One mile below the sands of Nellis Air Force Base, the department managers of the Event Group sat around the conference table of sublevel seven. The debriefing had gone mostly without comment from the department heads, as only Niles Compton, the Group’s director, asked any questions. The conversation had centered mostly on the assistance they had received from the Frenchwoman and whether this may have possibly been an attempt by her to thaw relations between the United States National Archives and their French counterpart, the Commission des Antiquités, which had been strained for many years under a corrupted director and his aide, Colonel Henri Farbeaux. The French government knew nothing of the Event Group and Department 5656, as they thought the Group was just a section of the National Archives. For reasons he could never figure out, Niles suspected Colonel Henri Farbeaux had shared their existence with his ex-wife alone. He knew the reasons were selfish ones, but still the answer to why Farbeaux didn’t tell the French government about the Group was beyond him.
“So, the person who called me on my private line was the new director. And she’s Farbeaux’s ex-wife?” Niles Compton asked. “Looks like you two owe her your lives,” he said to Lieutenant Commander Everett and Second Lieutenant McIntire.
Carl and Sarah just nodded without comment.
“And she stated that she was hunting down Farbeaux to kill him?” he asked Jack Collins.
“ ‘Eliminate’ was her word,” Jack answered.
“I guess that’s what you can call irreconcilable differences,” Niles said without much humor.
The others around the table thought Niles was straining to make this meeting light, but the attempt failed when they looked into his worried eyes.
“The anthrax, have we generated a report yet on how it was manufactured by the Chinese seven hundred years before it was possible?” asked Virginia Pollock, deputy director and head of Nuclear Sciences.
“There’s nothing official as yet from the Japanese government. Sarah did have a chance to speak with Danielle Serrate some before we left the island.”
“Did she impart a theory?” Niles asked, turning and looking at the new second lieutenant.
“Well, it’s a rough theory, but she thinks they used human blood, possibly intentionally infected with the anthrax antibodies carried by cattle. Really amazing for the time to have known the extreme nature of the infectious disease they were dealing with. Anyway, our Ms. Farbeaux, or Serrate if you prefer, thinks the ancient Chinese developed a way of synthesizing the anthrax organism in the animal blood and incubating it with human material inside clay ovens. Recent discoveries of alchemist’s dwellings, actually very rudimentary laboratories if you will, have been recently uncovered just outside of Beijing. The buried site was complete with eight- and twelve-lens microscopes, amazing technology for the time. The Chinese took no chances on the spread of the anthrax so the whole laboratory system was destroyed, buried forever, or so they thought. Once the incubation cycle was tested, again we assume on human guinea pigs, they mixed the dried blood with nothing more than rice starch, thus rendering the anthrax in powder form as a weapons-grade airborne bacterial substance, very ingenious for the time. God only knows how many people died in its manufacture. The Japanese can thank the heavens for the storm that sent that ship off course and the rest of Kublai Khan’s invasion fleet to the bottom of the sea.”
“And the former Mrs. Farbeaux thought her ex was going after the anthrax?” Niles asked.
“According to her, yes, he was. It seems our friend has expanded his interest to include weapons-grade material instead of just antiquities,” Jack said. “She stated that was just one of several sites he had investigated. But since they had an eyewitness that said the Chinese junk was in reality buried inside a lava flow chamber on Okinawa, she took a leave of absence in the hope he would be there, that being the most viable site to date.”
“Okay, I’ll turn Ms. Serrate’s interview tape over to the president and he in turn can ask the FBI and our friends at Homeland Security to keep an eye out for our French friend.”
Niles looked around the table at his department heads. “All right, remember we have a briefing tomorrow at ten on the joint field trip to Iraq by the University of Tennessee and Cal Poly–Pomona. So I need names of Group personnel being assigned from the departments that are applicable.” He looked at his notes, “That’s you, Bonnie,” he said, indicating Professor Bonnie Margate of the Anthropology Department. “And you, Kyle,” he glanced at Kyle Doherty of the History Department. “Jack, I need a minimum of four security men on this trip. There’s no need for a cover for them as it’s Iraq— we’ll just give them credentials from the State Department and National Archives; they’ll be there to assist the Iraqi government at the site, okay?”
Jack nodded his agreement.
“You two.” Niles pointed toward Sarah and Carl at the end of the long conference table. “If Jack agrees, stand down for a week. You did an excellent job out there. More than likely saved some lives. Be sure you get a good once-over in medical to make sure you didn’t bring some of that Kublai Khan face powder back with you. Thank you, that’s all I have.”
The assembled group in the conference room moved for the door as the meeting broke up.
“Jack, you have a minute?” Niles asked.
Jack placed his case and notes back on the table. His uniform’s silver oak leaves glittered in the light as he pulled out his chair and sat. “Sure,” he answered.
“This development with Farbeaux is worrisome. Why would he switch interests when all he ever did was to go after antiquities? It’s not making a whole lot of sense.”
“I can’t figure it myself. I did some rough estimating on the plane ride home. The anthrax, even if only thirty percent of it had been viable after so many years, it would have been worth five hundred million dollars on the open market.”
“God almighty, Jack, would he have had any takers at that price?” Niles asked, astonished.
“That sum would have eliminated any low-budget fringe elements that pass themselves off as terrorists, but the new influx of Middle Eastern money has filled the wallets of JRA leadership and a few others, so they can afford it. Also, don’t forget Osama bin Laden and his boys, so yeah, there are those willing to pay big money for crap like that. If we had had more time on this operation we could have passed this information on to the FBI through another channel and they could have set up some kind of sting and netted a whole bunch of bad guys,” he said with regret.
“What in God’s name is Farbeaux up to?” Niles asked, not wanting to comment on the lost opportunity.
Jack just sat there and shook his head. “You can bet your retirement pay it’s not good, Niles.”
Farbeaux was feeling the jet lag. He sat and listened to the tirade of Joaquin Delacruz Mendez, chairman of the board, Banco de Juarez International Economica, as Mendez paced in front of him. The spacious boardroom was empty save for the two men.
“What’s done is done, my friend, screaming will not return the professor to us. She has five, almost six weeks on us but, regardless of that, if we move quickly we can reach the area in a quarter of that time. It’s a very good thing we did not go down and chase after her with the documents we had in hand; we would have gone the long way around through Brazil instead of the direct route through Colombia to the north. I can’t believe she went right under our noses, through your own country.”
Mendez didn’t respond to the slight insult of having Professor Zachary and all her team and equipment take a route that had brought them through his own nation, but he did force himself to calm down. His temper had climbed in the years that followed the collapse of the larger and most organized of the Colombian drug cartels. Cartels in which he had garnered an immense financial empire by handling the money end of their drug transactions. While those he served were tracked down and killed one at a time or thrown into prison, he had stayed safely behind the scenes, actually assisting in a few captures and ambushes on the government’s behalf, for his self-benefit.
“What about your equipment?”
“I took the liberty a week ago of ordering replacements from the States when I found out the good professor double-crossed us. We can be ready to travel in three days. With the equipment that was left on the dock in San Pedro with her little note attached, we should be fine. I guarantee, an hour after we arrive on site, whatever Zachary has found will be in our possession.”
“You are very confident for a man that was so easily fooled by this woman,” Mendez said with a mocking smile that made his thick mustache look comical.
Farbeaux was tempted to tell him just how ridiculous he looked, and then thought better of it. As he looked around the richly appointed conference room at the antiquities he had personally collected for Mendez, he was reminded of just how ruthless this man could be.
“My estimation is that she could not have arrived on site any sooner than eleven days ago. Her interest lay in areas outside of the El Dorado aspect. So she will be making time-consuming exploration in areas outside of the mine, looking for her amphibious legend.”
“You’re sure of that?” Mendez asked as he thought of the riches that the legend of El Dorado described—the very gold mine that had supplied the great Incan and Mayan empires of the gold they had used for thousands of years.
“My friend, I have never let you down. All your treasures here and in your home are there thanks to me. Because you trusted me to get them for you, so trust me on this.”
“In the past year I have been pleased with your work and the many objects of beauty and wonder you have recovered for our mutual benefit. I will stake my entire fortune for a chance at El Dorado. And then I will gladly trade that for the mineral, if it is truly there. That is where the real El Dorado lay.”
Farbeaux thought about Mendez and his last statement. Yes, he was positive there was gold in that small valley and, according to Padilla’s description of the mine, it had to be the legendary El Dorado. But unlike himself, gold didn’t interest Mendez any longer. The Colombian was after something far darker and less shiny than gold. As the American’s say, Mendez was after the gift that keeps on giving. And it had nothing to do with diamonds or gold.
“You are right, my friend, there has never been anything like this, all of this,” Farbeaux said as he gestured at the priceless antiques of the Incan and Mayan civilizations, “is nothing compared to what awaits us.”
Mendez paced to the large window looking down on Bogotá, placed his hands behind his back, and rocked in thought.
“Very well, I approve of your expedition,” he said without turning.
“Excellent, I will get started right away,” Farbeaux responded.
“There is one thing more. I will be accompanying you.”
The Frenchman was taken aback for a moment, but showed nothing. Then he smiled. “Either here or there, does it matter where you receive what’s coming to you? Of course, you are most welcome.”
As Farbeaux left, Mendez turned and watched the large double doors close in his wake. Then he went to the long table and pushed a button on the console in front of his large chair.
“Yes?” a voice answered.
“This is Mendez; I have approved the operation in South America,” he said.
“What is it you wish me to do?” the voice asked.
“I want wire taps on this Professor Zachary’s phone at Stanford, and I want her office watched. I am curious to know if her absence has caused curiosity from the outside.”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“Anything else?” Mendez asked.
“Sí, jefe, it seems your French partner has recently made another large purchase of equipment not associated with the articles he told you about, which included ultrasound and other equipment stolen from a shipment belonging to Hanford National Laboratory. This fact and his failure to cover his tracks in Madrid make me believe he has his own agenda. Why this particular shipment should come from that field is suspicious, yes?”
“Enough so that we must keep a closer eye on our friend,” Mendez answered thoughtfully as he broke the connection with Los Angeles.