“Should we contradict—”
“Hell no. Confirm it. The media will run with it anyway, it has the word terrorist in it. And it’s the truth — a terrorist attacked our facility in China. It’s the best break we’ve had. Release the footage of Reed planting the bombs to corroborate it. Tell the press that the attack follows an earlier attack by the same people in Jakarta. Include video of Warner as well.” Dorian thought for a moment. This could work out well, maybe buy them some time and provide a cover story. “Let’s say we’re currently investigating whether Dr. Warner deployed a biological weapon at the facility, and we’re asking for a strict quarantine of the site.” Dorian waited, staring at the staff. “Ok, tick-tock, people, let’s go.”
He pointed at Dmitry. “You, stay.”
The tall soldier lumbered over to Dorian as the room cleared. “Someone took them off the train.”
“Agree.” Dorian paced back to the table. “It has to be them.”
“Impossible. We’ve searched those mountains non-stop since 9/11, they’re not there. They were all killed in ‘38. Or they could be a myth. Maybe the Immaru never existed at all.”
“You have a better idea?” Dorian said. When Dmitry didn’t respond, Dorian continued, “I want teams searching those mountains.”
“I’m sorry sir, we don’t have the manpower. The Clocktower purge, plus the end of major hostilities in Afghanistan, our forces in the region were already minimal. Everyone we have local is focused on Toba. If you want teams, they have to be diverted.”
“No. Toba is the priority. What about satellite surveillance? Can we track them, figure out where they are?”
Dmitry shook his head. “We’ve got no eyes in the sky over Western China, nobody does. That’s one of the reasons Immari Research selected that site — there’s nothing there and no reason to look. No cities, hell not even many villages or roads. We can reposition satellites, but it will take time.”
“Do that. And launch the rest of the drones in Afghanistan—”
“How ma—”
“All of them. Have them scour every inch of the plateau — focus on monasteries first. And re-assign two men — we can spare them. Toba is important, but so is capturing Warner. She survived the Bell. We have to know why. Have those two men trace the route of every train that left, question villagers, anyone that may have seen anything. Apply pressure. I want her found.”
CHAPTER 71
David was still asleep when Kate returned to his room. She sat down at his feet on the twin bed in the alcove and looked out the window for a while. The serenity of this place was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She glanced back at David. He was almost as peaceful as the green valley and white-top mountains. Kate leaned against the alcove wall and stretched out her legs next to David’s.
She opened the journal and a letter fell out. The paper felt old, fragile, like Qian. The letters flowed in thick dark ink, and she could feel the indentations on the back of the page like braille. Kate began reading aloud, hoping David would hear and that the voice would comfort him.
—————
To The Immaru,
I have become a servant to the faction you know as The Immari. I am ashamed of the things I have done, and I fear for the world — for the things I know they are planning. At this moment, in 1938, they seem unstoppable. I pray that I am wrong. In the event I am not, I’m sending you this journal; I hope you can use it to prevent the Immari Armageddon.
Patrick Pierce
11-15-38
April 15, 1917
Allied Forces Hospital
Gibraltar
NOTE: The following was transcribed from the oral recollections of Major Patrick Pierce, United States Army.
When they pulled me out of the tunnel on the Western Front and brought me to this field hospital a month ago, I thought I was saved, but this place has grown on me like a cancer, eating me from the inside out, silently at first, without my knowledge, then taking me by surprise, plunging me into a dark sickness I can’t escape.
The hospital is almost quiet at this hour, and that’s when it’s most scary. The priests come every morning and every night, praying, taking confessions, and reading by candlelight. They’ve all gone now, as have the nurses and doctors.
Outside my room, I can hear them, out in the wide open ward with rows of beds. Men scream — most from pain, some from bad dreams; others cry, talk, and play cards in the moonlight and laugh as if half a dozen men won’t die before sunrise.
They gave me a private room, put me here. I didn’t ask for it. But the door closes and blocks out the cries and the laughs, and I’m glad. I don’t like hearing either.
I reach for the bottle of laudanum, drink till it runs down my chin, then drift into the night.
The slap brings me back to life, and I see a jagged set of rotten teeth inside a wicked grin on an unshaven dirty face. “Ee’s awake!”