The Mission

CHAPTER 22

Inside Qian-Ling. Che Lu and Lo Fa watched as Elek was one with the guardian, surrounded by the golden glow.

“I do not like this,” Lo Fa said. He spit. “Talking with that thing like that—“

The golden field snapped off and Elek stepped back. He walked past the two Chinese without a glance, into the main control room, and up to the console. “What have you learned?” Che Lu asked as she followed.

“I have no time for you,” Elek snapped. His hands moved over the panel.

A loud rumbling noise came through the door leading to the storage cavern. Che Lu and Lo Fa went into the large room. In the center of the floor, the black metal covering was sliding back on one of the largest of the containers. Inside was a drum, about fifty meters long, by ten in diameter. It was mounted on both ends by a cradle of black metal that attached at the center of each end. The drum itself was a dull gray.

As they watched, the drum began to rotate, faster and faster. Streaks of color — red, orange, violet, purple — began shooting through the gray.

“What is that?” Lo Fa asked.

“I have no idea.”

“It is of the devil,” Lo Fa said, and he spit in that direction.

“Hear that?” Croteau held up his fist, halting the patrol once more. The faint light of dawn was touching the eastern sky, and the men were nervous.

Another mercenary cocked his head. “Yah.”

They both turned and looked back the way they had come. Qian-Ling was highlighted in the flush of the first rays of the sun.

“What’s that?” the mercenary whispered.

The air around Qian-Ling was shimmering.

“I don’t—” Croteau paused as he heard another noise. The roar of a jet engine. He barely had time to look up as a CSS-5 cruise missile flashed by overhead at a height of less than forty feet. The contrail of the missile headed straight for Qian-Ling.

“Oh, God,” Croteau whispered.

The missile hit the shimmering wall and detonated.

Croteau saw the flash, which instantly destroyed his retinas, a millisecond before the blast wave incinerated him and everything within ten kilometers.

“China just nuked Qian-Ling.” Duncan was holding up several satellite photos. Turcotte was seated cross-legged on the floor of the bouncer, the laptop hooked to the SATPhone on his lap. He could see her and the photos on the twelve-inch screen.

As Turcotte looked at the photos in the computer screen, she kept speaking. “From following the time sequence, it appears that a shield was activated just prior to the detonation.” She reached and pulled one of the photos out and put it on top. “See this wavy effect? That’s what the Easter Island shield looked like before it went opaque.”

Turcotte checked the next couple of shots. “It apparently doesn’t completely stop a nuclear blast.”

In the imagery, Qian-Ling had been stripped bare of vegetation, trees blown away, the ground scorched.

“It didn’t completely stop this blast,” Duncan agreed, “but it did seem to stop the missile.” She used the tip of her pencil to show a point to the west of the mountain tomb. “Point of detonation was right here, about a kilometer and a half from the tomb. Right where the shield wall is. I think it was targeted for the tomb itself.”

“The Chinese probably used a cruise missile.” Turcotte said. “The shield wall detonated it when the missile touched the shield because the wall picked up the EM emissions.”

Duncan nodded. “Yes, but I think the wall still dissipated the blast somewhat. The experts are going over the information, but initial impressions are that damage was not as extensive as the Chinese would have liked. The tomb appears intact.”

“And sealed off now like Easter Island,” Turcotte noted. “What about Che Lu? Was she inside?”

“We don’t know. Imagery caught several groups of people outside the tomb just prior to the blast.”

“If they were outside, they’re dead,” Turcotte said.

“Radius of blast is ten kilometers. I’m hoping Che Lu stayed inside.” “But if she’s not in the tomb activating the shield,” Turcotte wondered, “then who is?”

“STAAR.”

Turcotte slumped down in a chair. “I’ve been thinking. STAAR knew there were Airlia still alive on the talon or that it was being remote-controlled — whichever — that’s the card Lexina was holding.”

“Most likely.”

“So they could be in communication with the talon?”

Duncan shook her head. “I don’t know about that.”

“So we’re back to not having a clue as to where STAAR is, who they are, what their goals are, and most important, what they are up to,” Turcotte summarized. He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Plus we now have these Watchers. I don’t understand why they need to put their people on board the mothership if they have a cure.”

“Maybe they can’t get the cure to all their people,” Duncan said.

“More likely they want to keep them vulnerable to the Black Death,” Turcotte said. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the confusing information. “We’ve got to find The Mission. It’s our only chance.”

“Kopina didn’t know where it was. And…” Duncan paused, looking off to her right. “I’ve got a message from Major Quinn at Area 51. Hold on.”

The entire mountain had shaken with the blast, but there was no visible sign of damage inside the tomb. Lo Fa had gone down the tunnel the mercenaries had left from and reported back that it was again sealed with dirt and rock.

Che Lu had gone with him up the left corridor, where there had been a small shaft to the outside world. That shaft was also closed off now. Che Lu had stood for several moments on the right side of the corridor, where the shaft went down into the heart of Qian-Ling, trying to imagine what lay down there on the forbidden lowest level.

They had finally returned to the control room where Elek was. “All those men had to have died in the blast,” Che Lu said.

Elek simply stared at the old Chinese woman, his dark glasses hiding his eyes. “You are responsible for their deaths,” Che Lu added.

“I did not detonate the nuclear weapon,” Elek said. “The Chinese government did. That is who is responsible.”

“You brought those men here,” Che Lu said. “I don’t believe you really had a plan to get them out.”

“Perhaps not,” Elek granted. “But that was their destiny, what they were. They fulfilled it.”

“What destiny?” Che Lu challenged.

“They were mercenaries. Soldiers for hire. Death is the natural conclusion to such an existence. It is what they are for.” Elek pointed a long pale finger at Che Lu and Lo Fa. “You think too much of yourselves.”

Lo Fa muttered something, and Che Lu placed a hand on his shoulder. “Who thinks too much of themselves?” Che Lu asked.

Elek smiled, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “Most people. They think they are important and they aren’t.”

“An interesting perspective,” Che Lu said. “What now?”

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“Until someone brings us the key.”

“What makes you think someone has it and what makes you think they’ll bring it here? And even if they do, how are they going to get it in to us?” Che Lu challenged.

“We wait” was all Elek would say.

The inner hatch opened with a splash of water. Coridan and Gergor dropped several packages in before entering themselves and shutting the hatch behind them.

“The Chinese dropped a nuclear weapon on Qian-Ling” was Lexina’s way of greeting them.

“Elek?” Coridan asked.

“Inside. He was able to get the shield up before the attack.”

“The key?” Gergor asked.

“The guardian in Qian-Ling has no record of it returning to China. It confirms that Cing Ho did take it with him in 656 B.C. to the Middle East.”

Gergor shook his head, water flying off. “Fantastic. So we don’t have a clue.” “Be careful how you speak,” Lexina warned.

Gergor arched an eyebrow. “I spent years in the ice and snow watching that place. My patience was sorely tested. But I did my job. It was your job — and the job of those before you — to maintain the records. You did not do your job well. That is our problem now. So be careful of how you speak to me.”

“The records were lost long before my time,” Lexina said. “We have tried to reconstitute them.”

Gergor shrugged. “I don’t care whose fault it is. We need the key. Now.” “The human shuttles were destroyed,” Lexina said.

“Both of them?” Gergor was surprised.

“The talon’s automatic defense system — which we knew was active — destroyed the one that went to it. Someone among the other shuttle’s crew was a Guide. But as soon as he acted, the shuttle imploded.”

“The Watchers?” Gergor asked.

“It could be,” Lexina allowed.

“So they cannot use it to pick up their Guides and their followers,” Coridan said. “What will The Mission do now?”

Lexina had been considering that same question. “I don’t know.”

As he waited for Duncan to get back with him, Turcotte pored over a map of South America, Yakov looking over his shoulder.

“Could The Mission be at Tiahuanaco?” Turcotte asked.

Yakov shook his large, shaggy head. “No. I was there.”

“Well. Harrison had Tiahuanaco highlighted.”

“That is because he knew of The Mission’s involvement with the death of that Empire,” Yakov said. “The records I found indicate the Black Death finished off the Aymara.”

Turcotte ran a hand through his short hair. “Sister Angelina said The Mission was to the east, but that seems like the wrong direction.”

“Perhaps—” Yakov began, but Duncan was back on the screen.

“I’m forwarding you some text that Quinn’s people got out of the Scorpion Base hard drive.”

“Does it pinpoint The Mission?” Turcotte asked.

Duncan shook her head. “I don’t think STAAR knew where The Mission was either, but they were on its trail. You have to read it.”

The screen cleared and then the rest of the document appeared.

“Ah.” Yakov was disgusted. “Our base for Section Four was called the Demon’s Station. This does not get us any closer to finding where The Mission is. Even STAAR had not found it.”

“Or the Watchers,” Duncan said through the computer link.

“Damn it!” Turcotte slammed a fist into his side. “South America is a big place. If these people had been looking for years, there’s no way we’re going to…” He paused. “Kourou.”

“What about it?” Yakov asked.

“When is the launch of the next four satellites scheduled?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Then The Mission will have to put their Black Death payloads into the rockets soon, right?”

Yakov nodded.

“But we got the payload from the last launch,” Turcotte said.

“They were either refining the virus with this launch,” Kenyon said, “or making more. Most likely the latter, as they were confident enough to schedule the four launches for tomorrow. You said there were two previous launches. They most likely have Black Death virus from those that they can use.”

“So they don’t have to have this load?” Turcotte asked.

“I doubt it,” Kenyon said. “One thing, though — even as tough as this virus is — I’d say they’d have to keep it viable, which means keeping it refrigerated and not loading the payload dispersers until the last minute.”

“I doubt they’re holding it at Kourou unless all of Europe is in on this,”

Turcotte said. “The previous launches — where did they come down?” Turcotte asked.

Duncan answered that: “Off the coast of French Guiana in the Atlantic.”

“I saw something,” Turcotte muttered. He grabbed the map off the floor of the bouncer. He ran his finger along the coast, up from Brazil to French Guiana where Kourou was located.

“It’s there,” he whispered. “It’s been there right in front of us all this time.”

“What?” Duncan’s voice out of the speaker echoed Yakov’s.

“The Mission.” Turcotte stabbed his finger on a spot on the map. “Right off the coast from Kourou. The old French prison. Devil’s Island.”