“If we want to,” Mitch put in.
Richelle gave Mitch an annoyed look. “Yes, Mitch, I heard what he said, and we do want to. In fact, I’d be grateful if you’d call it off now so I can start sleeping again.”
“Tell her the rest,” Mitch said.
Watkins studied his notes for a moment. “According to the schematics in the system, the container, if you like, is only about forty feet in circumference and just over twelve feet high. It’s quite heavy, but nowhere near as heavy as RP One, and—”
“We could drop it on the island,” Mitch interrupted. “On the eastern tip. There’s more than enough suitable terrain. We could—”
“No way,” Richelle said.
Mitch’s face suddenly filled with color. He grabbed the notebook from Watkins and held it up. “Then what are we doing here? What’s all this for? We’ve spent over a year studying this ship to figure out where we go from here, and this is it. This is where we go. If not now, then when?”
Heinz tried to say something, but Mitch brushed him off. “I want to know. When will it be time to move on? In a year? In ten years? For all we know the brain on that ship is about to come to the very logical conclusion that we’re just a bunch of clueless imposters and decide to head for home. If that happens, this ship and everything you’ve spent the last twenty years building will become obsolete. What then? Send everyone home? Thank them for their time, ‘Thanks everyone, and remember, don’t talk about what happened here because as you can see, nothing happened. You’ve all been wasting your time, but we appreciate you coming all the same’. I don’t know about you guys, but I think we need to do what we can while we can.”
Everyone turned to look at Richelle, who was now staring back at Mitch with an identical expression of defiance.
“Alright,” Heinz said, “let’s all just take a moment to gather ourselves. I’m sure we can figure out—”
“He’s right,” Richelle said, but the tone of her words made the meaning seem the exact opposite.
Mitch dropped his eyes. “I am right.”
“Good for you,” Richelle said, looking around at the rest of them. “I take it you all agree?”
When no one responded she took a step back and motioned to the gangway. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go. Gather around your map—it’s clearly what you want to do. I’m obviously just holding things up.”
They shuffled past her in silence. Heinz stopped, considered saying something, then didn’t and kept going.
When they were gone Richelle stood there for a moment, her eyes closed, taking long, deep breaths. When she felt a little calmer she walked to the command seat and sat down. On the screen in front of her, Gandalf—the name had actually stuck—was tracking the Beixiang as it neared the Indian coast on the Arabian Sea. She studied the controls at the end of the right armrest and tentatively placed her thumb over the small round ball in the center, the way she had seen Mitch do it a hundred times before. When she pressed gently down the view began to zoom down in direct proportion to the amount of pressure she applied. Fascinated, she pushed down harder and the view began to zoom out again until she was looking at an image of the earth floating through space. Out of curiosity more than anything else she moved her thumb to the left. Instead of stopping as the earth moved out of view the picture kept rotating until she was looking not down at the planet’s surface, but up at the stars. When the moon suddenly appeared in one corner of the screen she allowed it to move into the center, then zoomed in again. She had expected the magnification to end at some point, but it didn’t. When she finally lifted her thumb off the ball and the picture stopped moving in she was looking at a crater surrounded by a scattering of rocks, all covered in a fine light gray powder.
“Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”
Richelle turned to see Mitch standing at the top of the gangway.
“It’s incredible,” Richelle said. “I’d just hate to see it fall into the wrong hands. I know you think I’m being overcautious, Mitch. But it’s my responsibility to make sure what we have here is safe. All it takes is one person seeing something they shouldn’t. We have no way of protecting Aurora or this ship if that happens.”
“It’s not going to.”
“Really? How can you be so sure?”
He crossed his arms. “Because we’re going to figure out how to do it right.”
Richelle stepped down from the seat. “If something else comes falling out of the sky the way this thing did we may not have the luxury of figuring anything out. Watkins said it would be a lot smaller than RP One, but he didn’t say it would be any less obvious. I can still remember the night this thing arrived. Most of us thought the world was coming to an end. Frankly, it’s a miracle we got away with it. The difference this time is that we can’t move the island the way we moved the Pandora.”
“Whatever happens will happen no matter when we do it,” Mitch said. “If you want my opinion, I don’t think this will be anything like RP One.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Optimism,” Mitch said with a grin. “It’s my big weakness. When I want something badly enough I refuse to entertain the possibility that anything can go wrong.”
Richelle laughed. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“So far, pretty damn well.”
Richelle regarded him for a moment. “Have I ever told you I’m glad you ended up here, Mitch? It may not seem like it, but it’s true.”
“Well, not in so many words,” he replied. “But I pretty much figured that’s how you felt.”
Richelle laughed again. “Really? You’ve got me all figured out, have you?”
Mitch seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Enough to know there are some things you hold back that you shouldn’t.”
The smile on her face was gone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Mitch said. “Forget I said it.”
“I don’t think I will, actually. I’d like to know what it is you think I’m holding back.”
Mitch looked down at his feet. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
“No.”
“I just meant that—you know—I noticed how upset you were when—”
“When what?”
“When Francis got hurt.”
Richelle looked at him, stunned. “And you think that’s because I’ve what, got feelings for him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me guess,” Richelle said. “You think because I don’t hang around the bar at Amity on Friday nights I must be lonely and insecure, is that it? And of course Francis, being the all-around bad ass, was always going to come along and sweep poor little Richelle off her feet. Is that what you think?”
“Look,” Mitch shrugged. “Forget it. It was stupid.”
“You know, Mitch, you really should stick to computers and leave my personal life to me.”
“Fine,” Mitch said. “I will.”
“Good.”
Mitch turned and left. When he was gone the anger she felt quickly gave way to a look of sheepish embarrassment.
Chapter 33
Phoenix, Arizona
Monday 11 June 2007
1710 MST
Mike Banner pulled into the driveway of the modest three-bedroom house on the Rancho Ventura estate shortly after five in the afternoon but made no move to get out of the car. He’d arrived back in Phoenix that morning and headed straight for the office, but there had been little point. Nothing, it seemed—not even the biggest drug bust in the city’s history—could take his mind off what had happened in DC.
Once the decision of whether or not he was willing to take a shot at a seat in the Senate—the idea still seemed like madness—had been made, Caroline had led him to a large conference room on the second floor where a team of no less than seven people had been waiting for them. Mike’s baptism of fire into the hectic world of politics had thus begun.
He was peppered with a seemingly endless barrage of questio
ns ranging on everything from his family life and childhood to his views on gay rights; even his drinking habits were scrutinized. During a short recess, Mike had been whisked off into a side office by a young man who introduced himself as Sergio and subjected to a wardrobe fitting that bordered on harassment. This had been followed by a lunch in a small bistro around the corner at which no less than two serving congressmen and a senator had been present. One of the senators, an independent from the neighboring state of New Mexico and a member of the House Judiciary Committee, had invited Mike and his family to spend the following weekend on his ranch outside Santa Fe, presenting it as an “opportunity to talk strategy”. By the time the chaos died down, Mike felt as if the very earth itself had been pulled from beneath his feet. But all he felt now was trepidation.
Mike opened the door and stepped out onto the driveway. From the upstairs window he could hear Josh and his friends running around. Then the front door opened and Susan stepped onto the porch. “Hey, honey, you’re home early.”
Mike didn’t answer.
“Mike? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, fine. Could you come down here for a minute?”
She was about to protest, then saw the look on his face and said, “Okay. Just let me take the chicken out of the oven.”
When she came back out she looked concerned. She walked up to him and put her hands on his face. “Honey, what is it?”
“I need to tell you something,” Mike said.
Susan immediately stiffened and took a step back, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me what?”
Mike took a deep breath and said, “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about leaving the Bureau?”
“Did something happen?”
“No,” Mike said. “Nothing. I’ve just been thinking. I mean, there are other things I could do.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Mike said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Then why don’t you come inside and have some dinner. We’ll talk after Josh is in bed.”
“Alright,” Mike said.
He watched her walk back inside the house and cursed himself for not having the balls to just come out and say it.
By the time Josh was asleep and Susan came to bed Mike was already half asleep. He dozed off, telling himself tomorrow was another day. He would speak to her in the morning.
Chapter 34
Nampo, North Korea
Tuesday 12 June 2007
1300 KST
The helicopter circled the port twice before setting down on the eastern end of the dock. The compound consisted of eight large warehouses, built in a row along the waterfront. At one end sat an apartment block, at the other, a round two-story glass structure with no obvious purpose. The buildings were surrounded by two parallel barbed-wire fences spaced about ten feet apart. A steady stream of guards patrolled the narrow border between them. Unlike the buildings outside the compound, these were all of modern construction, sleek and streamlined.
As soon as Rhee disembarked the helicopter took off again and headed out across the mouth of the Taedong River.
Yeon Pok, Project 38’s chief engineer, was there to greet him.
Short even by Korean standards, Pok was over seventy if he was a day. He sported a thick head of fine gray hair that sprouted in every direction, giving him the rather comical look of an Asian Albert Einstein. His glasses were so thick they made his eyes look at least twice their actual size. He offered Rhee no word of greeting, only nodded curtly and followed the general.
“How are things in Pyongyang?” Pok asked as they walked.
“Better than I expected,” Rhee told him. “It would seem most of our fears were ungrounded.”
“Perhaps they were. But it won’t do to become complacent.”
“I’m not complacent,” Rhee said.
“And the young prince?” Pok said, the sarcasm clear in his tone.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Let’s hope so. I take it you’ve secured his signature?”
Rhee took the document from his pocket and handed it over. Pok looked at it for a moment, then folded it and put it in his pocket. “I’ll hold on to this, shall I?”
“If we’re compromised I doubt it will do you much good,” Rhee said.
Pok looked at him and smiled, exposing two rows of small, yellowing teeth. “It may not do you any good, general. But I am a humble servant of the state who only does what he is told.”
Had any other man made this statement, Rhee would most likely have had him shot. But Pok was not any other man. He was an anomaly within a state that was itself an anomaly. In fact, much of what was now Project 38 had once been Pok’s own brainchild.
In its first incarnation the project had been known as Red Storm. Pok, then a promising young army engineer with an uncle in the cabinet, had been brought in during 1964. Initially his proposals had been met with skepticism. But as is the case in all totalitarian states, no idea that ultimately serves the interest of the ruling power is ever truly dead. Thus, less than a year later, the hugely ambitious plan gained favor and Pok was given a small staff to begin setting it in motion. Over the next three decades Red Storm was abandoned and reborn no less than six times under various names, with Pok remaining the only consistent element. The project was shut down again in 1994 during the height of the famine, only to be resurrected by a chance event which saw the details of the plan in their entirety fall into the hands of a Chinese agent in Pyongyang.
Far from balking at the idea and reprimanding the belligerent state for its recklessness, some at the top of the Chinese hierarchy saw it as a possible component of their own ambitious plans for the future, albeit with a few modifications. Thus it was reborn two years later as a joint venture of sorts, with the Democratic People’s Republic now playing the reluctant “junior partner” in its own scheme in return for much-needed aid. That the world would come to see this aid as Chinese capitulation to the double dealings of its rogue neighbor was an irony lost on all but a few people on either side. Rhee had been appointed to run the operation, now renamed Project 38, after his predecessor proved incapable of walking the fine line between absolute obedience to the state and collaboration with a foreign power. That Rhee himself had managed it for over a decade now had as much to do with the long reach and unscrupulous savvy of Duan as his own political prowess.
When they reached the round building at the end of the compound Rhee opened the door and held it for Pok. Unlike the exterior, the inside was still incomplete.
Rhee followed the old man down the hall into a large, windowless room. In the middle, laid out over two adjoining tables, was a large map of the Korean peninsula and the Yellow Sea. Several locations were marked with pins, including the port of Huludao on the Chinese mainland, and the Jangdan-myeon mine.
“How is our fearless colonel getting on?” Pok asked.
“Everything is on schedule,” Rhee said.
“And the engineer we were promised?”
“Duan assures me the matter is in hand.”
“Does he now?” Pok said. “No doubt on the assumption that his charge will apply himself with great enthusiasm to the task at hand as soon as he’s with us. The process of coercing a foreigner to cooperate can take weeks or even months. I’m sure I’ve made that clear already.”
“Commander Duan is well aware of what is involved,” Rhee said.
“You give him too much credit. You assume that because he can throw money at us he understands what it is we are doing. The man is a fool.”
“You forget how much things have changed, old man,” Rhee said. “You think if I had a choice I would turn to the Chinese for salvation? We do what we must. In that you are no different than I.”
“Indeed we do what we must,” Pok said.
“I’m glad you agree.”
Pok surveyed the map in silence with the air of a proud father witnessing the coming of age of a favored son. “To think I should hav
e lived this long, only to expire on the eve of victory.”
“How long do they say you have?” Rhee asked.
“Three, four months. Six at best,” Pok said. “I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life. If anything, I always thought it would be my liver that gave up first.”
Rhee could think of no reply to this.
“Anyway,” Pok said. “I don’t plan to be idle just because I’m dying. Has Duan given you any indication as to when the weapons will arrive?”
“Soon,” Rhee said. “I’d say no more than a couple of weeks.”
“Then I guess we had better get busy,” Pok said.
Chapter 35
Goa, India
Tuesday 12 June 2007
1300 IST
The Beixiang arrived shortly before one in the afternoon. Waiting on the dock to greet her were two dozen customs officers, complete with plans of the ship and several sniffer dogs. Mohindar watched them board the ship as soon as it had docked and turned to the man sitting in the car beside him. “Thanks for this. I owe you one.”
Damir, the chief customs official, smiled and said, “You owe me a lot more than one.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Less than twenty minutes after they boarded, a man was led off the ship in handcuffs. Mohindar recognized Jasper right away.
“That him?” Damir said.
“Yes.”
Damir got out and walked to meet the men at the bottom of the gangway. Mohindar watched as Jasper was led into the customs building. A few minutes later Damir came out and returned to the car.
“Everything okay?” Mohindar asked.
Damir laughed. “According to the captain, your friend was found hiding onboard after they set sail. A stowaway, no less. I guess the port authorities in Dubai are slipping. He claims they were going to hand him over to the authorities as soon as they arrived in Huludao.”
“Why is that so funny?” Mohindar said.
“Because we found him freezing his balls off in the fridge at the back of the kitchen.”
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