Tesla Secret, The (11 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Nimb Hotel was an architect's elaborate misconception of a Moorish palace, a five star monument to the craze for historical architecture that had swept the European continent at the turn of the twentieth century. The hotel featured an ornate facade of high Moorish arches fronting a covered veranda. Arched windows repeated the theme on the second story. An onion shaped dome topped with the crescent of Islam towered over the entry way. Six smaller towers suggested minarets. 

A broad, flat terrace extended away from the front of the building. A flight of steps led from the terrace to a landscaped garden area, where a large, circular fountain shot jets of water into the air. The water made a constant, soothing murmur in the background.

Elizabeth walked out of the entrance to the hotel and scanned the area. She wore a long black coat and carried two manila folders in her left hand. Vysotsky sat in the sun at a table on the far side of the terrace, reading a newspaper and sipping espresso. He wore a medium length outdoor jacket, open to the fading summer warmth. He looked exactly like a tourist.

Alexei Vysotsky was handsome in a European way. No one would ever mistake him for an American. He was not a big man, nor was he small. His eyes were black and penetrating as he watched her approach. He wore steel-rimmed tinted glasses that reminded her of movies about WWII.  He was hatless. His hair was black, showing streaks of white. High cheekbones and the shape of his face hinted at an ancestor from the Mongolian steppes. He stood to greet her.

"Director. You are even better looking than your picture."

Elizabeth found herself smiling.
A charmer.
"As are you, General."

Vysotsky held a chair for her. She sat down and laid the folders on the table, away from Vysotsky. He looked amused. A waiter appeared and took Elizabeth's order. Cappuccino, pastry. Vysotsky ordered another espresso.

They waited in almost comfortable silence and watched the fountain bubble until the order came and the waiter left. Vysotsky took a sip.

"I remember in the old days, in Berlin, how our two sides would sometimes have a quiet meeting to ensure there were no, ah, misunderstandings. There hasn't been much of that since then."

"It's a tradition you and I might revive," Elizabeth said. "Things are more dangerous now than ever. Conversation is always preferable to the alternatives. It's refreshing to bypass the usual obstacles."

"Let us be candid, Director. You would not have called me if you didn't need my cooperation. I admit, my curiosity is aroused. You mentioned Ogorov. What is it about him that requires this meeting?"

"You are aware Ogorov is part of AEON's leadership."

"I have only your word for that."

"I have no reason to mislead you. If you are unwilling to take my word, coming here was a mistake."

"You are talking about one of my government's leaders."

"I'm talking about a man who is part of an organization that respects no government. Not yours. Not mine. Ogorov has been creating problems for you with the FSB. If you didn't think something was suspicious you would not have come."

I surprised him with that. Good. Let him wonder how I know.

"You are well informed. Is this what you wish to talk about? Something in those folders, perhaps?"

"I believe AEON is doing something on Russian soil that may threaten both our nations. If they are, Ogorov is involved."

She slid the first folder across to him. He opened it and looked at the satellite picture on top. The resolution of their satellites is better than ours. He filed the thought away for future consideration.

"Your infrared spy satellites have been busy."

"Always, General. As are yours."

Vysotsky looked at the notation on the photograph.

"Irtysh? There's nothing there but an old air base."

"There is now. Look at the next sequence."

He turned the page. After a few seconds he frowned. Elizabeth watched him. Did he already know about Irtysh? Vysotsky turned to the next picture and the next. His face set into hard lines. He looked up.

"This is obviously an official project. Why do you believe AEON is involved?"

"Because someone is building a pyramid."

"A pyramid?"

"Look near the river. You can see a canal has been cut from the river to a square shape picked up by the infrared. That is the base of a pyramid. It's well camouflaged and hidden from direct view."

"Certainly there is something there. Why do you say it is a pyramid?"

"I've included pictures of several pyramids buried in the sands of Egypt. Notice the shape. The Irtysh image is identical, don't you think?"

He shuffled through the pictures. "How does this involve Ogorov?"

She gave him the second folder. "It will save time if you read this. It will take a few minutes."

The folder contained a copy of Selena's research on the Codex and a detailed action report about Mafra. Harker was taking a huge gamble. If Vysotsky was in some way involved, she had just handed her enemies everything they needed.

She was unable to do anything about such a large and secret project located in the heart of Russia. But Vysotsky could. She needed him, just as he had needed her to operate in America not long before. The game was on his turf.

Vysotsky read the brief. When he looked up, his face was expressionless.

"Director. This assessment of the Mexican pyramid strains belief."

She nodded. "Yes. However, the scientific principles are well understood. If someone could harness and amplify the telluric energies, it would provide a source of inexhaustible power. Power that could be put to many uses. I believe that is what Ogorov is doing."

"Your accusation of Ogorov is based on identification of him as a member of AEON's leadership. That information was provided by an anonymous source."

"That's true. Do I need to point out that the source was accurate regarding the Demeter and Black Harvest plan to attack the Federation?"

"Minister Ogorov is a strong voice for our place in the world."

"Minister Ogorov is a man who has a higher priority than the welfare of Russia."

"So you say." Vysotsky emptied his coffee. He signaled the waiter over. "Vodka. Bring the bottle, your best quality."

He looked at Harker. "Two glasses."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Selena had learned a lot since she'd joined the Project. She wasn't a rookie any more. But walking in the Yucatan jungle with three former Special Forces veterans was a new experience. It showed her how little she knew. It made her feel like she was starting all over again.

For one thing, they were silent. More than once, she stepped on something that made noise, only to get a look of disapproval from Lamont or Nick. Ronnie was on the point. He didn't bother looking back.

She tried to imitate the way the others walked. They moved in single file, slowly, lifting each foot into the air and carefully setting it down again. They were aware of every twig, every stone, every leaf, every possible thing that could trip them or make noise as they passed. Their bodies were loose, yet tense. Their eyes never stopped moving. They scanned the canopy above, the jungle to the sides of the trail, the trail itself.

After a bit she got better at it. Her legs ached from the unnatural effort. She was soaked in sweat. Swarms of mosquitoes had found them. Nick looked back and smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up.

It's like he's on a stroll,
she thought,
a nature hike with weapons. He's enjoying this.
The thought was like ice water on her body.
He's enjoying this. It's what he lives for, the danger, the edge. He'll never change.

With the thought, a wave of sadness rushed over her.
He'll never change. It's what he knows how to do, what he wants to do. But is it what I want to do?

No one talked. Ahead, Ronnie held up his hand. He pointed down at the side of the trail, moved to the side and forward again. She saw a brightly colored coral snake curled in a spot where sunlight filtered through the canopy. It ignored her.

After about an hour Ronnie held up his hand again and waited for the others to come up to him. Here, the trail widened a bit. They stood close together. Selena drank some water.

"We're close," Ronnie said. "Doesn't look like anyone's come back this way, yet."

Selena became acutely aware of the sounds all around them, a constant murmur of life that never ceased. The jungle had its own voice. Chattering birds. Sounds she couldn't identify. Insects. The hum of mosquitoes grew louder. She wiped sweat away. Her hand came away smeared with green camouflage paint. She drank some more water.

"All right," Nick said. "Whoever is here has to be hostile."

He looked at Selena.
She still needs looking out for.
"We'll get close and scout the area and play it by ear," he said to her. "Follow our lead, you'll be fine. Watch your back."

She nodded.

"Let's go."

Ronnie led them down the trail. After another ten minutes, he signaled. Ahead, the dark mass of the pyramid rose through the trees.

"That's it," Nick said. His voice was very quiet. "Get off the trail. Selena, watch the noise."

They moved off the trail and crept through the foliage. Selena saw a tiny frog jump from a broad leaf. A brown spider as big as her fist scuttled away underfoot. She shuddered. They came to the edge of what had been a wide plaza in front of the Mayan ruin. She peered out through the leaves. The uneven pavement of the plaza was twisted and broken where trees had pushed up through the stones.

The pyramid rose high into the canopy overhead. The passage of time had not been kind. The stones were stained dark by the rains of centuries. Tall trees pushed up against it. Carvings of faces and serpents peered out from behind the jungle growth. Tangled vines with thick trunks and deep green leaves blurred the outlines of crumbling stone ledges. A steep set of steps ran up the center of the ruin from the plaza to a stone altar and a square-shaped temple on the peak.

At the foot of the steps were two tents. Two men stood by one of them, talking and laughing. They were dressed in dull green. Not an official uniform. Not civilian clothes. They were armed.

"They're carrying AN-94s," Ronnie said. "How the hell do they get those?"

The AN-94 was Russia's newest assault rifle, a highly advanced weapon. 5.45 mm, with a radical design that fired two rounds at a time and minimized recoil. The shooter had trigger selection to control the rate of fire, from 600 to 1800 rounds per minute. Production problems and a Kremlin hard up for cash meant only elite forces had access to them. Their presence in the Yucatan proved high level government involvement.

"I don't think those guys are archeologists," Lamont said.

Selena listened. "They're speaking Russian."

"What are they saying?"

"Something about a woman called Nadia." She listened. Her face tightened. "They're pigs. They raped her. They're laughing about it."

A radio squawked. One of the men spoke into a shoulder microphone.

"They've found something," Selena said. "Whatever they were looking for."

Three men emerged from the doorway at the top of the ruin. One held something wrapped in cloth up over his head, grinning. He shouted something. The three started down the steps leading to the plaza.

"How you want to do it?" Lamont brushed a mosquito away. The men had reached the half way point in their descent.

"Wait until they're almost at the bottom," Nick said. "Then hit them."

Selena rubbed her nose.

"Try to keep one alive," he said.

Then Selena sneezed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Malcolm Foxworth's villa in Tuscany was built on terraces cut into the steep slope of a rugged promontory jutting out into the Arno River. A narrow road wound down the side of a small mountain and ended at a set of formidable iron gates. Twelve foot high walls topped with glass shards surrounded three sides of the property.

The river side was dominated by a massive stone landing. Behind it was a channel leading from the river to a boat house under the villa. Entry to the boat house was blocked by steel gates. Two neo-classical statues of Roman gods stood guard on the ends of the pier. An elegant stone railing followed a long flight of steps and landings leading up from the river to the main house.

The villa was old. It was large, four stories high. Two narrow, pointed towers flanked one end, commanding a view of the river. Above the main building more steps rose to a second building and then to the level of the landside entry, where there was a large paved courtyard and another three story structure that housed the guards and the villa staff.

The walls glowed yellow in the welcoming Tuscan sunlight. The villa with its red tile roofs by the river looked like a vacation dream of Italy. No one could have guessed the kinds of dreams that took place within those picture perfect walls.

Doctor Morel put the syringe back in his case and closed it. Foxworth felt the pain ease. Lately the headaches were much worse. More frequent.

"Send Healy in," he said.

"Of course, Malcolm."

Morel picked up his case and left. A moment later Foxworth's chief of security came into the room. He looked calm, but Foxworth was a master at reading people. He knew Healy was nervous. As he should be.

"You fucked up again, Healy."

"The team in Mafra were good. It should have been enough."

Foxworth waited. He drew the silence out, let Healy sweat. Finally he said, "All right. Harker's people are damn good. But there better not be any more problems. Give me a progress report."

"There's a sealed room at the top of the pyramid. They're working to get into it. If there's anything there, that's where it will be. Aside from that, it's just another pile of stone."

"How are Ogorov's men performing?"

Healy shrugged. "They follow orders. It was Ogorov's people that got it in Portugal. You give me the men I want, we'll be better off."

"No. There are too many leaks in the mercenary groups. Too many ears. Besides, I tried it your way in California and Washington. Ogorov's men are trained and they're not on the radar."

"Whatever you say, sir."

"That's right. Whatever I say. Keep me informed." Healy turned to go.

"Find Mandy and send her in."

"Yes, sir."

He watched Healy shut the door behind him and thought about Mandy.

Damn the woman. It had been a long time since he'd let a woman get under his skin. She was like a drug, like one of Morel's concoctions. It wasn't just the sex, though Mandy was inventive and enthusiastic. She was smart. She did her job well in her official capacity as his assistant. She was brilliant at sensing when someone was lying, an extremely useful asset. Probably because she was such a good liar herself.

She was having an affair with Healy. Foxworth was almost ready to do something about it. Healy had been making mistakes. Mandy was one mistake too many.

Foxworth didn't love Mandy. He wasn't sure what love meant. But he needed her, he was sure about that. As long as he kept her satisfied with the trinkets his fortune could buy and gave her freedom for the occasional affair, she'd stay. But Healy was too close to home. He couldn't allow it to go on much longer.

As Healy went to find Mandy he thought about Foxworth.
The arrogant son of a bitch. He wouldn't last a second in a firefight.
He walked through the villa looking for her and found her on the garden terrace. She sat at a table, sipping something red with ice in it.

"He wants you," Healy said.

Mandy Atherton wore a designer dress of pale blue silk that highlighted her unusual beauty. Anyone could see why she had graced the covers of every important fashion magazine in the world. Around her throat was a chased gold choker of diamonds and sapphires. The sapphires and the dress picked up the color of her eyes. The hard white gleam of the diamonds went with something unseen inside her.

A light breeze from the river sent ripples through her long black hair. It shone with highlights in the Tuscan sun. Healy felt himself stiffen.

Damn, he wanted her.

Mandy saw the bulge in his trousers and laughed. "Better hadn't let Malcolm see that."

"He doesn't produce the same effect."

She stood. "We have to be careful for a while. I think he's getting suspicious."

"One day I'm going to kill the bastard."

"Kill the golden goose? I don't think so." She fingered the jeweled choker. "At least not until you can provide the same benefits. And we both know that isn't going to happen, don't we?"

"You're a greedy bitch, Mandy."

"No, darling. Just practical. Be grateful for what I can give you." She gave him a peck on the cheek. He wanted to choke her.

"I'll go see what the great man wants."

Healy watched the movement of her body under the dress as she walked away. He'd never had a woman tie up his mind like Mandy did. One of these days he would do something about Malcolm.