by Steve Berry
Centuries ago, the Ba flourished. The history of hegemony, the Ba, and Legalism are indeed accurately related (chapter 24). Hegemony (chapter 45) is a concept uniquely Chinese, one that has long defined its national conscience in ways the West has difficulty comprehending. And as Karl Tang realizes in chapter 24, totalitarianism is a Chinese innovation.
Antwerp is a wonderful European city with a distinctive Old World feel (chapter 18). I’ve long wanted to include it in one of my stories. The Drie Van Egmond Museum (chapters 25, 27–31), though, is my creation. Since I knew I was going to destroy the building, I thought something fictitious would be a better choice. Interestingly, though, I modeled it after an actual Antwerp museum—which burned while this book was being written.
Lev Sokolov and Cassiopeia Vitt have a history, which is hinted to starting with chapter 36. If you’d like to know the full story of how these two met, and why Cassiopeia owes him, there is a short story, “The Balkan Escape,” which can be downloaded as an e-book original. Check it out.
Eunuchs (chapter 7) are an important part of Chinese history. Nowhere else on the planet did they exert so much political influence. Definitely, there were good (chapter 51) and bad personalities. Their history as told throughout the story is accurate, as is the process of their emasculation (chapters 7 and chapter 33). Associating eunuchs with the Ba is my invention, though most certainly they would have played some role in that movement.
Two tortures are utilized: the first with scalding chili powder (chapter 23), the second with rats (chapter 39). Both were created by the Chinese. The Records of the Historian, or Shiji (chapter 38), remains a vital source of ancient Chinese history. The passages cited throughout the story are faithfully quoted. China’s censoring of the Internet happens every day (chapter 43). An intranet, solely for use within the country, is currently being created.
Quotations from Chairman Mao, or The Little Red Book (chapter 43), is the most printed book in history with some 7,000,000,000 copies. Once, every Chinese carried one. Not anymore.
The sky burial, described in chapters 63 and 82, is a part of death in both Tibet and the western Chinese highlands. The dragon lamp (chapter 4) is real, though found in another Chinese imperial tomb, adapted here to Qin Shi.
Halong Bay, in northern Vietnam (chapter 41), is a stunning locale that I could not resist including. Mao’s tomb (chapters 42 and chapter 43) also fascinates me. The stories of the Chairman’s corpse, the botched embalming, a wax effigy, and the possibility that the body itself is gone are all real. And though it’s much more recent history, what happened in Tiananmen Square, and what happened there in June 1989 (chapter 43) remains a mystery. To this day, no one knows how many people died. Many parents did indeed venture to the site, after the tanks withdrew, looking for their children (chapter 43). And as related in chapter 66, all books and websites that even mention the incident are censored in China.
The terra-cotta warrior museum (chapter 6), near Xi’an, forms an important backdrop for the story. When the traveling warrior exhibit visited the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia, I visited twice. I was so enthralled that I purchased a replica, which now stands in my den. I tried to incorporate as much of the Xi’an museum as possible, focusing on the massive Pit 1 (chapter 6) and the intriguing Pit 3 (chapter 53). Of course the imperial library chamber (chapter 10) is my addition. The concept of the chariot facing left and the lack of any warriors displayed on the left side of Pit 3 (chapter 53) is not mine. That came from The Terracotta Warriors: The Secret Codes of the Emperor’s Army by Maurice Cotterell.
Qin Shi’s tomb mound, which rises near the underground army site, is accurately portrayed (chapter 38). The drainage tunnels, dug more than 2,220 years ago, remain in the ground (chapter 55). The description of the tomb interior, quoted in chapter 38, is the only written account that exists. My vision of the interior (chapters 55–57) is imagined, but I tried to stay accurate to not only Shiji but also other known imperial tombs. To this day the Chinese government will not allow any excavation of Qin Shi’s final resting place. The description of Qin Shi in chapter 38 is based on the most popular representation, but it was fashioned centuries after his death. In reality, no one has a clue what the man looked like.
Incredibly, the Chinese did in fact drill for oil 2,500 years ago in the manner described in chapter 21, becoming the only people at the time capable of achieving such a feat. They found not only crude but also natural gas, and learned to use both in their daily lives. China’s current dependency on oil (chapter 17) is a reality, as is its policy of foreign appeasement to obtain massive quantities. Its lack of reserves is a strategic weakness, as is the fact that a simple naval blockade of two straits, far from the country, could bring the Chinese to their knees (chapter 17).
The debate between biotic and abiotic oil is real, and continues to this day. Does oil come from decaying organisms or is it naturally produced by the earth? One source is finite, the other infinite. The Russians, at Stalin’s prodding, pioneered the abiotic theory in the 1950s and continue to find oil, utilizing the concept, in places where fossil fuels could never exist (chapters 15 and chapter 17). Likewise, as Stephanie Nelle points out in chapter 15, wells in the Gulf of Mexico are depleting at an astoundingly slow rate, one that has confounded American experts. Diamondoids, or adamantanes (chapter 44), were first isolated from Czech petroleum in 1933, then from U.S. samples in the late 1950s. Of late, these amazing compounds have shown promising applications in nanotechnology. I adapted them as proof of abiotic oil since diamondoids can form only under extreme heat and pressure, the kind experienced deep within the earth, far away from where any fossil fuels may lay.
And what of this long-standing myth of finite oil?
“Fossil fuel” is nothing more than a theory, created in 1757 by a Russian scientist named Mikhail Lomonosov. In proceedings before the Imperial Academy of Sciences, Lomonosov wrote, Rock oil originates as tiny bodies of animals buried in the sediments which, under the influence of increased temperature and pressure, acting during an unimaginably long period of time, transform into rock oil.
Many scientists question this claim, but, over time, we have simply come to believe that oil originates solely from organic compounds.
In 1956 the senior petroleum exploration geologist for the USSR said, The overwhelming preponderance of geological evidence compels the conclusion that crude oil and natural petroleum gas have no intrinsic connection with biological matter originating near the surface of the Earth. They are primordial materials which have been erupted from great depths.
But few people listened to those words.
Raymond Learsy, in his 2005 book Over a Barrel, wrote, Nothing lasts: not fame, fortune, beauty, love, power, youth, or life itself. Scarcity rules. Accordingly, scarcity—or more accurately, the perception of scarcity—spells opportunity for manipulators. The best example of this is OPEC, which continues to extract obscene profits from a scarcity of its own creation.
Learsy, though, leaves no doubt.
He, and many others, the Russians included, are absolutely convinced.
Oil is not scarce. We only fear that it is.
Personal and Confidential
Magellan Billet Dossier
For Internal Use Only
Not for Public Dissemination
Born: Harold Earl Malone, Thomasville, Georgia. Acquired the nickname “Cotton,” origin undisclosed.
Physical Traits: 6’0”. 195 lbs. Burnished blond hair. Green eyes.
Parents: Forrest and Peggy Jean Malone. Father, served United States Navy, final rank, Commander, lost at sea aboard USS Blazek. Mother still alive, living in Georgia.
Psychological Note: Though Malone loved and respected his father, he remained angry for years after his father’s death. Their time together had been limited to three years, from the time Malone was seven until he was ten, and those memories are vague and scattered. He related that there is never a day he doesn’t think about his father. He never questioned him
either. He also remarked that, though he never knew the man well, he has unwittingly emulated his father many times. Forrest Malone was the last captain of NR-1A (a highly classified submersible), a career military man, and an Annapolis graduate. The NR-1A’s existence and disappearance remains classified. Malone mentioned twice the fact that there had been no cemetery for him to visit. No remains. Nothing but a classified stamp on a file. Throughout his adult life he wondered what actually happened to his father. Eventually, he conducted an independent investigation, all of which is detailed in a file titled The Charlemagne Pursuit. Malone remains angry with the Navy over its handling of his father’s disappearance.
His mother, a native Georgian, worshipped her husband. Malone related that he’s never seen his mother cry, which probably explains his own reluctance to show emotion. Being atypical, Malone and his mother did not relocate as his father’s duty stations changed. Instead, she maintained a steady home environment in Georgia. At the memorial service for his father (held after the loss of the Blazek), when the Navy honor guard presented her a folded flag, she refused it. She never remarried, and still refers to herself as Mrs. Forrest Malone.
Religious Affiliation: Malone was born and raised Catholic, though he no longer actively practices the faith.
Special Traits: At the age of 12 Malone realized he had an eidetic memory—the ability to remember objects, images, words, and numbers with extraordinary accuracy. He also, early on, developed a love of books and reading. This translated, as an adult, into book collecting and eventually to him opening (after his early retirement) his own rare bookshop. He is prone to extreme self-motivation and obsessive dedication. He exudes physical confidence and an extraordinary command of his surroundings. He is tough, gutsy, decisive. He accepts any situation thrown at him, and exhibits exceptional courage under fire. He often uses humor to mock reality, dodge an issue, twist an argument, or escape involvement.
Psychological Note: Team sports never interested Malone, but he loved to swim. He recalls how he and his father spent time swimming together. Horses were another interest; he taught himself to ride as a teenager. He learned early in life to never hurry anything, as that simply bred mistakes. He believes deeply that skepticism is fundamental to survival, but loyalty is essential.
Education: Malone graduated second in his class from Thomasville High School. He was accepted to the Naval Academy where he graduated in the top third of his class. He acquired an unusual ability for foreign languages and is now fluent in at least a dozen, including Arabic.
Psychological Note: Has a dislike of enclosed spaces, so he shied away from the submarine service, opting instead for Navy flight school. He earned the required marks for fighter pilot training but declined, opting for the Judge Advocate General’s corps. His father’s contemporaries, many of whom had risen to high naval rank, thought that the better course. Out of respect for his father he followed their advice and was accepted at Georgetown University Law School. He earned a Juris Doctorate degree while stationed with the Judge Advocate General’s Corps at the Pentagon. He still holds an aircraft pilot’s license and an underwater diving certification.
Personal Relationships: Married Pam Gauldin shortly after joining Judge Advocate General’s Corps. They divorced after nearly twenty years of marriage. One child—a boy named Gary—was born seven years into the relationship. Following the divorce, Malone learned that Gary was the product of an affair his wife had during the marriage. This was in retaliation for affairs Malone himself engaged in early in their relationship. His were discovered at the time of their occurrence, hers remained concealed until much later. This conflict played a key role in a recent encounter between the two (see file: The Alexandria Link). Gary, though not genetically linked, is a lot like Malone. Athletic, smart, and fond of travel, he spends the summer months with Malone in Denmark. Currently, Malone is involved with Cassiopeia Vitt, a woman of Spanish/Moorish descent, who resides in France (see files: The Venetian Betrayal and The Emperor’s Tomb).
Psychological Note: Malone openly states that he’s not good at dealing with women, and seems drawn to those with deep contradictions. He acknowledges the mistakes made in his marriage and makes no excuses for them.
Professional Career: He spent six years with Judge Advocate General’s Corps. Excelled as a litigator, receiving eight commendations for meritorious service, all of which were refused. Was promoted twice, achieving the rank of commander before retiring from active naval service. Left Judge Advocate General’s Corps after being transferred to the Justice Department as one of the original twelve lawyer/agents for The Magellan Billet. Director Stephanie Nell personally selected Malone. Worked 12 years as a Magellan Billet agent and was awarded nine commendations, all of which were refused. Suffered three serious injuries while on assignment; a fourth serious injury came in Mexico City during the assassination of a public prosecutor. Malone brought down three of the assailants and received another commendation, which was also refused (see file: The Paris Vendetta folder). After that incident, he retired from the Navy and quit the Justice Department, citing ever-increasing risks and a desire for a change in his life. He refused an exit interview. He sold his residence in Georgia and moved to Copenhagen, Denmark.
Post-Career Activities: Malone purchased an old bookshop from Danish billionaire, Henrik Thorvaldsen, the acquisition made possible by the net proceeds from the sale of his Georgia residence. The business is located in Hojbro Plads. Malone lives on the fourth floor, above the shop, in a small apartment. His Danish residence is on a temporary work visa as a shopkeeper (which Thorvaldsen arranged) and he is a member of the Danish Antiquarian Booksellers Society. Though no longer an active agent, he continues to keep a knapsack beneath his bed that contains his Magellan Billet-issued Beretta automatic (which he was allowed to retain), his passport, a thousand Euros, spare identification, and a change of clothes. He has twice encountered the local police over possession of a firearm (which is not allowed in Denmark).
Director Nelle involved Malone with a personal incident soon after he retired (see file: The Templar Legacy) which demonstrates his continued loyalty toward her. Beyond that incident he has been involved with other investigations, some at the request of Director Nelle (see files: The Templar Legacy, The Paris Vendetta, and The Emperor’s Tomb) and others more personal (see files: The Alexandria Link, The Venetian Betrayal, and The Charlemagne Pursuit.). There is no reason to assume that this pattern will not continue.
Read on for
THE
BALKAN
ESCAPE
A short story
by Steve Berry
Published by Ballantine Books
5 YEARS AGO
Cassiopeia Vitt wasn’t sure if they would kill her now or later. But they would kill her, that much was certain.
Or at least they’d try.
Which meant she needed to do something, but her options were limited. Her hands were bound behind her back with nylon twine, her feet chained to the rock wall that encased her like a dark cocoon. She was deep in the Rila mountains, more than two hundred kilometers south of Bulgaria’s capital, Sofia, alone. Worse, no one knew her location, and the deep cirques, sharp peaks, and glacial moraines surrounding her were among the remotest in the Balkans.
She’d arrived yesterday, finding the camp at the base of a forested slope.
A low methodic hum rising from one of the tents, and two black cables snaking a path into the mountain, signaled a generator. She was just about to follow their trail and enter the cave when a man appeared in the entrance. He was short, thick through the shoulders, with tanned features and a thin mustache. He wore sooty blue coveralls with butterfly stains in both armpits. Surprise flooded his face when he spotted his visitor, but it quickly vanished.
He said something to her in Bulgarian. Slavic languages were not her strong point, so she tried English. “I was in the village and learned of your camp. I thought I would have a look.”
He carried a pick and sho
vel, which he set aside. “Afraid there is not much but archaeologists digging for bones.”
The English was clean and crisp, only a hint of a Russian accent.
“That’s fascinating,” she said, but she thought about how the person in town, who’d pointed her this way, had said the men identified themselves as rock hounds.
“It is cold and dirty in there, and not many bones.” He squatted down and rested his legs. “Feels better out here in fresh air.”
He slipped a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and offered her a smoke. She declined, and he lit one for himself with a disposable lighter. The man said his name was Petar Varga.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Too long. I think this is bad idea. Dry cave, yes?” He enjoyed his cigarette.
“A university sponsoring the dig?”
He stood. “More than one. But this is small project. Exploratory. Just seeing what earth will yield.”
“I have always been fascinated by archaeology,” she said. “Think I could see the dig site?”
He cocked his head and frowned. “Pretty tight space in there.”
She flashed a smile. “I’m not afraid.”
He flicked his cigarette to the ground. “Why not? Come, I show you around.”
* * *
“Get up,” she was told.
They’d come for her.
Two men with guns.
She was unchained and led back into the same tunnel that Varga had shown her yesterday. Narrow at first, but fifteen meters into the mountain it opened to nearly two meters wide. Weak bulbs periodically dissolved the darkness, revealing sharp walls, the floor a mixture of sand and gravel. Offshoot tunnels opened into more black chasms. Their level changed twice and rose steadily. The air hung thick and fetid, like a basement flooded after a storm.