“No, sir.”
The line went dead.
Dimov set his phone down. His hand shook. Every conversation he had with his superior left him with a mix of euphoria and fear. Dimov chuckled nervously. He’d never seen or met his superior before. He wondered what he looked like.
There was a knock on his door. Dimov opened it. “What the hell do you want?” he said, gruffly.
A muscle-bound guard said, “Sir, I thought you ought to know Mister Sandesh just tried to access his computer account. When that failed, he tried using the phone in his room to make an outside call. That was automatically blocked, as well.”
Dimov clenched his jaw. “Have him detained and thrown in the cell with the women.”
“Sir, won’t we need him later to authorize the release of the weapon?”
“All I need is a retinal eye scan. Whether the eye is still inside his head is irrelevant.”
The guard nodded.
Dimov continued. “See to Mister Sandesh, and let me know when he is securely locked up down below.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard turned and jogged down the corridor.
Dimov clasped his hands behind his back. He stood there for a moment, thinking. Grace was a conniving temptress. She had to be behind Sandesh’s treachery. All the more reason to test Achlys on her and the Asian woman. Their horribly painful deaths shown around the world would shock the leaders of the major powers into doing precisely what the organization wanted. He’d soon be rich, and the current world order would be turned on its head.
49
Polaris Headquarters
The screen in the briefing room switched on. A handsome, Indian gentleman in his early thirties appeared.
“Good day, sir, I greatly appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to speak with us,” said O’Reilly.
“Luckily, I was in New York on business when you tracked me down, General,” replied Aneesh Sandesh. “General Mandaher, my head of defense liaison, speaks highly of you.”
“Thank you, sir. You’ve got a good man there. At the table with me is Mike Donaldson, my executive officer, along with Fahimah Donaldson and Jen Mitchell, two of my intelligence experts.”
“My pleasure,” said Aneesh. “How can I be of assistance to you?”
“Sir, this call concerns your brother, Varun.”
Aneesh crossed his arms. “Please continue.”
“To be blunt, we believe that your brother is up to something that could threaten every person on the planet.”
Aneesh fidgeted in his seat. “Where did you get this information, General?”
“Sir, I have a team of people in the field who were initially looking for a woman called Grace Maxwell, but have become entangled in whatever your brother is planning to do.”
“I hired Ms. Maxwell to look into my brother’s affairs, but lost all contact with her after she flew to Singapore. I assumed she had been killed.”
“Far from it. In fact, we believe she’s being held prisoner, along with one of my people, wherever your brother has gone.”
“Which is?”
“Sir, that’s the problem. We have no idea where he went after Spiridov Island.”
Aneesh shook his head. “Spiridov. I’ve never heard of it.”
“It was a former Soviet bioweapons facility. Now, it’s mostly a hole in the ground.”
“I knew my brother was up to no good.”
“Sir, my people think he’s being strung along by his head of security, Krasimir Dimov.”
Aneesh’s voice turned bitter. “Strung along or not, he’s a grown man who can make his own bloody decisions. I warned Varun years ago that Dimov wasn’t to be trusted.”
Fahimah leaned forward. “Sir, time is of the essence. Do you know if your brother had any major construction projects completed in the past couple of years?”
“I wish I knew,” replied Aneesh. “He’s locked me out of his files.”
“It may not be in there,” suggested Jen. “It could be part of an existing project that your family was working on. A refurbishment, perhaps?”
“I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. Please leave this with me, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”
“Sir, I’d keep this as quiet as possible, if I were you,” cautioned O’Reilly. “Apart from some verbal testimony from a jilted lover, we have no physical evidence tying your brother to this plot.”
“I understand,” said Aneesh. “The last thing my family needs is a scandal. I’ll keep this quiet.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The screen went dark.
“So, what do you think?” said the general, throwing the question out to his staff.
“That’s one pissed-looking businessman,” said Donaldson.
“That may be so, but do you think we can we trust him?” asked O’Reilly.
“What choice do we have?” replied Fahimah. “It’s him or nothing.”
“What about our own government?” asked Jen.
“Without any corroborating evidence to back up what Ryan’s passed on to us, we can’t expect anyone in the State Department to take us seriously,” said O’Reilly. “Aneesh Sandesh is our only hope for finding Sam and getting her back alive. I wish we had more to go on, but our hands are well and truly tied on this one. Until I hear back from Aneesh, I guess we had all best get on with the day’s work.”
O’Reilly felt the muscles tighten on the back of his neck. He despised not being in control of any situation. His training and experience were what he preferred to lean on, not the help of others. He stood and tried to give a reassuring smile to Jen. She smiled back, picked up her notes, and filed out of the room with Fahimah. O’Reilly picked up his empty coffee cup, and with leaden feet, walked downstairs to check on some training happening elsewhere on the extensive grounds. He returned two hours later, still feeling down.
“Sir, I was about to page you. You have an urgent call waiting on your phone,” said Louise Torrez, as O’Reilly walked past her desk.
O’Reilly raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
“He wouldn’t say,” replied Louise. “But he sounded Indian.”
O’Reilly ran to his desk and answered the call. “O’Reilly, here.”
“General, I’ve got it. It’s Pangkham, Myanmar,” said Aneesh.
O’Reilly checked the time. “That didn’t take long.”
“Varun’s an idealist. I knew if there was going to be an irregularity in our accounts, it would be hidden somewhere in his charitable donations.”
“How can you be sure?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. I had one of my most trusted accountants look into our charitable donations file, and for the past four years, Varun has secretly donated thirty million dollars a year to a non-governmental organization running a refugee camp near Pangkham. That account is supposed to cover dozens of charities, but my man was able to discern very quickly that most never received a penny. It all went to this NGO in Myanmar. The problem is that there isn’t a working refugee camp there, or anywhere else in that region of the country.”
O’Reilly smiled. “That has to be the place. It makes perfect sense to hide an operation in that part of Myanmar, it’s heavily involved in the Golden Triangle drug trade, and protected by a rebel organization known as the United Liberation Army.”
“General, I’ve taken the liberty of purchasing some time on a French satellite in orbit over that part of Asia. I expect some real-time images of the camp and the surrounding area in the next three to four hours.”
“I take it you intend to share that information with us?”
“Naturally. I assume you intend to try and rescue Ms. Maxwell, and your person being held by my brother?”
“That’s correct. But as I said before, your brother may not have any control over what is happening to him anymore.”
Aneesh paused for a few seconds. “General, if you do launch a rescue operation, I’d like your word tha
t you’ll try to bring my brother out of there alive.”
“If he doesn’t resist, I can all but guarantee that we’ll bring him home to you.”
“What of this plot to commit genocide; what do you and your people intend to do about it?”
“I’d prefer to hand it over to someone else to deal with it, but without irrefutable evidence, no politician would dare risk their necks and authorize a military raid deep inside the Golden Triangle.”
“Then I guess we’re it for now. I’ve got a couple more business meetings to attend to today. As soon as the satellite images are available to me, I’ll send them along to your analysts.”
“Thank you. You may have just saved the lives of countless millions.”
“Until later, General.”
O’Reilly hung up the phone. He looked over and saw Donaldson standing in his doorway. “Mike, get on to your contacts in the intelligence community and get everything, and I do mean everything on Pangkham, Myanmar, and the ULA. Next, have Jen and Fahimah search the area around Pangkham as a staging point for an insertion operation.”
Donaldson nodded. “When do you want this info?”
O’Reilly glanced at his watch. “Let’s reconvene in the briefing room two hours from now, and make sure Ryan is on the line.”
“I’m on it,” replied Donaldson.
The despondent cloud hovering over O’Reilly’s head vanished. They were back in the game.
50
Awaza, Turkmenistan
In a poorly lit warehouse next to a secluded waterfront dock, Yuri walked around a paint-chipped table, handing out cups of sweet, hot coffee. Mitchell turned his satphone on speaker mode, and placed it down on the table.
“Sir, we’re all here,” announced Mitchell. “That is, all except for Nova, who is on her way home to her mother as we speak.”
“Before we begin,” said O’Reilly, “how is everyone doing?”
“Apart from Gordon, who’s worried sick, I’d have to say we’re all eager to get Sam back, safe and sound.”
“Understood. Has Yuri managed to obtain a secure laptop for you yet?”
“Yes, he has,” replied Mitchell, tapping the side of the computer. “I think one of his contacts stole it from a surplus-military compound, but it’ll do for now.”
“Ryan, it’s Jen here. I’ve just sent you a series of satellite images of the camp where we believe Sam and Grace are being held.”
Mitchell smiled at hearing his wife’s voice. “Just a minute,” he said, waiting for the pictures to appear in his email account. He opened the first image, and turned the laptop so everyone could see.
“Ryan, the image you are looking at is of the alleged refugee camp run by the Myanmar Peace and Reconciliation Fund.”
Mitchell studied the picture. A thick jungle covered the countryside. The camp was in a clearing, and spread out over several kilometers. It had hundreds of white tents inside of it, but there were no people to be seen near the settlements. There were a few large tents he took to be for dining or administration. A dirt road led through the middle of the camp to a tree-covered hill. On the top of the hill was a long-abandoned temple.
“If you look carefully at the road, it disappears at the base of the temple,” explained Jen. “We believe that’s where Site Alpha is located.”
“Another underground complex,” said Jackson. “How original of them.”
“There are numerous cave systems located throughout the hills east of Pangkham. We suspect that Dimov used an existing cave and built Site Alpha inside of it.”
“Opposition?” asked Mitchell.
“This, unfortunately, is where the news goes from bad to worse,” said Donaldson. “From what we’ve been able to gather, the camp looks to be lightly guarded. The problem is the ULA have a unit located less than two kilometers from the camp.”
“Who or what is the ULA?” asked Jackson.
“They’re an offshoot of the Burmese Communist Party that once controlled that part of Myanmar,” explained Donaldson. “With the fall of communism, they drifted into the drug trade and have become a potent fighting force. They have acquired helicopters, small arms, missiles, and artillery from China. The United Liberation Army defends its turf from all intruders. They’ll take on fellow rebel forces or the government without hesitation. These people are tough, and not afraid of a fight.”
“Wonderful,” muttered Jackson.
Donaldson carried on. “The nearby rebel camp has a grass runway, which is how we expect the bioweapon to be moved around. There are four MI-8 Hip helicopters that look to be in good shape parked near the runway, as well.”
“Mike, if the camp isn’t for refugees, what is it used for?” asked Jackson.
“Drugs. The ULA is probably hiding its drugs among the empty tents until they’re ready to ship them out of the country, and no one would be the wiser.”
“How come a camp that size doesn’t draw much scrutiny from the government or the outside world?”
“For starters, the government gave up trying to wrestle back that portion of the country from the rebels years ago. As for the outside world, there are an estimated twenty million refugees spread across the globe. This camp is only one of tens of thousands. If you think this is bad, there are dozens of camps that house no one, or only a handful of people, just so a country can claim it is doing something to help the worldwide refugee crisis. If anyone even noticed this camp in the middle of nowhere, they’d probably write it off as just another rich man’s folly.”
Mitchell quickly scrolled through the pictures. “I don’t see a decent place near the camp we could use to stage a rescue operation.”
“I know,” said O’Reilly. “It’s too close to China, and everywhere else feasible is inside the Golden Triangle.”
“It looks like Dimov picked the perfect spot to hide,” said Mitchell.
“It sure looks that way.”
“That is, unless you’re willing to make a deal with the devil himself,” said Fahimah.
“Right now, that sounds better than nothing,” replied Mitchell. “What do you have in mind?”
“One of the ULA’s staunchest opponents are another drug gang known as the Shan People’s Militia. If you can convince them to let you use their territory from which to stage your mission, you’ll be in better shape than trying an extraction via Thailand or Laos.”
“Mike, do you think they’ll play ball?” asked Mitchell.
“That depends on how big your pocketbook is,” responded Donaldson.
“Unless someone’s willing to pony up some cash, we may be facing a real cash crunch shortly.”
“I’ll see if Aneesh Sandesh is willing to shoulder some of the bills to help save his brother,” proposed O’Reilly.
“Well, I guess our next stop is Myanmar,” said Mitchell.
“I’ll make the travel arrangements,” said Dawn. “My company is still on the hook for your travel expenses.”
“Ryan, call me the instant you’ve landed, and let me know what you’re thinking,” said O’Reilly.
“I will,” he responded.
“Keep your head down,” added Jen.
“We will,” replied Jackson, before Mitchell had a chance to speak.
Mitchell switched off the phone and looked around at his colleagues. “If anybody has an idea or a concern, now is the time to voice it. Once we land in Myanmar, it will be too late.”
“Yuri, do you have any connections in that part of Asia?” asked Jackson.
Yuri shook his head. “I may be a lot of things, but I am not a drug runner. I’m sorry, I can’t help this time.”
Cardinal stood and looked at Dawn. “Yuri may not be able to help this time around, but I bet Grace’s contact, Victor, can. Do you know how to get a hold of him?”
“No. I’d never heard of him until I met you,” she replied.
Cardinal snatched the satphone from the table and thrust it in her face. “Call your office and have someone find him and tell h
im to meet us in Myanmar. Promise him whatever he wants, but get him to agree to meet us.”
“What if I can’t track him down?”
Cardinal leaned in close. “Negative thinking never solved anything. Find him, or so help me, you’ll rue the day you decided to work for Grace Maxwell.”
Dawn took the phone. “I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll do better than that!”
“What would you like me to do?” Yuri asked Mitchell.
“While Dawn’s busy on the phone, why don’t you take her credit card and book us all on the next flight to Myanmar?”
“Okay,” replied Yuri.
Mitchell felt Jackson squeeze his arm. They walked to a quiet part of the warehouse and stopped.
“Ryan, all of this talk about getting a drug gang on our side is crazy, but workable. What I’d like to know is what are we going to do when we finally do come across this alleged bioweapons plant.”
“I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Mitchell replied.
“Well, we’d best come up with a plan, because I’m not going to hand the bioweapons over to a gang of drug runners. I’d rather die before we do that.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Besides, I have an idea to help us locate and free Sam and Grace.”
“Which is?”
For the next couple of minutes, Mitchell filled his friend in on his plan.
“You’ve got be nuts,” said Jackson after hearing the scheme.
“Have you got a better idea?”
“No, but what you’re proposing is suicide.”
“For me, not for you.”
“Yeah, you may think so, but if something did happen to you, Jen would never let me live it down.”
Mitchell smiled. “Too bad for you.”
51
Lashio, Myanmar
Like an eagle diving from the clouds, the gold and white, twin-engine, turboprop passenger plane flew over the top of a jungle-covered hill, and dove straight for the long runway. The pilot brought the plane to a smooth stop outside of the airport’s main terminal and switched off its engines. The ground crew ran over and placed a set of metal stairs next to the aircraft’s front door.
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