The Oracle's Message (15 page)

“Tell me,” said Annja. “And don’t hold anything back.”

George’s voice came over the phone line and delivered the news. “These guys are all ex-KSK. Do you know what that is?”

“I know KSK stands for
Kommando Spezialkräfte.
So they’re special ops. Tough guys.”

“The toughest,” George said. “KSK is what became of the West German GSG-9 unit after the fall of Communism, except that KSK is more badass. These guys are the Kraut equivalent of our Delta Force and then some. They’ve been on secret missions all over the world, even if the German government doesn’t admit it. They’ve been in every major conflict and a lot more of the lower-intensity ones, as well. Rumor is there have even been a few that the Germans started deliberately just to get their guys some practical real-world experience.”

“So, what Hans told me about Afghanistan was legitimate?”

“Oh, he was there all right,” George said. “And he was the only member of his team to come back from a mission. But it isn’t a very nice story. There was suspicion that he killed the other members of his team himself.”

Annja felt her stomach drop. “Why would he do a thing like that?”

“Well, here’s where it gets a little wonky. Seems like there was a rabidly nationalistic splinter group within KSK. These guys were so far right wing they made Hitler look like he spent his summers working for Greenpeace. They wanted the expulsion of all foreigners from German soil. Seriously antiimmigration. They wanted to dismantle the Turkish neighborhoods in German cities and send them all packing. Crazy stuff.”

“Maybe not as crazy as it used to be,” Annja said. “That kind of stuff is happening everywhere, even in the U.S.”

“Good point. Anyway, the group was exposed and those who had pledged loyalty to it were booted out of the KSK with orders that if they ever spoke about their time inside the unit, they’d be arrested for treason.”

“That didn’t seem to stop Hans from fabricating a story for me the other night.”

“Was he trying to get in your pants?”

Annja sighed. “When you put it in such crude terms like that, George, it’s really unpleasant.”

“Sorry.”

“Never mind. Just keep going.”

“Well, your boy Hans kicked around in a couple of grunt jobs for a few months after Berlin heaved him. But just as his savings accounts started to run out, he got a payday in the form of about fifty thousand dollars.”

“Sign-on bonus?”

“That’s what I thought, too. You know a lot of these former special-ops guys go into security work. Close protection stuff that takes them abroad. Either that or mercenary work. The jobs pay well, so the influx of funds didn’t set off any alarms in Berlin. It probably should have.”

“So how do you know about it, then?”

“I can’t actually tell you, because it’s classified. Let’s just say that our government likes to keep tabs on the most highly specialized units all over the world. If you’re in one of those units or one of those teams, chances are pretty good we have a file on you.”

“Why would you care about who is in special operations?”

George sighed. “You have any idea what these guys are capable of, Annja? With their skills and know-how, they could literally bring down governments in weeks if not days. It’s not just the fact that they know how to use explosives, it’s that they understand the fragility of government bureaucracies. How they work, what it takes to bribe the right people and how best to cripple them. These guys get sent abroad to be fifth columns within the shadows of certain nations. At any time, they can pull the trigger and collapse whomever they want. They’re not just dangerous in conventional terms—they’re dangerous in unseen intangible terms, as well.”

“Never thought of it like that,” Annja said.

“Well, trust me, we have.” George sighed. “So, where was I?”

“About fifty thousand dollars into the story.”

“Right, so anyway, your boy Hans comes into that money and then the next day disappears. We lost him.”

“You lost him?”

“Surveillance in the program isn’t like a stakeout. We don’t have people sitting on these targets. We keep tabs on the stuff we can monitor with a few keystrokes and a software package. So if someone decides to drop out of circulation, we don’t usually sound alarm bells nor do we know about it until something sparks our interest.”

“Like, say, a long-lost friend calling you up from the Philippines and asking about one of your targets.”

George chuckled. “Now you’re getting the hang of things.”

“And I’m thrilled,” Annja said. “Where did he go? Do you have any idea?”

“Austria. A small town there named Kitselplatz. Try to find that on your precious Google and it won’t even show up. That’s how tiny and insignificant it is. At least to them.”

“But you know about it.”

“Yeah. Hans traveled there to meet with his friends.”

Annja sighed. “Let me guess—Heinkel, Gottlieb and Mueller.”

“Bingo. Win a prize. They stayed in a small bed and-breakfast and had long walks in the woods, longer dinners and lots and lots of beer.”

“So, what’s the deal on Heinkel, Mueller and Gottlieb? Were they in the KSK, as well?”

“Yep. And they were also part of the same fringe group. So when Hans got the boot, so did they. Needless to say, the rage they must have felt at being kicked out of the unit they so obviously loved must have been intense.”

“What happened at that meeting?”

“We’re not sure,” George said. “We know that they stayed in Kitselplatz for about three days. Then they drove in a single car back into Germany and all the way to Munich without stopping.”

“Without stopping?”

“Well, except for gas and stuff.”

Annja nodded. “Who did they meet with in Munich?”

“Joachim Spier.”

Annja’s frown deepened. Roux, who had gone to fetch himself another whiskey, came back, saw Annja’s face and promptly downed his drink in one go.

“And what’s Spier’s role in all of this? The most I could find was that he was a former German paratrooper who made his money after he got out of his service by investing.”

“That’s all true. Spier was an investment genius. They said he picked stocks the way some guys know how to pick horses at the track. But Spier didn’t need someone paying off a jockey to pick his winners. The guy had a feel for the markets. Knew just where to stick all his cash. He made a fortune and then doubled, tripled and quadrupled it in just a matter of a few years.”

“I’m surprised there isn’t more information about him on the web. I couldn’t find all that much.”

“Spier’s notorious for avoiding the limelight. Wants nothing to do with the high-society scene, movie premieres, any of that junk. Spier’s main goal in life is to not be seen at all. If no one knew who he was, he’d be a million times happier.”

“He seems to have succeeded admirably in that goal,” Annja said. “When was he diagnosed with his cancer?”

There was a pause on the phone. George said, “Huh?”

“Cancer. He said he had cancer. He told me to my face that his doctors had given him months to live.”

“Annja, Joachim Spier is in perfect health. I have his latest physical records here—ran them through the translation software—and there’s not one mention of cancer. The guy’s the poster child of longevity. As far as anyone is concerned, Spier ought to live into his hundreds, for crying out loud.”

“Why would he tell me that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he had an alternate agenda? Something that necessitated him lying to you about it?”

Annja put her head in her hands. This was all coming undone far too quickly. Had the vacation really dulled her senses to the point she’d let these guys pull a fast one on her? Or was she just getting tired of the game?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“See if there’s any indication that the area I’m in experienced any type of earthquake earlier today.”

“Hang on a second.” Annja heard him typing on several keys and then punch one final key. “Palawan, Philippines…nope. Nothing registered on any of the Geological Service monitors. If you felt something, it must have been highly localized.”

“How could that be?” Annja asked. “It felt like a massive earthquake underwater. Things were shaking. Ceiling collapsing. Walls splitting. How could that have been fabricated?”

“Explosives,” George said.

“Really?”

“You’d need an expert in demolitions to pull it off, but if they knew what they were doing, sure.”

“And a former KSK operator?”

“Yeah, he’d have all the know-how to do something like that.”

Annja shook her head. “We really got played here.”

“So, getting back to Spier for a moment?”

“Yes?”

“Turns out he’s something of an ultranationalist himself. Really appreciated the fascist point of view. Began espousing it to several people close to him. But they just branded him a lunatic. So he started frequenting the hangouts of special-ops guys.”

“So it appears he found himself an audience, huh?”

“Yep. Hans and the others became Spier supporters. But Spier didn’t publish papers or do anything to call attention to himself. That would have gone against the desire for no publicity. Instead, they started meeting in secret, planning God knows what.”

“We don’t know what they were up to?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Annja said. She rubbed her temples and tried to imagine what could have been going on here these past few days.

“Was Spier into archaeology?”

“Almost as much as you, it would seem,” George said. “He amassed quite a collection of relics that were all supposed to have mystical powers or something attached to them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe he’s as zealous an occultist as Hitler was. I don’t know. But he seemed to have this strange belief that these relics had powers he could tap into.”

“And what would he do with that power if he could tap into it?”

“Good question,” George said.

Annja looked up at Roux, who had a puzzled look on his face. She knew he’d been able to piece some of the conversation together, but key parts were missing and he was anxious to hear what George was telling her.

Tough, she thought, you’ll have to wait.

“Are they still in Osaka?”

“For another three hours,” George said. “Then they fly into the U.S.”

Annja nodded. “I need to get back to the U.S., too, apparently.”

She heard George take a sharp breath. “You’re not going after them, are you?”

“Yes. I am.”

“You’ll need tickets.”

“I’ll need a lot more than that. It’s raining here to beat the band. They say they can’t get us out for a day at least. By then this could all be over.”

“Let me see what I can do about that,” George said. “And by the way, you can’t go after these guys by yourself.”

Annja looked at Roux. “I have a friend with me. I think he will be willing to help.”

“Yeah, is he any good?”

“He’s kind of old,” Annja said. “But I think he’s still got some fight in him.”

“Well, you’re going to need it. Trying to take down five guys isn’t something you do without a lot of support.”

Annja frowned. “What did you just say?”

“Support. You’ll need support.”

“No, before that. You said
five
guys?”

“That’s right. Hans, Mueller and Gottlieb. They’re waiting with Heinkel and Spier for the flight to the U.S.”

“I must say I’m quite impressed with the capabilities of your would-be suitor, Annja.”

They zoomed through the air, cruising at thirty-eight thousand feet in the Gulfstream G650, close to the speed of sound. The interior cabin boasted luxurious leather trim, a stateroom and even a pair of beds in the aft of the cabin for sleeping on long flights.

“I mean,” Roux continued, “it is a sixty-million-dollar plane, after all. The boy obviously has style.”

“What he’s got is connections,” Annja said. When she’d told George that they needed a way out of the Philippines, he hadn’t wasted any time. Using his government credentials, he’d managed to have a military helicopter fly out in the midst of the storm, no less, to pick up Annja and Roux and take them back to Manila where the Gulfstream was idling on the runway, courtesy of the United States government. Annja had looked at the tail numbers and wondered if they even corresponded to a legitimate entity back in the States. Probably a CIA front company, she decided.

No matter, George had been good to his word and got them out of the Philippines within three hours of Annja’s phone call. The Gulfstream could cruise at speeds in excess of what the commercial airlines flew. That would give them a chance to catch up with Hans and his team, although Annja still had no idea what they might be up to.

Roux sat next to her, swiveling in his chair and enjoying the view out of the twenty-eight-inch windows that ran down the sides of the fuselage. “Marvelous plane. Marvelous. I hope you treat this kid well, Annja.”

“You want to date him?”

Roux grinned. “After all of this, I just might.” He took a sip from the bottle of water he’d received from the flight attendant. “Now, let’s try to figure out exactly what we’ve stumbled on to here, shall we?”

Annja frowned. “I have to admit, I’m a bit curious as to why you’re still along on this ride. Doesn’t this violate your usually sacred rule of letting the rest of us get on with destroying ourselves? I thought you’d prefer to stay in your ivory tower and come down when we’re done making a mess of the planet.”

Roux shrugged. “Hey, I wanted the pearl for myself, if you recall.”

“I do. But you never told me why.”

Roux sighed. “It was my belief that the pearl might enable the wielder to possess some type of power. Personal power. I thought it might be a means of bridging our world and the next. Of elongating life.”

“Elongating life? Roux, you’re almost six hundred years old. How much longer do you want to live?”

Roux’s eyes sparkled. “Who knows. Why not forever?”

Annja shook her head. “You’d really be happy living forever?”

“I don’t know, but it might be nice to have the option.”

“What about the people you grow to love? What happens when they die and move on to whatever comes next?”

Roux nodded. “The first time it happened was the hardest. But, over time, you somehow get used to it. You ask why I’m usually so reluctant to get involved with others? That’s why.”

“Yet you still want to prolong your life? I don’t get it.”

“Well, you haven’t yet lived beyond your own lifetime. There’s a certain novelty to being a witness to history.”

“Yeah, but that history is still only the blink of an eye. Six hundred years as compared with the eons that the planet has been around…it’s almost nothing. Look at the discovery we just made of the Jiao. They survived until we came blundering into their lives.”

“I have been thinking about that,” Roux said. “And in some ways, you might be right about a life being but a breath. But I do so enjoy seeing what the next generation will do on this precious chunk of rock that hurtles through the universe.”

Annja sighed. “Sometimes I think death can’t come soon enough for some people.”

“Including yourself?”

“I’m not suicidal,” Annja said.

“The dive master back in Palawan would probably disagree with you on that.”

Annja ignored that statement. “But there have been times when I wondered whether it would be better just to lose my life and move on. Especially when I find myself questioning exactly what my purpose is here with the sword at this point in our history. Why now? Why me?”

“So you’d hope to find the answers once you arrived at the pearly gates, is that it?”

“It would be nice.”

“I think you’d be in for a disappointment,” Roux said bitterly.

“God doesn’t give out answers to our deepest questions.”

“How would you know? You’re not dead.”

Roux frowned. “I may as well have died fifty times by now. I’ve gone through so much soul searching and pleading for answers from above that it no longer concerns me in the slightest.”

“You’ve got a faith problem,” Annja said. “Don’t project that on to others. It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair,” Roux snapped. “Don’t be a child, for God’s sake. This idea that you’ll find your answers when you die—it’s silly. And it’s naive to think that death presents some great opportunity. What if we’re only destined to break down and become fertilizer for those who come after us?”

Annja smirked. “You don’t believe that nonsense. You know there’s something more to all of this than just one time around.”

“Do I?”

Annja nodded. “Your own life has been stretched—not due to something amazing you did—but because of the will of God. In much the same way I now have the burden of this sword. It’s all part of a bigger plan.”

“So we don’t get a choice?”

“We get to choose,” Annja said. “But I think the choices are predetermined. The outcome is uncertain, but the paths are already laid out.”

“How does that even make sense?” Roux said.

Annja leaned back. “You’re just upset you didn’t get the sword. You’ll get over it someday.”

Roux shook his head. “I hate it when you get insufferable like this.”

“So, let’s take our minds off this discussion and try to figure out what Hans and the boys are up to.”

“Spier must be heading it up. No offense to your afternoon delight, but I don’t think he’s got the brains to spearhead something like this.”

“I agree,” Annja said. “His talents were obviously designed for more primal activities.”

“Oh, please, that’s the last thing I need to hear about now.” Roux sighed. “Honestly.”

Annja laughed.

Roux rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like that beast Garin. How that boy ever apprenticed under me is beyond me. You would have thought a libido like that would be sent from the devil himself.”

Annja changed the topic. “So if Spier is behind all of this, what’s the point?”

“I think we’ve got to accept the fact that they knew a lot more about things than they let on. They may have even let us believe that we were doing the work for them. That way, we’d make the wrong assumptions.”

“So, let’s go back to the pearl. What do we know about it?”

“It’s radioactive,” Roux said. “So obviously it’s a potent thing to have.”

“Is it possible Spier knew about it being radioactive? I don’t recall him saying anything specifically about that, but it did seem that anyone who came into contact with it in the legend he told me about suffered from misfortune.”

Roux nodded. “So, again, he’s leading us in what we might come up with relating to the pearl. He told you that story and put the suggestion in your mind that something bad would happen. And then when Hsusia told you as much, it simply strengthened the suggestion. Almost like hypnosis.”

“But the danger was real,” Annja said. “I did get sick.”

Roux nodded. “And we thought Heinkel did, too.”

“He must have faked it,” Annja said. “And when he went missing those two times, was it to plant explosives? To simulate the earthquake?”

“So they could grab the pearl,” Roux said. “That’s really what they wanted all along. Spier does his heroic role that we both fell for. Here we were thinking he’d sacrificed himself for the team, but in reality, he and Heinkel secured the pearl and got it ready for transport.”

“But how could they transport it? It’s radioactive.”

“We don’t know the nature of the radiation coming off it,” Roux said. “But they could have simply brought along a storage container that we didn’t even see.”

Annja shook her head. “How would they have carried that? We were with them the whole time.”

Roux smiled. “Do you remember seeing magicians perform? All those wonderful tricks they like to do?”

“Sure.”

“They rely on misdirection. Watch this hand while the other is doing all the work. Spier took the lead right after me going into the tunnel, right?”

“Yes.”

“So we tended to be focused on him while Heinkel, Gottlieb and Mueller were relegated to the background. You focused on Hans and I focused on Spier. The real threat was always out of our awareness.”

Annja shook her head. “So Heinkel and the others could have brought everything they needed with them.”

“Sure. And when Heinkel disappeared the first time, he could have gone back into the tunnel, for example, and brought up both the explosives and the protective container and we wouldn’t have been any wiser. It appeared that he’d been grabbed. But he hadn’t. He’d simply gone back, grabbed the gear and come back along a different route.”

“Spier would have had to guess that the pearl was radioactive in some way.”

Roux shrugged. “Maybe he did. Maybe he simply thought it would be some sort of energy device. And being intelligent—because he certainly is—he simply took steps to cover any contingency. The radiation may have been as much a surprise to him as any of us. But he would have planned ahead for that possibility.”

“We’re playing a bad game of catch-up here,” Annja said. “And I don’t much care for it.”

“The real question now,” Roux said, “is what do they hope to achieve in America? And Massachusetts, no less.”

“George said he’d try to work on that and have something for us by the time we land in Boston.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t take too long,” Roux said. “Time doesn’t seem to be a luxury we have a great deal of at the moment.”

“I know he’ll work his ass off,” Annja said. “Especially if he happens to think that dinner is riding on it.”

“Stop using sex as a weapon, Annja.”

Annja looked at him and broke out into a grin. “What did you say?”

Roux waved his hand in the air. “Oh, nothing. I heard a song the other day and I’ve been dying to say it ever since.”

“Well, glad I could oblige.”

The flight attendant stopped by to ask if there was anything they needed. Roux asked for a glass of whiskey. Annja asked for a pillow. When the attendant left, Annja looked at Roux and frowned.

“You’ve been drinking a lot lately. You okay?”

He frowned. “Why? Do you want to be my sponsor?”

“Do I need to be?”

“I enjoy my drinks, Annja,” Roux said. “Leave me to them, if you please.”

“Fair enough.” Annja looked out of the window and watched the clouds pass by for a few moments.

The attendant returned with Roux’s whiskey. He took a sniff and nodded as if he approved. Then, just before he took a sip, he made a very subtle gesture. Annja caught the movement.

“What was that?” she asked.

“What was what?”

“That movement you made, like you were toasting someone.”

Roux frowned. “You’ve just spent the past several days being completely unaware and now, what—you’re making up for lost time?”

“You were as unaware as I was. Now spill it.”

The attendant brought Annja her pillow.

Roux nodded at it. “Today happens to be an anniversary of sorts. For a special someone I lost a long time ago. Now put your head on that pillow and go to sleep. Allow me to enjoy some memories in peace.”