There was no smoke, no dust, no mushroom cloud. The air had an eerie calm, like the moment after a thunderstorm, with the coppery smell still lingering.
Karelis held the glasses to his eyes. His face was expressionless.
Scheimer stood up and gazed at the island. “Was the town destroyed?”
Karelis’ lips moved wordlessly, as if he could not form an answer. At last he shook his head. No.
“Was the test a failure?”
No response.
Scheimer grabbed the glasses and looked for himself.
At first, nothing appeared to have changed. The town still stood. Every façade remained upright. Every shack was still in place.
Then he looked closer.
The scarecrow was gone.
The beam had reached its target with preternatural accuraCy. And eliminated it. Without causing the slightest damage to the surrounding area. As if Zeus had cast down a lightning bolt from Olympus.
The experiment had succeeded beyond their greatest expectations. Now I am become death...
Scheimer felt his iPhone vibrate. He glanced down at the message.
“THE BEAM WILL BE RELEASED IN FIVE SECONDS.”
In five seconds? But—
Scheimer’s eyes widened. He felt himself teeter, stagger to one side, as the full magnitude of what they had done, what they had created, hammered into his brain.
They had become more than mere harbingers of death. With the turn of a key, they had transcended one of the fundamental dimensions of the physical world—time—and created a weapon capable of destroying anyone, anyplace, at any time.
They had become destroyers of worlds.
* * *
One Month Before
We’re screwed, Xavier thought, even before the building exploded and the corpses fell like rain. He had seen it coming. The Supervisor was playing the usual nasty tricks and X was little more than a puppet. He’d thought all along that the planning for this mission was unimaginative and the intel was weak. When he drove his black Hummer into the parking garage, his concerns were confirmed. Only one guard should be on duty, and he should be on his afternoon break. Instead there were two, ready and watching. When a job began this poorly, it was impossible to reliably predict the outcome.
Except—he knew he would survive. He always did. Even as a puny five-year old boy in a Siberian workhouse. He survived then and he would again. But he couldn’t make any promises about anyone else.
That was the story of his life, wasn’t it? Everyone around him fell. But never Xavier. He was something different from the rest. They had made him into something different.
He would have to improvise. Fortunately, he was good at that. He’d had years of training and covert ops experience with the KGB. On one mission, he was shot three times in the chest—and still took down the intercept base on schedule. After the Wall fell he worked for Bratva—the Russian mafia—where he had the pleasure of eliminating three rival gunrunners with a single swing of a baseball bat. After that, he’d served a brief stint training Pakistan-based militants in the Lashkar-e-Taiba, but he found them weak and unprofessional. He traveled to the Middle East and spent years working for Islamic extremists in Afghanistan committed to making sharia law a global mandate, surprising his enemies by leaping unassisted across desert crevasses. He might still be there, in his little adobe home on the outskirts of Sabaa, if—but he couldn’t let himself be distracted. He needed to focus—even though his skills and experience made the infiltration of a US scientific instillation about as difficult as killing kittens.
It only took twelve seconds to get inside this innocent looking building on the outskirts of Honolulu. While the first sentry explained that he didn’t sell parking permits, Xavier grabbed the half-door between them and rammed it into the man’s stomach. Careful to keep the guard between himself and the surveillance camera, Xavier kicked him in the ribs with ten-pound leaded boots. The useless functionary crumpled to the ground.
The second guard reacted almost immediately—which wasn’t fast enough. Xavier’s dark goggles prevented the guard from knowing where he was looking—which put the man at an extreme disadvantage. Xavier started toward the door, then pivoted abruptly and rammed the flat of his hand into the guard’s face, shattering his nose. Bloody cartilage splintered and splattered through the air as the man reeled backward as if hit by a pile driver. Xavier clutched him around the neck and hoisted him effortlessly into the air. The guard’s feet thrashed, unable to find purchase. His arms flailed, unable to break the grip of Xavier’s bulging arms.
“You’re...not human,” the guard sputtered.
“Correct.” With his spare hand, Xavier thrust his gut-hook hunting knife into the guard’s throat
and skewered him against the back wall. He thrashed spastically for a few seconds before dying.
A voice crackled over Xavier’s earpiece. “All good?” Tomas asked.
“All good,” Xavier subvocalized. The transceiver sewn to the inside of his cheek conveyed his response. “We move in.”
* * *
Dr. Karelis glanced at his Steinhausen chronograph. Time moved so slowly these days. He was behind on the work that had brought him to the innocuously and deceptively named Cartwright Institute for Hawaiian Antiquities. But he couldn’t concentrate. Even though the project had been shut down, he knew that would only be temporary, only until he completed his post-test analysis. They had discovered something wondrous—and potentially terrifying. His friend Scheimer wished he could turn his back on the project altogether. But not Karelis. Their achievements mesmerized him with such intensity that he could think of almost nothing else.
His tendenCy toward obsession had begun back in the old country, when he was still young, when his scientific genius was beginning to reveal itself. He’d had a long and distinguished career at the Berlin Academy for Theoretical Physics, both as a researcher and teacher. He’d almost single-handedly developed the quantum chromodynamics theory of strong interactions. He had been quite content, until his long-standing colleague, Louis Scheimer, contacted him about an astounding discovery—and an offer of employment. Karelis could not resist.
Karelis crossed his apartment and stroked the papers spread across his drafting-table style desk. A faint mustiness spiked the air, permeating the preexisting odors of unwashed laundry and uncleared breakfast. The papers were reproductions, of course, but he still treated them with delicaCy. To him, there was nothing more valuable in the universe. The greatest wealth was knowledge. And knowledge was power. In this case, the power to reshape the world.
Several years ago, construction workers in Manhattan made a startling discovery. While restoring and renovating the New Yorker Hotel, they discovered a hidden annex, a hideaway between the top floor and the roof that no one—at least no one alive—knew existed. Inside, they found a cache of documents and handwritten notes, some in English, some in a Slavic language, some in code. The papers had been deliberately hidden. They were extensively damaged by water, heat, and insects. But following an intense restoration process, they were now 67% legible. And in the Master’s own hand.