Gobi Altai Mountains,
Mongolia
As the echo of Jason Ryan’s calls dwindled to almost nothing in his search for Charlie Ellenshaw, Sarah, Anya, Professor James Anderson, James Lee Hong, and the Australian Professor Louis Birnbaum, eased the skeletal remains of the Army Air Corps flier onto the stainless-steel table. After the skeleton was found, their anxiousness to leave the barren desert flared brightly in all remaining members. Most didn’t want to be around the body of the American flier any more than they had to.
“Poor bastard,” Anya said as she bit her lower lip and studied the remains. “So far from home for so long.”
“My World War Two history may be a little lax, but I do believe the Americans did have a campaign to bomb the Japanese and their Chinese partners in Manchukuo, or Mongolia. Manchukuo was a puppet state of the Empire of Japan in Northeast China and Inner Mongolia from 1932 until 1945 with the deposed emperor on the throne. That’s as far as my history goes, I’m afraid,” Professor James Anderson offered.
“Okay, that still doesn’t help us to understand why this poor bastard is all the way out here in the east. The only valuable resource to bomb out here is sand and rock,” Sarah said as she reached down and lightly touched a small leather bag still strapped to the torso of the remains.
“Well, I’m sure this man’s family back in the States will be grateful for you bringing him back home,” said Professor Lee. “Our most prioritized mystery at the moment is, what happened to our Mongolian guides. Even with them in our company this is still a very dangerous place. The locals,” he looked out of the open tent flap, “although we haven’t seen any, are still very hostile to outsiders.”
“Maybe he has more information in here,” Sarah said as she lightly fingered the tie-down strap to the leather satchel. She eased it open and then reached inside. Her fingers felt the loose sand inside and then they touched something solid. She withdrew her petite hand and saw that she was holding a small nugget of stone, which had silverish and green streaks of color. She held the small rock up to the light and then handed it over to Professor Lee. “Have you ever seen anything like this? What is the green material, mold?”
The smallish Lee took the sample and examined it. “It looks like silver ore. This,” he said rubbing his fingers together after touching the green section of rock, “I have no clue. It’s solid and definitely not mold. The flier must have thought it valuable enough to take from this place, but I see nothing valuable in its current state.” He handed the ore over to the Australian. He just shook his head negatively and handed the stone back to Sarah.
“He has about a pound of it in here,” she said as she pulled out four more small samples.
Anya was sorting through the ragged coveralls of the old flier. She pulled out three two-dollar bills, which elicited smiles from the small group. Next came a Swiss Army knife that was folded up and placed in a front pocket. She easily removed the shoulder holster and the rusted-out Colt .45 from the fraying leather. Then she suddenly stepped back. She swallowed, and pointed at the broken shaft sticking out from the skeletal remains of the pilot. The Australian pulled the shaft free of the fourth rib bone on the pilot’s right side. He held it up. It was an arrow. The large man looked around at the others and then placed the iron arrowhead on the table next to the body.
“Well, I guess we now know the cause of death,” he said.
“Professor Lee, as far as you know, did the locals still use bows and arrows in the forties?” Anya asked.
“Not that I am aware of. I do know the Japanese had a hard time in this region. But from my understanding, they faced just bullets, not this,” he said as he waved his hand over the arrowhead.
Professor Birnbaum took a small piece of the ore from the table and tried to break a sliver off. It came free easily. “Well, it’s not particularly a strong material. It breaks off like obsidian.” He moved the small sliver over to a gas lamp and held it just outside of the chimney for a closer look. The others watched the geologist as he examined it. As he did so, the flame surged through the glass chimney and the fire licked at the small sample of ore, actually bending the flame toward the nugget.
Before anyone realized what had happened, the interior of the large tent came alive with a bright flash. The small sliver of ore became extremely hot as the Australian held it up to the gas light. Then it flared and shot from his fingers, tearing into his flesh. Before he could even yelp at the suddenness of the reaction, the sliver shot forth, slammed into the steel table, and then shot right through it and into the tent’s nylon floor. From there it burned its way through and into the sand. The ground erupted as the initial contact had not slowed down the exploding sliver at all. Finally, all was silent with the exception of Birnbaum hissing out his pain.
The four scientists and an astonished Anya stood around the table in wide-eyed amazement. Sarah broke the spell when she reached out and slapped the remaining ore samples from the table as they lay next to the gas lamp.
“I think we better examine the rest under a battery powered light next time,” Sarah said as she hurriedly placed a handkerchief around the middle and index fingers of Professor Birnbaum.
“I have never seen anything like that in my life,” Birnbaum said as he nodded his thanks to Sarah.
“Jesus, look at this bloody thing,” Professor Anderson said. He had his finger in the hole made by the sliver when it had shot from the large Australian’s fingers and into the steel table. The hole it made was ten times the size of the sliver itself. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that hole had been made by a .357 Magnum.”
“We need to find out where this ore came from,” Sarah said as she carefully picked up the five samples from the tent’s flooring. “There is nothing like this reaction ascribed to any ore in the world.”
“Maybe its properties have been enhanced by some form of refining,” Anya offered.
Sarah held a piece up and looked closer. “No, this is unrefined ore. Whatever caused that reaction is fundamental to its raw state.”
“Whatever this is, our Air Corps Captain thought it important enough to take. According to his satchel, it looks like he possibly chose those samples over food and water,” Sarah said as she had a hard time coming to grips with men and their take on what was important.
“Or maybe he exhausted his supply of water and food. That would mean he had traveled quite a way from where he found this remarkable material,” Lee inserted.
“Maybe,” Sarah agreed. “I’d like to try something,” she said as she picked up another small piece of ore. “Professor, hand me that coffee cup, please.” Birnbaum handed over the tin cup. Sarah placed the cup upside down on the steel table next to the worn leather boots of the old flier. “Professor, get another cup and put a small amount of lamp kerosene inside.”
“You’re not going to do what I think you are…are you?” Anya asked as she stepped away from the table until her backside was touching the far wall of the tent.
Sarah didn’t answer, but she did warn everyone to join Anya against the far wall of the tent. She dribbled a line of kerosene from the cup leading to the one she had placed upside down on the table adding one final drop of flammable fluid to the underside of the cup. She handed the fuel off to the Australian and then she scraped a few shards of the ore off with her fingernail. The amount was virtually infinitesimal and hard to see at all. She then placed the shards under the overturned cup. She removed the glass chimney from the lamp and then with a warning and worried look at the others, she lowered the flame to the line of kerosene and struck the fuel. In a flash, the kerosene ignited and ran toward the cup. Nothing. Sarah was just about to give up on her small-scale experiment when the cup suddenly exploded upward in a blinding light of exhaust. The cup moved so fast and with such velocity that it shot through the top of the nylon tent and vanished into the blue sky high above the Gobi.
Anya saw Sarah and yelped out her concern. Sarah was on her ass and her hair was singed. Her face had smooth gray ash covering it and her eyes were as wide as saucers. Anya, along with Lee and Birnbaum assisted Sarah to her unsteady feet. Once they were all around the table again, they saw the large hole in the table’s top, the missing lower leg of the skeleton and the totally bent frame of the steel examination table. As one, their eyes traveled up to the top of the tent and saw the hole there. It was Sarah who laid voice to the word they were all thinking.
“Wow!”
Jason Ryan topped the small ridge as his last call for Crazy Charlie Ellenshaw was still echoing off the base of the mountains. Of all the places in the world for Ellenshaw to go wandering off, he had chosen one of the most dangerous terrains on the planet. The Gobi Desert, and the mountains that hemmed the great plains in, was different than any desert in the world. Compasses at times refused to work due to the magnetism of the surrounding rock. Mountains that seemed to move in the darkness of night, and the sands that covered massive holes in the desert that could swallow an entire division of soldiers without a trace. And the main fact has always been and will remain so for a thousand years—most Mongolians picked this particular area of the Gobi to avoid. The Mongol people, as they were throughout recorded time, feared little, but this part of their desert frightened them far more than any area of their desolate country.
Jason stood with hands on hips and saw the barren landscape and all the areas where Ellenshaw could be hurt or injured. His only thought was that he was going to strangle to death the man with the crazed white hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He removed his sunglasses and scanned the area directly beneath the drop off when a sudden noise caught his attention. As he turned back to examine the way he had just come, Jason was shocked to see a small fireball rise into the sky and vanish high into the cumulus clouds that had gathered in the valley. He was still watching the trail of heat and smoke as it vanished. The epicenter, of whatever it had been, seemed to come from the area of the geological campsite. As curious as he was at the sight, Sarah hadn’t called him on his walkie-talkie, so he assumed they were alright. Besides, if he returned without Ellenshaw, Sarah and Anya would be the ones doing the strangling.
He replaced the sunglasses to cut down on the glare of the moving air. “Charlie!” he called out and then waited for the echo of his voice to die down.
“With the echo effect, I had a hard time pin-pointing where you were at,” came a voice immediately behind Ryan.
Ryan jumped almost out of skin. “Damn it, Doc, you scared the crap out of me!”
“Sorry, Commander. This place is a little eerie, isn’t it?” Charlie stated as he looked around the barrenness of the land.
Jason shook his head at the garb Ellenshaw insisted on wearing. Ryan could handle the short khaki pants and the black socks sticking out from his brown boots, but the Pith helmet he wore was ridiculous. Crazy Charlie had obviously watched one too many Tarzan movies in his youth.
“Doc, where in the hell did you get that funky-ass helmet?”
Ellenshaw removed the Pith helmet and then looked it over. “It was issued to me by Logistics at the Group,” he said, confused as to the comment on his headgear.
“Doc, next time you go and get equipment issued, come to me or Mendenhall before accepting. I think those pencil pushers down in the Logistics Department are having a little fun at your expense.”
“Really?” Charlie said as he continued to look at the helmet. “I was wondering why I was the only one wearing one.” He shrugged his shoulders and then returned the helmet to his crazed looking hair and head.
“Come on, we’ve got to get back to camp. We’re packing up and finally getting out of this Garden of Eden. Three quarters of the group has already left.”
“I take it that you find the Gobi to be less than exhilarating, Commander.”
“Doc, I’ve seen more excitement in an intensive care unit.”
Charlie looked at Ryan with a curious look, as he didn’t seem to grasp that Ryan wasn’t enthused at all about being here.
“Anyway, it seems you’ve drawn a blank on your theory, Doc, just like Europa’s on some mineral buried up here. We all make our mistakes.” Ryan looked around and then his eyes went to the large mountain in front of them. “Doesn’t look like there has ever been anything here, much less a lost city…what did you call it in your pitch to the Director? Oh, Shangri-La.” Ryan smiled and shook his head, trying his best not to laugh at the cryptozoologist.
“It’s been my theory that the legend of Shangri-La did not originate in Tibet, or even China as most believe, but right here in Mongolia. The director saw some merit in the theory…I believe.”
“It couldn’t have been that Doc Compton wasn’t just humoring you some?”
Ellenshaw actually looked confused at the question. More to the point he looked hurt that Ryan would even suggest such a scenario. Jason saw this and slapped Crazy Charlie on the shoulder.
“Nah, the director wouldn’t do that.”
This seemed to give Charlie his faith in the world back. He perked up considerably. “Do you think we could talk Sarah into giving us a few more days in the area? I mean, it is a rare chance to examine the landscape inside a basically closed nation.”
Ryan almost turned white at the suggestion of staying longer than was absolutely necessary. “Forget it, Doc. The eggheads down there didn’t find their copper and zinc, nickel and other exciting ores, so they’re done,” he half turned away, “and frankly Doc, so am I.”
Charlie slowly nodded his head.
“It’s not like you to give up on a crazy theory that easy, what’s up?”
“Well, I guess I had better show you. I was hoping to stay longer to investigate, but since you and Sarah are anxious to get back home, I have no choice.” Ellenshaw reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out a small object. He held it out to Ryan.
The item looked like a brooch. Ryan accepted the object and ran a thumb over the center piece. “Jade?”
“Yes. Jade and gold. I believe it was a cloak bob.”
“A what?” Jason asked.
“A brooch that held the collar edges for a cloak…okay, a cape. They were very popular when capes were all the rage.”
“Okay, its nice, Doc, but a cloak bob isn’t exactly the lost city of Shangri-La, is it?”
“See the writing along the leading edges and just above the Jade?” Ellenshaw asked as he leaned over Ryan’s shoulder and pointed it out.
“I see, but don’t understand it.”
“Chinese, Commander. It’s Chinese. From the first dynasty.” Charlie saw the confusion in the small navy man’s face. “Does the name Qin Shi Huang mean anything to you?”
“Maybe Huang’s Chinese take-out in San Diego?” Ryan joked.
“Commander, he was the first sovereign ruler of China. The very first man named as Emperor, not king, but Emperor.”
Ryan handed the brooch back to Ellenshaw. “That’s great Doc, you found something some weary traveler lost ages ago. That will surely make Sarah see the light as far as extending the mission. She’s already pissed Europa was wrong about something buried under the Gobi, so that means that Doctor Morales is bound to get a piece of her mind when she gets back along with you if you even suggest we stay longer. She wants to get back to check on the Colonel and Mr. Everett.”
He could see that Ellenshaw took it personally that he would request something that would anger Sarah. Jason saw that he had done it again. The hurt in the Doc’s eyes was palpable.
“Look, you can’t honestly have the opinion that there has ever been anything in this desert and mountain range larger than a hut used by Mongols. If there had been any city here at any time, Boris and Natasha, and a thousand other satellites would have found it by now. In recent years, the Chinese and the Russians have been pouring over this area looking for minerals. Your mythical city just isn’t here, Doc.”
“There we go again. The same areas in Tibet and deep China are also examined by the finest scientific minds in the world, and no lost city has ever been found there either.”
“Doc, come on, listen to yourself. They failed because a mythical city that has never been proven to exist has yet to be discovered? The reason is the mere fact that Shangri-La has never existed in Tibet or here. Come on. It’s a fanciful tale, Doc, but as far as I can see, that’s all it is.”
“I…I…,” he stammered.
“Okay, let’s go show Sarah your find and we’ll let her tell you no. If it were up to me, Doc, we could vacation here all spring, but alas it’s not up to—”
The rocks they stood upon vanished beneath their feet. The next feeling both men had was the sensation of falling.
To set up the experiment they had to use the heaviest piece of equipment they had—an anvil used to break apart ore samples. It was close to two hundred pounds of weight. Next, Sarah had arranged the experiment to be conducted outside the tent for obvious reasons. With the reluctant help of Professors Lee Hong and, a far more enthusiastic, James Anderson, they had cut a hole in the direct center of the stainless-steel table, and then Sarah had the Australian Professor Birnbaum use a small arc-welder to place two small steel cables, they had cannibalized from their weather balloon restraint system, from the anvil to a tin cup. Sarah then placed another sliver of the strange ore under the cup and then placed that over the small exhaust hole they had cut. It was Professor Anderson who insisted on recording the event. He joked that it was for legal purposes for their manslaughter trial over Sarah’s untimely death. With that comment there were a few nervous chuckles from the group.
“What is the goal here?” asked a Chinese professor from Shanghai as he glanced around the empty campsite as if looking for someone.
“Hand me those night flares please,” Sarah asked the Australian. She accepted the flares and then duct-taped them to the edges of the steel table. “We’re going to see just how much power this ore has, and its potential speed. We have nothing here to measure velocity, so for now we just have to eyeball it. The flares will allow us to at least see the smoke trail and give us a ballpark figure on that velocity.”
“This is why I don’t like Carl hanging out with you people too much, you scare me with your knowledge, and scientific blind bravery,” Anya said only half-jokingly.
Sarah smiled. “Yeah, Jack hates me too,” Sarah answered, only she wasn’t just half-joking and Anya saw that in the sadness of her eyes. “Okay, I would suggest we all get as far away as possible. It’s my idea so I’ll take the risk of blowing myself up.”
On that point, the group of geologists decided that Sarah was absolutely right. They moved away a hundred feet.
“Well, if it works, at least it will act like a signal flare to anyone who sees it. Maybe the damn Mongolian guides will come back and guide us out of here,” Birnbaum joked.
Sarah once more poured the line of kerosene from one end of the table to the anchored cup. She then pulled the plastic caps from the large flares and struck them to life. They gave off so much smoke that the table and experiment vanished momentarily. Then Sarah swallowed and looked back at Anya who nodded her head for encouragement as she confidently hid herself behind a large boulder. Sarah ignited the line of kerosene and then dove away and covered her head.
Again, it seemed as if the flame didn’t do what was intended, and McIntire was just about to look up to find the problem, when the air became alive with power. The steel cables held. They tightened to piano string tightness and then the cup exploded from the steel table and into the air. The anvil went with it. It had gone so far out of sight that the observers were left wondering if the thing had just exploded into a million pieces of steel. It was Professor Birnbaum who saw the flares high in the sky and the barely perceptible line of smoke.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed as he shielded his eyes.
“Its gone, just gone,” Professor Anderson said as he watched and tried to keep his recording cell phone on the diminishing trail high above.
Sarah stood and brushed herself off. “Anya, you know speed somewhat, what would you guess the accelerated rate of climb might be?”
“Are you kidding? It took less time than the tick of a second hand for that damn thing to get higher than eighty thousand feet.” She shook her head. “And that’s just a guess.”
“We have something here that could change the world,” Sarah said as she turned to face the others. Her eyes held firmly on one man. The one holding the pistol in her direction.
“Is that standard issue at Temple University, Professor?” Anya asked when she also noticed the gun.
James Anderson was smirking. “No, but it is a must have item in my line of work.”
“May we take it the real Professor Anderson is laying in a Beijing alley somewhere with a bullet in his head?” Sarah asked as the other scientists moved away from the gun toting imposter.
“Shot, stabbed, drowned, I don’t go into instructive murder instruction with the enemies of my nation.”
Sarah and Anya almost said too much simultaneously. They had a deep suspicion that this man worked for the same people and organization Jack and Carl were searching the world over for.
“Right at this moment, I don’t care for any harshness with you people.” With a weary eye on his captives, the man they knew as Anderson looked at his watch and then pulled the smallest satellite phone they had ever seen from his back pocket and then pushed several buttons. There was static and then they heard the voice in the clear.
“You have reached the Captain, 04582. You have broken your field cover. This is unacceptable.”
“The mission parameters have changed. A rather fortuitous event has taken place.” Anderson saw Sarah move a hand toward her fanny-pack and the imposter impersonating Professor Anderson pointed the small .32 caliber pistol in her direction. He frowned and then moved toward her and reached into the pack and then his brows rose as he found Sarah’s hidden Glock nine-millimeter pistol. He angrily placed the satellite phone between his shoulder and chin as he shoved her away. “I will download my visual report and await instruction. Sending video feed now.” Anderson connected his cell phone to the larger satellite phone and then pushed a few buttons. “Transmission sent. I will await your orders.” He lowered both phones and then pointed his pistol at Anya. “May I take it for granted that you are also armed, Major Korvesky?”
The other geologists with their hands in the air looked around in confusion. “Who in the bloody hell is Major Korvesky, mate?” Birnbaum asked.
The man posing as Anderson smiled as his eyes were still on Anya. “I’m afraid that I am not the only one posing as someone they are not. Would you care to explain that fact to these learned scholars, Major?”
Anya remained silent as all of the geologists save Sarah looked her way.
Anderson looked at the Australian. “She’s former Mossad. I’m sure you have heard of their murderous exploits in defense of the Israeli nation?”
“Is anyone here actually who they say they are?” Birnbaum asked, looking from professor to professor.
Sarah lowered her eyes.
“Oh, come on?” Birnbaum said as he saw the guilt cross McIntire’s face.
“Actually, Captain McIntire here is an actual geologist. But the Major, well, she’s more in the framework of a professional killer.”
“Captain McIntire?” Professor Lee Hong asked, shocked.
“Don’t read too much into it,” Sarah said as she kept her hands high in the air. “My government is here to assist in finding the resources the Chinese government needs to rebuild, nothing more.”
“Maybe being straight forward in the beginning would be a good start,” Lee said.
“Now, Comrade, what were your orders?” Anya asked as she eyed the chance at getting to her packed case and her own Glock.
“Simple. Keep an eye on you four,” Anderson said as he made sure Anya knew he suspected her thoughts and moved the gun to point at her head. Anya deflated.
“Four?” Lee again asked. “There are four of you?”
“Yes, Professor Ellenshaw and our Commander Ryan. All here under a false flag of friendship,” Anderson said with a smirk. “Now, speak of the devil, where are your two associates?”
Neither Sarah nor Anya said a word. Instead they were watching the sand dune just to the rear of the camp.
“I don’t think our associates are your immediate concern, my Russian friend,” Anya said as her eyes started counting.
The man impersonating Professor Anderson turned slightly and his heart froze. At least a hundred Mongolian tribesmen, none of them looking too friendly were there. They were all pointing what looked like AK-47’s down into the camp. The Range Rovers stood behind them. Empty. There were no sign of the twelve scientists that had left camp earlier and their equipment had already been stripped from the vehicles.
“I think we just found out why our Mongol guides stole one of our Range Rovers, bloody thieves,” Birnbaum said, as his attention went from being held at gunpoint by a Russian posing as one of them, to a hundred angry tribesmen who had obviously ambushed their colleagues somewhere in the desert on their return trip east.
“I should have known by the way they knew how to get here. These are Rangoli tribesmen. They are outlaws of the worst sort. Hated by all and loved only by their own murderous kind,” Professor Lee said. “May I suggest you lower that weapon before these unimaginative people take offense.”
Anderson did lower and then drop the small pistol as the one hundred brutal looking Mongolians advanced down into the camp of the invaders to their world.
Before Sarah knew what was happening, the satellite phone she had was ripped from her hand and smashed. When she was pushed to the ground and searched, her last thoughts were ones of hope that the signal she just sent made it out of the valley and that Jason and Charlie were high in the rocks watching them.
There were eyes watching. They just weren’t the eyes of Ryan or Ellenshaw.
District Four, thirty miles Northwest
of Ho Chi Minh City
The boy struggled with the two-wheeled fish cart as his sandaled feet fought with the uneven and cracked pavement that had turned into more or less a dirt road version of itself in very large spots. The grandfather assisted as much as he could by adding his meager weight to pushing the overflowing cart with his back to the wooden frame.
The cart maneuvered down the alley from a street where vendors sold everything from pork and chicken to fine examples of local jewelry making. The small town had been the service providers for the region since long before the war with the French and the Americans.
“This is good,” the grandfather said as the cart was now far enough away from the other vendors that lined the street far to the front. The grandson eased the long handles of the cart to the filthy alley floor and then wiped his brow.
“I can’t believe you, grandfather, throwing two days’ worth of catch away for this American.”
“If you cannot believe it, why dwell upon it?” the old man said as his eyes gazed upward at the row of apartments that seemed to be hidden away from the street by a dozen or more clothes lines stretched between the two buildings lining the alley. “I just hope the old fool is in.”
“What old fool? Why did we not take this man to the village doctor instead of traveling for eight hours to this…” he looked around at the filth of the alley, “stinky hell hole?”
“As I said, this does not concern you. It is enough to say that I am paying back an old debt, and once that is done, so is my long obligation. Now, hand me that stone at your feet.”
The boy did as his grandfather asked and tossed him the small rock. He watched as his grandfather looked around as if in great conspiracy and then raised the small stone up and tossed it up in the air. The boy heard the ping as it struck the window four flights up. The old man waited and nervously watched the street that was fifty yards away, and then looked at the passersby. He saw that no one granted the alley any special notice.
“I have heard many bad things about District Four, Grandfather. Is it true this is the place where all the war traitors are watched? That most of its citizens had to undergo reeducation training after the war?”
The old man ignored his grandson’s questioning nature and then reached down for another, larger stone. Before he could raise the rock to throw once more at the window, the clothes that were hung out to dry parted with an angry swipe. The flow of Vietnamese curses came before the face was even visible through the parting wash.
“It has always amazed me, old friend, how fast and in inventive ways you come up with your foul language.”
“Who is that, and why are trying your best to break my window? Do you know how hard glass is to come by around here?” The face in the dirty open window frame finally spied the two people below in the alley. “Oh, I thought you were that evil property owner of mine who I owe three months’ rent to.” The old face in the window finally changed expression as old memories flooded into his mind. “Is that you, Dai Mihn?” came the shrill voice. “Wait, I will come down.”
The grandson finally joined the old man at the front of the cart, stopping momentarily to rearrange the fish in the cart so as to completely cover their strange cargo.
“Who is this man, Grandfather?” The boy nudged him and joked. “He’s almost as old as you.”
Dai Mihn only looked at the boy with no humor on his wrinkled features.
“I cannot believe it, are you still alive, my old friend?” came the voice from their left.
The grandfather lost the stern countenance on his face as he was greeted. “No, I am the ghost of better days here to escort you to your ancestors.” He smiled broadly. “Thuyền trưởng, it is good to see you once more.”
The two old men embraced, with the stranger hugging the boy’s grandfather tight while patting him on the back. “No one has called me Thuyền trưởng in over forty years.” The two men finally parted as they both had tears in their eyes.
“You will always be my Captain,” Dai Mihn said as he held the man by his shoulders as they hugged once more. “I am glad to see that your reeducation did not kill you.” They finally parted as the newcomer wiped the tears away.
The Nationalist reeducation program started after the downfall of Saigon in 1975. Many of the South Vietnamese army veterans were either executed for their wartime failure of vision or were sent to reeducation camps to learn how to be good communists once again. Many in the current government had learned the failure of that program and had since concluded that if you left people alone they would eventually follow of their own accord without ‘reeducation’ programs.
“I would not have survived it if my vital skills were not needed after the war.”
“Yes, good doctors were hard to find. It does my heart and soul good to see you.”
The man was named Hùng Quốc Vương. A former Captain and physician from the old South Vietnamese army. Dai Mihn had been his special protector on many operations around the old Ho Chi Minh Trail where north and south forces met in combat on many occasions.
“The funny thing is, the profession that saved me from many months of torture was not needed as badly as first thought. I am ashamed to say I have not practiced my arts since those darkest of days.”
“Then my friend, I give you that opportunity this day. I need your help.”
Hùng Quốc Vương looked from his old friend to the boy who stood silent as he learned about a mysterious life that had never been told to him by his parents, nor his grandfather.
“And who is this?” Hùng asked as he eyed the boy suspiciously.
“This is my grandson, he assisted me in finding you.”
“To assist this old fool in this,” the boy said, as he shoved a few of the large catfish and blue gill out of the way to expose the face of the American.
Hùng lost the color in his features. He looked from the face of the American to his oldest friend. He backed away from the cart.
“Why have you brought him here?”
“He needs your help. I could not have taken him to the local doctor, he is a true believer and would have turned him over to the authorities, and you know what they would do to him. He would have turned him over to the pigs that run our province. Children that don’t understand the intricacies of our shared past. They would have imprisoned him. Until we learn why he was shot and thrown into the Mekong, he deserved a chance to at least tell us his story.” Dai watched as the old doctor took in his excuse for possibly getting him shot for the charge of conspiring with a foreign element.
“Well, you have made a great error, my friend. Take him from here and put him back into the river. I need no part in this.”
The old man lost his patience and then started to throw fish from the cart. He dug until he found the muscled arm of the American. He turned the wrist over to expose the forearm. The SEAL tattoo was easily visible even with the fish blood and foulness that covered it. Hùng looked from the tattoo to his old protector.
“Yes, you recognize the symbol, don’t you?”
“Get that boy of yours and assist me in getting him into the apartment before someone sees us.” He stopped as he reached for the body in the cart and looked at Dai. “This is not for you brother Dai, but for him,” he said as he held up the filthy arm.
It took thirty long minutes to maneuver the large American up the rickety stairs of the apartment complex. There had been a few curious looks from neighbors, but Hùng’s reputation as a surly old fool kept most seekers of curiosity at bay.
Dai and his grandson left the apartment and the grandfather instructed his grandson to set up on the street and to sell as much of the fish as possible to cut down on their losses. He returned just as Hùng finished wrapping the American’s head with a semi-filthy gauze.
“Will he live?” Dai asked as he stood at the foot of the splintering cot.
“He is a big man. He has many old and deep scars upon him. Yes, he will survive. Two gunshots. One to the right side, just missing his liver. A graze to his right temple that would have slammed into his central lobe if it had been half an inch closer. And a knife wound to his abdomen. All grave, but survivable. Here,” he handed Dai a small object, “you may find this of interest. This is the bullet I pulled from near his liver. You see something familiar?”
“It seems this is the same strange caliber bullet we came across a few times after battle with our Northern brothers. Russian?”
“Yes, a few of our officers had captured pistols such as this during the war. Believe me I took out many a bullet from soldiers on both sides, and I will never forget what pistol was used to deliver them.”
A dawning of understanding crossed the old soldier’s face. “A Russian made RSh-12.”
“Yes, the most powerful handgun the Russian pigs make. And if this American had been shot by any other weapon, it would have lodged in his liver instead of just nicking it. But being as powerful as the bullet is, it just passed right through and lodged against his back bone, barely missing the spine. Luckily for this man, I was able to just cut to the skin and the bullet popped free.”
Dai placed the bullet next to the head of the wounded man.
“I have given him all the antibiotics I had on hand, but infection could still kill him. As much as we both owe this group of soldiers, you may have to get him to the hospital. The American SEALs saved our lives many times, but I’m afraid I am out of practice in saving theirs.”
Dai looked sad as he thought about turning over his charge to people that may or may not help him to survive. The two governments, both American and Vietnamese, may be getting closer in international relations, but they still had a way to go to quell old memories of a war long dead.
“If his fever grows worse, I will have no choice but to take him to the hospital,” Dai finally admitted.
“No…hospital…no…hospital.”
Both men looked at the prone American who was moving his bandaged head from side to side. Hùng went to the man’s side and raised his wrist. His pulse was stronger than before, but still worrisome.
“You are near Ho Chi Minh City. Do you know who shot you? Was it government forces?” he asked as his eyes flicked over to Dai.
The man lay still for the longest time. Then one blue eye fluttered open. The left eye, still visible under the makeshift bandage, looked and then focused on Hùng.
“How long…how long…”
Dai Mihn stepped forward and looked down at the large man. “We found you in the river a day ago. We thought you dead,” he said in broken English, a language he hadn’t used since the war’s end forty years before. “What is your name and your purpose being in a country you have no right to be in?”
The man moved his uncovered eye and it fixed on the old men, moving from one to the other. “I am…not…an enemy…of your people. My name is Captain Carl Everett. We…were here…tracking…tracking…a murderous Russian…” The words trailed off and then the eye opened once more and the American tried to keep it open. “Who…are…you?” he asked with great effort of will.
It was the old doctor who answered. “We are old friends of your country. From many, many years ago. We were a part of the ARVN during the war. We were of the 258th Marine Brigade, Special Operations Group attached to the 9th American Infantry Division. We worked very closely with your own organization.” The doctor raised Everett’s arm and rubbed a thumb over the fading tattoo. “Now, who was it that placed you in a very precarious position in a country that is slow on forgiveness?” He looked from Carl to Dai. “A Russian?”
They watched as the very large American swallowed. He tried to speak but held back as the memory came flooding back to him.
“No…no Russian. An…American.” He closed his one eye as he tried to think a problem through.
“One of your own?” Dai Mihn asked, incredulous.
Both old soldiers exchanged looks of amazement. Evidently the Americans had not changed all that much since the war years. They were still as confusing as ever.
They watched the man named Everett slowly close his one eye as a single tear flowed down his grizzled cheek.
He whispered just one name as he lost consciousness—“Jack.”
Event Group Complex,
Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada
Virginia Pollock saw Niles Compton as he entered the air-powered pneumatic elevator. She called out ‘hold’ as the director stopped the doors from closing. She stepped in and then waved two group paleontologists away who tried to join them. Both men saw the looks of angst on the two heads of Department 5656 and were more than happy to catch the next ride. The doors closed and the soft flow of air entering the system was near silent as the car shot downward into the complex.
“How did your conversation with the President go?” she asked.
Niles removed his horned rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes, it was that bad. Not only won’t the entirety of the intel community back the shoddy evidence we have on this Siberian group in Russia, most think the President has lost a nut. We just can’t forward anything substantial about them for anyone to work out. Not even the navy, who witnessed these guys at sea, can convince anyone to listen to reason.”
“That’s not all that’s worrying him, is it?” Virginia asked as she reached out and pushed the ‘hold’ button on the indicator panel. The elevator came to a silent stop. It never occurred to anyone in the complex that the one-ton elevator car was sitting in a tube with absolutely nothing securing it but pressurized air.
“He’s near a breakdown. Both the senate and congress are on him about the expenditures for the war against the Grays. Now they’re onto our plan to help the Chinese dig out of the hole they are in because of their war costs. We’ve got Senators digging into the war’s intelligence and who came up with the Overlord plan, which of course—”
“Would lead to us,” Virginia finished for him.
Niles replaced his glasses and then hit the button for level ‘ten’. “We may be in for some tough times ahead in the election. Instead of the good man we have in office, we may be dealing with a budget hawk in Senator Lyle Lange.” Niles looked at Virginia. “How do you think he’ll feel about our little money absorbing agency?”
“You’ll convince whoever is elected how important our work is.”
Niles shrugged as the elevator came to a silent stop. “I need the President to guide me on this.” He stepped out of the car with his head down. “Come with me so I can get an update on Doctor Morales’ progress without me biting the boy’s head off.”
They walked down the curving, plastic lined hallway and stopped outside of the cleanroom doors. The Marine guard came to attention and Compton waved him to ‘at ease’. He paused before placing his thumb on the glass fingerprint reader.
“Look, you do the talking. I was much too hard on the kid this morning.”
“You’re just worried about Carl and Jack. I’m sure Xavier understands. He’s just about to lose his mind for the role he played in their present circumstances.”
Niles placed his thumb on the I.D. reader and the doors hissed open. “By the way, how did Mr. Personality take his orders to accompany Will to South East Asia?”
They both entered the cleanroom and then started placing the paper protectants over their clothes, shoes and heads.
“Oh, he cursed, threw a few things, but calmed down when I explained the situation.”
“Calmed?” Niles asked.
“Well, for the Master Chief it was calm. We have to replace his office door window.”
Compton opened the automated doors to the interior cleanroom and entered with Virginia close behind. “Make sure the cost of the window comes out of his pay.”
Virginia smiled and said nothing as they approached Xavier Morales who was concentrating so hard with Europa that he failed to see them enter the cleanroom.
The Cray computer’s protective core doors were open, and both Virginia and Niles watched as the ‘bubble’ memory system that drove the Cray ‘Blue Ice’ system was in full swing. They could see that Doctor Morales was pushing the system to its limits. The three thousand clear glass tubes were multi-colored and were in full activation as some bubbles rose and others fell. The large bubbles rising were programs being utilized by the paraplegic computer genius and the ones falling to the bottom of the eighty-five-foot tubes were programs that had already been used and were in the process of being stored.
“You cannot tell me that!” Xavier said into the microphone at his station. There were places for five other personnel at the long table facing the massive computer system. Xavier was all alone. Whenever he was pressed for time, the good doctor always worked alone, much like their old friend and deceased member of Department 5656, Pete Golding.
“Regardless, Doctor, the tracking device is not currently emitting a trackable signal.”
Morales slammed his palm against the table’s top at the Marilyn Monroe voiced response. “There has to be a reading one way or the other. If the Colonel is dead, we should be able to see his vitals. It’s a nuclear-powered device, for Christ’s sake!”
“Still can’t trace Jack?” Virginia asked as she pulled out a rolling chair and sat.
Morales jumped at the suddenness of the enquiry. “Doctor Pollock, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Morales turned and that was when he saw the director leaning against the wall watching them. “Director…I, uh…,” he stammered.
“Continue, Doctor,” was all Niles added.
“Europa, display Captain Everett’s trace parameters please,” he said as he rubbed his eyes.
On the clear glass window facing them and separating them from Europa’s brain systems, a hologram appeared on the thick glass. The numbers and icons were all green and blue in color.
“As you can see, Captain Everett’s vitals have improved. I think maybe he’s gained some form of consciousness. Heart, respiratory and brain activity has been steadily improving over the past three and a half hours. Still no location for the Colonel,” Xavier said and then turned toward the glass. “Europa has yet to locate him,” as if accusing her in a sarcastic tone of voice.
“You’ve been able to pinpoint the Captain’s precise location?” Virginia asked.
“Europa, display the area of Captain Everett’s current location.”
The hologram changed and then a street map of Ho Chi Minh City stretched across the glass. In the far upper right corner, a small red blip appeared and then the map changed to bring that area into close detail.
“The area is called, unofficially of course, ‘traitors alley’. District four in the city. Most residents there were of the Southern persuasion during the war years. Europa surmises that this area may be the only part of South East Asia that could possibly help the Captain if only for old time’s sake. His transponder readings and improving health may bear that theory out.”
“Doctor Morales, I have picked up a trace signal from Colonel Collins’ transponder. It is very weak.”
Xavier brightened and sat up immediately. “Location?”
“Current location is approximately one hundred and thirty-two kilometers from Ho Chi Minh City. The Laos province of Hai Lap Hue. Current evaluation of health is unclear. The transponder appears to be moving north toward Cambodia.”
“Damn it,” Niles said as he began his usual pacing when thinking.
“What is it?” Virginia asked.
“The damn Golden Triangle is what it is. Most of the world’s heroin comes from there. In other words, it’s not the safest place for Jack to be, especially without any form of backup.”
“One thing is for sure, if he knew Carl was alive he never would have left him hurt and lost,” Virginia said.
Niles stopped his pacing, much to the relief of Xavier and Virginia. “Okay, Xavier, I want to clear the board of all operations in Asia for the time being. The furthest out I believe is Captain McIntire’s team in Mongolia. Their field report says that Europa was mistaken in her evaluation of the satellite images. So, bring them out, now.”
“Sarah’s team is currently awaiting pickup for their return home,” Virginia offered.
“Don’t wait for their scheduled pickup. Get an Air Force aircraft in there now. I want Ryan to join with Will’s team when they land in Vietnam. They’ll need him.”
“Europa, let’s give Captain McIntire a heads up.”
“Incoming communications packet from Captain McIntire has arrived.”
“Fortuitous,” Virginia said as she watched the hologram in front of her.
Instead of a voice communication, it was a video that Sarah sent.
The three sat in silence as they watched the experiment Sarah had conducted in the Gobi. There was no sound, so they all surmised it was taken by a weaker cell phone camera instead of a video cam. They watched in awe as the experiment went off. They could see the detail and the strange ore Sarah had used. They watched it no less than six times trying to figure out just what it was they were looking at.
“Europa, dissect the video from Captain McIntire and estimate speed of travel of object in video.”
“Calculating.”
Doctor Morales impatiently drummed his fingers on the steel table-top.
“Due to low grade quality of visual, I am unable to estimate exact speed.”
Xavier rubbed a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. “Damn it, give me your best guess Europa!”
Virginia stood up and patted Xavier on the shoulder, trying to calm the young genius.
“Since precise visual trail of exhaust is lost at approximately thirty-three-thousand feet, I can only estimate from time of explosive outgassing of object as it leaves the desert floor.”
“Oh, come on Europa, you’re killing me! Estimate of speed!”
“Speed of object is estimated at six-hundred-thousand miles per hour.”
The cleanroom became silent. The only sound they heard was the air in the vent system that constantly scrubbed the air of germs and microscopic particles.
“My God, I think they found something better than copper and zinc out there. What in the hell is that ore?” Virginia asked.
“Europa, contact Captain McIntire immediately for clarification,” Niles said as he leaned over the table and spoke into the microphone. They waited.
“There is no verbal response at this time. Europa is currently recording a malfunction in the transmission signature.”
“What malfunction?” Xavier asked incredulously.
“Non-verbal communication established.”
“What do you mean non-verbal communication? Let’s hear it,” Xavier said as he gripped the rails of his wheelchair spokes.
All three heard it. It came out loud and clear over the speaker system. The series clicks, and blips was loud and clear and Xavier and Niles knew its meaning. … -- …, it repeated twice more and then ceased suddenly.
“Morse Code, Doctor,” Europa said.
“Morse?” Virginia asked aloud.
Niles again started pacing.
“Well, what did it say?”
Morales started punching in data to retrieve Sarah’s exact location but paused long enough to answer Virginia’s question.
“It was an S.O.S. Doctor. Captain McIntire’s team is obviously in some form of trouble.”