“Jill, we go,” Olga pleads. “No make trouble.”
Well, hell, Jillian thinks, I guess maybe this isn’t the best time to start an international incident. “Okay, okay,” she says, and she turns and pushes her way through the crowd, which parts for her like the Red Sea, the Russians in close pursuit. “We go.”
“Karl say thank you for help us,” Olga says, when the group is clear of the crowd. “He say you good fighter. He say he know why you good triathlete.”
Jillian laughs and nods an appreciative thanks to Karl, who looks back at her bemusedly and speaks a few more words in Russian.
“Karl also say,” Olga adds, firmly “not good make trouble here. Russian told not make trouble here.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I got carried away,” Jillian shrugs. “I just don’t like to see my friends treated like that. And what’s this ‘Red October’ stuff he kept talking about?”
“You not know Red October?”
“The movie? About the submarine?”
Olga conducts a brief discussion with Marta. “We told not talk Red October,” she says, after a minute. “Is no good. Be trouble.”
“Oh, shit, Olga, this is Jill Kendal you’re talking to, not the goddamn KGB. Tell me. I want to know.”
Olga hesitates, then speaks slowly and carefully. “Red October was revolution in Qen Phon. Long time. Over now. Many years.”
“What does that have to do with… oh,” Jillian says, as the light dawns. “I get it. It was a communist revolution. And the Russians supported it, right? Gave them money? Guns?”
“The Soviets support it,” Olga counters. “But is over now. Please, no talk, okay? No good we argue.”
“Well, you’re right about that,” Jillian sighs. “I don’t want to argue with you folks, either. And it’s all just politics to me, anyway.” She grins. “I guess Karl’s going to have to get his calculator in Tanami. How come he didn’t get one before this? You folks have been here for a while, haven’t you been?”
“We no go in Tanami. We stay in Olympic Village.” Olga is talking almost continuously, translating Jill’s comments into Russian, exchanging words with Marta and Karl, and then replying to Jill in English. “Coach Boronov no want us in Tanami. He want us in village. He want us practice. Work, not fun.”
Jillian smiles. “He sounds a lot like my coach. So how’d you talk him into letting you come on this little excursion?”
“Ex-curr-shun? What mean?”
“You know, this little walk we’re taking. How’d you get away from him?”
“He want us go. He want us meet you.” Olga grins broadly. “We know about you,” she explains, “but we not know you. Coach say we meet you, we not be afraid of you.”
Jillian laughs. “I get it,” she says. “He figures that if you met me, you won’t be intimidated by my reputation. Smart guy.”
“Is very smart man,” Olga agrees. “And he know your coach. He say your coach very smart man, too. He much respect him.”
“Jago? Your coach knows Jago Danziger?” Well, this certainly is a day for surprises.
Olga nods. “Coach Danziger was coach in Czechoslovakia before leave to America. Coach Danziger and Coach Boronov were good friend,” she continues. “He no see for long time. You tell Coach Danziger that Coach Boronov here, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll tell him,” Jillian nods. But she thinks: What’s going on here? Am I passing some kind of message? Is that why their coach let his charges out of their cages? She studies Olga’s expression, but, as usual, it seems to be without guile. Maybe she doesn’t know anything, Jillian thinks. Or maybe I’m just letting my imagination get the best of me, maybe it’s nothing more than one old friend saying hello to another.
But I don’t know that Jago’s going to be too thrilled. Despite what Olga says about them being friends, I haven’t heard Jago say one good thing about any Russian.
Ever.
5.1.3: Aqevina
Leida Andersen glances at her watch again.
It’s been more than an hour, she realizes. They must have slipped out some other way. Or maybe they decided not to go anywhere. But no, they were pretty set on going to see that old temple. Maybe they’re still in there, just waiting until I leave. Maybe they told the guard to call them when I’m gone. But I haven’t seen him talking to anybody. And it’s getting late, they’d have to have left by now if they wanted to get back before dark.
Face it. They’re gone. I’ve lost them.
I should have followed them through the gate, she thinks, angry at herself. The guard wouldn’t really have shot me. The publicity would have been terrible, and they’re all going so far out of their way to make such a good impression on everybody during the Olympics. He was just trying to intimidate me. And I bought it.
Well, hell, nobody’s ever threatened to shoot me before. I’ll do better next time.
Leida has been sitting next to her motorbike in the shade of the high brick wall that surrounds the estate, but now she stands and approaches the guard, who eyes her warily. “Excuse me,” she says, with what she hopes is a disarming smile. “I’m going to have to leave now. I’m afraid I just can’t wait any longer. When they come out, would you tell them that I’m sorry, but I had to go? They’ll be upset that they missed me, but I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Yes, miss reporter lady,” the guard says. He looks relieved that Leida is leaving, but he’s clearly puzzled by her outgoing friendliness. “If they come this way, I tell them.”
“You mean there’s another way out?” I knew it, she thinks, bitterly. They’re long gone. I’ve just been sitting here, sweating my ass off, for no reason at all. They made a fool out of me.
“Don’t know,” the guard says.
Sure, Leida thinks. You’re the security guard and you don’t know if there’s another way out of the estate. Like hell.
She smiles brightly. “Listen, I don’t have to be back in the Olympic Village for a couple of hours yet, so while I’m out here in… Aqevina, is it?” He nods. “So while I’m here, maybe I ought to try to see some of the local sights, if you know what I mean.” Her smile grows even wider, but the guard remains impassive. “So anyway, maybe you could tell me what there is to see around here. Any tourist attractions, anything like that?”
The guard shakes his head. “No tourist here. Tourist in Tanami. Houses in Aqevina. No tourist. You go back to Tanami.”
“But there must be something to do out here,” she persists. “There must be some kind of historical sights out here. Like maybe a palace? Or an old temple?”
The guard’s expression brightens so quickly that Leida knows she’s said the magic word. “Yes, miss reporter lady,” he says happily. “There is Ananda Karma near here, in village of Sataru. Is big temple. Very old. Is special place. Very holy. Not many people see. Tourists no see. Young people no care Ananda Karma no more. Government no care. Nobody care.” He shakes his head sadly.
“Well, I care,” she assures him. “In fact, it sounds like it would be perfect for me to write a story about it. ‘Ananda Karma: The Forgotten Temple of Qen Phon.’” She nods thoughtfully. “Yes, it would be a wonderful story. Don’t you think so?”
So excited at the prospect that he momentarily forgets his English, the guard chatters unintelligibly at her for a few seconds before stopping and apologizing. “So sorry, miss reporter lady,” he says, nearly tripping over his words in his rush to get them out. “You write story about Ananda Karma? For newspaper?”
“Sure. If I write a story about it, it’ll be in all the newspapers. Probably on TV, too. People will see it all over the world. It’ll become famous,” she adds, laying it on even thicker. “Hundreds of people will come to see your temple. Maybe thousands.”
“Thousand people? Come to see Ananda Karma?”
Leida smiles. This is too easy, she thinks. He wants to believe me so badly that he doesn’t even realize how implausible the whole thing is. “Oh, sure,” she says casually. “At least t
hat many. So, how do I get there?”
God, I’m clever, Leida thinks, as the guard rips a piece of paper from a pad and begins to draw a map for her. Boy, will they be surprised. Especially Jill. If I really sneak up on her, maybe I can get a couple of good candids of her yelling at me – or, if I play my cards right, maybe even taking a swing at me. Maybe I could sell them to Sports Illustrated. Hell, I’d give them to Sports Illustrated just to see them in print.
The guard has finished drawing the outlines of a map, and now he’s tracing the route for her. “Into Sataru village here,” he points. “Through old gate here. Big gate.” He gestures broadly with his arms to give an impression of size. “Then through Old Sataru village here. Not so nice,” he shakes his head, apologetically. “But not so bad,” he adds quickly, not wanting to discourage her.
“Not so nice?”
He shrugs. “Very old. Many, many people. Streets narrow. Not pretty, like new village.”
“Is there any other way to get there?” Leida asks, not so much because she wants to avoid the old village as because she wants to determine the odds that she’ll run into Jillian and her group. She smiles as she imagines pulling up alongside them as they walk along, suspecting nothing.
The guard shakes his head. “No, must go this way, through gate, like I say. But Old Sataru not bad,” he assures her again. “Just old.”
“And the temple’s in Old Sataru?”
“Past Old Sataru. Other side. On lake, here, see?”
“It sounds beautiful,” Leida enthuses.
“You take pictures? For TV?”
“Oh, yes.” I’ll pull up right next to Jill Kendal, she thinks, video rolling, and the whole world will get to see what a vicious bitch lurks behind that pretty face. “I’m going to take pictures,” she laughs. “I promise. Lots of pictures.”
5.1.4: Sataru
“Oh, look, that must be it!” Sunshine sounds both relieved and excited. “See? Over there? That’s gotta be the gate we’ve been looking for.”
“Wow.” Jason sounds impressed. “That sucker must be a million years old.”
“At least,” Jillian laughs, as the group strolls over for a closer inspection.
The gate stands at the far end of what appears to be a small public park, a square of grass that sports a few small shade trees and several rough-hewn wooden benches. A stone archway that stands perhaps twenty feet high at its peak, the gate is covered with intricate carvings and inscriptions. Although the detail near ground level has nearly been obliterated (hundreds of years of weather, Jillian suspects, and thousands of hands), the patterns and designs that adorn the upper reaches of the gate are surprisingly distinct. A serpent, coiled around the legs of some kind of large animal, hisses ominously down at those walking below. A lion, blood dripping from its teeth, snarls menacingly over its undistinguishable kill. A human being – with a protruding organ that clearly identifies it as male – is being carried off in the grotesquely enormous talons of a huge bird with the head of a dog.
“Marta say is beautiful,” Olga says, almost reverently. “I think is beautiful also.”
Charming, Jillian thinks.
“Isn’t it?” agrees Sunshine. “I think Nathan said that the gate is older than the temple, and the temple’s like a thousand years old.”
“Speaking of the temple,” Jillian says, “let’s mosey along in that direction. I want to get back to the house before it gets dark.” Or, she thinks, we could just head back right now. If the temple’s as exciting as the gate, it’s not anywhere near the top of my bucket list.
“You’re right,” Sunshine says, glancing appraisingly at the sky. Although the exact location of the sun is hidden by the buildings behind them, the light is not as dazzlingly bright as it was earlier. “Let’s go.”
But as they begin to walk through the archway, a man in uniform, who has been lounging against a wall, watching with little apparent interest as the group inspected the gate, springs into action. He leaps in front of them, he’s holding some kind of weapon against his chest, it looks ominously like an assault rifle to Jillian. He’s barking a series of unintelligible phrases at them, they sound like they’re either orders or warnings. Or maybe both.
“Jesus Christ,” Jason exclaims, and steps back. Olga and Marta, murmuring to each other, also back up a few steps. Sunshine, looking up in surprise from the scrawled directions she’s been studying, retreats with them.
Thank God, Jillian thinks, we don’t have to go and see that damn temple. But what she’s about to say is: Oh, that’s too bad, looks like we won’t get to see the temple after all. The thought is actually framed in her mind, her mouth is open, she’s about to speak…
But then she spots Karl, he’s leaning against the arch, his hands are in his pockets, he’s got this bemused look on his face, he actually raises an eyebrow at her, he’s obviously waiting to see what she’s going to do next…
Well, hell, Jillian thinks, if he wants to see a show…
She whirls, walks over to the guard (policeman? soldier?), and gets in his face. “What’s the meaning of this?” she demands, loudly. She’s a few inches taller than he is, so she’s glowering down at him. “You move your ass out of the way, Bozo, or I’ll make sure that you won’t even be able to get a job as a goddamn garbage collector.”
The guard’s mouth drops open, but he holds his ground. “You American?” he asks weakly.
Good, Jillian thinks, I’ve got him rattled. “Damn right we’re Americans,” she says, angrily, hoping that the Russians will have the sense to keep quiet. “We’re on the American Olympic team, and we’re on an official training exercise, and you’re blocking our way. And if you don’t get your ass out of our way, we’re going to file an official diplomatic protest with the American Ambassador, the International Olympic Committee, and the United Nations. And put down that stupid gun before somebody gets hurt.”
She turns and looks behind her; the rest of the group is staring back at her in what might be amazement, but it could just as easily be horror. Except for Karl, who’s still leaning against the wall, wearing a wry smile. Watching her. Appraising her. He’s getting a charge out of this, Jillian realizes. Well, I’m glad that somebody besides me has some balls. “C’mon, gang,” she calls back. “Let’s go. We got us a temple to see.” And stepping to the side, she begins to walk past the stunned guard.
“Wait, wait,” he calls, and Jillian’s pleased to notice that he’s no longer demanding, he’s resorted to pleading instead.
“What is it?” she snarls. “C’mon, buddy, we don’t have all day.”
“Is… is not good you go there. Is not allowed,” the guard says, but he doesn’t sound nearly as certain as he did a few moments ago.
“Not allowed?” Jillian, who has strolled a few feet past him, gets right back in his face. “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘not allowed’? We were told that we could go any goddamn place we wanted to in this whole goddamn country. Your president – Tanami? Is that his name? – he personally assured us that we could go anywhere we felt like. So who the fuck do you think you are to tell us…”
“Is not safe,” the guard says weakly. “You not go, please. Is not safe you go there.”
“Jill?” Olga tugs hesitantly at her sleeve. “Is good we go back now, yes? No good make trouble. We go back now.”
“Bullshit.” Jillian shakes her off. “I don’t know about Russia, but in America we don’t let anybody push us around. Nobody tells me where I can go and where I can’t go. Nobody.” Karl, she notices, is still leaning against the arch, and now he’s grinning broadly.
“Maybe we should go back, Jill,” Sunshine says. “I mean,” she continues hesitantly, after Jillian shoots her a withering glance, “if it’s not safe…”
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” Jillian barks, turning back to the guard. “What do you mean, it’s not safe? What’s gonna happen to us? Are we gonna be killed? Mugged? President Tanami says that he’s stamped out all the crim
e in Qen Phon. Are you calling him a liar?”
“No, no, no.” The guard is horrified. “General Tanami great man. No crime in Qen Phon.”
“So it is safe?”
The guard hesitates, clearly confused. “Is safe,” he concedes. “But is not nice. Not pretty. You not like. You stay in New Sataru. Is clean. Old Sataru not clean. Smell bad. You not like. Very old.”
“Nathan did say something about some really old village,” Sunshine confirms.
“I get it,” Jillian says, nodding. “You only want us to see the good parts of Qen Phon. You don’t want us to know about the poor people. You want us to think that everything in Qen Phon is tall glass buildings and happy people, like on the travel posters. Well, I don’t know what you’re trying to hide, buddy, but that dog just flat out won’t hunt.”
“But, miss…”
“The temple’s this way isn’t it?” Jillian demands. “The, what, the Amanda Carmel temple or something?”
“Ananda Karma,” the guard reluctantly confirms. “Yes, is this way.”
“Well, then, this is the way we’re going. And as much as I’d love to stay and continue our little chat, we’re going to step on it if we’re going to see the temple and get back before dark. So, if you’ll excuse us… C’mon, y’all…”
And with a perfunctory wave, she strides through the gate and toward the village of Old Sataru that lies beyond. She’s so sure of her authority that she doesn’t even bother to turn to see if her companions are following her.
But when she hears the footsteps and the hushed buzz of conversation coming up behind her, she smiles just the same.
5.1.5: Old Sataru
In less than a hundred yards, their surroundings have changed so dramatically that Jillian feels like she’s crossed not only into a different section of the village but into an entirely different country.
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