Read Online Survivalist - 24 - Blood Assassins by Jerry Ahern - Free Book Online

Rourke would have to accomplish the trade himself. And he—Zimmer— would not only have Martin back, but have John Rourke as his prisoner, or dead. But he hoped for the former, the latter—an eventuality—coming to pass all in due time.
    And if the good Herr Doctor Rourke had any compunction about personally involving himself in the trade, that would fade away instantly.
    In the event that he was unable to carry out his plan of preference, he had made arrangements to accomplish his intended scheme by other means. A video crew and specialists in laser holography would be his “ace in the hole,” as the Americanism went.
    This promised not only to be challenging, but amusing as well.
    The one problem with his ice-bound redoubt was that there were no windows, and he felt just slightly claustrophobic. The feelings passed with activity, of course, and there would be an adequate supply of that.
    There was a secret, and he must know it, possess that secret himself. And the secret was the greatest prize, even greater than the death, final and complete and ultimate, of Doctor John Thomas Rourke. And only John Rourke could unlock that secret, retrieve this knowledge.
    This ultimate knowledge posed the ultimate risk of course, but what knowledge was, after all, without risk to the knower?
    Deitrich Zimmer licked his lips.
    He could taste it.

Twelve
    “It’s very simple to give you artificial fingerprints, Mr. Rourke, but that’s the least of your worries.” Natalia watched Michael’s eyes as they squinted slightly, the doctor from the police department forensics unit lighting a cigarette as he continued. “You can get anyone to alter your fingerprints, either temporarily or permanently. Corneal imprint is what’s most reliable. But, you have to remember that Deitrich Zimmer, when he isn’t being a Nazi dictator, is one of the finest medical minds ever. What’s known of Zimmer’s techniques—and that’s precious little—is studied in medical schools from New Germany to Lydveldid Island to the Chinese First City to Mid-Wake—hell, you name it. He’s going to be able to spot fingerprint changes unless they’re done perfectly, and he might even spot them then. And what will you do about cranial measurements? Dental records? No, you could pull off a deception that would last until he examined you. That’s it, Mr. Rourke.”
    “I have to try,” Michael said in reply.
    Natalia sat on a stool at the far end of the morgue, her legs crossed, a cigarette in her hand. She flicked ashes from it to the floor—Dr. Robinson had said she could, that the floors were swept every night—and a few specks of ash settled on her stocking. She brushed them away, rearranging herself on the stool, straightening her dress. Michael, the moment he heard about Deitrich Zimmer’s communique, was determined to go through with the charade he had planned before the— thank God—totally erroneous information concerning his mother’s death.
    When Natalia Anastasia Tiemerovna thought of Sarah Rourke, she thought of Mark Twain’s famous line, about reports of his death being premature.
    All the toughness and courage and ability which Michael and Annie had in abundance weren’t solely inherited from their father. For the first time since the night one hundred and twenty-five years ago when Sarah was shot in the brain by Deitrich Zimmer, Natalia saw real hope of Sarah’s return to the living.
    Dr. Robinson was saying, “Think of it this way. Dr. Zimmer may be evil incarnate—I don’t know—but I do know he’s not a fool. He knows you exist, and he knows you’ve impersonated Martin—successfully— once before. He will anticipate it, Mr. Rourke. I read somewhere that you once entertained plans for following in your father’s footsteps in medicine.”
    “I still do, maybe.”
    Dr. Robinson’s teeth looked like ivory against his chocolate brown skin as his face beamed with a broad grin. “Well, then put yourself in Zimmer’s place,