Heinz turned on him, the color in his face rising. “You resent Mitch for marrying your daughter. And don’t deny it. I know you asked him not to.”
Erik looked dumbfounded. “And what the hell does that have to do with you?”
“You have no right,” Heinz said, his voice rising.
“She’s my daughter,” Erik retorted. “I have every—”
“She’s an adult! She can make her own choices.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but some choices shouldn’t be made lightly. As her father I have a responsibility to make sure she knows that.”
“And Mitch?” Heinz demanded. “Who is
he
supposed to turn to? He has no one here.”
Erik only looked at him, speechless.
When Heinz turned to walk away and Richelle followed him, Erik said, “Wow, I didn’t see that one coming.”
“He has a point, you know,” Francis said. “I mean, it’s none of my business either, but you can’t hold on to her forever.”
For a moment it looked like Erik was going to insist that he had every intention of doing just that; then he sighed. “God, I wish her mother was still here.”
“It’s never too late to start again,” Francis pointed out. “Trust me, I’ve done it twice. And for all his quirks, Mitch is actually a great guy once you get to know him.”
Erik glanced at Heinz. “I’m not sure I’d know where to start.”
“Well, if you want my advice, I’d start with a six-pack and a nice long chin wag. Just make sure you drink at least four of them, or you’ll end up talking to yourself.”
Erik laughed. “I’ll think about it. And thanks.”
“Any time,” Francis said, “Any time.”
The Pandora
Thursday 21 June 2007
0200 EEST
By the time the crowd on the Isle of Dragons began running for what appeared to be their lives, Mitch and Naoko had all but forgotten about the container.
No sooner had Mitch radioed Francis to tell him the cargo was now on its way than the system presented another of its unsolicited reminders. Only this time it was not to let them know there was a resupply on its way, but to inform them that unless directed to remain in position, the dropship would now return home.
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Naoko said.
Mitch made no reply, but only sat looking at the message.
“Mitch?”
“I don’t know,” Mitch said. “This wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”
“We should let Richelle know,” Naoko said. “I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t our decision to make.”
Mitch looked down at the radio on the counter, but made no move to pick it up.
“Come on,” Naoko said, “call her.”
After another long moment of hesitation Mitch did. There was no reply. Before either of them could say anything, the message appeared on the screen again.
“I guess it’s our call,” Mitch said.
“Then I say we send it back,” Naoko said. “I mean, what if someone already knows it’s there? Besides us, I mean.”
“I don’t think they’d be able to see it,” Mitch said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Gandalf’s been up there for weeks,” Mitch said.
“And?”
“And we’d know by now if anyone suspected it was there.”
“Maybe they do,” Naoko said. “It’s not like it would be on the news, right?”
“They don’t,” Mitch said. “I’ve checked.”
“Seriously, this is a bad idea. Richelle will go nuts if you keep it here.”
“Fine,” Mitch said. “We’ll send it back.”
He selected the corresponding acknowledgement and confirmed it, but instead of accepting the command the system flashed up a warning in the form of a single line followed by a six-character alpha-numeric designation they both recognized as an item from the container manifest.
“What does it say?” Mitch asked.
Naoko read it. “It says if we send the dropship back, this item will have a reduced range and functionality.”
“What’s the item?” Mitch said.
“Does it matter?”
“You’re damn right it matters,” Mitch said.
Naoko picked up Watkins’s notebook and began leafing through it.
“So?” Mitch said.
When Naoko didn’t reply Mitch grabbed the notebook from him and looked at the page. Written in Watkins’s neat print below the designated item number was this:
No image available. The system appears to be a remotely piloted vessel of human form, although the word used for
human
in this case can also mean
body
. The model designation of this item is
Dezsensila
, which translates literally as
Reverential Figure
but would be more accurately expressed as
Body of God
or
Divine Body
. No clarification of the name is provided. Its stated function is “population control”, although, again, no clarification is provided with regards to specific procedures or methods of use. The description clearly states that the operator requires a level six handling qualification, but does not provide any details as to what this means.
“I knew it,” Mitch said. “We can’t send it back.”
At Naoko’s urging he tried to contact Richelle again, but there was no response.
“I just want to state for the record that I was against this,” Naoko said.
“Fine.”
“So it’s your ass in the breach.”
“Yes,” Mitch said. “My ass and my neck.”
He didn’t wait for Naoko to say anything else. With three fluid movements of his thumb and index finger Mitch instructed the dropship to remain in orbit. This time there was no new message, just a confirmation.
“I’ll tell her if you don’t,” Naoko said.
For a moment it looked as if Mitch was going to reply to this with a sermon, but he only nodded and said, “I will.”
Nampo, North Korea
Thursday 21 June 2007
0830 KST
The last of the trucks drove into the Project 38 compound just after half eight in the morning. As soon as each truck stopped, its driver was quickly dismissed and directed to a waiting bus outside the gate. Only when all six had been parked inside one of the empty warehouses did Rhee ask Duan to follow him. Pok was waiting for them when they arrived. Sitting in its custom-made frame on top of the flat train car was the contraption Rhee’s men had welded. Duan approached the nearest cylinder and inspected it. When he was finished he patted the side of the frame and nodded. “You’ve done a good job.”
“This is the man you want to thank,” Rhee said, nodding to Pok.
“It must be quite something to finally see your plans getting the attention they deserve,” Duan said. “Needless to say, you have a great many admirers in Beijing. Myself included.”
Pok only nodded as if to say that he was well aware of this and said, “I suppose we should be grateful for your support, commander.”
Rhee gave Duan an embarrassed smile, but Duan brushed the comment off. “Nothing we’ve done to help takes away from your role. Our goals are the same, after all, are they not?”
“That remains to be seen,” Pok said, clearly unimpressed.
“Enough,” Rhee said. “The commander didn’t come all this way to be insulted.”
“That’s quite alright,” Duan said. “I think what Mr. Pok is saying is that he isn’t sure we can be trusted to keep our side of the bargain. That’s quite understandable. I just hope we’ve managed to put at least some of your concerns to rest here tonight.”
“You could achieve that far more easily by providing the person I asked for over six months ago,” Pok said. “I think I’ve been pretty clear about the fact that the tunnel cannot be completed without the required calculations. For all we know we’re already too far out of position.”
“You’re right,” Duan said. “And I can only apologize.”
Pok made no reply to this.
When they were back outside Rhee said, “You don’t need to worry about him. I think you’ll find it’s the drugs talking. He’ll be dead in two months. Three if he’s lucky.”
“What a shame,” Duan said. “I quite like his fighting spirit. As for his luck, the fact that he’s still here suggests he’s got plenty of that on his side.”
They walked to the perimeter fence and stood looking out over the bay for a moment.
“How are things proceeding otherwise?” Duan said.
“Well,” Rhee said. “As you can see, the transport is almost completed. We will begin moving the cars by barge tomorrow.”
“Good,” Duan said. “The final delivery will be here in eight days.”
Rhee suddenly looked troubled. “Pok is right about the tunnel. Without someone capable of finalizing the calculations, we cannot proceed.”
Duan nodded, “Yes, I know. I’m afraid there’s been a delay. We’re still looking for a suitable candidate.”
“Still looking?”
Duan considered telling him about what had happened, then thought better of it. “I have a few candidates in mind. I also thought you might be pleased to know that your efforts here have not gone unnoticed.”
“Oh?” Rhee said.
“I’ve been instructed to inform you that your future is being reconsidered in light of your performance. I’m afraid I can’t be more specific at this point, but I thought you’d like to know.”
“I’ll do whatever is asked of me,” Rhee said.
“Of course,” Duan said. “I’ve told them as much. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“Too far to turn back.”
“Indeed,” Duan said. “Much too far.”
FBI Field Office
Richmond, Virginia
Thursday 21 June 2007
1000 EDT
If the double-act assigned to question him were aware that they were acting out a long-since exhausted cliché, they seemed blissfully unaware. Titov, hands still cuffed behind his back, was sitting in a small, windowless room in the company of the man he now thought of as Good Cop. Good Cop’s name was Sims. Bad Cop, whose name had thus far been withheld, was away getting coffee, leaving Sims to pick up where he had left off.
“Like I’ve already told you,” Titov said, “until you call my lawyer in Berlin and let me speak to him, I’m not telling you anything.”
“You can at least tell us what you’re doing in the United States, can’t you?” Sims said. “That’s not a secret, is it?”
“A secret?” Titov said. “No. I have no secrets. But you’ve arrested me without cause and are holding me against my will. I know how this works. I’m not obliged to speak without legal counsel.”
“Mr. Kargin, you were arrested in the company of a known criminal. I’d be happy to call your lawyer, but we need you to tell us what your connection is to Jasper Klein first.”
Before Titov could reply the door opened and Bad Cop barged inside. He dropped a blank file onto the table and said, “We’ve checked with the German Embassy. They’re adamant that you haven’t been a resident there for some years. That’s a little odd, wouldn’t you say?”
“I never said I lived in Germany,” Titov said.
“But you’re a German national?” bad cop insisted.
“That’s correct.”
“So where do you live?”
“I want to—”
“Speak to your lawyer,” Bad Cop finished. “We heard you the first time. Your lawyer who just happens to be in Berlin, even though you don’t live there. Let me tell you something, you have no rights in this country, Mr. Titov. All that stuff you see on TV about phone calls and lawyers, it doesn’t apply in your situation. Now Jasper Klein is an American citizen, so he
does
get to have a lawyer. Only he doesn’t want one because he hasn’t done anything wrong. That’s right, he’s told us everything. How you bribed him. How you forced him to travel to Dubai and then kidnapped him. How you then “rescued” him and told him you needed to keep him safe. You’ve really filled his head with some shit. So you see, there’s nowhere for you to go, pal. We’ll find out who you work for one way or another. The only question is, are we going to do it the easy way or the hard way?”
“He’s not safe here,” Titov said.
“What the hell are you talking about?” bad cop said.
“Jasper,” Titov said. “You need to get him out of here and into protective custody. There are people looking for him that will go to great lengths to stop him from talking.”
Bad Cop looked at his partner as if Titov had just told him to go fuck himself.
“Can you believe this guy?” Bad Cop said.
“It’s no joke,” Titov said.
Bad Cop leaned across the table and looked Titov straight in the eye. “You listen to me, asshole, and you listen real good, I’ve had enough of your mind games and your bullshit. You either start cooperating or I’ll see to it you get your very own cell next to Osama fucking bin Laden himself. Because we’re going to get
him
just like we got you, and just like we’re going to get the rest of you. You think we’re idiots? You think we don’t know why someone would kidnap a geologist and take him to the Middle East? You’re in way over your head here, pal.”
Titov listened to this patiently and said, “You done?”
When Bad Cop didn’t answer, Titov said, “Jasper has no idea what he was doing in Dubai. If you want the truth, I don’t know either.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why would I go to all the trouble of taking him out there, only to bring him back here?”
“You tell
us
,” Sims said.
“Alright—I
wouldn’t
. As for what I was doing with him, I was keeping him safe. I’d like to be of more help, but I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. And I wasn’t kidding when I say he’s in danger.”
“Then it’s all settled,” Bad Cop shrugged. “I guess we’ll just let you go, then.”
“I’d be very grateful if you did,” Titov said.
Bad Cop looked up at the ceiling in mock amazement. “He actually means it!”
“If it helps,” Titov said, “I can tell you that the Chinese are involved in what happened.”
“No,” Bad Cop said. “No, it doesn’t help. What would help is if you dropped this act and tell us who the hell you are, who you work for, and what you’re up to.”
“What if I don’t work for anyone?” Titov said.
“So you’re a vigilante?” Bad Cop said. “That it?”
“I guess it’s as good a word as any.”