Authors: Robert Doherty
"What does Majestic have to do with the Citadel, whatever it is, and the Organization?" Vaughn asked. "Are you saying Majestic-12 is the Organization?"
"I think Majestic was either part of the Organization or used by the Organization," Royce said. "Majestic actually had a previous operation several of its members were part of. One that was formed as World War II wound down."
Royce paused and then pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He stared at the folders from the case. "It's a tenuous thread I'm weaving for you right now, but David wouldn't have made me get all this, then put it together and send it back to me like this, knowing I would get it if he'd been killed, unless there was some validity to it."
"All right," Vaughn allowed. "Weave it for us."
"Operation Paper Clip," Royce said. "A rather innocuous name for a very deceitful operation. As the Second World War was ending, the United States government was already looking ahead. There was a treasure trove of German scientists waiting to be plundered in the ashes of the Third Reich. That most of those scientists were Nazis mattered little to those who invented Paper Clip.
"Paper Clip used OSS operatives along with Intelligence officers from the Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency to go after what they wanted. In some cases they were actually snatching Nazi scientists away from Army war crimes units. Both groups were hunting the same men, but with very different goals in mind. This happened despite the fact that President Truman had signed an executive order banning the immigration of Nazis into the United States.
"Paper Clip brought in a lot of German physicists and rocket experts—the V-1 and V-2 men. NASA got its start through them. Also brought in were those most haven't heard about—the biological and chemical warfare specialists. With plenty of human beings to experiment on, the Germans had gone far beyond what the Allies had even begun to fear. While the Americans were still stockpiling mustard gas as their primary chemical weapon, the Germans had three much more efficient and deadly gases by war's end: Tabun, Soman, and sarin—the last of which the American military immediately appropriated for its own use after the war."
"And the Black Eagle Trust?" Tai asked.
Royce nodded. "Paper Clip did more than just gather scientists. They grabbed a lot of loot. Everything the Germans and Japanese had plundered, Paper Clip went after. When Majestic was formed, Paper Clip came under its control."
"Wealth and knowledge," Tai said. "That's what Majestic-12 went after and controlled."
"And they appeared to have been headquartered in Area 51, on the Nellis Air Force range," Royce said.
"The alien place," Vaughn said.
"Good misdirection cover story," Royce said.
"What the hell does that have to do with these guys standing in the snow?" Vaughn held the original photo in his hand.
"Because Majestic sent them there," Royce said simply.
"To do what?" Vaughn asked.
"That's the critical question, isn't it?" Royce asked in turn.
"To find something?" Tai wondered.
Vaughn was still staring at the photo. "Maybe to build something—they were engineers after all."
"That isn't all that was in the packet," Royce said. He pulled out a folder with TOP SECRET stamped in red letters across the cover. "The U.S. military ran another operation in Antarctica from 1955 to 1956. Called Operation Deep Freeze. They went back to the site of the original base camps that supported High Jump and found most had been destroyed by the weather. Once again they established a main base at McMurdo Sound—which has remained to this day the primary research facility in Antarctica. Again, I believe Deep Freeze was a cover for the Organization to go back to the Citadel."
"And do what?" Tai asked.
Royce opened the folder. "I don't know what was put in the Citadel in the forties during High Jump, if anything. But this is some of what was put in it during Deep Freeze." He slid photos across one at a time.
Vaughn stared for several seconds at the bulky object set on a trailer behind a large snow cat. "A big bomb?"
"Literally and figuratively," Royce said. "You're looking at a Mark-17 thermonuclear weapon. After the first Soviet nuclear test in August 1949, President Truman authorized the development of bigger thermonuclear yield bombs than had previously been contemplated."
"Bigger is better, right?" Tai said with sarcasm.
"Back then it was," Royce said as he looked at a piece of paper in the folder. "The scientists had several problems back then. The first, as you can see, was indeed the large size. But as difficult, if not more so, was that the first types they designed used liquid deuterium as the fusion fuel, which needs to be kept at a constant freezing temperature to remain viable. Ivy Mike, the first one they built, in 1952, was so big it filled an entire warehouse, weighing over seventy-four metric tons, and the entire warehouse had to be kept freezing. Its yield, though, was large: ten point four megatons."
"What good is a warehouse-sized nuclear weapon?" Tai asked.
Royce continued. "They worked on making it smaller and lighter, and eventually they ended up with the Mark-17, which to this date remains the most powerful nuclear weapon ever built by the United States. Even in the classified documents David uncovered, the yield wasn't quite certain, as none of them were ever tested—they were just too powerful. Estimates range around twenty-five to thirty megatons of blast."
"Damn," Vaughn whispered. "That would take out an entire city."
"Yeah," Royce said dryly. He glanced at the old paper. "The Mark-17 was rushed into production as 'emergency capable' weapons in 1954. Each weighed eighteen point nine metric tons and was over twenty-five feet long. Officially, all the Mark-17s were retired in 1957 in favor of smaller, lower-yield bombs that could be carried by a variety of airborne platforms."
"'Officially'?" Tai noted.
"According to these documents David sent me, four Mark-17s were unaccounted for in the final decommissioning tally. A fact that was made highly classified and swept under the rug."
Vaughn looked at the photo of the massive bomb on the trailer. "So they were sent to the Citadel."
"I believe so," Royce said.
"That's a long time ago," Tai said. "Surely the weapons can't be viable anymore?"
"They're cryogenic," Royce said. "As long as the bomb is kept below freezing, it could still be viable. What was a design flaw could turn out to be a design strength if the bombs have been sitting in Antarctica all these years."
"Okay."
Vaughn said the word slowly. "But why is this an issue now, today?"
"Because of something I noted on the FedEx form when I received it."
"And that is?" Vaughn asked.
"I'm not the only person David Lansale sent this information to."
Hong Kong
The penthouse suite commanded one of the best views of Hong Kong's harbor and was empty most of the year. Only when a member of the elite group that owned the building was in town were the rooms occupied. The present occupant had been there for what was a record: three months. She was a middle-aged Japanese woman with a slender build. She always dressed in black pants and turtleneck and often wore a long black leather coat.
She was always accompanied by two hard-looking men who never spoke and whose eyes were hidden behind wraparound sunglasses. The bulges under their coats indicated they carried heavy weaponry. The fact it was so obvious also meant they did so with the tacit support of the government, which meant this woman was not only rich, but carried considerable political clout.
For Fatima, these things only confirmed what she had come to Hong Kong suspecting: the Japanese woman, who went only by the name Kaito, was an emissary of the Organization. Fatima was a slight Filipino woman with long flowing hair that she kept bound in a ponytail that stretched down her back. She moved softly and quietly, so much so that the old couple from whom she was renting a room across the street from the office tower rarely knew when she came and went.
They also would never have guessed that she was now the head of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the world—the Abu Sayif. She had assumed that mantle upon the death of her "uncle," Rogelio Abayon, three months ago. Which had coincided with the death of her father during the failed attack on Oahu.
While it appeared those deaths could be laid at the feet of the United States, Fatima did not buy into such an easy explanation. Abayon had always suspected that there was something darker and deeper at work in the world. Something that was even bigger than the United States. Some force that sought to oppress the majority of people while benefiting its own members.
And Fatima believed this woman she had been watching for a week was one of those on the other side. Abayon had sent a trusted lieutenant here to Hong Kong three months ago with orders to sell a treasure. Part of the Golden Lily. A slice of the plundered wealth the Empire of the Rising Sun had devoured during its expansion across the Pacific Rim during World War II.
Her organization still had the gold hidden in various places. But her "uncle" had sent Ruiz here to sell off much of the art. He had been half successful. The first night's auction was a rousing success, bringing in many millions of dollars to the hidden accounts of various organizations the Abu Sayif was allied with. But there had been no second night as planned.
Ruiz had disappeared. Along with the rest of the art he planned to sell.
And Fatima knew this woman had been the cause of the disappearance and the theft. Her contacts had traced the sale of some of the objects set for the second night's auction back to her.
Abayon had believed that the Golden Lily had been a cover for the Organization's own desires. That the Japanese looting had been sanctioned internationally. And that all those other slices of the Golden Lily that the Abu Sayif had not taken during the war had been coopted by the Americans and others, all still stooges for this Organization.
Today, she planned to learn more about the Organization, if she could. If she couldn't achieve that, at the very least she could achieve revenge for Ruiz. She had thousands of men and women under her command. Many ready to die for her. Yet she was here alone.
She knew Abayon would have approved. To those thousands, she had to prove her ability to command. In the week she had been watching, Fatima had picked up only one pattern to Kaito's day: she went to a local dojo to work out at the same time every morning. It was commendable discipline but bad for security. This morning, Fatima was already at the dojo, waiting. Kaito worked out in a private room set off to the rear, the outer door protected by her guards.
Fatima checked her watch. Kaito had been in there thirty minutes; she usually worked out for forty-five. Fatima walked in the front door of the gym, flashing the membership card she'd paid for with cash three days earlier. She turned down the corridor leading to the private workout rooms, shutting the double doors behind her and sliding the bolt. The two guards watched her approach without much concern considering that combined, they were over four times her weight. She wore loose pants, a sweatshirt, and carried a towel in her hands.
When she was within six feet of the door, one of them held up his hand and spoke in Chinese: "Private."
"Yes," Fatima replied in the same language without halting.
As the men were exchanging confused glances, Fatima fired, the suppressor on the gun making a slight puff as the first round left the barrel. It hit the left guard directly between the eyes. She fired again as the second guard was reaching for his own weapon. Again the shot was straight on, right between the eyes. Both men slid to the floor, dead before they were down.
Fatima pulled the door to the private room open and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Kaito was in the midst of a
kata
—the formalized movement of a martial art exercise. She didn't even pause, continuing through to the end, bringing her fists slowly together in front of her, breathing out, then turning to face Fatima.
"Are you the masseuse?" Kaito asked.
Fatima dropped the towel, revealing the gun. "No."
Kaito stared at her. "Do you know who I am?"
"I know your name," Fatima said. "I know where you live. I know you killed one of my men, Ruiz."
A lifted eyebrow was the only reaction. "You are Abu Sayif." It was not a question.
"Yes. Where is the rest of the Golden Lily? I believe you owe us payment."
Kaito shook her head. "You received payment enough, especially considering the Golden Lily was ours to begin with."
"There you are wrong," Fatima replied. "The original owners of everything in it would disagree with you on that."
Kaito shrugged. "It is not even worth discussing." She pointed at a towel and indicated the sweat on her brow. "Might I?"
Fatima nodded. Kaito walked to the rack and took the towel.
"You haven't asked about your guards," Fatima noted.
"I assume they are dead. If they are merely incapacitated, they will be dead shortly for failing." Kaito looked at her. "It was a nice attempt by Abayon to try to attack Hawaii, but he failed. As you will fail in whatever foolish thing you are trying now."
"The Golden Lily," Fatima said.
"What of it?"
"There is still much that is missing."
"So?"
Fatima noted that Kaito was slowly moving, taking small steps while talking, getting closer to the wall where various swords and spears were racked. Fatima reached inside her sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a picture. She held it up. As Kaito paused to peer at it, Fatima lowered the barrel of the gun and fired.
Kaito cursed as the round tore into her thigh, knocking her to the ground. She put both hands on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "You bitch!"
Fatima tossed the picture toward Kaito. It showed a group of men in winter gear standing in front of a sign: A COMPANY: THE CITADEL.
"I received that from an anonymous source," Fatima said. "Along with other information. There was a note in the packet. It said this Citadel was connected to the Golden Lily. That important pieces of the Golden Lily are hidden there. Where is the Citadel?"
"I will never—" Kaito began, but her words changed to a hiss of pain as Fatima fired a round into her other thigh.
"I will see you dead for this," Kaito said between clenched teeth.
"Where is the Citadel?" Fatima demanded. She aimed the gun at Kaito's stomach.
Kaito stared at the barrel. "I have never heard of this place."
Fatima was tempted to pull the trigger, but held back. "Who would have heard of it? Who exactly do you work for?"
Even in her pain, Kaito smiled. "You would not survive five minutes going up against them."
"I'm standing here with a gun and you're lying there bleeding," Fatima noted. She inwardly sighed, knowing that Kaito actually knew very little. It was the same pattern that Abayon had faced over the decades as he tried to penetrate the Organization. She had received the package from FedEx through one of her cutouts in Manila. Who sent the package was unknown. How that unknown had also known the Abu Sayif cutout was also troubling, as it indicated a high level of access to intelligence information in both directions: about her own group, the Abu Sayif, and about the Organization.
"Who do you report to?"
"I will never—" Once more Fatima fired, the round hitting Kaito in the elbow, tearing the bone and nerve junctions. The Japanese woman screamed in pain, the sound echoing off the padded walls. Fatima went over to Kaito and ripped off her training
gi,
leaving the woman naked and bleeding on the floor. Fatima's focus was on the tattoo in the middle of Kaito's back. It was an intricate design of an octopus centered at the base of her spine, the tentacles spread across her back, two of them trailing down her buttocks and one even between her legs, indicating complete dominance. Fatima had seen it before and knew what group it represented, so she had the next step in her quest.
"I gave Ruiz an honorable death," Kaito hissed through her pain. "He died with a sword in his hand. I request the same."
"Ruiz, who probably had a hard time figuring out which end of the sword he was supposed to hold?" Fatima asked. "I'm sure fighting against you was most fair." She walked over to the weapons rack and withdrew a samurai sword. She tossed it to the bleeding, naked woman, who caught it in her one good hand.
Then Fatima fired once, the round hitting Kaito in the left eye. The small bullet shattered inside her skull, tearing her brain up and killing her. She slapped back on the mat, a small trickle of blood seeping out of the socket.
Fatima pocketed the gun and left the room.