Flypaper: A Novel

by Chris Angus

  In addition to the normal dig equipment, there was everything from bottled water and computer paper to a generator for lighting to an array of chemicals and scientific supplies, including what was basically a small, mobile lab. Camping gear, climbing equipment, and the more specialized items completed the equipment roster.

  “You must have had to dance around a few officials in explaining why we needed a lot of this stuff,” said Marcia. “But then, your average Chinese customs officer hasn’t the foggiest notion what’s required to run an archaeological dig.”

  “You have no idea,” Logan said.

  It had taken him four long days to drive the fourteen hundred miles from Hohhot to the Tarim site. He’d kept to the back roads, worried the premier might still try to apprehend him. But nothing had happened, and he suspected he had the general to thank for that. Nothing was more important in China than family. Despite the divorce, he believed the general still thought of him as a relative. His former father-in-law must have put on ice, perhaps permanently, the two men he’d overcome. In any event, Premier Zhao would soon have other things to worry about.

  Kessler stared at the mounds of equipment piling up and at the streams of laboring Tibetans. “We’ll have to wait a few days, at least, for things to settle down,” she said, “before attempting to head for Bogda Feng. I can practically guarantee Huang will show up to check all this out. I want to put him at ease, show some progress in unearthing the family group.”

  “Every day we wait,” said Logan, “increases the possibility that the body will melt out and be damaged. But it’s my fault it took so long getting through customs and dealing with the delays Premier Zhao imposed on me.”

  He’d told Marcia about the meeting with General Zhou, but Eric kept his side trip to Beijing to himself. He felt guilty about succumbing to his feelings of rage at being used by Zemin. It was not professional. Still, if not for his visit to the city, he wouldn’t have seen Mei-Li and been able to help her, though he continued to worry about her.

  Diana Shatraw came up beside them, effectively ending the conversation for the moment. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wore practical clothing and gave the impression of someone who was determined to be treated professionally. Since she was also very pretty and very young, it was clear her work was going to be cut out for her in this crowd of highly accomplished individuals. She surveyed the goods piling up with inquisitive, brown eyes.

  “An awful lot of stuff. Hard to imagine what some of it is for.”

  “Better to be over-equipped than the reverse in this neck of the woods,” Logan replied easily. “If we discover something we’ve forgotten it could be weeks or even months before we could get it here. Assuming it isn’t confiscated . . . or stolen . . . at the border.”

  “I suppose,” Shatraw said.

  Logan saw Kessler glance at Diana out of the corner of her eye. It was clear she was worried this woman might be a thorn in their sides. He felt the best thing would be to keep the reporter busy, get her involved in the new site at once. Then she’d be less inclined to want to go off on their exploratory forays later on. Kessler might have been reading his thoughts.

  “Would you like to go with me to see our new discovery?” she asked.

  Shatraw beamed at her. “Very much, yes. How long will it take to get there?”

  “It’s about a two-hour hike. The horses haven’t arrived yet, so we’ll have to hoof it, I’m afraid. And as long as we’re making the trip, we should each carry a pack. No one goes to the site without bringing supplies. No wasted trips . . . as you said, there’s a lot of stuff.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes. And I’ll want to tell Harry, my cameraman, to come along, if that’s all right. It’ll be good to get some raw pictures before the place is contaminated with people and piles of equipment everywhere. I have to admit, Dr. Kessler, I was excited to get this assignment. I hope the documentary we film will provide you with good exposure and help in fundraising and so forth.”

  Kessler nodded, but her eyes met Logan’s. They had both learned to be wary of journalists, who often exhibited a gung-ho attitude only to produce the sort of tabloid coverage that was anything but helpful when it came to getting grants.

  “Mind if I tag along?” Logan asked.

  “The more the merrier,” said Kessler. “You’re so big and strong, I’ll give you twice as much stuff to carry.”

  “Beasts of burden, that’s all men really are to women.” He gave Diana a wink.

  An hour later, the four of them were climbing a long, gradual ridge. There was very little ground cover and the view out across the Taklamakan desert behind them was spectacular.

  Harry toiled away at the rear of the little column. Overweight and sporting an enormous, wild beard, he wasn’t built for climbing in steep country. He complained about the pack Dr. Kessler had prepared for him, saying his camera equipment was heavy enough by itself. Still, he was generally good-natured about it, accepting periodic ribbings from Diana about his slow pace.

  Diana worked her way up beside Logan, who carried the enormous pack Kessler had made for him as though it were no more trouble than a fanny pouch. His muscles could be clearly seen, rippling beneath his cotton t-shirt.

  “You’re a bit of a mystery man aren’t you?” she asked conversationally.

  “How so?”

  “Well, everyone else here is either a scientist or a coolie, basically. You don’t fit either category.”

  “I wouldn’t call the Tibetans coolies to their faces. They’re a proud people despite their submission, and they don’t have any love for the Chinese. It would be the ultimate insult.”

  She nodded. “I stand corrected. But what about it? What’s your job here?”

  “I guess you could say I’m a troubleshooter of sorts. I’ve spent a lot of time in China, so I help smooth the way with supplies, logistics, permits—that sort of thing. And on the side, Dr. Kessler uses me as a beast of burden.”

  “And how did you come by such talents?”

  He hesitated for a moment. “Is this an interview?”

  “Just idle curiosity.”

  Kessler caught up to them. “Eric goes back a long way in this part of the world. Rumor has it he was in some hush-hush military outfit before getting into the diplomatic corps. But of course it’s only a rumor. Everything he did was so secret no one knows for certain.”

  “Really?” asked Diana.

  “She’s exaggerating,” Logan replied. “Truth is I spent part of my military career trapping rats at Dugway Proving Grounds in Utah.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “One of my first assignments, and it was top secret. They needed to catch rodents in the desert to check for any possible contamination to escapees from their biological warfare experiments.”

  Diana stared at him. “You’re serious.”

  He smiled enigmatically. “But I did manage to save your neck a time or two, Marcia. That’s no secret.”

  Diana looked interested. “How?” she asked.

  Kessler took a wheezy breath. She’d given up smoking while she was here and Logan thought her breathing had yet to adapt. “Oh, some foolishness the first time I came to China. My visa was incorrect and Eric was with the embassy at the time. He smoothed things for me. Then another time, I got in a car accident in Beijing with some official in the party and they threw me in jail. I was there for two days before anyone knew I was missing.”

  “And Eric got you out?” Diana seemed to look at him with renewed interest. Logan noted the subtle shift in her appraisal.

  “We’re almost there,” said Kessler. “Over that next rise. Prepare for a shock.”

  Diana called back to Harry. “Come on up here, Harry, and get a shot of the place and all of us arriving.”

  The cameraman struggled up the rise and shucked his pack with relief. He dug out his video camera and began to film as the others topped the hill and looked down on the family group.

  “My
God!” Diana whispered.

  Logan, too, was unprepared for the all-too-human sight. “That’s incredible,” he exclaimed. He stared at the carefully delineated bodies lying below. “How many people are there?”

  “Six,” Kessler replied. “Though we may find more once we begin to dig. These are simply the ones that have been exposed so far by the elements.” She looked about the little depression and then pointed to an area in the shelter of the hill. “Let’s put the supplies over there. It looks like as good a place as any to set up our camp.”

  She could barely contain her feelings at being back here again. All the other stuff—the iceman in the glacier, DNA mutations, aliens, whatever—they all paled in her mind next to these six human bodies. This was what was really important. There was much to learn here.

  Suddenly they heard a strange sound and everyone looked to the sky. A helicopter came buzzing in low and fast. It hovered over them and then began to settle almost directly on top of the bodies.

  “No! No!” Kessler cried, waving her arms and running down into the depression. The pilot seemed to see her at the last moment and veered to one side, settling to the ground just thirty feet from the bodies.

  As the rotors slowed, a door opened and Huang emerged, stepping down, and crouching under the blades as he trotted over to Kessler.

  “A good joke, Doctor, yes? We weren’t really going to land on them. I promise.”

  “Huang, you idiot! I don’t believe you for a minute. You could have ruined the site completely, smashed the bones and blown the fragments away in the downdraft. I’ve a good mind to report this to your superior.”

  Huang grew serious. This would not do. His orders had been explicit. “Don’t get in the way,” Zhong had said. Instead, he’d nearly destroyed the site on his very first visit. He had to be much more careful. This barren place represented his entire future.

  “I apologize, Doctor, sincerely. The joke was in poor taste. We will land on the other side of the hill from now on.”

  “What are you doing here anyway, Huang? We haven’t even begun to develop the site. We’re still moving supplies in.”

  “Just preliminary,” he replied. “The Ministry of Culture believes this will be a very important project. They’ve ordered me to visit regularly and assist you with anything you may need. Anything at all.”

  Logan exchanged looks with Kessler. He realized this could be a disaster if Huang was going to be dropping in from the sky at irregular intervals.

  Huang noticed Diana Shatraw for the first time. He stiffened up like an English Pointer. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. She was the image he’d carried in his head all the years he’d imagined a Western-style girlfriend. He drew himself up to the full extent of his five feet three inches and put every effort into trying to appear both worldly and sophisticated. The effect the tall blonde had on him was so transparent it was all Logan could do to keep from laughing.

  “I do not believe I have had the pleasure,” Huang said, bowing to Diana.

  Kessler coughed and said, “Ms. Diana Shatraw, Chiang Tiao Huang. Huang is from the Ministry of Culture.”

  Diana held out her hand, which Huang took as though it were a religious offering. For a moment, they all thought he was going to kiss it. A fleeting look of amusement crossed Diana’s face. It wasn’t the first time she’d had such an effect. Once, on assignment in Australia, a Bushman had had a very similar reaction upon meeting her, only in that case, the man had stood in front of her, fondling himself. Fortunately, Huang wasn’t that far gone.

  Barely.

  Huang stuck to Diana’s side for twenty minutes as they all circled the site, examining it from every angle. Finally, Kessler rescued her by saying it was time for them to head back. The helicopter was too small for all of them, but Huang offered to fly Diana back. She politely declined, leaving a look of utter sadness on his face.

  As the helicopter lifted off the ground, they could all see Huang staring down at Diana until the last possible moment.

  “I’d say you’ve made a conquest,” Logan said. Diana stuck her tongue out at him.

  But Kessler was not at all happy about the incident. Diana Shatraw had just made their job several degrees of magnitude more difficult. Huang would be sniffing around now like a dog in heat. He was definitely going to be a problem.

  General Zhou’s Encampment—Northeast China

  General Zhou stood outside his elaborate tent, its flags whipping in the wind, and stared at the mass of soldiers aligned in the valley below. They were a few miles outside the city of Hohhot. To the south was the Yellow River, to the north the great barren expanse of the Gobi Desert. Ostensibly, the army was here for maneuvers. But the truth was, he’d been marching his forces in a circle around Beijing for almost six months, waiting for his opening. He’d used the time to consolidate his forces and firm up alliances with other military units and with politicians. Chief among these were several units of the air force. Air support would be crucial if he were to move against the capital.

  His aide, Fang Xiaolang, approached and stood by his side. They’d been together for many years and through many actions in Mongolia and Tibet and along the Russian border. Xiaolang had just returned from a secret trip to Beijing.

  “So,” asked the general. “Are the rumors true?”

  “There does appear to be some unease,” said Xiaolang. “I visited several hospitals and ventured into some of the poorer districts. It’s very difficult to know for sure if the claim of sickness is true. The doctors will not say what it is.”

  “They won’t say or they don’t know?”

  “I think it’s maybe some of each. They may be scared or . . . they may simply be intimidated by the premier. In any event, I wouldn’t recommend giving our soldiers leave to go into the city.”

  General Zhou looked uneasy. It was not an emotion Xiaolang often saw in his leader. But there’d been much on his mind these last few months. Premier Zhao and the party leaders in Beijing were a weak bunch. They spent most of their time enjoying the fruits of power. Decadence had seized the Communist Party. Indeed, much of China was under a sort of hypnosis from the luxuries of the West that continuously seeped into the country. This weakness pained the general and had caused him to consolidate his position with the army and to consider his options.

  “Ah, Xiaolang, my old friend, this is a nasty business, becoming a traitor to one’s country.”

  “You are no traitor, my general. You are a patriot. Perhaps the only man who can lead us back on the correct path.”

  “Hmm . . . perhaps. But it is difficult nonetheless. How long can we continue this charade of endless maneuvers? We must make our move soon. I sense the men are becoming restless.”

  “Our envoy to Russia is due back soon. We’ll see then what our Russian friends think about a possible change in the government. Their neutrality is critical.”

  “I think you put too much weight on that, Xiaolang. The Russians don’t want to take over our country. They have troubles enough with their own. They only want stability, and we offer them a better chance of that than the current crop of bureaucrats. We will strike new trade agreements and open channels for knowledge and ideas to flow across the border. It will be to the benefit of both nations.”

  Since the death of his wife and marriage of his daughter, the army had become both wife and family to the general. Indeed, his compassion for the troops had earned him their respect. The fact that what he was about to do could result in the deaths of many of them weighed heavily on him.

  “I don’t like uncertainty,” he said. “Do we wait out this so-called sickness, or risk having it run through our forces if we move on Beijing?”

  “It’s a difficult decision, sir. I don’t envy your position. I wonder . . .”

  “What is it?”

  “Only . . . it’s strange, is it not, that the sickness has so far seemed to be contained in the capital. It could certainly be a ploy by the premier—a fabrication, elaborately
planned to make us fear taking over the government. They know they are in a weak position. It might all be a ruse.”

  The general stared at him thoughtfully. “I don’t believe Zemin is intelligent enough to have invented such a scheme.”

  A car drove up in a cloud of dust and Zeli’s chief medical officer, Dr. Li Weijin, stepped out. He saluted the general and nodded to Xiaolang.

  “You have something to report?”

  “Not good news, sir.”

  “The only kind we have these days. What is it?”

  “A number of men have become ill. I’m not sure what it is, but . . . apparently some of them were on patrol to the east and slipped into Beijing for a bit of fun.”

  Xiaolang swore. “The order to stay out of the city was explicit. I was about to reaffirm that order. Don’t your men obey commands?”

  The doctor looked startled. It was hardly his job to make sure of that, but Zeli came to his rescue.

  “No, Xiaolang. That is our responsibility. I don’t blame the men. They’ve been traveling about in this dirt and grime for six months. It’s natural for them to want a taste of city life. Whatever they caught may just be coincidence.”

  “You’re too easy on them, General,” said Xiaolang. “Now, if ever, is the time for discipline. You should make an example of these men.”

  “That’s hardly necessary,” the doctor intervened quickly. “They are already suffering.”

  “How bad is it?” asked Zeli. “Has anyone died?”

  “Two soldiers so far, though I think they may have had complications from underlying conditions. I’ve tried to establish a quarantine tent, but under these circumstances, here in open country, it is difficult.”

  General Zhou put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Do the best you can. Let my aide know if you need any additional medical supplies. We won’t be out in the desert too much longer.”

  As the doctor drove away, Xiaolang looked at his friend. He could see the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You intend to move soon, then?” he asked.

  “It’s time,” the general replied, a distant look in his eyes. “The results will be up to God.”