Target nine, p.9
Target Nine, page 9
In a dark, dingy basement in the prison of Kathmandu’s army base, their prisoner was not looking pretty.
A military “interrogation expert”, a hulking fellow stripped to the waist, had been using what he called “persuasion techniques” on the Communist.
Those persuasion techniques mainly consisted of beating the crap out of him.
Jacob did not like torture, and he did not like torturers. Beating a man to a pulp in a fair fight was one thing; doing it while he was strapped to a chair was another.
Plus, it didn't even work all that well. The subject might put on a brave face, as this one had, but eventually they'd crack and tell you whatever they thought you wanted to hear.
Jacob didn’t want to hear what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear the truth.
So far, the subject had claimed over and over that the Nepalese People’s Liberation Front had nothing to do with the theft of the Royal Vajra or the attacks on the border post or archaeology dig.
Jacob wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. The Nepalese army had cracked their cell phones easily enough and found a lot of communications, none of them related to any of those three operations.
Of course, like many insurgencies, the Nepalese People’s Liberation Front operated in a cell structure. One cell knew little or nothing about the operations or identities of the other cells. Better security that way.
At least he and Tamang hadn’t gotten into trouble for what they did. As his colleague had predicted, they were grateful for the help, although they would tell the press the operations had been conducted by the Nepalese military.
Fair enough. There was even discussion of their getting medals.
Jacob didn’t want a medal. He just wanted to go home.
He also wanted the pain in his chest to stop. No cracked ribs, just the mother of all bruises.
Bad enough.
As a meaty fist thumped against the terrorist’s swollen face for the umpteenth time, Jacob figured the odds. The Communists couldn’t have too many cells in Kathmandu, so the chances that this one wasn’t involved seemed slim. Also, the informant, now the proud owner of a ticket out of Nepal and a Green Card, insisted that he had heard nothing about the group perpetrating any of these crimes. Of course, this came out after he got his reward, not before. He had wanted to keep his offer as juicy as possible.
The Communist cried out, then gave a long monologue. One of the officers standing nearby spoke decent English and translated.
“He’s challenging us. He asks why the Nepalese People’s Liberation Front would steal a religious object when religion is the opium of the people. He says they have no interest in such a thing.”
That fact had been bothering Jacob for some time now. The terrorists who took the Royal Vajra had said they were taking it so it “will be an object of power for the people.” Jacob had assumed that meant a show of force by the Communists, but perhaps they meant a religious power. That jived with the other part of their statement saying it was wasted in the royal palace and the museum.
The Communist spat out some blood onto the boot of the interrogator, got a slap in return, and went on. The officer translated.
“He also asks why they would attack the border post if it wasn’t to assist an invasion, and why they would gun down a bunch of archaeologists who weren’t oppressing the people. The Nepalese People’s Liberation Front has no interest in the past, he states, only in the future.”
Jacob looked at the officer. “He’s got a point.”
The officer scowled at the prisoner. “They must have done it. Who else would?”
“Damn good question,” Jacob muttered. He excused himself. He needed some air. The sound of a fist hitting flesh followed him as he walked down the corridor and up into the military base, accompanied by a soldier as a guide.
Torture bothered him. It rarely worked and was more for the gratification of the captors than for learning any valuable intel. He knew enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to stop it in this case, however. That Communist operative was in for a long day.
God, I’m getting tired of this crap.
As soon as he got out into the fresh air, he took a deep breath and called Jana.
He glanced at the soldier. While the young guy had indicated he spoke no English, Jacob wasn’t fooled. He’d been assigned to the foreigner because he could listen in.
Fine. Let him listen in. Jacob was beginning not to care.
Jana picked up. “How are things with the prisoner?”
“Not getting anywhere. I don’t think the Commies did it. They don’t really have a reason to and we found no evidence in their safe house.”
“You sound upset.”
He glanced at the soldier again, who was staring off into space.
“Just tired. And you?”
“I think I have a lead, but we’ll need permission to go to a sensitive border area to speak to some Buddhist monks.”
“That would be a nice change of pace over our usual company.”
“So who do you think did it?” Jana asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You free to talk?”
“Not really.”
“Do you think it’s our old professor friend?”
“It might be.” Professor Harlow had the interest and the ruthlessness.
“We’ll talk later. Come on back to the hotel.”
Those were the best words he’d heard all day. He wanted to lie in bed with her and not come out for a week.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Jana grumbled.
A man stood at the entrance to her hotel.
He was tall, easily six-four, with a lanky build, a deeply tanned face from long hours in the sun, and salt and pepper hair swept back in a rather affected style. He wore a conservative tailored suit, the jacket of which hung a bit loosely on his frame.
She knew that hid a shoulder holster, because she knew who this was.
Robert Bledshaw, director of the Antiquities Division. He had the knowledge of a university professor and the combat skills of a Green Beret.
And the transparency of the IRS.
Bledshaw bowed, and in a refined accent that spoke of boarding school and the Ivy League, he said, “I’m thrilled to see you again, Jana. Are you glad to see me?”
“It depends. Why are you here?” She glanced to the left and right to make sure no one was close, and in a lower voice said, “Is Dr. Harlow behind this?”
“I think it best that we speak in the privacy of your hotel room. Jacob is already up there.”
Of course, you'd know that.
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you,” Jana grumbled.
“I do look forward to our reunion,” he said with a cheery air.
They entered the hotel and ascended the steps as Bledshaw made small talk about the sights in Kathmandu. Jana didn’t ask any of the million questions she had. Jacob would want to know the answers too.
Jana knocked at the door. Quicker than she expected, Jacob unlocked and opened it.
“Hey honey, I’m so glad … oh.”
"Good afternoon, Agent Snow." Again, that irritating bow. "May I come in?"
"Damn right, you can come in," Jacob snarled. "You have some explaining to do."
They entered, Jacob slammed and locked the door behind them, and they all sat down, Jacob glaring at the newcomer.
“What have you discovered in your investigations so far?” Robert Bledshaw asked.
“No way,” Jana grunted. “You first.”
Bledshaw gave a little shrug and said, “Very well. When we heard about the theft of the Royal Vajra, we became concerned that Professor Harlow is up to his old tricks again.”
“It seems like a reasonable hypothesis,” Jana said. “Do you have any hard evidence?”
“No.”
“Neither do we. What took you so long to get here? We’ve been here for two days.”
“We had some other matters to attend to.”
“Like what?”
“Just other matters.”
Here we go again.
“What do you know about the Royal Vajra?” Jacob asked, showing the irritation Jana was trying to hide.
“That it’s a holy relic of great cultural and religious importance to all the Himalayan peoples.”
Jana clicked her tongue. “Come on. There’s more than that. You wouldn’t show up in Paris if the Mona Lisa was stolen.”
Robert Bledshaw smiled. “Saying that proves you don’t know much about the Mona Lisa.”
Jana ignored that and persisted. “What do you know about the Royal Vajra that makes it important to the Antiquities Division?”
“I’d like to help you, but I’m not in a position to offer any more information unless you are willing to collaborate.”
Jana and Jacob traded a look.
“Could you leave us for a minute?” she asked.
Bledshaw nodded, rose, and walked into the hallway. Jana gave him a hard stare and he walked a little way down the hallway.
Jana still stared at him. He gave her another of his annoying little bows and said, “I’ll wait on the street outside.”
Then he left.
Jana closed the door and the two of them went to the window. After a moment, Bledshaw appeared and stepped over to the other side of the street, where he stood watching the passersby.
Even so, Jana turned the TV on loud just in case. They had both learned never to underestimate this man.
“What do you think?” Jana asked, keeping her voice down.
“I don’t trust him.”
“He didn’t turn out so bad in the last mission,” Jana pointed out.
“He did what he had to do. What does he have to do now? We don’t know what he’s been up to these last few months except for a few brief phone calls that told us nothing except that he was still alive.”
In gratitude for Bledshaw unmasking his boss, the Curator, who Bledshaw was under orders not to even acknowledge the existence of, Jacob and Jana had told him in front of the crew of goons that had come to pick him up and take him back to base that he should call regularly to show them that he was still alive.
An implied threat to the Antiquities Division, except they had no idea if they could follow through. They didn’t know where the Curator was based, and it was a U.S. government institution so they’re hands were pretty much tied anyway.
Still, the calls had come, and Bledshaw was still breathing. But in those calls, he talked of nothing of importance and said goodbye after only a couple of minutes.
So they knew nothing of his current relationship with the Curator, or whether he was still director, or anything about what he had been up to in the past few months.
Jana and Jacob thought for a moment. On the TV, a Nepalese journalist was speaking from a news desk. The scene cut to a general at a podium making an angry speech and shaking his fist in the air.
“I think we need him,” Jana said.
“Well, he’s involved in this whether we like it or not. I guess having him where we can keep an eye on him is the best course of action.”
Jacob didn’t sound too happy about that. Jana sure knew how he felt.
“So I guess the question is, how much do we reveal to him?” Jana said.
“He’s obviously here because of that cyar mey symbol and its connection to ancient power for that old civilization." Jacob raised a hand before she could point out the scientific implausibility of that statement. "He believes it, and Professor Harlow believes it. That's what matters."
Jana couldn’t argue with that. Just like when she’d tangled with terrorists, she was once again having to deal with irrational people who would stop at nothing to further their crazy beliefs. But unlike with the terrorists, there was no clear demarcation between good and evil. While Dr. Harlow had killed tens of thousands of people to unmask the Curator, the Curator had let it happen by refusing to give himself up. They had been stuck in the case until Bledshaw had admitted the Curator was a real person and arranged an interview.
So Bledshaw’s better nature could be trusted to a point. His boss, on the other hand, couldn’t be trusted at all.
Jana considered for a moment. “He’s obviously reached out to us because he thinks we know things he doesn’t, and I’m sure he knows lots we don’t. I think we should work with him. Let’s tell him everything. At the moment, that’s not much.”
Jacob looked uncomfortable. “Everything? I suppose. But he better give something back. And let’s not name our informants. I don’t want the Antiquities Division harassing them. Who knows what they’re capable of.”
“Agreed. And Professor Harlow might still have moles in the organization. It might be dangerous to give Bledshaw names.”
They went to the window and motioned for him to return. As Jana went to turn off the TV, the news program was showing Nepali troops high in a mountain unloading equipment.
We better solve this before it escalates out of control, Jana thought. Assuming it hasn’t already.
Bledshaw sat down with them and they told him all they had learned. He must have noted the lack of names provided, but he did not comment on this.
After they finished, he spoke.
“I agree that it wasn’t this Communist group who did all or even any of the attacks. It doesn’t make sense, as you say. I think it was Professor Harlow. He wants to tap the power of the cyar mey and stealing the Royal Vajra is a good first step.”
“What do you know about this power?” Jacob asked. Jana tried to control her impatience.
“There are many legends about how Civilization X got its power.”
“Civilization X?” Jana asked.
“That’s what we call the civilization from a hundred thousand years ago, since we don’t know what they called themselves.”
“You never called it that on our last mission.”
“Our research has advanced since then,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “In any case, Civilization X obviously had extensive power needs, given that they had lighting, large cities, and similar modes of transport to our own. Where did they get the electricity? If you sample ice cores, you can trace the emission of carbon from sources such as coal and oil. No such emissions have been found from such an early date. We would expect at least as much as you see from ice cores dating to the Industrial Revolution, and yet we find nothing.”
That’s because there’s nothing to find, Jana thought. She kept that to herself. They had gotten Bledshaw talking, and that was such a rare occurrence that she didn’t want to interrupt.
Bledshaw went on.
“So how did they power highly advanced cities without carbon emissions? Photovoltaics? Hydroelectric dams? Nuclear fission or fusion? Possible, but we’ve found no evidence of that. We believe it could have been some different power source, something unknown to our science.”
“The car mey,” Jacob said.
"Exactly. This is a new line of research for us. I'm afraid we've spent too much time on the more accessible regions of study, such as India and North Africa, where Civilization X had outposts. Their main areas of population got erased by the Ice Age, so we've been put in the odd situation of trying to study a civilization through its outposts. Until now, we haven't spent nearly enough time on the most remote of those outposts, those located high in the Himalayas. It's a sensitive region, after all, and we don't have access to a large portion of it thanks to the intransigence of the Chinese government."
“What changed your attitude?” Jana asked.
"The Royal Vajra being displayed in public. Until then, we'd never gotten a good look at it. The royal family had never published photos of it. All we had were some simple drawings by an eighteenth-century British traveler, and we weren't sure those were accurate. When the press release for the grand opening of the Himalayan Heritage Museum came out, we were astonished to see the capabilities of the artifact."
“What capabilities?” Jana asked. “It’s just a really big vajra.”
Bradshaw shook his head. "You have it the wrong way around. The vajras of Nepalese tradition, and the identical dorje of Tibetan tradition, are in fact miniature models. Imitations by later cultures who understood its importance but not its true power. The Royal Vajra is the real thing, perhaps the only surviving example."
“Of what?”
“A power conduit for the car mey.” Bledshaw held up a silencing hand. “We think. Our research is still lacking in this aspect.”
Jacob rubbed his jaw. “So you think Professor Harlow stole the Royal Vajra in order to tap into the cyar mey and use it?”
Jana groaned. Bledshaw ignored her and said, “Perhaps. We’re still too early in our studies to be sure.”
“Use it for what?” Jacob asked.
“Again, we don’t know. I’m sure you’ll agree, however, that if Dr. Harlow wants it, we don’t want him to have it.”
“So you want to team up with us?” Jacob asked. “What do you bring to the table?”
“Resources. Connections. I can get you to that monastery.”
“You can convince the Nepalese government to allow three foreigners, two of whom are in the CIA, to go to a sensitive border area when they’re on the brink of war?”
Bledshaw smiled. “They’ll even pack us a picnic lunch.”
Jacob smiled back at him. “Looks like you’re going to be useful.”
Looks like we’re getting played, Jana thought.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jacob breathed in the sharp mountain air and soaked up the matchless beauty of his surroundings.
The village of Aaru Kunde lay nestled in a narrow, sloping valley fringed with jagged peaks of black stone. Beyond these rose higher peaks capped with snow that gleamed painfully in the sun in vivid contrast to the lower black summits.
The village, a collection of a couple of hundred stone huts with slate roofs, stood on either side of a sparkling mountain stream that ran right down the center. A few Sherpas moved between the houses on various tasks. One man, who couldn’t have been more than five-two, walked up the path with a bundle of firewood on his back that was almost as big as he was, held only by a burlap sack and a strap around his forehead.
