Whispers of Ash (The Nameless Book 1)

by Adrian Smith

  “Connors. You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s something else. I’m watching a news report as we speak. That weird condition we saw in Romania, the Congo, and in Mongolia. It’s appeared again. And its spreading fast. Super-fast.”

  “Are you serious? Where?”

  “All over Africa, India and China, Bulgaria, Iran, South America. The media are calling it Mortis.”

  “Have the Centre of Disease Control responded? The World Health Organization?”

  “The CDC and the WHO are reporting massive casualties and are struggling to contain it. At this point, they’re instructing people to remain calm. Essential travel only. Countries are shutting their borders as I speak. So far Japan is allowing travelers to leave, but we better be fast.”

  “Do they have any idea what they’re dealing with?” Ryan put the phone on speaker and began to pack his bag.

  “Early reports say it’s a virus…” Booth tapered off and went silent. “Avondale just pinged me again. Countries are reporting major outages of cellular and internet networks. He’s lost all communication with Europe, Africa, Australia, New Zealand, South America. At this stage, Asia and North America are operational.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I’m pulling you out, Connors. I’ll text you a safe house address by the airport. If I’m not there, I’ll be in the private jet hanger calling in favors. Getting us stateside, pronto.”

  Ryan threw on his rucksack and slid open the door to his sleeping quarters. “Not without Sofia and Keiko. Any response from our boys?”

  “I’m in communication with the colonel. They’re waiting and seeing. He reminded me of SARS in ’03 and the Ebola scare of ’14,” Booth said. “He knows about what we found in Ust Akon.”

  “And still they stick their heads in the sand.” Ryan gritted his teeth and moved out into the hallway. “Send me Umi’s number. I need to talk to her.”

  “You got it.”

  “Listen. I’m going to find them. Whatever it takes.”

  “Okay, Connors. Bring them home.”

  “Thanks. Keep me updated on Zanzi and Lisa. I assume their phones are dead?”

  “Shredded. Operation Theia protocol. Go. I’ll send those texts and update you every hour.”

  Ryan hung up and padded softly down the hallway. He needed to alert the temple staff. The best place to start was reception.

  Around the monastery, statues of Buddha in various poses were adorned with chrysanthemums in yellow and orange. Red scarves of fabric had been draped around their necks, and food left out as an offering. The monastery was peaceful and quiet. Reception was quite the opposite. Ryan found it packed with attendees collecting their belongings from their lockers and the safe. Dutch and French were being spoken in hushed tones, as well as English and German. The monk behind the desk looked stressed. One of the reasons LK3 had recruited Ryan was for his ability to speak several languages fluently. It was something that had come naturally to him.

  His grandfather was English and had served in World War Two. Later, he married a woman from the Netherlands. Being able to speak to his grandmother in her native tongue had sparked an interest in Ryan, and he had continued learning.

  “Need some help, Yuuto?”

  “Yes. Please translate for me. All these languages. Too confusing.”

  Ryan spent the next twenty minutes helping Yuuto. It seemed he wasn’t the only person who had smuggled in a phone. The messages about the virus had started coming in early in the morning. Everyone wanted out. To get home. Some were demanding refunds. Most just wanted to get to Osaka. A French woman began to cry as she couldn’t get a message through to her parents. She checked with several people to see if they had Wi-Fi. Everyone did. The problem was no emails were going through to France. An American couple told her they had managed to get messages stateside. This upset her more.

  Ryan grimaced. Should he tell them what was really happening? No. In cases like this, ignorance was bliss. He switched to Japanese and looked at Yuuto. “Get the gaijin down off Koya. Just in case, stock up on food and water. Better safe than sorry.”

  “The wise man does not lose his path, the brave one does not grow fearful.” Yuuto bowed.

  Ryan checked his phone as he left the monastery. True to his word, Booth had sent him the address for the safe house, and Umi’s number. He pressed the dial icon. She answered immediately.

  “Konnichiwa.”

  “Umi. My name is Ryan. I’m a friend of Keiko’s mother. Can I come and talk to you about her disappearance?”

  “I don’t know what else to say. I told everything to the police.”

  “It won’t take long. I’ll come to you or I can meet you somewhere.”

  “No, that’s okay, come here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the university. In my dorm. Building 4 Room 421.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No…”

  He frowned and looked at the screen. The reception bars had been replaced with the no signal icon.

  …Europe have lost all cellular and internet connections…

  Ryan slipped the phone in his pocket and quickened his pace. Thankfully the news hadn’t spread enough to clog the roads in panic. A few Western tourists were rolling suitcases, heading for the cable car. The locals were going about their daily routines, seemingly oblivious to the global events. Children were making their way back to school. Bus drivers were picking up their passengers. Customers were shopping.

  Koyasan University was only half a kilometer from the monastery, an easy ten-minute walk. Ryan skirted the main entrance and walked through the gardens. Students were housed in a three-story stone building with a traditional curving Japanese roof. Ryan kept his head down and pushed through the doors, acting like he belonged there. He glanced around, looking for directions to Keiko’s room. A dozen or so students were milling around, holding up their smartphones. One would shout out that they had reception and the others would excitedly run over, only to moan a few seconds later. Ryan took the stairs two at a time, eager to question Umi.

  Fourteen

  LK3 Safe House

  Astoria, Oregon

  “Who was this guy?” Zanzi said, arching her eyebrows.

  “Jim Thompson. An American silk dealer living in Bangkok.”

  “Okay. So what’s his mysterious disappearance in the late ’60s got to do with us?”

  “It all connects. I have a theory.” Lisa had a tight smile plastered on her face.

  Once the director’s wounds had been treated enough for her to move, Brock had driven them into Portland to a doctor, who’d removed the bullets. Luckily the two bullets had not damaged any arteries. One had chipped the femur, though, and it would be at least a couple of days before the director could move around freely.

  Brock had then driven them to the bus station, where they had caught a bus, and then they’d switched buses a few times before arriving in Astoria at the LK3 safe house.

  “What are you talking about?” Zanzi said.

  “Listen. Thompson worked for the OSS during the war. I’m sure you know the OSS became the CIA. Many believed he still worked for the CIA. That he was posted in Bangkok to keep an eye on any Communists and that, because of the Vietnam War, he was killed.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “What do you know about the secret war in Laos during the Vietnam conflict?”

  “Just what I got taught in history.”

  Lisa shifted another pillow behind her back and leaned forward. “The ostensible, and main, reason we were there was to interdict the Ho Chi Minh trail, but an equally important black operations task was to stop the manufacture of chemical weapons. When agents infiltrated the area, that’s not all they found. Medical experiments. Sick stuff. Made Mengele look like a saint. The CIA documented it all. Executed everyone and burnt everything. Then they bombed it to hell. When I worked for the agency, I read some old files that related to a case I w
as working on. Thompson’s code name was Moonlight. It was mentioned in a memo. He provided the intel on the complex they found.”

  “Wouldn’t all that be redacted, or whatever?”

  “Exactly. Somehow, this telegram was missed. But what sold it for me was that it was dated 24 March 1967. Two days before he disappeared.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “Not when you consider his trading partner in the silk business. He worked for Lullfitz Botanicals, whose main interest was figuring out how to manufacture silk cheaper and easier. To see if they could make a synthetic silk and pass it off as the real deal. Lullfitz was owned by Zizer Pharmaceuticals. Which is now part of ReinCorp.”

  “Zizer? Aren’t they big in Asia?”

  “Yes. Not here in the USA. Or in Western Europe.”

  “I still don’t understand how this Thompson guy connects to us nearly getting killed.”

  “I can’t give you exact details, but the reason I asked Booth to locate your father was to help us with a coded message discovered on the girl named Harriet. Poor girl had been subjected to medical experiments. Some like Laos. The agent in charge briefed me, which was when I became interested and asked to be kept in the loop. Also, we received intel to look under Koyasan University. That there may be something similar there. Next to a YamTech research facility, no less, which, you guessed it, is part of ReinCorp. Booth was going to ask Ryan to help look into it and … well, you know the rest.”

  Zanzi took another sip of tea and gazed over the rim of the cup at Lisa. Was the director leaving something unsaid? It could be in the way she fidgeted with the blanket or how, when she mentioned her father, Lisa wouldn’t look at her.

  “There’s something else?”

  “Sofia and Keiko are missing as well. All in the same area.”

  “When? How?”

  For a time, she had grown up with Keiko. They were both mad on horses and had spent many days riding and caring for them. They had hardly seen each other since they left home for separate universities. She missed her childhood friend.

  “We don’t know. It's been a few days. I’m sorry. I wish I knew more. If anyone is going to find them, it’s your father and Booth. They were all close with Sofia and know her.”

  Zanzi ran through what Lisa had just said. The name Harriet bugged her. She tried to organize her tired mind, filtering through the jumble.

  Harriet? Why is that name familiar?

  The answer sprang up in her mind like one of those weird blow-up advertising people waving their arms about.

  The strange blood sample!

  “Did you say Harriet?” Zanzi stood. “The girl?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “It’s probably nothing, just a coincidence.”

  “In this line of work, there are no coincidences. Just connections and hidden facts,” Lisa said, eyes widening.

  “It’s just a blood sample I was running all our standard tests on. Check iron levels, etcetera. Check for stimulants. I was looking through the microscope at the red blood cells, and I swear I saw a tick attached to one. The sample was labeled Harriet/ Unk.”

  “A tick?”

  Zanzi nodded. “That’s the best way I could describe it. I asked Dr. Kohli to check it out, but he brushed me off. He said he would look at it later in the TEM. After I left, he called me back in, but I came up to you instead.”

  Lisa furrowed her brow and rubbed her temples with the fleshy part of her thumbs. “And now we have no way of checking. The entire pathology lab was destroyed in the explosion.” She flung off the blanket and hobbled on her injured leg across to the big bay window.

  “It’s all connected. It must be. Jim Thompson knew things he shouldn’t have. He passed on intel. A week later, he goes missing. Most likely killed. Every time someone gets too close to a YamTech or ReinCorp facility without being invited, they go missing too. We’ve never been able to prove anything. Harriet had a USB with a coded message on it. Someone does their best to retrieve it and kill Booth and Ryan. And now this.”

  “I don’t know what I found. I’m not anywhere near being an expert. More than likely it was just my eyes.”

  “I don’t like it.” Lisa rummaged around on the table and found her prescribed painkillers. She quickly swallowed two. “It’s time to call in a few favors at the agency. You find something you can’t explain in the blood of a girl who’d been abused and twenty, thirty minutes later, kaboom? All traces of it gone.”

  “Where’s Harriet?” Zanzi asked. “If we can get more blood from the source and run it through a powerful microscope like a TEM, I can show you what I saw. If I saw anything at all.”

  Lisa slapped her head. “How could I be so stupid? They were after her too. She went home to her foster family.”

  “Would she be there?”

  “I hope so. Do you have the burner phone?”

  Zanzi threw Lisa the phone as she rushed from the lounge. She hated waiting around and now she had something useful to do, she was on the move. She’d find Harriet and keep her safe.

  As she hurried to get dressed, she glanced at the TV. It showed chaotic scenes as people scrambled to grab anything from supermarket shelves. Young men were shoving old ladies away. Mothers with prams were shrieking and screaming as they grabbed pasta, rice, cans of produce. Men fought over loaves of bread and cases of water.

  Zanzi shook her head and looked at the banner running across the TV screen. Europe, Asia, Australia in panic as deadly virus spreads. Governments urge people to remain calm.

  She read the banner for another minute, shaking her head as the news story changed pictures. It showed queues outside gas stations. Roads out of a city, clogged as people fled.

  “Lisa! You need to see this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s going on in Europe. Just get in here.”

  Lisa limped in and stared at the TV for a full three minutes, not uttering a word. She let out a breath before turning to Zanzi. “Get your things together. I’m going to make another call and then we’re going to pick up Harriet in Portland. I’ve already arranged us a place to stay.”

  “What’s going on? What is this virus?”

  Lisa sighed again and turned away. She looked down at the phone before raising her eyes.

  “I don’t know exactly. The symptoms described are like incidents in Romania and the Congo a few years back. Your parents and Booth investigated it, posing as CDC doctors. This Mortis, the way those infected contort, turn black and gray...” She gestured at some of the graphic images as they flashed across the screen. “We interviewed survivors in the village. They said Mortis took three, four days to take over, until the victim, in excruciating pain, froze, died, and, within minutes, turned black.”

  Lisa dialed a number into the phone. “Code UD-4L. Requesting immediate evac. To site Papa Oscar Romeo Whiskey Charlie. Comply? Yes, I know it’s an old code. It should check out.”

  “Not priority?” She frowned and looked down at the screen. “Damn. She cut me off.”

  The newscaster was listening to something the studio was telling her, holding her hand over her ear. The screen went blank for a few seconds before it switched to a studio shot. A male reporter, looking surprised, stared into the camera. “We seem to have lost Sam for the moment. We’ll cross back to her when we can…”

  “TV feed to Europe is out,” Zanzi said.

  “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling. Check the internet.”

  The internet icon showed full reception. Zanzi clicked the browser and scrolled through the default homepage. She cycled through a few websites. They all seemed to be working.

  “It’s good,” she said.

  Lisa sat down at the small wooden table, and Zanzi spun the laptop around for her. Lisa immediately began typing fast, her eyes flicking over the screen.

  “Pack our stuff in the Jeep. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  It didn’t take long to gather their belongings: a couple of rucksacks, som
e food and water, a change of clothes, and their rifles and ammo.

  Lisa pulled on her camo jacket and tucked the laptop under her arm, joining Zanzi in the kitchen. “I know this is going to be a lot to take in. I’ve been in contact with Avondale.”

  “My friend Avondale?”

  “Yes. A couple of years back we had him set up secure lines of communication through the Darknet, defunct cellular towers, and old military satellites. Safety protocols. I don’t know how it works. I never asked. I resisted contacting him sooner, until I’d healed a bit more. I suppose I was afraid. Paranoid. Those commandos knew everything about us.”

  “Insider intel.”

  “Exactly. Here’s what he’s found out. We’ve been keeping an eye on several militia groups. They had ties with ReinCorp, but we could never prove it. On Saturday they went dark. All of them, within a few hours of each other. And here’s the kicker: so did ReinCorp. Official statement was that, following the merger, they had to upgrade all their websites, security, etcetera and would be offline for twenty-four hours.” Lisa checked her watch. “It’s now been eighty-six hours. Not a peep.”

  “If they attacked us, why? What do they have to gain by that?”

  “To silence us. We know something we shouldn’t.”

  “But the German wanted me alive. He said someone had something special planned for me.”

  “True.” Lisa rubbed her chin again.

  “And Europe?”

  “Mortis started appearing a couple of days ago in all major European and African cities, and it spread fast. Each country has its own way of dealing with pandemics. The WHO was involved first, then the CDC. All internet and cellular networks are down. Avondale’s checking satellite feeds. It won’t be long before Washington turns off the tap here, so to speak.”