12
Ernst listened to Kris Szeto’s report. The cell connection wasn’t good.
“Her name is Louise Myers and she is still in coma.”
A name . . . they finally had a name for this nuisance.
“Address?”
“Just mailbox number.”
“Did you search the real estate—”
“Not listed.”
Disappointing news, but Ernst was glad that Szeto was anticipating him. This was why he used operatives from the Order’s European lodges. They were much more on the ball than their Stateside counterparts. He supposed his being born in Austria and spending his early years bouncing around Europe had something to do with it as well.
“How much longer will the coma last?”
“That I do not know. I speak to brother and friend. They look worried. Then they leave.”
“Where to?”
“I think maybe to her house.”
“Excellent! You’re following them, of course.”
“Not me. They know my face. I send Max.”
“Good.”
They needed access to wherever this woman lived—her computer, her files—to find out how much she knew and who else shared that knowledge. Once they eliminated that, they could eliminate her.
“Who’s watching the woman?”
“Josef.”
“If there’s any sign she’s waking up, we’ll have to take action.”
“Of course. A plan is in place. I will keep you informed.”
Ernst ended the call. Under normal circumstances, he could understand why the One would be so intent on silencing this woman; but with the Fhinntmanchca soon to be a reality . . . why bother?
That reminded him . . . He speed dialed Dr. Orlando.