The Mekong River,
Udon Thani, Thailand
The Vietnamese fishing village had survived along the banks of the Mekong River for centuries, as they fished for their living while watching for Thai drug lords from across the river, as they shipped their wares to nations that sought such destructive products. The small village had survived the wars of the ancient peoples of the land, and also the French colonialism incursion of the eighteenth century. Not until the war with America had they been affected much. Now their only concern was the political war with neighboring Thailand, and a concern for the growing power of their one-time ally, China, that worried them most. The war was over fishing rights and the way Thailand ignored the United Nations decree about over fishing the giant Mekong River far north of the small village and the drug trade that made many in Thailand very rich. Their daily catches dwindled more and more each year. The small village near the large city of Udon Thani was dying a slow death as their fortunes dwindled each day.
Dai Mihn and his family had fished these waters through war and peace for the past fifty of his sixty-five years, and he felt the pinch Thailand presented each and every day to the village’s livelihood.
Dai scolded his grandson for being careless with their only fishing net, claiming a slow and steady pull would allow the net to be brought aboard their small boat far more efficiently than tugging. The grandson was always in a hurry, especially since the small village had gotten electrical power for the first time in its long history. Even when the war with the French and then the Americans raged along the Mekong in the fifties and sixties, they had been one of those backward villages that lived their lives without the electricity found even during the roughest of the war years by most towns and cities. Now the boy was in a hurry to play his video games that had so absorbed the youth in the village as to cause trouble with the elders. The old man shook his head in exasperation as the grandson continued to try and hurry the day’s catch aboard.
“I said stop tugging at it. It will come easy with a steady pull,” the old man admonished.
“Why don’t you try it!” the kid retorted. “It’s like I’m pulling in a whale here!”
Dai did notice the net looked to be dragging heavier than normal. He knew his luck couldn’t be that good to have a haul of fish that big. With consternation etching his wrinkled features, Dai slid toward the front of the small boat to assist his grandson. Before he could grasp a side of the net, the boy yelped and then flew backward, nearly knocking him and his grandfather off the boat. The old man caught the boy and angrily pushed him back to a standing position.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?” he asked as he took in the young, frightened features of the youth.
The boy took another step back from the net as he pointed again and again at the many times repaired fish catching tool. The old man again shook his head and then pulled on the net once more, as his grandson cowered against the gunwale of the old boat. One tug, two tugs, and then his own eyes widened as the body popped free of the net. He instinctively let go just as the boy had done. It wasn’t the first time in Dai’s life that he had netted a body. During the war years with the French and the Americans, it was almost a daily occurrence for someone from the village to pull a dead soldier from the brown waters of the Mekong. The arm was large as was the torso. Dai slapped his grandson along the side of his head.
“Help me!’
The boy moved and assisted the older man. Soon they had the body and net aboard. There, amongst the pile of small catfish, was a large body. It was a white man. Both fishermen untangled the net. The boy jumped back when one of the dead man’s arms swung out and touched his bare leg. He screamed and again fell back to the worn and weathered side of the boat.
“With all of the violent video games you play, this shocks you?” Dai continued to unravel the dead man from his one and only net. “You act as an old woman, boy.” Dai finally had the task done and he examined the large man in his boat. He jumped back after he rolled the body over. He was white and had short cropped blonde hair.
“Look at that,” the boy said as he noticed something on the upper arm of the shirtless body.
As the grandfather leaned in for a closer look, he saw the small tattoo. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over the colorful marking. He had seen this tattoo once before, many years ago. They had recovered a crew of Americans from a downed helicopter that had crashed into the river during the war. They had rescued three United States navy men from the waters. One wore a small tattoo like the one he was looking at.
“What is it?” the boy asked, regaining his courage to get a closer look.
“A seal. We don’t have many of them here,” the old man joked. “He’s juggling a beachball.”
“What does it mean?” the grandson asked as he had never even seen a picture of a real seal.
“It used to mean that this was a very special soldier.”
“We have them in our video games. I think they’re called Special Forces. It’s confusing sometimes, the Americans have so many different soldiers in those games, it’s hard to keep them straight.”
“In the old days I think it was a navy soldier, I don’t know if it means that now.”
“Look, he’s been shot three times,” the boy ventured.
“Yes, the Americans seem to always be getting into trouble over here. I don’t know why they don’t just stay home.”
“What do we do, throw him back?”
The old man straightened and looked around. “We have enough fouling the river. No, we have to get the body to the police at Dienmei. They’ll know what to do.”
The boy was happy to wash his hands of the body. He made his way to the back of the boat to start the small Yamaha motor when the hand took hold of his ankle. He screamed. This time it was a manly expression of pure terror. He fell back as the Grandfather saw the body move as the hand released the boy’s ankle.
“He’s still alive,” he said as he kneeled down and checked the large man for a pulse. “Not by much, but he’s still breathing.”
Suddenly the same hand grasped the old man by his worn shirt front. Dai leaned in close as the blonde giant was mumbling something. The grandfather peeled the man’s strong fingers from his shirt and then gestured for the boy to start the motor. Dai went forward after removing his shirt and placing it under the unconscious man’s head.
“What did he say?” the boy shouted over the noise of the motor.
“My English is bad these days.”
“Well, what did it sound like?” the grandson persisted.
“Something about someone named Jack. And Colonel. I don’t know.”
As the boat sped toward the local constabulary, the man awoke several times. The same word was said time and time again in his fevered state.
“Jack!”
Gobi Desert, Mongolia,
Present Day
The day had dawned bright and the weather was mild for early March. The sky was the bluest any member of the American team had ever witnessed. The Gobi was turning out to be a far more hospitable place than they had been warned about.
The mood inside the camp was not very jovial as the American, Australian, and Chinese teams of geologists spoke around the morning breakfast table inside the main tent. The joint expedition, sanctioned by both the Mongolian internal government and the powers-that-be in Beijing, had had nothing but failure since arriving in the Gobi two weeks before. The iron ore found in the region wasn’t as abundant as the American claim had placed it. Coupled with the fact that the deep bed of copper wasn’t as plentiful as first thought, meant the expedition to find the resources was not going to go a long way in assisting the Chinese government in regaining their feet after the devastating alien attack on their capital of Beijing during the short but costly confrontations of a year past. The spoils of both finds would have been split between the Mongolian government and the Chinese superpower to their south. The Americans, who had forwarded the satellite information about the possibility of a large ore strike in Mongolia, were there with the Australians, who were there as a goodwill gesture for Anglo-Asian cooperation after the short-lived war with the Grays.
The American team was led by fifteen professors and students from the University of Wisconsin and Temple University out of Philadelphia. With their meager samples in secured cases, the group was preparing to leave the Gobi in the good hands of their colleagues from China and Australia. After the larger American and Chinese teams left, there would only be six geologists left in camp as they checked the last of the survey grids. The small group had said goodbye to the bulk of the field mission team at dawn that morning. The remainder, five Americans, one Australian and one Chinese rep sat despondent inside one of the last tents to be struck.
“Looks like our compatriot from Beijing isn’t too fond of the breakfast you made them, Louie,” said an American professor as he stood up to shovel more scrambled eggs onto his plastic plate.
“I think it’s the sausage, mate,” the Australian said as he brutally chomped down on the link he had in his mouth.
“Hey, we like sausage, it’s just that the many times you Americans and Aussies eat the stuff, every breakfast as I remember, your arteries will clog up long before us rice-eating Asians.”
“You Chinese are always so serious, Lee,” said Professor James Anderson, from Temple University. “I mean, after the war with those little Gray bastards it seems like you folks would have started living for today, rather than tomorrow.”
The professor could see that the subject of the devastating Gray attack on the Chinese nation still affected the young professor of Geology, James Lee Hong, of Beijing University, very deeply.
“Sorry Lee, old man, still a sore subject. Didn’t mean anything by it,” the Australian said as he knew the joke would have gone over better if they had come up with better results on the mineral dig.
Professor Lee smiled, and then handed his half-empty plate of rice and chicken over to the Aussie cook and nodded that he would take a link of sausage.
“You are right to a point, Professor, we do have to start living. After all, we never know what’s right around the corner.” He smiled and nodded as three sausage links were plopped over his chicken and rice.
“Next time I’ll bring some Kangaroo sausage, that will really prove your manhood!” the large Aussie professor snorted.
As the group laughed and ate, a lone figure stood up and placed her empty plate on her stool and made her way outside.
“Where are you heading, Tiny?” the professor from Temple University asked the small woman whom it took all of thirty seconds to nickname after meeting the rest three weeks before.
She turned and held out a plastic bag. “Time to find a secluded sand dune somewhere,” she said as the other faces turned away. One of the dimmest aspects of expeditionary work was where and when to go to a private place for comfort while doing the business of the human body. “You’ll excuse me, the Kangaroo sausage remark has bidden me to take my leave.”
A second American, a man almost as small in stature, stood. The woman just looked at him and, in the smallest of moves, shook her head that she didn’t need her private security watchdog following her outside to guard her while she relieved herself. The man, grizzly with a seven-day old growth of beard, winked and then sat back down to finish his breakfast. He exchanged looks with the dark-haired woman sitting next to him and she just shook her head, indicating she needed alone time for personal reasons.
The group of remaining professors relaxed and started to eat again as the woman exited the large tent. She nodded her head at the expedition’s Mongolian escorts as they sat around an open campfire eating their own breakfast. They nodded to her as the eye-pleasing American meandered by them smiling. She spied a dune that would cover her well enough and made her way out of sight.
Sarah McIntire, a captain in the United States Army, and a hidden asset that had been a good reason to attach herself as a guest geologist from the United States Geological Survey, vanished behind one of the larger sand dunes in the area, turning the makeshift sign stuck in the sand around to where it read ‘occupied’. From there she was careful not to step in any areas of previous use by the large team.
She looked around at the endless sand surrounding her and then took a deep breath as she looked at her watch and then toward the blue azure sky above. One minute. She reached into her belly-pack and brought out a small device no larger than her palm. She opened the front and then selected the coded number. This was the fifth and final check-in she had to make before getting on a military fight from Beijing for her trip home to Nevada. Sarah was not a part of the group, but wholly separate. She worked clandestinely for the darkest organization in the American government—Department 5656 of the National Archives. A division known to a select few in officialdom as, the Event Group. The task afforded to their agency was to make sure incidents from the world’s past never reared their ugly heads again. Their job was simple, track, identify and, if possible, remove any obstruction that could cause a cataclysmic repeat of an Event that could become world or history altering. That meant that ninety-five percent of their investigations turned up nothing. However, the remaining five percent could cause the deaths of millions for their failure to recognize an historical trend to such an Event. Her credentials were expertly forged. Even though she was actually a U.S. Army geologist, she was also a spy by trade for Department 5656 of the National Archives or, the Event Group.
The Event Group had attached itself to the survey because of an anomaly that their own KH-11 satellite, Boris and Natasha had detected on a routine survey of the land north of China. At first it was decided that the reading was a false positive of uranium, but soon after arriving, Sarah had come to the conclusion that the old KH-11 was wrong in its information. Sarah was convinced that the readings they received revealed that something was under the mountain range, she just didn’t know what. Without more time on site, she could not justify extending the Group’s interest in the area. Now it was only Crazy Charlie Ellenshaw who had any reason to be here at all. She smiled as she thought about the ridiculous reason he gave the Director for being attached to the assignment. Since his presence was considered a harmless bow to his cryptozoology department, he was allowed to tag along, as long as he never voiced his strange claims as to why he was there. Thus far his theory, along with Sarah’s that something strange was hidden in the desolate mountain range in the Gobi, had both proven laughable.
Sarah looked once more at her wristwatch. She pushed the call button for the only number listed in the satellite phone designed by the communications specialists at Group. A one of a kind device that scrambled any message and then sent it through over a million varying cell towers all over the planet after it left the American made communications satellite operated by the United States Air Force, and then the message would bleed off to nothing—a truly untraceable phone call.
“Good Morning, Captain McIntire,” came the automated response from the Supercomputer, Europa. Her Marilyn Monroe synthesized voice came through clear, and for Sarah it was a comforting sound. For her simple way of thinking about it, it was if the computer was watching her, and that made her feel that much closer to home.
“Good morning Europa,” Sarah said as she glanced around to make sure no prying eyes were on her.
“Communication logged in at 0100 and thirty-two seconds. Signal is secure at this time.”
“Thank you. Please connect me with the Comp Center duty officer.”
“Transferring now, have a safe and pleasant flight home, Captain.”
There came a series of beeps and then an extension was picked up.
“Comp Center,” came a familiar voice.
“Xavier, that you? What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?”
“Captain, great to hear your voice. You know I never sleep, next silly question.”
Sarah and the rest of the Event Group complex had become very close to the wheelchair-bound computer genius since he took over for a very dear friend who had lost his life in the latter days of the war with the Grays. Doctor Pete Golding would have also liked his young replacement. Xavier was just that good at running the most complex computing and artificial intelligence system in the world. The boy was instinctive and had reprogrammed several of Europa’s protocols in order to achieve a better understanding of how to research more with her help. She ran investigations on her own now thanks to the paralyzed Mexican American youth from Central Los Angeles. It was Europa that had alerted the Group as to something strange in the Gobi. With help from the U.S. Geological survey, they had talked the Chinese and Mongolian officials into allowing a team of geologists inside the barren country. She just never believed Europa could be wrong about anything.
“Last check in before the helicopters remove us from the Gobi.”
“Roger, it will be good to see you home again. Sorry about the false run. I would have bet my mother’s pension that you would have found something there to get the Chinese economy back in the black. By the way, I booked you and your team on a United flight instead of the C-130 Hercules out of Beijing. First class.”
“Oh, shit, if the director finds out he’ll kill you.”
“The director made the change, not me.”
The call went silent as Sarah tried to quickly figure out why Department 5656 Director Niles Compton unclasped the purse strings for her return flight. Where a travel budget was concerned, Niles was as cheap as the day was long. Then she realized what it must be. Compton was trying to get on her good side. In other words, he had bad news coming her way. Sarah knew instinctively from which direction that bad news was coming.
“What’s happened, Xavier?” she asked, closing her eyes as she waited.
“Nothing…well, something I guess, but really nothing.”
“Damn it Xavier, I’m going to lose signal here in a minute, now what is it?”
“Okay, okay. I think, and it’s only a guess, that the Director is feeling somewhat responsible for the situation between you and the Colonel. He thinks because he gave authorization for the Colonel and Captain Everett to chase down leads on this Russian shadow government, you’re mad at him.”
“The director knows for a fact this thing is in the bailiwick of the C.I.A. and F.B.I. Not the Group. Those assholes didn’t hesitate in eliminating an entire crew of Russian sailors, so what makes Jack and Niles believe they won’t slice his throat in a split second if they think he’s snooping around?”
“I can tell you’re still a little hot about the colonel’s decision making. Anyway, you’re not the only one angry as hell around here. Captain Mendenhall is furious.”
“Yeah, I hear it every day from his butt-buddy, Ryan. But their anger stems from being left out of this macho hunt Jack and Carl are on. They’re both pissed because they’re not in on it.”
“How is Major Korvesky taking Carl’s end of this?”
“She’s as mad about it as me. But she comes from the same game as they do. She understands the drill far better than myself. Now, I can tell by your questions that something else is going on. What is it, Xavier?”
“Nothing, just trying to keep everyone here from being at each other’s throats.”
“Liar. Now, what are they up to?”
“Okay. They have uncovered a lead. But you didn’t hear that from me. That’s all I know.” Xavier didn’t like leaving Sarah out of the loop, but he feared the Colonel far more than the diminutive geologist. “By the way, since your failure to secure new minerals for the Chinese didn’t pan out, I hope Charlie was able to prove his ridiculous theory. Imagine, Shangri—”
The satellite phone beeped once and she looked at the phone. Signal loss at 0110.
Sarah angrily looked at the loss of transmission display on the phone and was tempted to throw the thing as far as she could. Instead she closed her eyes and placed the phone back into her belly pack.
“Damn you, Jack!” she said aloud, not caring who heard her. She was tempted to go and tell the dark-haired woman inside the tent eating breakfast what Jack and Carl were up to, but knew Anya understood their actions far better than she ever could. Anya Korvesky had too much Israeli intelligence still wracking her brain to totally side with her.
Sarah McIntire didn’t want to return to camp the same way she got to the dunes. She would take the long way around as she tried to think this thing through. Jack and Carl, along with the leadership of the Event Group, were now obsessed with finding the Russian entity designed after their own group for the murders of close to three hundred Russian sailors. This mysterious Russian group was a part of a whole—a whole that included a shadow government that had secretly taken over after the fall of communism inside Russia. This group was the puppet master running things, and now the idiot heroes, from the President on down to the higher chain of command of Department 5656, was hotly chasing the truth down with little or no help from the disbelieving C.I.A. and F.B.I.. Sarah was angry that she was now a secondary concern to Jack and she was hating it. She knew the difference between love and hate were so close they resembled each other. She also knew Jack Collins loved her, but with equal ferocity he hated the mysterious Russian entity even more for their murder of innocent Russian sailors and their officers.
As she entered a deep depression between two very large sand dunes, Sarah’s boot struck something in the sand. She fell face first into the warming earth and that was when she couldn’t help but scream. The eyeless skull was looking right at her. She tried her best to scramble up and away from the skeletal remains, but something had wrapped itself around her foot and she was held in place.
Sarah pulled her leg back, and finally whatever had her by the ankle relented its hold. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was that had grabbed her. She again yelped in shock when she saw that the skeletal hand, and most of the arm, was still holding her boot. She scrambled backward until two strong arms hastily picked her up. She thrashed her leg forward and back and finally the arm and hand came free to fly away into the dune next to the grinning skull.
“Whoa, looks like the restroom facilities were already spoken for,” Commander Jason Ryan said as he saw the horror of what was buried in the sand.
“God, I feel like such an idiot,” Sarah said as she reached down and felt her ankle just above her boot.
They were soon joined by Anya Korvesky and the others after they, along with Ryan, heard Sarah’s scream. The remaining six-member field team, minus Charlie Ellenshaw, gathered around the partially buried remains. All stood staring at the find, with the exception of the five Mongolian guides. They were gathered in a group at the top of the dune just looking on silently at the scene below. They stared down upon the circle of geologists, not moving. Sarah noticed this, and was curious as they spoke quietly amongst themselves high above them. She turned her attention back to her unsavory discovery.
Ryan and Anya exchanged looks of wonder as Professor Anderson and Doctor Lee Hong knelt by the sleeve that used to cover the skeleton’s arm. Sarah watched as Professor Anderson started brushing away some of the sand, careful not to disturb the find directly.
“Is it Mongolian?” Professor Birnbaum, the large Australian, asked from the circle of curious scientists.
“If it is, it’s larger than a normal native.” Doctor Lee moved away about five and half feet and started brushing away more sand. “Here’s the feet. And unless the Mongols wear American made boots, this is not a local indigenous person.”
They all saw the dark brown boot that was attached to the right foot.
“I’ll get the guides to bring down some marker flags to make a perimeter around the remains. We’ll treat this as an archaeological site for the time being,” the Australian said.
“Good idea,” Anderson agreed as he winked at Sarah, who was at the moment feeling silly for acting like a frightened school girl.
Professor Louis Birnbaum, the large Australian Professor of geology, turned and looked up at the dune where the Mongolian guides had been, but the dune was empty. “I’ll be buggered. Where did our guides go?” he asked as everyone looked up at the empty space where the native guides had been. Ryan and Anya again exchanged looks. This time it was one of warning they both felt at the sudden disappearance of the Mongol guides.
“I’ll get the marker flags,” Anya said. She wanted to get to the tent and retrieve the firearms she and Ryan had hidden inside a large spectrometer. The major left the circle of onlookers and went to the tents to retrieve the flags and a little insurance.
At that moment, they all heard the sound of one of their Range Rover trucks speeding away. They watched on as their guides hurriedly left the strange scene.
“Hey!” Anderson screamed, waving his arms as the Range Rover sped away across the sand.
“What in the hell was that all about? Bloody wankers!” the Australian chimed in.
Anya returned from the campsite out of breath. “They took all of the communications gear!”
“For our last day on-site, this has decidedly turned a different color of weird,” Professor Anderson said.
The morning had grown chilly as the sun rose near to mid-morning. The group of six geologists looked around, but no one was smiling.
“Well, shall we see what spooked our native contingent so bad they felt they had to steal one of our Rovers?” Anderson said as he and Sarah both went to a knee to examine the makeshift burial site.
Sarah reached for the forearm and hand that had attached itself to her ankle. She gingerly picked it up and looked it over. She gently pulled a shiny item from the wrist of the arm.
“Timex,” she said as she reached up and handed the wristwatch to Jason Ryan, who examined it.
“Professor,” Ryan said as he lowered the Timex wristwatch, “check the sleeve of that jumpsuit, would ya?”
“I’ll be buggered,” Louis Birnbaum said as he easily brushed away a good portion of golden sand. “Look at this,” he said as he straightened from his kneeling position.
The material was sun damaged and worn through in places but still attached. It was the patch that stood out on the right shoulder of the gray coveralls. The cartoonish chicken had boxing gloves on and a cigar in its beak. The patch was round and embroidered. The only indication of its designation was the ‘Fighting 40th’ stitched at the bottom of the round patch beneath the image of the chicken.
Sarah, looking momentarily at Jason, moved to the skeletal remains. As militarily trained as they, Anya suddenly knew what it was they suspected. Sarah leaned over and approximated where the other shoulder would be and brushed the sand away. She looked from the second patch to gaze up at the others standing around her. Her eyes found Ryan.
“Now how in the hell did he get all the way out here in the damn Gobi Desert?” Jason asked no one in particular.
The group of scientists took in the patch and they were confused as to its significance. The golden star with the large capital ‘A’ with green colored wings was the famous patch worn by all U.S. Army Air Corps aviators during World War II. Sarah brushed away more sand and saw the silver captain’s bars on the collar of the overall near the remains of the spine and neck bones.
Sarah stood up and glanced around the emptiness of the Gobi. She felt eyes on them but for the life of her she didn’t know from where.
“A captain from the 40th Bomb Group. That unit hasn’t existed since the end of World War II,” Sarah said as she continued to look around their surroundings with a bad feeling creeping into her bones.
“And how would you know that, Tiny?” Anderson asked with a serious look as he continued to gently wipe sand away from the remains.
“Uh, I have a boyfriend, or used to have one, that’s kind of a history buff, mostly military.” Sarah looked at Anderson and saw that he wasn’t concerned if her explanation was a lie or not.
It was Professor Lee that gently reached into the collar and pulled out the round objects that were still attached to the chain. He pulled the ‘dog tags’ free and looked them over.
“Krensky, Everson, Captain,” Lee said as he handed the dog tags over to Sarah.
“Well, I guess the least we can do is take the Captain home with us,” Anderson said as he finally stood. “Let’s get a blanket down here and get him out of this godforsaken sand. Whoever he was, he deserves better than this. We’ll leave it to the Air Force to come up with an answer as to how he got here.”
“Jason, we need to find Charlie. He’s been gone since before dawn. He said he wanted to do some digging around the base of the mountain before we abandon this place.”
Ryan looked at Anya and shook his head. “That damn lost city of his again. How can Crazy Charlie bring himself to argue with every geological survey satellite in the world and still think there is some ancient city buried out here. Jesus, sometimes he pushes things a little too hard. I’ll find him.”
As the uneasy geologists bent to the task of assisting Anderson in removing the long lost American aviator, Ryan moved off to search the area for the missing Ellenshaw. Sarah placed the dog tags around her own neck and then helped with the recovery.
The three members of the Department 5656 personnel knew in their gut, from their many experiences with the Event Group, that something strange was awaiting them, and as usual it wouldn’t be good.
With the exception of Ryan calling out the name of Charlie in his search for the crazy cryptozoologist, the desert around the group had become preternaturally quiet.
Event Group Complex,
Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada
The most amazing fact about the complex, which was constructed during the years of 1941-45, were the vaults that housed the world’s greatest archeological finds. Each were one-foot thick solid stainless-steel and were protected by the most complex A.I. computer system ever created—Europa. Her number one priority at the complex was to protect the secrets hidden there. The complex itself was secondary and was relegated to the human staff that worked security. This daunting task had since fallen to the second generation of security personnel that had been trained by the most influential duo in the history of special operations—Colonel Jack Collins and Captain Carl Everett, army and navy respectively. The man chosen to replace them in their absence, Major William Mendenhall, was not too happy about his recent promotion, nor the duties that promotion entailed.
Mendenhall felt alone in a complex that housed the most influential minds in the nation. With Collins and Everett on assignment, and Jason Ryan off galivanting through Mongolia with Sarah, Anya and Crazy Charlie, Will was left to ponder if this was his future—a future that required him to stay stateside while the rest of the security department went out on field assignments. He had a horrid feeling that would be the case.
He sat at the same desk that Jack Collins had occupied for the past twelve years, and it was that act alone that made him uncomfortable in his new settings. He had noticed the way in which men and women he had served with for the past many years didn’t joke with him as they had before. They confided in Ryan far more now than himself. He was now higher management and that just wasn’t sitting well with the newly promoted Major. After going from enlisted man to officer, and after endless hours in the officers training courses set up by the Colonel, Mendenhall had earned the respect from everyone in the Event Group Complex. Now he sensed that respect was born out more of fear than friendship over his new duties.
Will shook his head and started the endless paperwork his new job called for. He glanced at the roster and saw that a good portion of the security department was out on field assignments. The need for more security was a result of learning about the Russian black operations group in Siberia, who had a deep cover department attached to the hidden section that mirrored their own Event Group charter. He read the personnel reports of previous weeks and had concluded that enough of his personnel were on assignment that they had kept on the security department retirees to replace those at Gates one and two. The new policy was handed down by Director Compton. Every field excursion was now under very close scrutiny by the military element inside Department 5656 due to the bad guys knowing that the Event Group existed, something that had never officially occurred before the Simbirsk mission the prior month.
He checked off the names that were unavailable to the complex. The last name was that of Jason Ryan, who was in Mongolia serving with Sarah McIntire’s field operation in assisting the Chinese government’s bid to gain the mineral riches of the barren landscape of the northern region—Mongolia, after the devastating attack by the Grays in Beijing that destroyed most of the city and three quarters of their economy. He was well aware that the mission was not what was advertised. Sarah and the others were there to see what the strange readings were about that was uncovered by Boris and Natasha.
“Damn you Ryan, leave me here while you have fun in the field? Well, just wait until you get back, asshole, you’re going on vault detail for a month, see if you like sitting on your ass.”
“Talking to yourself is not a good habit to get into, Major. Group psychiatrists would have a field day with that.”
Will looked up from the printed roster and saw Department 5656 Director Doctor Niles Compton leaning against the door frame watching him. Mendenhall started to stand but Niles waved him back down. Compton removed his hands from his pockets and the balding man entered and smiled at the startled Mendenhall.
“Have a minute?”
“How many minutes in a day?”
Niles smirked as he sat down in a chair facing the new commander of the Group’s security arm. “Well, there are eighty-six thousand four-hundred seconds, and fourteen hundred and forty minutes.”
“Is everyone out to make me feel stupid today?” Will shook his head. “I knew that. So, you asked if I had a minute, yes. I have fourteen hundred and forty minutes I can spare.”
“That bad, huh?” Compton asked while he pushed his horned-rimmed glasses back up his nose as his smile grew. “When you’ve been cooped up in an office for as long as I have, you’ll learn those numbers by heart.”
“What can I help you with, Sir?” Mendenhall asked as he stood with a wary eye on the director and went to a filing cabinet and placed the daily roster inside. He turned back and then sat and waited for another terrible and boring part of his new duties to be announced.
Before Compton could answer, Virginia Pollock, assistant director for Department 5656, stepped into the outer security office and made her way to the private office of the security director. She tapped on the door and Niles waved her inside.
“What’s up?” she asked as she went toward the pot of old coffee, smelled it, wrinkled her nose and then faced Niles. “We’re having a hell of a time installing that damn electron microscope down in nuclear sciences, and that bull of a man’s engineering department is no help. The Master Chief is really chafing my ass. So, again, what’s up?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Niles said. “Doctor Morales called my office and asked if he could meet privately with you, Will and myself. Said it had to do with something he didn’t want to bring up in the morning’s daily brief.”
“Mysterious,” Mendenhall quipped.
“Come to think of it, Xavier looked a little morose this morning. His comp center report was a little boring to say the least,” Virginia offered.
“Yeah, when he doesn’t brag about some new feature of Europa, or how he and that box of circuits and diodes may have saved the world, something just may be wrong.”
Niles sat down as he listened to the endless possibilities of Xavier’s circumstance from Virginia and Mendenhall.
They sat silently when the speculation dwindled. Will was feeling a little uncomfortable with the total amount of brainpower sitting in his office. Finally, he saw motion in the security bullpen. It was Morales. He slowly wheeled his non-electric wheelchair into the security office, not even looking up as two of the security men nodded and said good morning to him. He came to the door and after a few hesitant seconds, knocked on the frame. He wheeled in and looked from face to face and then slowly closed the door.
“Thank you for meeting me here. I figure no one voluntarily likes coming in here, so we should be undisturbed.” The small man lowered his head and placed his hand over his face. After a moment, he looked up with tears in his eyes. He reached under one of his thin legs and pulled out a sheet of paper. He handed it to Niles who scanned it. His brows rose over his thick, horned-rimmed glasses, and then folded the note and fixed Xavier with a stern look.
“Resignation?”
Both Virginia and Will looked at Niles as he made no further comment.
“Did you and Europa have a lover’s spat?” Will joked, and then quickly saw his humor was somewhat out of place.
“Yes, I don’t deserve my post,” Morales said without looking up.
Niles had seen this reaction before from men and women inside the group that had done something they weren’t too proud of. He gave Xavier space. He had learned in his past experiences to allow the guilt of that person to tell the story.
“I may have assisted in getting two of our people into some deep trouble.”
Niles reached into his shirt’s front pocket, and behind his ever-present six pens there, pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Does it have something to do with three communications packages from Jack and Carl that were not listed on Europa’s field team communications log?”
Mendenhall looked at Morales and saw a barely perceptible nod of his dark hair.
“Colonel Collins contacted me five days ago and requested two Canadian passports for he and Captain Everett, and I was instructed to list them as farm equipment reps. So, Europa fixed them up with John Deere product catalogues and sales rep paperwork and the Canadian I.Ds.” He stopped and wiped his eyes. Mendenhall stood and got a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and uncapped it, handing it to Xavier. Morales nodded his thanks and then took a long pull. He sat the bottle on the front of Will’s desk and then fixed Niles with his wet and reddened eyes. “He said they had a lead on that Russian, the arrogant man we met on the Nimitz after the Simbirsk mission.”
Will remembered. “You mean that strange old man, that Doctor Leoniv Vassick, the head of the organization that mirrors our own Group?”
“Yes. They said while they were in the Ukraine on their authorized part of their mission to gather intel on this Group, they received a hot lead that Vassick was in Thailand on business. What sort of business the Russian was there for, the Colonel didn’t know. They said the Director would only worry and that the request was theirs and theirs alone. I sent them the two Canadian passports and other forged material to the Marriott in D.C.”
“Jack and Carl pulled the old, ‘Pete Golding did it for us all the time maneuver’, I suppose?” Virginia asked with a knowing look toward Niles who was sitting silent.
Xavier could only nod his head.
“What went wrong?’ was all Compton asked, with his face a growing mask of concern.
“Excuse me, Major, is your terminal on?” Will nodded that the Europa link was indeed on. “Europa, display Colonel Collins and Captain Everett’s transponder coordinates on the main viewer in security, please.”
All sets of eyes went to the large fifty-two-inch screen on the wall of the office.
“Current location for Colonel Collins is near Phnom Penh, Cambodia. The location for Captain Everett is currently 10°49'22.87"N, 106°37'46.74"E.”
“These map coordinates are not in Thailand,” Mendenhall said. “It’s somewhere in southern Vietnam.”
“Correct, Major Mendenhall. Exactly twenty-two miles east of Ho Chi Minh City to be precise,’” Europa corrected.
All eyes want to Morales once more. “Captain Everett and Colonel Collins have been separated.” Morales again lowered his head, and this brought Niles Compton to life.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start explaining what happened, or you’re going to see a side of me that you wish you hadn’t, Doctor.”
Morales straightened in his wheelchair and then nodded determinedly. “Europa, display the last medical update on Captain Everett’s transponder, please.”
Europa didn’t verbally respond. Instead she placed the last information available on Carl’s location and medical transponder on the screen.
“My God,” Virginia said as the data started scrolling across the monitor. For Mendenhall it was easier…his heart froze.
Virginia stood and approached the large screen and started running down the list. “Sudden drops in blood pressure, heart rate and respiration, and look at this, his brain activity output is barely perceptible. Is this all the data?” she asked, turning to face Xavier.
“He’s hurt bad,” Mendenhall said as his anger flared momentarily toward Morales.
“Europa, exact location for Captain Everett’s transponder?” Morales continued.
“Coordinates are—”
“Just the name of location,” Morales snapped.
It was the first time they had ever heard Morales lose his temper with Europa.
“Location…the town of Bin Hua, three hundred miles north of Ho Chi Minh City.”
“I checked earlier,” Morales stated. “Bin Hua is a small fishing village on the Mekong River. Nothing but a bunch of clapboard houses and poor fishermen, at least as far as Europa can tell. Nothing extraordinary.”
“Doctor, I have further classified information on Bin Hua from U.S. Army records in St. Louis.”
“Continue,” Niles said to Europa, not waiting for Xavier.
“The town of Bin Hua was a cooperative entity in the battle of Ang Nah. The villagers assisted United States Army Special Forces in eliminating drug trafficking along the Ho Chi Minh Trail in 1972, a month before the withdrawal of American forces from South East Asia. It is still considered by the present-day Vietnamese anti-drug forces as a current trade route of heroin smuggling coming in from Cambodia, Laos and Thailand.”
“Thank you,” Niles said. He stood and placed his thick arms behind his back and paced as he thought. “In the presidential brief delivered by the FBI fifteen days ago, they stated Russian money and influence from illicit drug trafficking could be a financial resource for organized crime figures in Russia. The C.I.A. claimed it was possibly a drug cartel in the old Soviet Republic. But now I see it may turn out to be a possible way in which an illegal regime could launder money and smuggle it back into Russia without much notice. The shadow regime could be using drugs as a money scheme they can hide adequately.”
“You think that Jack and Carl figured this was the lead, or was it just for this Doctor Leoniv Vassick?” Mendenhall asked, a bit ahead of Virginia’s thinking.
“Perhaps both,” Niles said. He suddenly stood rigid and then wadded up the resignation letter from Morales and tossed it back to the wheelchair bound doctor. “Resignation not accepted…at this time. I’m afraid you have a lot of work to do and a short time to do it in.”
Morales took the balled-up scrap of paper and then nodded his head sadly at the director.
“Will, get as much information as you can on this small village. Europa may be able to fill you in a lot more with precise questioning. Get all the human intelligence that you can on the area. There’s only one person here with the experience and knowledge of the area in question as far as I know.”
“Don’t tell me—” Will started to say as he froze after standing.
“Get with Master Chief Jenks. He’s the only man who had actual duty near there during the war, he was just a kid SEAL, but he may have some thought as to the situation. He can get into detail about the people and who we may be able to trust.”
“Good luck getting him to reminisce,” Virginia added.
“If he gives you a problem, come and get me. I guarantee you he will be cooperative,” Niles said with the most severe look on his features that any of them had ever seen. “Xavier, I want Captain Everett’s condition and exact location immediately. If his transponder moves, track it. I don’t care if you have to break into the Communist national assembly computer files in Hanoi to do it. Get me that info.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, grateful to be doing something.
“Virginia, you have the toughest job. Do whatever it takes, find me Colonel Farbeaux as fast as you can.”
“Henri? What in the hell for?” she asked, stunned. “He won’t assist us. We called his marker to the Group as closed after he helped us in the Atlantic last month.”
“Find him, he’s the only man we know with connections in Vietnam. The relations between our two countries are getting friendlier, but I don’t think the government there would take too kindly if they found out an entity of the United States has reinvaded their country. We need Henri to get Mendenhall and the Master Chief in there to get our people out. Check out Monte Carlo, Henri likes to hide there.”
“Okay, I’ll look, but don’t expect Colonel Farbeaux to come running,” Virginia concluded.
“Also, Xavier, get me an exact location of Colonel Collins and most importantly, and I hate to drag him in on this, but contact Sergeant Van Tram. He’s in Vietnam’s 2nd Special Forces Element. He assisted us during the war with the Grays, both in South America and in the Antarctic. He knows and loves Jack. Find him and covertly, and I mean covertly, explain what’s happening. If you’re not cloaked in black on this, you could very well get Van Tram killed by his own people.”
Xavier did not wait, he wheeled out of the office, anxious to do something, anything.
Compton went silent as he pursed his lips. “I’ll fill in the President, we may need his help.” He turned and faced Mendenhall and Virginia. “You two, find my people!”
They both watched as the Director left the security office.
“I haven’t seen him this angry in years,” Will said watching Compton’s retreating form.
“That’s not anger,” Virginia corrected.
“Then what is it?”
“For the first time ever, you’re seeing Niles Compton scared.”