Empire of the Dragon

by David L. Golemon

  The complex comprised a mere seventeen levels that housed the secret that the world’s intelligence organizations were just becoming aware of but could not prove. The Siberian Group. The group comprised the old guard of the extinct Soviet Union, from the highest ranks of government to the hundreds of KGB, science and military men and women displaced after the fall. This was where the real power broker of the Russian government was housed. The falsity of the man that occupied the Kremlin and the one that heads its government was one chosen by this council of patriots. Vladimir Putin was an original member of this group but had gone astray in his illegal endeavors on behalf of the new Russian oligarchs, of whom few found favor with the secret organization, which set up Putin to lead the nation with their blessing and guidance. This, of course, did not happen. Unbeknownst to the general population, Putin had been eliminated and replaced by an unknown twin brother who had been kept hidden from the world by this Siberian group as a fallback to the known avarice of Vladimir Putin.

  The conference room on level eight of this mysterious complex was full, for the first time in years, as the group gathered to follow the operations in Mongolia. This was a situation they initiated and one of which would fulfill their destiny of regaining the power and prestige that was lost when the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. The council had all sixteen members present. The true power in Russia.

  Names of this group were never permitted to be spoken aloud inside the complex, nor even through open phone lines. Extraordinary precautions were taken to keep the ruling body safe from any wanting intelligence groups. They were called by number, and those numbers were assigned accordingly for the power the men held.

  The man holding the title of ‘Number One’ almost never spoke in these gatherings. While occupying the center position behind the ‘U’ shaped conference table, he sat in shadowed silence as reports were given. The only seat unoccupied that day was the chair of the man who held the rank of ‘Number Eleven’. Number One scribbled a note and slid it down to Number Four. All Number Four saw was the tailored sleeve of their leader as the hand pulled back into darkness.

  “What is the disposition of Number Eleven and his team?” asked Number Four.

  “Sir, Professor Vassick—”

  The man reporting stopped talking when Number One cleared his throat at the mention of Vassick’s name.

  “Sorry, sir, Number Eleven. His latest report signals that his operation is going forward with all deliberate speed. The targets in Laos were either successfully targeted and eliminated or captured by your order. The American and Chinese field team in Mongolia will soon meet the same fate. Number Eleven has reported one change in his overall plan however. What that change was he failed to elaborate upon.”

  “Does Number Eleven understand that the American field team is not his number one target? That it is just a target of immediate convenience and not strategic in nature?”

  The man reporting remained silent as he really did not know the answer to the query.

  The man holding the Number One chair spoke for the first time in three conference meetings since the plan for the Mongolian campaign began a month before. “We all know and appreciate Number Eleven’s obsession with this Department 5656 inside the American government. And while many of us at this table can see his anxiety about a group that mirrors his own, many of us agree that it blinds Number Eleven to the real purpose of his mission. He does understand that we accepted his explanation for the elimination of the two American soldiers in this American group. They were a threat thanks to their involvement in the Simbirsk affair, which was poorly handled from beginning to end in the opinion of many here today. And we even accepted his estimation of the dangers of the American involvement in the field team regarding the Mongolian operation. But that is all we approved. I truly hope that Number Eleven’s ambitions have not gone astray. Operations by his team inside the United States are absolutely forbidden at this time while the spotlight is on Mongolia. Is this clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Number Four.

  “Now, we are grateful in his handling of the Mongolian President. Number Eleven truly has talent in the area of bribery. But make no mistake what the prize here is. The mineral is to be recovered. No other factor, including this…this…Event Group, is to stand in the way of that. Communicate our concerns to Number Eleven immediately.”

  “He has gone off the grid, sir. He has not communicated since his appointment with the Mongolian President this morning. Our intelligence arm has been trying to locate him in order to debrief him on his meeting.” Number Four looked uncomfortable. “He has vanished.”

  The conference room became silent as Number Four sat down.

  “Since we have invested many billions in the personnel Facsimile Program, and given him a valuable asset for his own goals toward the eventual destruction of this American Group, perhaps we should give Number Eleven the benefit of the doubt?”

  The man who spoke was the exact duplicate of his older brother, the now deceased Vladimir Putin. He was number fifteen in the hierarchy and not very well trusted in most matters. His job was to do the Council’s bidding in open governmental affairs.

  Again, silence from the shadowy figures. The identical twin brother of the former Russian President cleared his throat and slowly sat down.

  “Yes, Number Fifteen. The Chairman and most of us can see your point. You were a part of the planning for the strike using our Facsimile program against this American Colonel and naval Captain, am I correct? Even so far as continuing the operation against the field team in Mongolia, is this not also a fact?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very ambitious of you to show your wisdom and bravery. You seem to be gaining valuable insight to just what our long-range plans are and are willing to now start taking chances and thinking, what do the Americans call it? Oh, yes, thinking outside of the box. We commend you on this. However,” said Number Two from the shadows of his chair, “since you are so close to Number Eleven, we will agree that his end result and your fates are tied together.”

  Number Fifteen, the double for Vladimir Putin, frowned and felt a chill travel up his spine. Perhaps he had allowed Professor Vassick to talk him into too large a risk. The council was very unforgiving of mistakes. He just nodded his head and sat.

  “Now, have we commenced Operation ‘Assisted Dynamic’?” asked Number Two.

  The man occupying seat number six stood and proudly went to attention. “Operation Assisted Dynamic entered Mongolia territory one hour ago.”

  “And the Mongolians have been confirmed to have stood down their border forces?”

  “From all reports, they waved their small Russian flags and Mongolian banners as our element crossed. Of course, the news outlets were forewarned and the cooperation between Russian and Mongolian nations was well covered and well received by all accounts. The Chinese, Americans and British have no option but to remain silent. Any incursion on their part will be perceived internationally as aggressive moves against a friendly nation. Peace on Earth through cooperation and partnership. As ordered.”

  “Number Fifteen,” said Number Two, “you did a fine job in preparing the world’s news organizations to cover the friendly crossing.”

  The Putin look-alike stood, and half bowed to the men around him, finally happy that he received praise instead of threats. “Thank you, Number Two.”

  “Let us hope that the exuberance of Number Eleven does not cloud your efforts in this matter.”

  Number Fifteen sat, losing all of the exhilaration of praise given just a moment before. Now he only hoped Professor Vassick wasn’t setting them both up for a disciplinary action against them by the council. He was worried as the meeting broke up to await news from Mongolia and the recovery of the mineral, which had the possibility of sending the new Russia soaring into the future as the leading power in the world.

  The only two men that remained seated were Numbers One and Two.

  “Professor Vassick, while seemingly in
dispensable, and a natural resource for our committee, he worries me about this obsession with this American National Archives Group.”

  Number One listened to his second in command and sat silently for the briefest of moments.

  “Professor Vassick is right on the one point, that this Group and its capabilities are far more of a threat to us than either the American CIA or MI-6. Their investigative capabilities cannot be underestimated. This man, this Doctor Niles Compton, is the larger threat. Vassick by all accounts, is right about that.”

  “Perhaps Professor Vassick’s goals and ours are one and the same then? Maybe his first suggestion that he be allowed the use of the Facsimile Program to be used on this troublesome group’s home territory is the correct course?”

  Number One smiled. “A strike against their complex would receive too much attention, and at the moment an operation such as that would not be beneficial to our cause. Limiting Vassick to a strike on their personnel was one thing but cutting the head off this particular snake could be an attention-getter we do not need. After all, this Compton, as I understand it, is extremely close to the outgoing President of the United States and was the main reason even ourselves listened to his council during the brief war with the Grays. This Compton may be even more worthy of our attention than we initially thought. But Compton and his strange Group can wait. Let us just hope Vassick stays the course and keeps to his limited schedule. Find him if you can and remind him of the confidence the committee has in him.”

  Number Two saw the right brow of Number One raise, meaning many differing things to some. But for him it was a warning about the fate of men that failed to follow instruction, no matter how brilliant they are.

  * * *

  Altai Mountains,

  Eastern Mongolia

  General Chang had changed out of the ceremonial warrior garb of that morning. He was wearing American made desert BDUs of multi-patterned browns and grays. His bush hat was placed to cover his eyes against the harsh sun as he sat upon the rocks overlooking the valley far below.

  “General?”

  Chang took a breath and then turned and saw a figure backlit by the afternoon sun. He recognized the voice.

  “Young Master.”

  The small man edged in next to the general and sat.

  “Don’t call me that. You of all people place to a standard I do not deserve. Boy would be preferable, or even Professor.”

  Chang continued to watch the desert floor hundreds of feet down the mountainside. “You are Master Li Zheng’s only son, my respect for that position is my duty and honor, not a mere standard.”

  Professor Lee removed his wire-rimmed glasses and followed the general’s eyes to the valley floor.

  “My father is keeping his views to himself. He has vanished amongst the tunnels and will not share his feelings with me.”

  Chang smiled and then removed his sunglasses. He faced the young master. “This has not changed in two thousand years. You know, when we first arrived here, in this place, we all expected to die. Instead we were given the greatest gift on Earth, well, it turned out not to be from Earth at all, but a gift nonetheless.”

  “More of a curse actually,” Lee corrected.

  “Well, it started out in the good category anyway. Now, the gift is about to be taken, and do you know something, young Master?” Chang looked closely at Lee. “I am not sad.”

  “What do our eyes and ears at the border tell you and my father, is it that bad?”

  Chang laughed and replaced his sunglasses. He pointed to the north. “The Russians will come from that direction. They have the support of our friends in the Mongolian government. They will strike in the early morning hours, both from the air and from the ground. Their intent after recovering the Dragon Asteroid is clear. Our friends from that American Group are right. These men in Siberia are bad men, but also men with a plan. But that is not the real threat. Russians playing games will be petty to the plans of the evil one. His forces, or the Chinese element if you prefer, will strike from the mountains above us. They are taking their armored division over the old pilgrim trail from the south.”

  “I have brought this doom upon us with my arrogance in my belief that the mineral belonged to the world, not just us.”

  This time Chang’s laugh was genuine. “Do you know how many times Master Li wanted to give this gift to the world?” He shook his head in wonder. “Too many times to count. Perhaps every other year for two thousand years.” He slapped at the dust on his BDU pants. “No, young Master, things are happening now that were preordained many years ago. The Americans are right on one point.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Dragon Asteroid is not a natural element to our world. It does not belong. It should have destroyed this planet when it first arrived, but our science says by fluke alone it did not. The world will be a better place without it.”

  “Then General, is it not best to evacuate the mountain?”

  “We have much work to do here first. We cannot allow the evil one to get his hands on the mineral. Any of it. Just three small bags of it extended his life force. Think what a ton could do for his filthy aims. He has waited over two thousand years in his patient ambition to rule the entire world.”

  “Hi,” came a voice from behind.

  General Chang smiled as he didn’t even turn to see who had come upon them. He knew military men and Jason Ryan was one. He wasn’t just out sightseeing, he was there to formulate an arrogant plan to get his people off the mountain, if and when it came to that.

  “Join us, Commander Ryan.”

  “Hope you ground-pounders don’t mind a navy man sitting in?”

  “The navy, I never had much use for the sea,” General Chang said. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” Ryan sat and then slapped both palms on his knees. “So, what are we talking about?”

  “Life and death, Commander,” Professor Lee said.

  “Whoa, heavy.”

  “Yes, quite so,” Chang said as his attention bored in on something in the far-off distance. His eyes remained there as Ryan spoke.

  “As a navy man, most infantry-types don’t regard my opinions on battlefield maneuvering as educated. But as I see it, and from overhearing your conversation earlier, which I apologize for by the way, I see no other option than to get the hell out of here. Blow the damn asteroid back to whatever hell it came from and run like hell.”

  “Mister Ryan, I am well versed on many of your exploits during and before the war with the Grays. Your opinion in normal circumstances would be most welcome. But we must remain here to stop the man from the south from getting the Dragon Asteroid.”

  “General, throughout all of the years you have served my father, why did you not attempt to kill the Emperor?” Lee asked.

  Again, another small laugh from Chang. “Emperor Qin Shi Huang is a ghost. When he realized his immortality could become an issue the world would notice, he had the foresight to die, at least in the public eye. Make no mistake, he has ruled from afar for many hundreds of years. He is the most formidable man I have ever known. My brother, General Kang, served him until the great battle at the riverbank. The Emperor has instincts beyond that of nature. As I said, formidable. He would have seen me coming and any attempt by us to kill off this evil would have led him to our home.” He faced Lee and Ryan. “And this we could not allow.”

  “Well, it sounds like the asshole’s instincts are coming into serious play now,” Jason said as he saw the general concentrating on the expanse of desert below.

  Lee laughed at the simple way the American naval aviator had of looking at things.

  “So, when are you going to evacuate these women and children?”

  “The children are already moving through the tunnels to the Great Wall, the rest will stay.”

  Ryan stood and looked at the relaxed way the General just condemned the menfolk of Shangri-La to death.

  “Hey, General, I hate to break it to you, but the fanatic
s on their way here don’t give a god damn if you meet them with all honor. They will kill everyone here to get their hands on that crap buried in that mountain. Hell, I wouldn’t even trust my own government with that much power.”

  “Distrust is an assurance against corruption, Mister Ryan, you are to be commended for that. However, we will stay and fight.”

  “Jesus, you’re just like Colonel Collins. Don’t worry about me, I have a death wish anyway. Damn!”

  “Mister Ryan, behind you there are several weapons, bring three of them, please.”

  Both Lee and Ryan watched as General Chang stood and then used a set of binoculars to view the desert terrain below. Ryan did as asked and recovered the three AK-47s hidden behind them.

  “What is it, General?” Lee asked, feeling uncomfortable about holding a weapon.

  “Come with me.”

  “What is it, Indians?”

  Chang stopped and turned and faced Ryan. “Indians?”

  “He means hostiles, General,” Lee said by way of explaining the American’s comment.

  “Yes, hostiles. Normally I would not take notice, but these tribesmen seem to be chasing a ground element on foot.” The General tossed the binoculars to Jason who stopped and focused on the rising dust cloud in the distance.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Ryan said as he handed the glasses to Lee who took them and saw what Ryan and the General had.

  Several men were running on foot. One looked injured, as a burly little man was assisting him. The rest were taking a rearguard action and firing on the Mongolian tribesmen and the vehicle they were in, when the ATV would swerve for cover, the rearguard would cease fire and then catch up with the first two.

  “Now who in the hell are these guys?” Lee asked, finally lowering the glasses as Ryan started to run to catch up with General Chang. “This place is becoming more popular than Piccadilly Circus!”