The Visitor (23 page)

Tak had just removed her borrowed clothes and was standing, naked, her back to the yurta opening. She heard him coming and turned to face him. Looking at the knife and his violent expression, she knew what was about to happen.

As Kairat stared at the lower part of her naked body, he knew it was not what it should be or anything he had ever seen and witnessing it unearthed a feeling of inadequacy deep inside him, making him lose the impetus of his intended violent assault. He regained his composure and determination and went for her, the knife in his right hand, intending to kill her.

Tak saw the knife coming at her and managed to grab his wrist with her left hand, and then with her right, to keep from being stabbed. She leaped at his torso with her naked legs and got hold of him around his throat with her agile toes--seven on each foot, which were like fingers--and choked him. Kariat dropped the knife.

Just then Baron came to the yurta, in time to see the attack. He grabbed Kairat by the back of his hair and yanked him away so hard he fell backward.

Tak made ready her wrist laser weapon, but Kairat was done in from the fight. He raced out of the yurta, leaving the knife behind on the floor.

Baron picked it up and handed it to Tak. “A souvenir for you. I guess Kairat did not like losing.”

***

The Dastarkhan dinner was arranged at the home of the relatives of Dr. Dorogomilov’s deceased Kazakh wife Karina. Having been given notice that there were two special guests were visiting, supplemented by a gift of one thousand US Dollars expense money from Baron, the family had morphed the meal into not just a modest Dastarkhan, but a memorable one.

The living room had been converted to a dining hall with a number of make-shift tables and mismatched chairs. Baron was seated at the end, with the baroness to his side around the edge of table. Kairat was nowhere to be found.

The ceremony for the most honored guest was a performance for Baron, who was seldom matched in style. Naturally, he assumed he would be designated the most honored guest, and so he had prepared ahead by learning what to do when so designated.

Lamb was brought out on two large plates, the first with the meat. The second, called a koy-bas, was the sheep’s head cooked intact, presented to Baron with great honor. He stood to distribute the meat from the head and other parts of the sheep that were on the plate, being very careful not to offend.

He asked who was who in the group, in Russian. “Who are the young men?”

Several young men held up their hand, although it was obvious.

“You take these ears to make you more attentive.” He then cut off the ears from the head and cut them up to distribute among them.

“Now, the girls,” Baron said, carving out the palate from inside the head of the sheep and passing it to them. “This will make you more diligent and hard working. I have hipbones here for the elder men, as honored guests,” he said and served them ceremoniously to the senior men. “Who are the daughters-in-law? They get the breast.” He passed the pieces to them. “Who are the married women?” He passed the neck bones to them and one to Tak. “The boys?” They got the kidneys and heart to grow into a man more rapidly. “Who are the sons-in-law?” Once identified, they got the breastbone. “Now, are there any pregnant women?” Baron looked about until one identified herself. “You get this vertebra. Now here are the brains, but not for children. It will make them weak-willed.” Baron put servings of brains on plates, with that warning, as some of the women passed them to others sitting beside the children. “Here’s an elbow and an ulnar bone. Anyone can have this, except an unmarried woman or young girl, as it will make her left on the shelf with no husband.” Baron passed the elbow toward someone who wanted it.

When Baron completed his performance, all done as though he was born Kazakh, he sat down. The rest did not touch their food until Baron, the most honored guest, began to eat.

“Only a true Kazakh would know such things,” Dr. Dorogomilov complemented.

“Common knowledge,” Baron said in an understatement.

The head of the sheep on the table was facing Tak, and it was more than a little distracting. Completely horrified, she tried a bit of a few things to be polite. She looked at Baron, who chuckled at her shock, enjoying the effect it was having on her.

When no one was listening, she said to him, “Am I actually asked to consider letting these people go into space?”

CHAPTER 16

“
Dalai
is Mongolian for
ocean
and
Lama
is Tibetan for
spiritual leader
and hence the translation
Ocean of Wisdom
,” Shanta read to Andrew as they sat in the square living room of the boxy houseboat on Lake Cumberland. He listened, while assembling a radio-controlled model airplane on the dining room table and sipping a bourbon.

The Saunders family had always had a houseboat on the Kentucky Cumberland Lake. The vessel did not look like a boat at all, but more like a house trailer on hidden floats--hardly a seaworthy vessel. But it was not used in the same manner as ocean boats, as it had a relatively small engine. If the boat was in the middle of the lake, it was too deep to anchor so it would just sit as there, as there were no significant currents to make it drift appreciably. The typical day out on the lake would be to just cruise off somewhere and then turn the motor off. They could then soak up the atmosphere as the houseboat sat in the calm of the lake, which, especially in the mornings and evenings, was as flat as glass. One could fish, but Andrew did not care for fishing.

A small runabout motorboat, tied to the back of the houseboat, provided transportation if they wanted to go ashore to one of the few restaurants on the lake. It could also be used to go look about the lake, but there was not much to see, apart from a waterfall over a rock that one could take a runabout under, just missing the water.

“Have you always built models?” Shanta asked Andrew as he worked intently on the model.

“Yes. I stopped for some years, but now I like to do it again.”

“What is that model you are building?”

“This is a Cessna 182, converted from wheels to floats so I can fly it off the lake,” he said proudly as he held the fuselage up for her to see. “It is powered by a .90 cubic-inch, four-stroke engine. Here are the wings,” he said, holding them up. They measured over five feet in length. “They go on and off for easy storage. I crashed the last one. This is a replacement.” Andrew adjusted the neutral point of the control servos and then asked, “Where does the Dalai Lama actually live?”

“It’s called
McLeod Ganj
and is just above Dharamsalah, India, just outside of Tibet in India. But He’s coming again soon. I have His schedule here for His next United States tour which is in two months. Listen to the names of the sessions: Overcoming Negative Emotions, The Practice of Six Perfections, Compassion and Universal Responsibility, and Pathways to Peace.”

“Are we going?” Andrew asked her.

Shanta got very excited at the prospect. “Can we?”

“Definitely. And now, this beauty is ready to test fly.”

He fueled up the model from a can with a pump and started the motor outside the door with an electric starter motor. Shanta stood by his side, just to the rear, and watched intently, joining in the excitement.

He set it on the water and checked the controls. All seemed to be working, and so he set the model out from the boat, into the wind, and pushed the throttle control all the way forward. It gained speed and, eventually, was skimming along the water on its floats. He pulled back on the rudder, and it became airborne.

It went up and down, as Andrew was having trouble controlling it. He got it stabilized, finally, and then flew it around the houseboat in circles with gentle left turns. After four circles, he became so nervous his lips were quivering, and he cut the throttle down to a quarter. It descended slowly toward the lake, out and away from the houseboat. Just inches short of the water, he pulled the stick back. It did a slow stall and splashed into the lake, bending the landing struts.

“A perfect landing!” he declared, overlooking the damaged landing struts.

“You’re wonderful!” Shanta complimented. “Such talent!”

Andrew grinned from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.

***

Ralls answered the phone in his Washington D.C. office.

“Mike Winger, CIA, here.”

“Any news?” Ralls asked.

“I have the results from the utensils taken from the Paris hotel. As the results were not credible, I had everything re-done.”

“Why all the fuss? What’s wrong?” Ralls asked.

“There were two distinct sets of fingerprints. One set is normal, and we believe that set to be the baron’s, although he has none on file anywhere that we can access. The other set is presumably that of his wife, the baroness. We have no record on her, other than she has a recently recorded marriage certificate with him in Berlin, and her first name is Tak. And that set is not normal.”

“Maybe she is some beauty that he picked up somewhere, like in Russia or a satellite country?” Ralls said. “Quite a few western men find a wife that way, and in some cases through a service that provides wives.”

“Could be, but we don’t have normal access to such records,” Winger said. “Let me finish and tell you what we found before you interrupt with your ideas.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“She has seven fingers, that is, a thumb and six fingers. And she does not have any fingerprints. Her skin is textured, as though designed to assist with delicate work, such as picking up fine instruments. But it would not be enough to distinguish one person from another.”

“Interesting,” Ralls said. “Well, still, maybe she was born with that unusual characteristic with the seven digits.”

“Please stop interrupting. You haven’t heard the rest.”

“Sorry.”

“We got the DNA back and had it tested and re-tested. She’s not human.”

CHAPTER 17

Baron and Tak were relaxing in their suite in the hotel in St. Petersburg, Russia, when Nikolay Bogomazov announced his arrival in the hotel from the lobby.

“Nikolay! Come up.”

In the room, Baron said to Nikolay, in Russian, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Baroness Tak Von Limbach. She’s my companion and with me on this task. She has my confidence and we may speak freely. However, she does not speak Russian. Yet.”

“I had not heard of your marriage, Baron. Congratulations! And to you, madam!”

Nikolay was no stranger to hiring beautiful women from Russia, Romania, and the Ukraine, as times were hard there and a beautiful young woman had a much better chance for a better life outside the East, unless she was lucky enough to meet one of the new super-wealthy Russians, most of whom where the sons of former communist leaders who had acquired businesses and monopolies through corruption when the USSR broke up. He had to ask again to be sure Baron had not gone senile or soft over a beautiful woman who would later blackmail him, even if she was his wife. “Are you absolutely certain we can discuss the matter freely at this time?” he asked, in Russian.

“Yes,” Baron answered in Russian. “You may speak freely in front of the baroness. She is along with me on this mission. So let’s continue in English.”

Baron explained the task, which involved spreading, the Ebola in Tibet, once it was made. He then came to the part about the needed subjects. “Nikolay, in order to make the Ebola, I need five Chinese--of both sexes--and two Tibetans, one male and one female. None of them must be related, except by marriage. I want healthy, young subjects, in their twenties. They must be brought to Stepnogorsk, Kazakhstan, and will not be returning. I need them there as soon as possible, but I think that by rail from Vladivostok will do.”

“I think I can get the Chinese we need brought in from China to Taiwan,” Nikolay said. “I should be able to get them from the mainland, and no one will report their absence.”

“How’ll you do that?” Baron asked,

“It’s simple. We don’t have to kidnap them in China--they will come to us. People from the mainland often sneak over to Taiwan to make a better life. I’ll have someone on the mainland arrange to announce jobs and hiding places in Taiwan for five people, ready for them when they arrive. They will even pay someone to arrange their trip. They will not have anyone on the mainland expecting to hear from them for some time, as they will think they are sneaking in to Taiwan and must be incognito until established and secure. They’ll voluntarily consent to being hidden when they first arrive. Then I’ll get them onto a ship heading for Vladivostok as you have requested.”

“Ingenious!” Baron praised. “You just invite them to Taiwan, and they come running. I love it.”

“Thank you, thank you. Now, as for the Tibetans, I think that I can get some in Tibet who have been jailed there by bribing a Chinese official. They’ll have been jailed for dissent. I hope to be able to get them to Hong Kong, where I can bring the ship. Then I’ll have all of them on the same ship to Vladivostok.”

“Once in Vladivostok, arrange for a Russian military officer to take them to Omsk, Russia, which is just above the border of Stepnogorsk, Kazakhstan,” Baron said. “They can go by the TransSiberian Express from Vladivostok, as the train goes there. Arrange for an escort with a Russian officer and two guards to drop them off at the border. Then I need you and four big guards to come down and handle the Orientals in Kazakhstan for as long as two months. I want big ones, and they must be totally trustworthy and able to keep quiet when they return. If any of them start getting drunk and boasting of what he or she did, I want them silenced at once.

“When the Ebola is ready, it will be put into nitrogen-cooled canisters. There will be seventy of them. Then I want you to take them to your prearranged twenty Russians in St. Petersburg who will leave on a Tibetan tour for two weeks. Once in Tibet, you all can spread the virus. You will need twenty trustworthy people, and they all must appear to be tourists, wanting to take a sort of economy tour to Tibet--probably younger people, who appear to be students. But they all must be totally trustworthy, and they must realize that they cannot go on a spending spree with their money. If they become a risk, they will be killed. Let them know that.”

“I’ll get on it at once. I should have something for you by the day after tomorrow. Can you stay in town?”

“Yes, I will show the baroness the Hermitage tomorrow, and we can meet the day after.”

***

At their next meeting, Nikolay had results already and reported to Baron and the baroness. “While traveling, I decided on how to bring in the subjects. It’ll be on the TransSiberian Express. There are often prisoners on that route. I’ll do it with actual prisoner transportation papers.”

Baron caught on fast. “Don’t tell me you--did you?”

“Yes. I got an actual officer of the Kontora, the FSB. He will transport them with actual prisoner transportation papers. It’s the real thing! How do you like that?”

“Nikolay, there is no end to your resourcefulness,” Baron enthused.

“Or you to your money, Baron. This will be expensive.” Then he chuckled at his own little joke.

“Go on, tell me the rest,” Baron said, not finding the joke about spending his money quite so funny.

“I was able to find a relatively high-ranking member willing to take the risk--Colonel Vladislav Tupkalo. He is not informed as to what we are doing, but only that we have some Orientals in Vladivostok that we want to get to Kazakhstan via Omsk with no questions asked. He’ll prepare actual orders for the military to transport the prisoners from Vladivostok to Omsk by rail and then by military truck to the border above Stepnogorsk. He’ll fly to Vladivostok with two soldiers from Moscow and pick up the Orientals. The soldiers will be specially selected to accompany him from Moscow, as they are part of a unit that does covert operations for the FSB, and they will not be suspicious. Although it is not anticipated that anyone along the route will speak Mandarin or Tibetan, the soldiers will have orders not to allow anyone to talk to the prisoners, which is typical of such prisoner details. I’ll also get him to bring along a package of weapons that we might need at the lab for security.”

“Will the prisoners draw attention on the TransSiberian Express?” Baron asked.

“A little, but it’s the best way. I’ll meet them with my men at the border of Kazakhstan and take them to the lab in Stepnogorsk. Tupkalo and the soldiers, of course, have to stay at the border and return. They’ll never have a clue as to what we’re doing with them. I’ll go into Kazakhstan and make sure that the border guard is informed in advance to let us pass for a bribe, and I’ll have the men, who I’m hiring to stay with the Orientals at the lab, join us at the border and escort the test subjects to the lab. I’ll have a total of four guards. I’ll pick big, tough ones, as I want to be sure they can overwhelm the Orientals if they should try to escape or give us a hard time.”

“How much do we have to pay the FSB Colonel Tupkalo?”

“Fifty thousand US. The soldiers will just be on assignment, earning their regular wages so as not to make them suspicious. I know it’s a lot, but he risks his career if caught. And it makes the transportation of the prisoners official. They will be traveling with genuine military soldiers and actual orders.”

“Excellent,” Baron agreed. “What about the guards?”

“I’ve not contacted them yet, but that’s easy. I have used them before. You should see the size of these monsters. They can easily handle the Orientals. I’ll offer them money for all time away from home, plus expenses and food. They eat a lot of food, by the way,” he said, chuckling.

“Just make sure they are not the kind that will get drunk later and start talking about what they did.’

“Don’t worry, Baron. For what I’m going to pay, I’ll get the best. I know of some already. And as they are used to working for gangsters, they know that if they talk, they will be killed very quickly. What is the plan to distribute the Ebola in Tibet?”

“The virus will be in a liquid, kept alive in nitrogen-cooled containers. The plan at this time is to take in seventy, one-and-a-half liter canisters, disguised as Russian mineral water. Twenty people should be sufficient, plus yourself, so each can take in three bottles, plus a few extra. I want you to arrange a tour group of twenty, plus yourself, to go to Tibet. They must be carefully selected and will be well paid. They must be the kind that can receive a small amount of money, initially, and receive the rest later. They must not get drunk and talk once they are paid. There can be no problems. You make sure they know that if they talk to anyone, they’re dead--and so will their families be or anyone who they know who can give evidence. None must have any knowledge of me. Some of the group should be women, as it should appear to be a group of people learning about Tibet.”

“How do we spread it around in Tibet once we’re in?” Nikolay asked.

“Organize it as one of those budget tours from Russia to Tibet,” Baron said. “They will have bottled water bottles as most are afraid of the local water, and the bottles will not be suspect. There is no control over travel in Tibet once you are inside, so you can splinter the larger group into several smaller ones to go off and hit the major cities where the Chinese have been put by the Chinese government. The smaller groups can each have something different about the country that they want to see, in case they are asked, to justify the splintering of the tour group into the smaller groups. The Chinese that have been brought in by China are almost entirely in the few cities and, therefore, concentrated, which will make the job easy.

“They can be found at strategic places like city markets, public buildings, and military bases. There are several military bases of pure Chinese personnel. And all that needs to be done is to go to the entrance of these and infect someone going in. Shaking someone’s hand with Ebola on yours, passing a soldier a piece of contaminated paper Yuan for permission take his photo in his uniform when he is on the way into the base should work very well. The open food markets in the crowded bazaars should be perfect. Sprinkling it on the food on display will reach large numbers of people. Also, passing out contaminated cigarettes should work very well. Just put a drop on the filter end and give it to someone.”

Nikloay, normally fearless, swallowed hard. “Is this potion really going to be safe for the person who is spreading it around? Ebola is the most deadly virus there is, isn’t it?”

“It’ll be perfectly safe,” Baron assured him. “It’ll not infect anyone other than a Chinaman.”

“Is a two week tour going to be enough to spread the Ebola?” Nikolay asked

“Yes. The longer you stay, the more the risk of someone linking the group to the outbreak. Lots of people take a two week vacation from work, which usually has an additional weekend added to it that gets used up in the travel. You can split up into, say, three groups and should be able to hit the major places where the Chinese are. If you infect a soldier entering his compound, he will then infect many exponentially. You will want to infect as many as you can. The beauty of this project is that the Chinese people themselves will spread the virus. Any questions?”

“Not for now. I’ll be off to arrange transportation for the Chinese and Tibetans to Vladivostok. And I’ll get to work putting together a tour group.”

***

In Baron’s Taipei office, he prepared to meet one of his local resources, Mr. Lee. As he spoke English, the meeting would be in that language, so Tak was invited.

Mei Ling brought Mr. Lee into Baron’s office.”

“So nice to see you, Mr. Lee,” Baron said. “This is my wife and partner, Baroness Von Limbach. Please be seated.”

Lee sat politely, but only on the edge of the chair, and did not relax as he had the one time previously when he’d had a private audience with the wealthy and powerful baron.

Within moments of his sitting down, Mei Ling came in with tea. “Please have some tea,” Baron offered, as Mei Ling poured it before obtaining an answer. She then poured for Tak and Baron.

Mei Ling had been told in advance what tea to make. “This one is chrysanthemum flower pedal flavored Oolong. It has a very delicate aroma.”

Lee picked up the cup that Mei Ling poured for him, while Mei Ling stood back, waiting to see if the tea would be satisfactory.