Siberian Treasure

Page 19

“We’ll drop our friend here off at the local police station, and then continue our way to your father’s home in Pointe Abbeye. He may be able to wring some information out of him before we return.”
Marina rather doubted that, but she kept her opinion to herself. “How did they know we were coming along here?” she asked, more interested in preventing another attack. Two in less than twenty-four hours, thanks to her father and the CIA.
“Logic, I suppose. When you foiled your visitor’s attempts to kidnap you yesterday, they probably figured our next move would be a return to the scene of the other crime. Yesterday. They’re pretty blasted determined. You’ve already been attacked twice—in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, I’m quite aware of that. I’d like to thank you once again for dragging me into this.”
At that, Bergstrom turned to look back at her. “You’re wrong. If it weren’t for us, Dr. Alexander, you’d have no idea what was going on and you’d probably have opened the door to that guy yesterday.”
“I have better instincts than that. I do know one thing. If it weren’t for the CIA, I’d still be in Ann Arbor packing for my trip.” She settled back in her seat, folding her arms over her middle. Took a deep breath. She’d be on a plane to Mandalay in less than twelve hours. “And why are you so sure they were after kidnapping me and not plugging me with a bullet?”
“Rubber bullets.” MacNeil glanced at her in the rearview mirro. “I checked out the ones outside your house. They weren’t meant to kill you; just slow you down a little.”
“I feel so much better now.”
Marina felt the tension that had gathered in the back of her shoulders and neck and wished for the hundredth time she’d already been on her way to the Far East before the CIA found her.
Was even Myanmar far enough away?
She was being shot at, assaulted, and she was going to have to visit Dad’s house and search through everything. She’d done such a good job of moving on, dealing with having a non-father in her life, and now she was going to have to immerse herself in those banned emotions. Her stomach hurt.
The sooner she got it over, the better.
Another fifteen minutes, and they were on their way back on track to Victor Alexander’s small log cabin nestled deep in the woods, on a bluff overlooking Lake Superior. When the truck eased to a halt at the end of the curving drive, Marina hesitated before stepping down from the running board.
The hair at the back of her neck prickled, and she felt her pulse kick up. Either she was inexplicably nervous about what secrets she might find inside her father’s home … or her instincts were at work, warning her to be cautious—or, perhaps, to turn tail and run.
Of course, that wasn’t an option, so Marina called for Boris to come, and watched the dog as he dropped to the ground at her feet. Instantly, Boris came to attention, his ears straight up—not pointed forward, which was a good sign—and his tail raised but still.
MacNeil watched in open curiosity, obviously respectful of the dog’s non-human instincts. He slid the gun from the back of his waistband and met Marina’s eyes, giving her the wordless signal to let the canine assess the situation.
It was a damn good thing they hesitated, for Boris suddenly froze and his ears snapped forward, then laid back flat and he whined, ramming his nose into his mistress’s leg, then dashing toward the open door of the SUV.
“Get in the truck!” Marina yelled, a split second before Boris moved. She vaulted herself back into the vehicle in Boris’s wake. Bergstrom hadn’t climbed out, and MacNeil was already moving. Their doors slammed shut in perfect unison.
Fast with the keys, MacNeil had the engine turning over before he’d even settled in his seat, but he didn’t have enough time to even shift the truck into gear before the little log cabin exploded into a rolling inferno.
-18-
July 8, 2007
Siberia
“The test phase of the operation Ypila has concluded satisfactorily,” Roman told the Naslegi, the advisory council of his clan. “The events occurred at three sites as planned. Today we will finalize the details for the second phase, and I will work with Stegnora to implement the plan.”
The Naslegi had been meeting in the same room for centuries; but it was only due to Roman’s influence over the last three decades that its furnishings had become more comfortable, and technologically updated. Running on massive amounts of stored solar power and crystal energy, the lights, computers, and flat screens completed the chamber’s amenities.
“Shall we not first give thanks to Gaia?” asked Hedron in a pompous voice. Several others slid sidewise glances at him as if appalled that he would interrupt or divert Roman. “It is only because we act in her name that our mission can be accomplished.”
“Indeed.” Roman turned frigid blue eyes toward his wife, Nila’s, brother. “I trust that no one needs to be reminded that our very actions are for her glory and protection.” His stare lingered on his brother by marriage for another moment, and then shifted to the opposite end of the elongated, triangular table. “That is the reason I named this mission ‘Praise.’”
Opposite Roman, at the point of the triangle and just above the height of the table, was a crystal orb. It rounded large enough that a man would need two hands to cup it in his palms, and even then would not be able to wrap his fingers completely around it. The orb emanated a faint incandescent glow of brilliant greens slowly fogging into deep azures and disintegrating into aqua, teal, indigo, and moss in turn. Warm to the touch, as many members of the Naslegi had occasion to know, the crystal was much too heavy to hold comfortably. A single column of clear crystal acted as a throne for the orb, and lent the impression that it floated in mid-air. Just as Gaia herself did.
“Let us then turn ourselves to praise for our Oneness with Gaia,” Roman said.
The others joined him with a low rumble murmuring the wake of his words: “Oh Gaia, Mother, Source of Plant and Rock and Mortal; Abundant, Loving, Devastating … One in All … Maid who links eternity in our own world, Immortal, Blessed, crowned with every grace, Draw near, and bless your children … .”
When he was finished, Roman placed his palms on the smooth table before pushing himself upright with his large, splayed hands. When he removed them from the crystal slab to clasp them at his waist, they left moist fingerprints near the table’s edge. A flaw on the otherwise smooth, clear expanse.
“With Gaia’s grace, we now consider the next phase in her Ypila by focusing on the greatest threat to her well-being.
“As you well know, the rape of Gaia and the destruction of her being comes from every direction, affecting all aspects of her entity: fossil fuels plunged relentlessly from her depths; smoke and chemicals belched into the very breath of her air, and the razing of natural habitats and landscapes to make way for concrete roads and steel skyscrapers. Unceasing noise shatters the stillness of our world, scattering our wild brothers and sisters, and the unnatural blare of light shattering the midnight darkness that should be broken only by the stars and moon.
“Our work in her name will send a message to those Out-World that they must change their ways, or Gaia—through our actions—will destroy them.” Roman looked over the room, his gaze resting on each of the nine men, and finally, Stegnora, who sat next to him.
“How many targets will be identified?” one of the elders asked.
“Three is the optimal number. And unlike our test phase, we will be targeting an industry, rather than one particular pollutant. The devastation will be immense.”
“Perhaps now that the test phase was completed, a second phase will not need to be executed,” suggested Hedron with a sly look. “Surely the Out-Worlders will listen to us now.”
Roman’s fingers went back onto the crystal table, adding twin images to the already marred surface. “I have lived among the Out-Worlders, Hedron, and you have not. They are foolish capitalists and ignore even the warnings of their own scientists in favor of their financial gain. They build more buildings, drive more cars, manufacture more and more unnecessary machines. And stuff Gaia with their waste.”
“We have only your word that you attempted to turn the Out-Worlders to our perspective, Roman,” Hedron continued, undeterred. “And that was over thirty years ago. Perhaps—“
“Your own sons have visited the Out-World, Hedron. Even your nephew agrees that they are not yet ready to listen to reason.” While Hedron’s sons had not spent more than a month at a time in the Out-World, and then only when they were carefully monitored by Roman or his spies, Hedron’s nephew, Rue Varden, had studied Western medicine and lived Out nearly as much as he lived among the Skaladeskas. It was a particularly tender point to Hedron that Varden, who was estranged from his uncle, was the confidant and heir-apparent to the childless Roman.
This was a point that Roman never failed to drive home when confronted by Hedron.
He continued with rapid-fire words shooting from his mouth like staccato notes, “Anyone who is foolish enough to believe the Out-World will listen to reason when they have not been threatened does not belong as part of the Naslegi. I was not accepted by the others when I moved among them; anyone who leaves here will not be accepted by them. That is the reason Varden and the others continue to return to our world. They know that they cannot have a place out side of this.”
“Indeed.” Hedron stared back at Roman, his eyes burning angrily, but said nothing further.
“Now … .” Roman scanned his attention over the room. “I have a recommendation that I hope the Naslegi will accept, regarding the industry we will target. Through the reporting of Varden, and my dear brother Viktor, we have concluded that the businesses that promote the burning of gasoline and the use of oil be our first targets. The Out-World cannot do without its modes of transport—two and three cars for every family in America, one person per vehicle to commute to their places of business, yet many travel to the same place from the same cities.”