“Only it’s not true,” Bad Cop said. “I’m going to ask you one—”
The door opened and a middle-aged man with thick glasses stuck his head inside and said, “Guys, chief wants a word.”
“I suggest you take this opportunity to decide how you want this to go,” Bad Cop said on his way out the door.
The chief, Special Agent in Charge Jerome Dunn, asked Sims to close the door behind him and told both men to take a seat.
“How you getting on?” Dunn said.
“Nothing but fairy tales so far,” Bad Cop said. “But we’ll break him.”
“I just got off the phone to Langley,” Dunn said. “They’re calling jurisdiction on this one. Sorry guys.”
“Boss,” Bad Cop pleaded, “give us an hour. I’ll have this guy singing to the treetops.”
“No can do,” Dunn said. “Stick ’em in the hold. Someone’s coming down to pick them up in the next couple of hours.”
The Pandora
Thursday 21 June 2007
1730 EEST
It was Heinz who eventually suggested the key might be RP One itself. By then they had spent half a day beating their collective heads against the side of the seemingly impregnable container, which had neither a visible door, nor any hint that one might exist. As Heinz had suspected, the cylinder was made of an alloy that was similar but not identical to that of RP One. For one, it was darker—nearly black. And unlike the skin of RP One, the surface was entirely smooth, almost a mirror finish.
It took Mitch and Watkins the rest of the afternoon to find the interface among the long and intricate menu of commands. During that time Mitch made no mention of his decision the previous day, much to the disapproval of Naoko, who was now sulking.
“Do any of them say ‘open’?” Mitch asked.
Watkins studied the list of options for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to be quite that simple.”
“So what
are
the options?” Mitch asked.
“As far as I can see,” Watkins said, “we can only deploy the items individually.”
“Alright, so we pick one and see what happens.”
“Did you have anything in particular in mind?” Watkins said.
“I guess we should start with something innocuous,” Mitch said.
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we try one of the rations?”
Watkins selected a command on the screen and used a finger to work his way down the list. “We’ll try A-121.”
“Be my guest,” Mitch said, then picked up the radio handset. “Guys, we’re going to try something. You might want to stand back.”
“Give us a moment,” Heinz’s voice came back. “Alright, go for it.”
They watched on the large viewport as Heinz, Francis, Richelle and Erik walked to the edge of the concrete foundation. Watkins selected the command to deploy the item and confirmed it. For a moment nothing happened. Then a section of the container began to extend outwards. From above it was just a long rectangle that made the container look like a giant tea kettle with a handle but no spout.
“What the hell just happened?” Francis asked over the radio.
“Walk around to the other side,” Mitch said.
They watched as Francis led the others around, then stopped when he saw the extended section.
“What are we looking at here, guys?” Francis asked.
“You tell
us
,” Mitch said.
The Isle of Dragons
Thursday 21 June 2007
1730 EEST
Francis approached the container with tentative steps, telling the others to stay back. The section now protruding from the main body was about ten feet high and three feet thick. It was made of the same smooth black alloy, and was equally devoid of any visible door or compartments. He took another step forward and noticed a thin square of green light near the end. When he was only a couple of feet away he cautiously extended a hand toward it. Instead of opening, the lit section simply seemed to disappear, revealing eight additional compartments of equal size. These were light gray in color and each had a glowing red circle in its center.
“Francis?” Richelle said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing,” Francis said.
He raised his hand, prodded the center of the compartment in the bottom left corner, then took an involuntary step back as the object inside popped out a couple of inches. Francis took hold of it and pulled.
“What is it?” Heinz asked.
“No idea,” Francis said, and offered it to Heinz. “Have a look.”
Heinz took it cautiously and frowned.
“Not very heavy, is it?” Francis said.
“It doesn’t seem to weigh anything at all,” Heinz said.
“Open it,” Francis said.
When Heinz only looked at him, Francis reached down and pushed the red light on top of the box. The lid flipped open. By now Richelle and Erik had joined them. The inside contained yet another four compartments, each with its own red light.
“Christ,” Francis said. “It’s a goddamned matryoshka doll.”
When Heinz touched one of the dots the object popped out with a faint hiss of air. He pulled it out and held it up.
“What the hell is that?” Richelle asked.
The back of the small faceplate held a transparent tube containing four round balls each the size of a golf ball and the color of blood.
“Please don’t tell me that’s supposed to be food,” Richelle said.
Francis, whose time in the military had taught him that nourishment was sometimes a strictly functional proposition, was less skeptical. “Rations, not food. Believe me, they’re two very different things.”
Francis held out his hand. There being no obvious alternative, he suggested Heinz push the red light again. When he did one of the balls fell into the palm of Francis’s hand. He rolled it back and forth, gave it a gentle squeeze and held it up to his nose. When he saw everyone was expecting a verdict he said, “Doesn’t smell of anything.”
“Please don’t eat it,” Richelle said. “If it’s food, we should let Cane have a look at it before we do anything.”
Francis ignored this plea and turned to Heinz. “You said they were as human as us, is that right?”
“Yes,” Heinz said. “At least in theory. As for what
that
is, I’d hate to even venture a guess.”
Before either of them could protest Francis touched the ball with the tip of his tongue and put it in his mouth. From the expression on her face it was clear Richelle expected him to either throw it back up or drop dead. What he did instead was smile. Had it not been for the fact that his teeth were now red, it might have looked like a good sign.
“You’re crazy,” Heinz said.
Francis chewed a moment longer, then swallowed and said, “Not bad.”
When Richelle glared at him, Francis looked hurt. “What?”
“You think this is a joke?” Richelle asked.
“No,” Francis said. “But I’ll tell you what I
do
think; we can carry on applying our own idiotic standards to these people, or we can accept that we’re dealing with a civilization that’s moved on.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been talking to Mitch?” Richelle said.
“He’s been right so far,” Francis said.
“So what does it taste like?” Erik said.
“I don’t really know,” Francis said. “It’s sweet, but not sickly. I guess you could say it tastes a bit like berries.”
“Strawberries?” Erik suggested.
“No, not exactly. In fact I can’t really think of a comparison. Go on, try one.”
Erik stepped forward and put out his hand. Richelle, still clearly not convinced, watched him eat with a grimace on her face.
Erik’s eyes instantly lit up. “I see what you mean. It’s not quite raspberry either.”
“Fruits of the forest?” Francis suggested.
“Yeah,” Erik said. “That’s about right. A bit of everything.”
Heinz held out for a moment longer, then his curiosity overruled whatever doubts he was harboring and he quickly ate the third ball in the tube. “Wow, that really is quite nice, isn’t it?”
They all turned to Richelle.
“Not going to happen,” Richelle said.
Francis popped the fourth ball out of the tube and held it up. “You sure? You’re missing out on a chance to be part of something big. The first woman on Earth ever to taste a Martian berry ball.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Richelle said. “And I wasn’t kidding. I want that thing examined by Cane right away. I’m touched to see you’re all so confident it’s harmless, but the truth is we don’t know what that is, and I don’t want anyone else going near it until we know.”
Richelle’s phone rang and she stepped back to answer it. Francis shrugged and was about to pop the last ball back into the tube when he saw the look on her face and stopped.
“Then get him out of there,” Richelle said. “I don’t give a shit about
Jasper
.”
She began walking toward the research center and Francis fell in behind her. When the call ended Richelle stopped, looked up to the sky and let out a scream of frustration.
“What the hell’s going on?” Francis said.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Richelle said.
Francis grabbed her by the shoulder and said, “Please calm down and tell me what’s happening.”
“Titov’s been arrested,” Richelle said. “Him and that treacherous no-good piece of shit Klein.”
“Where are they?” Francis said.
“They were taken to the FBI field office in Richmond.”
“Was that Wentworth?”
Richelle nodded. “He says there’s nothing he can do. Jasper’s picture is all over the news. They know he was in Dubai. They even think he was responsible for hijacking the boat.”
Francis looked puzzled. “That’s what they’re saying?”
“I think so,” Richelle said.
Francis saw her anger was about to spill over into unadulterated rage.
“We’ll figure it out,” Francis said. “You hear me? We’ll figure something out. I’m going to call Wentworth back and find out exactly what he knows.”
“Sure,” Richelle said.
Francis lifted his hands to her face. “Listen to me, Richelle. Something like this was going to happen sooner or later. What we need to do now is focus on what can be done. If you don’t keep it together and take control of what’s going on everything beneath you will start to come apart.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
“Alright,” Francis said. “Take five. I’m going to call Wentworth. When you’re ready, come inside.”
“Okay,” Richelle said.
“Good. I’ll see you inside.”
She watched him go and raised a hand to the place on her cheek where his thumb had been only a moment ago. She stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths. When she had herself under at least some control she headed for the research center.
Beijing, China
Thursday 21 June 2007
2300 CST
Duan had only just returned to his apartment when he received a message by courier from his office. He took the small brown envelope, thanked the sergeant, then handed him a hundred yuan note. When the soldier hesitated, Duan smiled and said, “It’s not a bribe, sergeant. I’m simply expressing my gratitude for a job well done.”
“Thank you, sir,” the sergeant said. “But I must humbly decline.”
Duan regarded him for a moment and said, “I don’t know whether to be offended or impressed.”
“I mean no disrespect, sir,” the sergeant said.
“Are you a wealthy man, sergeant?” Duan asked.
“My pay is fair, sir. I have no complaints.”
Duan frowned and said, “What is your name?”
“Xu, sir. Xu Enlai.”
“In that case, Sergeant Xu, I hereby order you to inform your commanding officer that Commander Shen Duan has ordered you to report to the personnel department of the Navy Special Intelligence Directorate for evaluation and possible reassignment.”
The man’s eyes grew wide at this. “Of course, sir. Thank you.”
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sergeant. Perhaps I’ll see you again soon.”
The sergeant stood to attention and saluted before walking away. When the door was closed and safely locked Duan opened the envelope and read the short message inside:
Contact Iris
.
Duan walked to the living room, picked up the decorative cigar lighter from the coffee table and burned the note, taking care to crush the charred remains. That done, he went to his bedroom closet and opened the safe in the back wall. Inside there were several small stacks of bills in both local and foreign currency, a large-caliber vintage revolver of American manufacture, and two satellite phones. He removed the smaller of these and turned it on, then waited for it to make a connection to one of only two designated satellites.
Duan had no idea who they belonged to, only that they provided a connection that could not be intercepted by his own government, or that of any other country that he was aware of. The device had no keypad, only two buttons: one to make a call, and one to end it. Duan pushed the first, then sat down and waited.
“Commander, how are you this evening?” said the familiar voice.
“I can’t complain,” Duan said.
“I trust everything went well?”
“It did. I passed your message on to General Rhee. He was very humbled.”
“That’s good to know. But it’s not the reason I asked you to get in touch.”
“I didn’t think it was,” Duan said. “Is there a problem?”
“Quite the contrary. Have you seen the news coverage of Jasper Klein?”
“I have. Very impressive.”
“Thank you. I thought you might be glad to know he was apprehended this morning.”
Duan suddenly sat up in his chair. “In Goa?”
“In the United States.”
“He’s back in the United States?” Duan said, not quite able to believe it.
“He is. He was arrested with an accomplice. A man no one seems to know very much about.”
“I fail to see how this can possibly be good news,” Duan said. “If our government is implicated—”
“Commander, I thought you would have more faith in us than that. Jasper Klein will not get a chance to implicate anyone. My only question for you is, do you still need him or would you prefer that he be silenced permanently?”