CHAPTER 70
Main Conference Room
Clocktower HQ
New Delhi, India
Dorian held his hand up to stop the analyst. “What the hell is a ‘Barnaby Prendergast Report’?”
The 30-something man looked confused. “It’s the report from Barnaby Prendergast.”
Dorian glanced around the conference room at the assembled Clocktower and Immari Security personnel. The now-integrated staff were still adjusting to the formal Immari-Clocktower union, and it was slowing the meeting down as roles and jurisdiction were settled. “Can someone please tell me what Barnaby Prendergast is?”
“Oh, that’s his name — Barnaby Prendergast,” the analyst said.
“Seriously? Did we give him that name— actually, don’t tell me, I don’t care. He said what? Start over.”
The analyst flipped a few stapled pages over. “Prendergast is one of about 20 staffers still on-site.”
“Was on-site.” Dorian corrected.
The analyst cocked his head. “Well technically he is, or his dead body is on-site.”
“Jesus Christ, just give me the fucking report.”
The analyst swallowed. “Right, uh, before the drone strike, he, Prendergast, said an unidentified female, his words here, ‘accosted him outside his lab and coerced him into aiding her in what she claimed was a rescue of some children.’” The analyst flipped another page. “He goes on to say he ‘tried to stop her’ and that he ‘believed she was using a fake or stolen ID card.’ Also, here’s the kicker, he also says she ran out after the attacks, quote, ‘covered in blood but unharmed,’ and that she ‘attacked him again, stopped him from rescuing workers,’ blah, blah, blah, and then she ‘took a security guard’s gun,’ ‘tried to shoot him,’ Prendergast that is, then got on the cargo train with a dying accomplice, who Prendergast said had been shot multiple times.”
Dorian leaned back in the chair and stared at the bank of screens. Kate Warner had survived the Bell. How? Reed was likely dead; Dorian had practically turned the fool into a block of Swiss cheese.
The man cleared his throat. “Sir, should we disregard? You think it’s bullshit, maybe the guy was playing for the spotlight?”
“No, I don’t.” Dorian bit into one of his nails. “It’s too fucking elaborate to be made up. Wait, why do you say ‘playing for the spotlight’?”
“Prendergast made a call to the BBC right before the strike; that’s how we got the report. We were monitoring all the communications in and out of the facility since the… accident. We have him on our list to discredit; his story threatens Immari’s earlier industrial accident press release. So—”
“Ok, stop. Stop right there. One thing at a time. Let’s focus here.” Dorian swiveled his chair to face Dr. Chang, who sat in the corner, staring at the conference room’s cheap carpet. “Chang. Pay attention.”
Dr. Chang sat up as if the teacher had called on him. The man had been frazzled and absent since the blast in China. “Yes. I’m here.”
“For now Doctor, but if you don’t figure out how Kate Warner survived the Bell, you won’t be.”
Chang shrugged his shoulders. “I… can’t even begin to—”
“You will begin to. How could she have survived?”
Chang brought a closed hand to his face and cleared his throat. “Well, um, let’s see, she could have treated herself with whatever she gave the children. Maybe she tested it for safety.”
Dorian nodded. “Interesting. Other possibilities?”
“No. Well, there is the obvious — she could have already had immunity — the Atlantis Gene.”
Dorian chewed his nail some more. That was very interesting. Very interesting. “Ok, that one sounds easy to test—”
Chang shook his head. “My lab was destroyed, and we don’t even know where to start—”
“Get a new lab.” Dorian turned to one of his staffers. “Find Dr. Chang a new lab.” He focused again on Chang. “And I’m not a scientist, but I would start by sequencing her genome and checking for any irregularities.”
Chang nodded. “Yes of course, that’s easy, but with the state of the site, we’re not likely to find any DNA—”
Dorian threw his head back. “For God’s sake, think outside the box. She has a condo in Jakarta; surely you’re clever enough to find a hair brush or a used tampon, Doctor.”
Chang flushed. “Yes, that, could work.”
A female Clocktower analyst spoke up, “Most women flush their tampons—”
Dorian closed his eyes and held his hands up. “Forget the fucking tampon. There must be tons of Kate Warner’s DNA in Jakarta. Go find some. Or better yet, let’s find her — if she did escape, she’s got to be on one of the trains.” Dorian turned to Dmitry Kozlov, the Immari Security Field Commander who had left China with him.
The soldier shook his head. “I just got the inventory. We checked it against the staff roster. She’s not on any of the trains. And neither is Reed. We’ve got a lot of injured and dead, several people with trauma wounds, but nobody with gunshot wounds.”
“You’re shitting me. Search the trains again—”
“It will delay Toba—” Dmitry said.
“Do it.”
The analyst with the Prendergast Report piped up. “She could have jumped.”
Dorian rubbed his temples. “She didn’t jump.”
The analyst shook his head. “How do you know—”
“Because she had Reed with her.”
“She could have pushed him off.”
“Could have, but didn’t.”
The analyst looked confused. “How do you know?”
“Because she’s not as stupid as you apparently are. She’s 5’8”, 120 lbs. Reed is over 6’ and at least 180 lbs. Warner couldn’t hike out of Tibet on her own, much less hauling 180 lbs of dead weight, and trust me, if Reed is alive, he can’t walk.”
“She could have left him.”
“She wouldn’t leave him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know her. Look, let’s wrap this up, come on, move out, people.” Dorian stood and waved his arms to usher people out of the crowded room.
“What about The Barnaby Prendergast Report?” the analyst said.
“What about it?”
“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.”