Origin - Season Two (29 page)

The next half hour passed in a blur. While two people danced around him, dabbing his face and applying one powder after another, Geraldine was busy listing the weaknesses of his two opponents. By the time she was done Mike couldn’t remember which failing she had attributed to whom and gave up trying.

He was led by yet another member of the crew to the edge of the stage, where three podiums had been lined up in a semi-circle in front of no fewer than five cameras and a small army of technicians, gaffers and sound people. The moderator’s desk was on the floor directly in front of the stage. Sitting behind it was a man Mike had seen a thousand times on his own TV at home.

“You’re on in sixty,” the young man said. “Mr. Redman will be introduced first, then Mr. Ortega. As soon as Bob starts introducing you, walk onto the stage and take up your position.”

“Got it.” Mike said.

But when the time came Mike had needed a gentle shove to get him going. He stepped into the glare of floodlights and instantly lost his bearings. Ortega, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, pointed to Mike’s podium and smiled at the camera.

The moderator laid out the rules of engagement, which stipulated that the proceedings were to be kept civil and all answers less than sixty seconds long. This done, he turned to the Republican candidate and said, “Mr. Redman, I’d like to start with you if I can. Several allegations have been made in the media recently that your relationship to the defense industry could compromise your position as a public servant. What’s your response to that?”

Redman nodded as if to say that this news was as old as it was ridiculous. “First of all, I’d like to remind our viewers that I’ve successfully run for public office in the past. I was a member of the state legislature for over a decade, and this allegation has been made before. I
have
served on the board of several defense contractors, and I’ve never denied it. The truth is, defense makes up a large part of the economy of this state, and the idea that we as civil servants shouldn’t nurture that relationship is misguided. Just ask any of the thousands of people employed by one of these companies if they would rather we adopt an aloof approach to the people providing them with jobs. Will I use my connections to bring even more of those jobs to Arizona? Absolutely. Frankly, I don’t see the problem.”

“Thank you,” the moderator said. “If we could, I’d like to move on to you, Mr. Banner. I’ll be honest, when this debate was scheduled your name wasn’t even on the ballot. Since then you’ve managed to mobilize enough support to leave us with little choice but to include you. I guess what we’re all wondering is, what happened? Where did Mike Banner come from?”

“Well, the short answer is Flagstaff,” Mike said. “But that’s probably not what you meant. As most viewers out there who’ve met me already know, I retired from the FBI to join this race. As for the reason, all I can say is that I woke up one morning and asked myself if there was any other way—any better way—of tackling the problems I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to solve. As anyone in law enforcement can tell you, there’s no simple answer to why people lay their morals aside and commit crimes. The reasons are many and varied, and some of them go right to the heart of how we as Americans see ourselves and the type of society we want to live in. Many of the choices involved are individual, but there are also some we must make as a nation, and those choices are made in Washington. I guess I just realized that to have an impact I would need to be in a position to influence those choices, and here I am. I’m running as an independent because I think choice lies at the very heart of a democracy where most people can only take part at the ballot box. When all you’re asked for is to put a tick in a box, I think we owe it to ourselves to make sure there are as many boxes on that slip as we can fit on it.”

Dandong, China

Wednesday 20 June 2007

0800 CST

They reached the final rest stop, a small farm just outside the city of Huayuancun less than a mile from the Yalu River, at two in the afternoon. The trip had taken over sixteen hours and Duan was feeling every minute of it. His nerves, frayed to begin with, had been singing to him throughout, making any hope of sleep a fool’s errand. Even in a country as authoritarian as China, the accidental discovery of six unregistered nuclear warheads on a public highway could have devastating repercussions, both domestically and abroad. That Duan himself would be named as the head of the subsequent conspiracy allegations, and quickly executed for his troubles, he had no doubt. Nor did he believe for a moment that his co-conspirators both within the Chinese government and abroad would spare him a second thought once they got down to the life and death business of denying all knowledge of Project 38.

“Sir, the perimeter is secure.”

Duan turned to see the guard platoon commander standing at the window of the jeep.

“Good. We cross the border at midnight. I suggest you stand half your men down until then. I could use a few hours of sleep myself.”

“I’ll see to it right away, sir.”

Duan watched him walk away with eyes that felt like they were full of sand. He stretched his legs out as far as they would go and leaned his head back against the seat. The only thing that ached worse than his back was his head. Despite these things he was sound asleep less than a minute later.

The Pandora

Wednesday 20 June 2007

0500 EEST

For a wonder, Mitch was not on the bridge of RP One when Francis arrived. Watkins, Naoko and Heinz were gathered around one of the terminals in what appeared to be a very serious discussion, the subject of which Francis could not glean despite the fact that all three were speaking perfectly clear English.

“Good day, gentlemen,” Francis said.

They turned to look at him, the expression on their faces almost one of guilt.

“Hey, Francis,” Naoko said. “We didn’t think you’d be over until tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never been very good at taking advice from doctors,” Francis said. “Besides, I think there are more pressing matters at hand than my well-being. Where’s the boy wonder?”

“He’s
supposed
to be getting some sleep,” Naoko answered. “He was up all night spying on our friends.”

“Was he now?” Francis smiled.

“He says he’s found a few things you might want to see,” Heinz said.

“I hope he’s right,” Francis said. “Let me know if I’m interrupting. I could always go for a walk topside until he gets back.”

“Not at all,” Heinz said. “We were just finishing up the work on the interface. Come, have a look.”

Francis walked over and glanced at the terminal. The image was of the Isle of Dragons. He could make out the distinct round shape of the research center jutting out over the edge of the cliff on the western side, and the barely discernable line of the dock directly beneath it.

Heinz pointed at a section of the island near the water’s edge. “This is the landing spot you identified. As you can see Erik’s been back and cut all the trees down. It turns out the system is a lot more intelligent than we realized.”

“What do you mean?” Francis said.

Naoko hit a key on the illuminated interface and a green circle appeared on the screen.

Heinz pointed. “This is the landing site designator.”

When Naoko moved the circle above the place Heinz had pointed out and hit another key, it flashed three times.

“Now watch what happens when we put it over the original landing site,” Heinz said.

When Naoko moved the circle over the spot they had first visited during their walk across the island and pressed the key again, the circle turned red and began to flash.

“You’re saying it knows where it can and can’t set down?” Francis said.

“Yes,” Heinz agreed.

Naoko pressed several keys and sat back. The surface of the island was suddenly covered in a patchwork of mostly red with only three areas of green, including the one Francis himself had found. Of the other two, one was directly over the research station and the other covered the area still occupied by the old helicopter hangar and the original access door to Aurora.

“As you can see,” Heinz said, “You did well.”

“Maybe. But wouldn’t that spot be better?” Francis pointed at the old hangar.

“Actually,” Heinz said, “we were just discussing that when you came in. It would certainly offer better access initially. The problem is, we don’t know the weight of anything inside. If any of the items are made of the same alloy as this ship, for example, they would be extremely heavy. In that case our best bet would be to use the crane on the Karl Gustav and move them directly to the dock.”

“I see your point. Although if this thing’s is as smart as it seems, I’m guessing they’ll have a way to move things around.”

“Very possibly,” Heinz said, “But do we want to take the chance; that’s the question. Because we certainly won’t be able to move it ourselves once it’s here.”

“Have you talked to Erik about it?” Francis asked. “I don’t think he’d be too impressed if he wasn’t consulted.”

When it was clear Heinz had no intention of offering to speak to Erik, Naoko said, “I’ll talk to him.”

“Please do,” Francis said.

“Hey, if it isn’t the walking dead.”

Francis turned around to see Mitch standing at the top of the gangway.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Mitch,” Francis replied. “How you been?”

“Not too bad, all told. I’m a little worried my wife is turning into a pirate, but otherwise it’s all good.”

When Francis only looked puzzled, Naoko put in, “Sarah’s decided she’s going to be a sailor.”

“And all my pleas of discouragement have fallen on deaf ears,” Mitch sighed. “She’ll be smoking a pipe and getting tattoos by year’s end at this rate.”

“I think you might be drawing on a few too many stereotypes there, Mitch,” Francis said. “And if I’ve learned anything about women, it’s that there’s no better way to drive them on than discouragement. Anyway, I hear you’ve found something.”

“I have,” Mitch said. “And I’m starting to think we might have stumbled onto something a bit bigger than we thought.”

“Oh?”

Instead of answering, Mitch walked over and took up his position in the command seat. They all watched in a kind of reverential silence as he rested both hands over the controls and began moving his fingers with dizzying speed.

Mitch saw them looking and smiled. “As you can see, I’m no longer strictly human myself.”

“Or strictly modest,” Naoko said.

Mitch ignored this and nodded toward the viewport. He began cycling through a number of locations. Francis recognized one as the port at Dubai.

“As we suspected,” Mitch said, “they’ve replaced the Beixiang with another ship.”

“Because of Jasper,” Francis murmured.

Mitch nodded. “Presumably. They loaded her last night. The difference is that this time almost everything on the manifest is mining equipment. I couldn’t identify all the part numbers, but I think it’s fair to say that someone is determined to dig quite a hole.”

“What do you mean?” Francis asked.

“Most of the items are components for a mid-size tunnel boring machine, something in the area of five meters in diameter. Mainly cutting blades and hydraulic components. If this was for a road or rail tunnel the diameter would be three or four times larger.”

“So they’re digging tunnels,” Francis said. “Any idea where?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. As we already know, everything ends up at this compound near the port of Nampo.”

The image changed to show the fenced-in compound.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the rest of it. Last night several of the crates were loaded into a military transport helicopter and flown here.”

The new image was of a valley with a few scattered buildings. Mitch zoomed in and moved the picture to the base of the mountain.

“As you can see, the entrance is concealed, but it’s there. I almost gave up on trying to figure out what it could be when I found an old article on a website about natural resources in the North. I think this is the Jangdan-myeon copper mine. It was opened in the mid ’60s, but shut down a few years later because the copper just wasn’t there.”

“And now they’re reopening it,” Francis said.

“I doubt it,” Mitch said. “At least not to mine copper. But they’re definitely up to
something
. You see that rail line? It runs all the way down to the river, here. Dirt and stones go one way, sand and cement goes the other. It’s more or less non-stop.”

Francis stood looking at the image for a long time.

“As you can see,” Mitch said, “the mine is less than a mile from the border.”

“And it’s been going on for years,” Francis muttered.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Mitch said. “All I know—”

“I’m telling you it has,” Francis said. “The equipment started arriving over three years ago, according to what Rex found.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of bunker complex,” Mitch guessed. “A fallout shelter or something.”

“And that doesn’t worry you?” Francis said.

“I’m not sure,” Mitch said. “I can’t say I’ve ever lost much sleep over Cheyenne Mountain. Either that or they’re digging an invasion tunnel to the South.”

This was intended as a joke, but no one laughed.

“I wasn’t being serious,” Mitch said. “You don’t actually think…”

“No,” Francis said, but it didn’t sound entirely convincing.

“You look like you’re still thinking about it, though.”

“Do I?” Francis retorted. “If they seriously thought they could invade the South through a hole in the ground they’d be even more delusional than anyone suspects. I think your bunker theory is a lot more plausible.”

“So why are the Chinese helping them?” Watkins said.

“They’re not,” Francis realized. “They’re helping themselves.”

“Meaning?” Watkins questioned.

“I think Richelle may be right,” Francis said. “This could be a set-up to give Beijing a pretext for something. Although what, I don’t know.”