“Oh,” Bill said. “I’ve also been doing some digging on the other name you gave me—Oleg Volkov. Without more information on him, there’s no way to say for certain that we have the right guy, but there was an agent with that name who began working for the KGB in the early sixties. I’ll keep looking, but if your young lady friend can give us a description it would help.”
“Knock, knock.” The two men looked up to see a familiar face at the door. “Anybody home?”
“Hey Wade,” Jake greeted. “I didn’t know you were coming to the party.”
“I’ll tell you what, brother,” the ponytailed man responded with customary enthusiasm, “with the kind of parties you throw, it’s probably better to stay at home.”
“Wish I had skipped it myself,” Jake replied. “By the way, thanks for scrubbing me off the invitation list.”
“Didn’t your momma warn you about girls like that?”
“I was a hardheaded teenager.”
“And not much better as an adult,” Bill added, “which is why I asked Wade to join us. He tells me you found an interesting map, and before you go chasing off again, I want to make sure it’s not going to get you into more trouble.”
“Could you make any sense of it?” Jake asked Wade.
“Well,” Wade scratched his head, “the map by itself wasn’t much use. I found about two million places that it’s not.”
“Which leaves?”
“A lot more than that. The exact coordinates as Dmitri recorded them are practically useless. The computer is running a ratio analysis, varying the distances between the major landmarks by finite increments. Each cycle increases the error probability of the relative distances by 0.1%. With over forty million probable locations, stretched over six continents, it was all that my puny desktop processor could do to narrow the search by a few million per day. If I’d had access to the supercomputer back in the States, it would have been easier. Mapping files is a huge job.”
“So we’re still clueless.”
“Now I didn’t say that,” Wade replied. “The photos made the difference.”
“You developed the film?” Jake asked, turning to Bill.
“For its age and the conditions in which it’s been kept,” his boss responded, “the images were quite good.”
“Then you have a location?” Jake asked anxiously.
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s Southern Tibet,” Wade answered, “just across the border from Nepal. The buildings on the map could be near a town called Mustang. Mustang is derived from the Tibetan, Mun Tan. I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty, but that’s where I would start. I’ll keep digging to see if I can pinpoint the exact coordinates. It’ll take a couple more days.”
Wade lifted a cardboard shipping tube that he’d brought with him, uncapped one end, and pulled out several large black and white photos. Though nowhere near the resolution of modern satellite cameras, the landscape images were crisp to within one or two meters.
“Not bad for its day,” Bill commented.
“Do you have any idea what they were looking for?” Jake asked.
“Take a look here,” Wade pointed to the center of the photo in Jake’s hands. “Do you see those cloudy lines rising from the base of that mountain?”
Jake peered closer at the image. “I see them,” he answered.
Wade handed him another photo that was an enlargement of the same area. The image was not as clear, but he could see more details in the area of interest.
“Look at the surrounding peaks,” Wade instructed, “even the small ones. Notice how there’s a natural flow to their geometry.”
Jake nodded.
“Now look at this,” he pointed to an image that was centered on the page. “See the straight lines of symmetry that don’t seem to fit with the surroundings?”
“I see them,” Jake replied.
“That indicates something man-made. Someone was building something at that site.”
“Do you have any idea what it was?”
“I showed this to one of the old satellite image guys downstairs,” Bill said. “He guessed a missile silo or radar station. Those were pretty common in the day, especially in remote places like this. With all the trouble the Reconnaissance Office went to, they must have thought it was pretty important.”
Jake studied the photo and thought back to his conversation with Katie and her visit with Oleg Volkov.
“But it wasn’t military construction,” he remarked.
“No it wasn’t,” Bill shook his head. “There’s something else I want to show you. While I was calling in old favors, I had these images scanned and then I secure netted them to the NSA yesterday. With their unique imaging software, I knew we would get better pictures. Let me pull up the big screen.”
With the lights dimmed, the three men sat before a 52 inch HD monitor as the first image popped up. Unlike the crude 1960’s photos they had just seen, this one was full color with a sharp contrast.
“Once they digitally converted the originals, combined the different angles, and added color from existing data files of the area, the composite photos look like this.”
“Different angles?” Wade questioned. “Is that why there were two rolls of film?”
“Phil Lyon is the imaging guy who helped me with this,” Bill replied. “He worked at NRO early in his career, back in the days before satellites. I learned some pretty interesting things from him. Do you recall the incident involving an American U-2 spy plane that went down in the Soviet Union back in 1960? The pilot’s name was Gary Powers.”
“Powers survived and was captured,” Wade remembered. “They traded him for a Soviet spy in U.S. custody.”
“As it turns out,” Bill continued, “the incident created a huge problem for American intelligence. Essentially, aerial reconnaissance came to a grinding halt for nearly a year. That’s when the NRO got a big plus up from President Kennedy to move forward with the Corona satellite program. Corona satellites carried film cameras that took images over target areas and then popped out a film canister that reentered the atmosphere and deployed a parachute, very much like the early manned space missions. A plane would fly by with a hook and snag the chute lines. The film would later be developed. The Corona Program lasted until 1972 when a Soviet submarine was detected below the retrieval area. They were obviously onto the program. That was also the beginning of more sophisticated transmission satellites like the ones we have now.”
“So was the Russian camera onboard the Gemini like the ones used with the Corona satellites?” Jake asked.
“In some ways, but with about three times the resolution. Phil said he had no idea that such an advanced camera existed in those days, especially with dual panoramic capability. Hence the two rolls of film.”
“A space capsule is a pretty small space to fit something like that,” Wade suggested, “especially with dual lenses.”
“Why two different angles?” Jake asked.
“The early Corona launches used a single camera,” Bill said, “before the dual image concept was put into play in 1962. By adding an additional camera and moving it back and forth across the target area, it was like looking through binoculars. You could get pseudo-3D. Once those images were combined, the resolution of the target went up dramatically.”
Jake turned his attention back to the image. What had originally appeared as construction forms in the single black and white photos were clearly sets of scaffolding positioned on one side of the mountain, perhaps at the entrance to a cave. With what he knew of Dmitri Petrovich’s paleontological experience, he could easily see how the structure fit with other excavations he had seen.
“What are those odd shapes lying scattered about the excavation site?” he asked.
Bill made a grave expression and then clicked the mouse. A magnified image of the area popped onto the screen. Now, five times larger than the original image, the shapes took on an anthropomorphic appearance.
Both Jake and W
ade sat up in their seats.
“That’s not what I think it is, is it?” Jake asked.
Bill nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
38
The following morning, Jake collected Katie and her grandmother before sunrise and escorted them to the staff car waiting outside the safe house. After a seven hour drive west, they arrived at the Belarusian border and embarked on a train for Minsk, using false passports provided by Bill’s contacts at the embassy. The flights and connections from Minsk to Frankfurt and finally to the U.S. took them nearly twenty-six hours. By the time they reached Jake’s home outside of Huntsville, Alabama, everyone was exhausted.
“You live here?” Katie asked with some surprise as they pulled into the driveway of a log A-frame nestled against a mountain. The lawn was covered in bright orange and red leaves from two tall maple trees.
Jake glanced up at the sloped roofline that nearly touched the ground. A stone chimney protruded from the far end of it. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You might want to hold that opinion until you see the interior. With all my traveling, it’s not quite finished yet.”
After parking by the front entrance, he grabbed their suitcases. Before leaving Moscow, he had arranged for a U.S. consulate employee to retrieve a few of their clothes and personal items from their temporary apartment in St. Petersburg with the help of Baba’s friend Anechka.
“My room is straight up the stairs,” he said. “You and your grandmother should take it. I haven’t quite finished the other rooms yet.”
“We don’t want to impose on you,” Baba said.
“Not a problem,” Jake shrugged. “I’ll just pull out an air mattress from my camping stuff and put it in one of the guest rooms. You and Katie can have the entire upstairs.”
“This fits you,” Katie said as she stepped into the main living room and sat on the leather sofa beside a stone fireplace. Through the mostly windowed far end of the room, she could see the shimmer of sunlight reflecting from a small lake below the hill. “The only thing that’s missing is a large dog laying here on the rug.”
“Maybe,” he smiled, “although it does seem a lot more complete at the moment.”
Katie’s eyes widened and she blushed at the possibly implied meaning.
“Let me take your suitcases upstairs and change the sheets,” he said. “Why don’t you two help yourselves to sandwiches? My parents don’t live far from here, and I asked them to stock the refrigerator. I think Mom even made a peach cobbler.”
“That’s very nice of her,” Baba said.
“Southern hospitality,” he winked as he grabbed their suitcases and headed upstairs.
When Katie awoke the following morning, she slipped on a heavy terrycloth robe from Jake’s closet, walked barefooted down the stairs, and stepped out onto a deck overlooking the lake. The sunrise was just beginning to glow across the thin fog that hung low over the water. In the distance, she saw a flock of geese take to the sky and circle overhead before turning toward the bright orange and yellow mountain.
“You live in a beautiful place,” she greeted Jake as he came out to join her.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, placing his arms around her. He held her tightly with the side of his face resting against her hair. Katie closed her eyes, enjoying the experience, before turning to face him.
Before she could speak, Jake gently slid his hand through the long black hair that fell gracefully down her neck. Her pulled her close and kissed her for a long moment.
“Do you always wake up like this?” she asked playfully.
“As of late,” he smiled. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” she replied with wide eyes, still thinking about the new step in their relationship.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Hot tea sounds pretty good.”
Jake walked back inside and retrieved a steam pot and a basket of mixed teas. “Hopefully I have something in here that’ll suit you.”
“I’m not hard to please.”
“All the more reason why I try to impress you.”
He took a seat beside her in one of the Adirondack chairs on the porch and picked up his Blackberry. She studied the look in his eyes as he read the email message.
“Bad news?”
“No,” he shook his head, “just more pieces of the puzzle. On the flight to Germany, I started thinking about the name you gave me from your grandfather’s last letter, Peter Jensen. I emailed it to Bill when we got to Frankfurt. I just got his reply.”
Katie scooted close to him so that she could see the screen.
“Bill found a Peter Jensen who was an agent with the CIA back in the 50s and 60s,” Jake said. “Fluent in Russian. He was on a highly classified project with the National Reconnaissance Office when he disappeared in 1964, whereabouts unknown.”
“Mongolia,” Katie sighed.
“Could be,” Jake shrugged. “Jensen has a sister who lives in Pensacola, Florida, about five and a half hours south of here. Bill wants me to drive down today and talk with her. He’s already phoned her with the possible news about her brother but he wanted me to meet with her in person. If we have the right guy, maybe she will know something about the Gemini capsule.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?”
“Do you promise to stay out of trouble?”
“Trouble?” Katie shrugged. “Me?”
Jake shook his head. “I’m beginning to suspect that’s your middle name.”
“It’s actually Grace,” she responded playfully.
“Yeah…I can see that,” Jake winked and then chuckled. “By the way, my parents have agreed to come by and help your grandmother get situated. If she’s up to it, they’re even planning a little daytrip up to Tennessee. It’s pretty in the mountains this time of year.”
“So you knew I’d be going with you?”
Jake smiled. “I had a hunch.”
39
The ragged condition of the helipad positioned on the southwestern corner of the Ayni Airfield in northern Tajikistan was obvious from the tall shoots of grass growing up between the wide cracks running across its surface. The helipad, however, was only a small portion of the widespread decay that had overtaken the once proud Soviet Tajik airbase. In recent years, it had seen a modest amount of improvements from the Indian government, which sought to establish a northern base in Tajikistan. When word of these plans leaked out to the media, both the Tajik and Indian governments fervently denied the rumors, and the plans were abruptly halted. Now the small garrison of Russian troops stationed there served only as a reminder to the Tajik people that they were still under the watchful eye of their former master.
Lieutenant Colonel Gorsky, or Polugolova Gorsky as he was known in Russia, fidgeted nervously at the edge of the pad, checking and rechecking his uniform. He had only been on the job for five weeks and this would be his second and final command before retirement. Nothing, he thought as he looked over the shabby uniforms of the enlisted men standing in formation behind him, nothing was going to mess that up.
“Attention!” he commanded in a voice two octaves lower than normal.
Though standing squarely in line, their faces affixed with solemn stares, the garrison of men including their commander couldn’t help but glance toward the black dot that appeared on the horizon, growing steadily larger as it approached. Reflecting from the mountain range to their right, the thumping sound of a helicopter rotor filled their ears as the distinctive lines of an MI-8 transport helicopter came into view. The most produced helicopter in the world, the Russian MI-8 was the mainstay of numerous army transport divisions around the world. Because many of them had been retired from military service, research and rescue groups often purchased the helicopters through surplus auctions. Gorsky suspected, however, that this was no humanitarian flight.
As the craft settled into position over the landing pad and touched down, the commander called out an
other order, barely audible above the whirring rotor blades.
“Salute!”
Based on explicit orders, which had come from his commanding officer, Gorsky had assumed that the helicopter would be Russian. His assumption was correct as he noted the small white, blue, and red flag on the tail.
The first man to exit the helicopter was tall and dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a black rib-knit turtleneck sweater. Gorsky immediately sized him up as Special Forces which somewhat eased his concerns. This was not going to be a surprise inspection.
“Rune Dietrich,” the man introduced himself with a crushing handshake. “You must be Major Gorsky.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Gorsky,” the commander replied. He noted the decidedly German accent in the man’s voice.
“You’ve been briefed on our purpose here.”
“No, we were told only to cooperate.”
“We are transporting relief supplies into Western China due to the recent earthquake in the Kunlun Shan region.”
Gorsky maintained eye contact with the German but allowed himself a peripheral glance at the helicopter as the cargo doors slid open. He saw three men of similar stature to Dietrich step out onto the pad. He noted one other thing as well. There were no supplies onboard the aircraft.
“How can we help you?” Gorsky asked.
“I was told that you have a fuel supply which includes heavy aircraft fuels. We need to refuel before we can proceed. Additionally, my orders are for me and my men to wait here until we receive further instruction. We will need accommodations.”
Gorsky nodded. “We have very limited space here,” he replied. “I will have my staff sergeant find you rooms in town.”
“No,” the German said abruptly, but then softened his response. “We need to stay near our supplies. One of my men will stay with the helicopter at all times. I’m sure you can find room for the rest of us in your barracks.”
“Of course,” Gorsky responded after a brief hesitation. “Please follow me.”
The Genesis Conspiracy Page 20