Her only major concern now was how easy it would be to find Dexter after they reached the mountain. Lee and Juan had captured Dexter’s exact pitch from the data in her previous vest and were confident that, once close enough, they could identify him again. The question was how close did they need to get? The vest’s microphone was sensitive, but the sheer amount of noise the vest had to sift through for normal communication left her wondering how effective it was going to be. And they still had to get within range for which they were relying completely on Dulce’s instincts.
The small gorilla was still insisting she could find Dexter, but DeeAnn wasn’t sure what that actually meant.
DeeAnn sat quietly, contemplating, while Caesare remained just as quiet next to her. This storm was another problem he didn’t need. Flying through a thunderstorm was damn dangerous.
It took less than thirty minutes to get the bad news. The storm had indeed turned east, and straight into their path. The two pilots seated in front of Caesare stared through the windshield with a look of dread.
Avoiding most of the storm, they would have made it with at least some fuel left. But now…their odds were fifty-fifty at best. It was growing in size and both pilots knew that no one would fly through what was ahead of them unless they had absolutely no choice. Which they now didn’t.
Colombia’s Medellin and Bogota airports had followed Venezuela’s lead and denied them permission to land, which left Iquitos, Peru, as the only runway now long enough to accept them. They could, of course, try to force their way down using the international distress frequency –– but once on the ground, Colombia would know who they were and where they were likely headed.
Now at less than ninety minutes from Iquitos and a top speed of 320 miles per hour, the C-12 Huron was four hundred and fifty miles away and burning fuel at an alarming rate.
Another sudden gust shoved the plane sideways in the air, causing everyone in the cabin to grasp something to avoid being thrown. Outside, the sky had darkened into an ominous gray as the giant storm began to envelop them.
Caesare moved back down the narrow isle to Juan and DeeAnn, the latter having stolen his seat across from Dulce. After activating the vest, she was talking to Dulce to keep her calm. Following another severe bounce, the young gorilla wrinkled her nose with concern.
No fly like bird.
DeeAnn shook her head in agreement. “No, this is not like a bird. But don’t be afraid.”
She and Juan looked up when Caesare motioned her to mute the vest.
“This storm isn’t going our way,” he said. “An emergency landing in Colombia would out us and there’s a good chance they wouldn’t let us leave. Which means our only option is to fight through this and get to Iquitos as fast as we can.” They all grabbed hold as the aircraft plunged again by several feet. “The good news is that this is a hell of a plane and Iquitos is going to be ready for us. The bad news is that conditions are going to get worse.” He looked to DeeAnn. “How are you guys holding up?”
“Not great.” DeeAnn looked to Dulce, who had her two long arms wrapped firmly around the metal armrests. She was talking less and less and DeeAnn could see increasing signs of anxiety.
“Juan?”
“I’m okay for the moment. But I may need a bag.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, patting the top of Juan’s seat. “We’re gonna make it. Just hang in there.”
It was the best thing he could think to say. And it was true what he said about the durability of the plane. Even the storm’s powerful winds couldn’t flip it, but running out of fuel was a different matter. If they could make it to the airport, there would be only one danger remaining: landing. Because as bad the wind sheers were at altitude, they were far worse at ground level.
As Caesare turned to leave, the small satellite phone in his pocket rang. He braced himself against the low ceiling with one hand and pulled the phone out with the other.
“That you, Wil?”
“It is,” Borger answered. “How you guys doing?”
“Getting pretty bouncy, but we’ll make it.” Hopefully, Caesare thought.
“You’ve got a big storm headed right at you.”
“That’s very helpful, Wil. Any other good news?”
“Yes. Otero and his army are about a third the way up the mountain. They’ve stopped for the moment, but they’re moving faster than we thought. What’s your ETA?”
Caesare rolled his eyes. ETA? Chances of survival might be a better question. He raised his voice over a sudden wave of thunder. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“VERY soon! I’ll call you back when we’re on the ground.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
Caesare ended the call and shook his head. His estimated time of arrival on the mountain was complicated. Their situation had gotten considerably more difficult…and he still hadn’t told DeeAnn the worst part.
36
The Brazilian’s stop on the way up the mountain was more than momentary. Otero stood in the shade of a small rubber tree, watching the long line of Salazar’s men digging along a deteriorated section of road, trying to repair it enough for their trucks to pass.
Otero lazily slapped a hand against his neck at another insect. The treelined canopy above them was not enough to block the glaring sun, which had turned their stretch of the forest into a sweltering sauna.
After being outside for even a short time, it was enough to drive Otero back to the air conditioning of his Land Rover. Russo faithfully followed and climbed in on the opposite side.
The road reconstruction was being directed by Salazar’s second lieutenant. A man in his early thirties, standing out in the heat with his men while Salazar also remained inside his lead vehicle.
Sitting silently behind Salazar was a female with short dirty-blonde hair, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt. Being a civilian zoologist assigned to the mission by a much higher-ranking officer did not prevent Salazar from pushing his authority onto her. Authority she had thus far largely ignored.
Dr. Becca, as she was known, kept her head down inside the cab, reading more on the work the deceased Mr. Alves had been conducting at his so-called “preserve.” A place which apparently had a number of dark secrets.
She’d read the information on the capuchin monkey several times, looking for any details or facts she may have missed. It was crucial she knew everything she could. One of the images gleaned from a security camera gave a better than average picture of the monkey –– all solid gray fur, as opposed to the more common speckled colors, which meant at least some hope of ever finding the animal. But all in all, Becca was highly skeptical.
From her perspective, she had been pulled from her existing job at a prominent research center in Salvador to assist an army group of Neanderthals into the jungle in search of a mystical primate, supposedly carrying the secret to immortality. And not just human immortality but apparently all cellular life on the planet. It sounded ridiculous.
Becca had enough biology experience to know that immortality was a farce. A dream envisioned by people who never made very good use of the time they had until it was nearly up. Nothing in the biological kingdom had thus far escaped the tendrils of death, and she was sure that neither she nor any of the grunts outside were going to be the first.
Her goal was simply to find whatever they were looking for so she could return to her work in Salvador. However, she did have to admit that, while she found the immortality story absurd, she was somewhat fascinated by the more credible possibility of a capuchin having a higher level of intelligence than normal. That was how nature worked. Advances in small steps over long periods of time, not some magical leap. And given that capuchins were already rather intelligent, finding an outlier was far more believable…and interesting.
Becca continued reading through her thick folder, unaware that Salazar had opened his own door and climbed out until she felt the wave of heat rush past her.
Outside, he appro
ached his lieutenant and waited for an update, even though there was little to offer. Anyone could observe the men still toiling away in sweat-soaked shirts.
“How much longer?”
His lieutenant turned away from one of the other soldiers. “At least an hour, maybe two.”
Salazar pursed his lips with agitation. With hands on his hips, he spun around and looked back downhill the way they came. He spotted the Land Rover with Otero and Russo speaking inside and smirked. He wondered just how the two thought they would possibly retain control of anything they found when surrounded and outgunned by Salazar’s men.
Fools.
Inside, Otero was looking forward to the look on Salazar’s face when he found out who was really in charge. And where the loyalty of his men truly stood.
“The idiot still has no idea.”
When there was no answer, Otero turned to find Russo gazing out at the forest.
“Christ, this isn’t about your ghost again. I already told you it’s not related.” He shook his head. “I don’t pay you to be paranoid.”
Russo grinned and turned back to him momentarily. “Yes, you do.”
The older man conceded. “We can’t accomplish anything from up here.”
“I’ll still feel better when we know who it is.”
“It’s coincidence. When we return, we will deal with them…and their family.”
Unless it really is the U.S. But why would they want retribution for Blanco? Russo shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right. The timing of it all.” He turned back to Otero. “What if Blanco talked to the U.S. about the monkey?”
“Why would he do that?”
Russo thought about it. “He wouldn’t.”
“Exactly. I tell you, it’s something else. We’ll find out who and why. Then we will deal with them.” Otero motioned outside. “But this comes first.”
Russo nodded silently. It wasn’t the right time or place. He simply needed more information. He was sure there was a connection between the attack on his men and the U.S. but he couldn’t seem to find it.
What Russo didn’t know was that soon he would be far closer to his ghost than he ever imagined.
37
In Beijing, Qin stood examining items in General Wei’s old office when his phone rang again.
“Yes,” he answered.
“I have information you’re going to want to hear,” M0ngol said.
Qin slid a book back into the huge bookshelf. “Go ahead.”
“You wanted to know what our General Wei was involved in before his death. The answer is something very secret and very big. So big that he was reporting directly to the Politburo Standing Committee. I recovered some deleted emails that refer to a project in South America. A project they were all very careful not to mention. Instead, they referred to it as Element.”
“Element?”
“Yes. Most of the communication appears to have been verbal, but there were some written exchanges required, particularly around authorization of resources.”
“What kind of resources?”
“Men. And ships. From what I’ve pieced together, it looks like the project was some kind of excavation. Something they insisted that no one else know about.”
Qin stared thoughtfully through the darkness of the room. “It appears they succeeded.”
“Yes, it does. I can find more, but it will take time.”
“If Wei was keeping their secret, why destroy him and his reputation?”
“Maybe he didn’t keep it well enough.”
It was possible. However, thus far every indication suggested Wei’s death was indeed a suicide. It was far more likely that Wei had not compromised their secret at all but, instead, may have kept it too well. But why?
“If there was a split in the Politburo,” Qin said, “then we should be looking for something after his last visit. Something unusual.”
M0ngol smiled in the glow of his monitor. “You mean like a secret flight of a new prototype jet to South America and back?”
“What?”
“That’s right. A day before Wei disappeared.”
“Where?”
“It landed here in Beijing.”
“What was on it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Qin stood frozen, thinking. This was why Xinzhen hadn’t told him everything about General Wei. There were some things Xinzhen didn’t want him to uncover. “So we have an excavation in South America, and a secret flight back just before he disappears. Then he reappears to kill himself.”
“Sounds strange.”
“No.” Qin silently crossed the room and looked out over the glowing lights of Beijing. “It sounds like a man trying to hide something. Do we know where he went yet?”
“We’re still working on that. And there’s something else you will want to know.”
“What?”
“Someone else is trying to find out where he disappeared to. They’ve been accessing the same servers and records, even before we did.”
Qin’s eyes blazed. “Who?”
“We don’t have an ID yet. We are tracing backward, one server at a time. Whoever it was is very clever. We think it came from Washington, D.C.”
Finally, Qin showed genuine surprise. “Washington,” he whispered. That was it. The piece explaining China’s altercation with the Americans in the Caribbean Sea. Of course, to the Americans it was more than an altercation –– they’d lost.
It took only moments for Qin to connect the dots. It was a fight over the excavation. Whatever it was, the Americans knew General Wei had it flown home. Now they too were trying to find out what Wei had done with it.
“Find out who was in the system. Use the entire team if you must.”
M0ngol nodded on the other end. He was going to do more than just find him.
Fifteen hours away in his own dark computer lab, Wil Borger had his answer.
His farm of servers had successfully found and tracked the pixel profile of Wei’s car and displayed not just the path of the car, but where it had stopped.
And just like Clay had deduced, it was a small rural hospital.
Borger couldn’t dial the number fast enough. When Clay answered, he almost shouted into the phone. “We have it!”
“Have what?”
“Wei’s destination. And it was his only stop after leaving with the case.”
“Location?”
“Just over four hundred and sixty miles due north of Beijing! In the mountains. Looks like it’s a small hospital for several surrounding towns and villages. I’ll text you the name and coordinates.”
“Nice work, Wil.”
“Listen,” he continued. “There’s also a small airfield about ninety miles further north. It looks usable and would probably allow you to get there faster, but it might be military. Just an FYI.”
“Okay. We’ll stick to the roads then. Should be in Beijing in about twelve hours. I’ll check back in three.”
“Sounds good.”
Clay ended the call and looked at Tang in the driver’s seat. “You need a break?”
“Not yet.” Tang nodded to the satellite phone. “Where we headed?”
“A small hospital about four hundred north of Beijing. We’re looking for General Wei’s daughter.”
Tang raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on the dark road in front of them. “The intel I got said Wei’s daughter was dead.”
“Yeah. Ours too.”
38
At just past six a.m., Doctor Lee waited patiently by the door while his nurse helped Li Na Wei back into bed. They were both amazed at how quickly her strength was returning after being nearly motionless for three weeks. There was minimal shaking in her legs and her balance was quite good.
The nurse propped a worn pillow behind Li Na’s back, allowing her to sit up straighter. Once she was settled, the nurse straightened the sheets and blanket again before nodding to Lee and leaving the room.
It was far too soo
n in his opinion, but a pledge was a pledge. If she awakened, Wei wanted his daughter informed immediately. A decision Lee still felt was excessive given the girl’s current state of health. The last thing she needed at the moment was an emotional blow like this.
He sat down on the foot of her bed and leaned forward with a soft look on his face. “You are doing very well, Li Na. Very well. But there are things I need to tell you. Things about your father and things about how you got here.”
“Okay,” she said, peering at him curiously. Her body still felt weak, but her eyes were wide awake.
Lee reached inside his dingy white coat and retrieved an envelope. Without a word, he handed it to Li Na.
She took it in her right hand, examining it, and then turned it over to find a familiar seal on the back. It was her father’s chop. She slid her finger under a loose section and ripped the flap open, breaking the wax seal. Several sheets of paper were folded neatly inside.
Li Na glanced at the doctor nervously as she pulled them out and unfolded the pages. Her father’s handwriting covered both sides of every one.
Beneath the room’s single fluorescent light, and while Dr. Lee waited, Li Na began reading.
When she finished, she was weeping.
“Is this true?”
Lee frowned. “I don’t know what it says.”
“My father is dead?”
The doctor nodded solemnly. “Yes. I’m very sorry, Li Na.”
She covered her eyes with both hands and sobbed. “Why?!”
She knew why. It was all in the letter. Her final days of a deteriorating disease, most of which she was not conscious for. Her father’s depression after losing Li Na’s mother, and his utter devastation at the impending loss of his daughter. His princess.
But unlike many fathers who might be struggling with the same agony, there was something he could do. There was a slight chance that Wei could still save his daughter’s life by giving his own. By sacrificing everything he had, including their family name. Their honor. He wrote about the many memories he had of her as a young girl. The dancing, the smiles, the laughs. And her hugs that made him feel as though there was no one else in the world but them.
Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3) Page 18