Siberian Treasure

10

“Dr. Sayed said you should take at least another two months, Gabe.”

“Dr. Sayed’s just worried about his reputation. I’m damned ready to be back. Three months to lick my wounds is plenty long enough, don’t you think?” Despite his hard words, Gabe MacNeil’s voice was colored with the faint lilt of a West Virginian accent.

Colin Bergstrom settled back in his chair. The man across from him could have been his son if one were considering age and level of intelligence. But where Bergstrom’s Matthew was short like his father, MacNeil was tall and rangy, with close-cropped dark hair that had more than its share of grey edging the sideburns and along the front of his hairline. Colin guessed he must be considered good-looking, if the way all the female admins constantly mooned over him was any indication. And there was, of course, the incident with Rebecca Yves. She hadn’t flickered an eyelash at any of her colleagues until MacNeil came along.

In his mid-thirties, single, dedicated, and sharp as they came, MacNeil was just what Colin needed for this gig. And, since he insisted on returning prematurely from a medical leave of absence, and was thus currently unassigned, he needed an operation he could sink his teeth into while easing back into fieldwork.

Colin wasn’t above keeping his early return a fact between himself, HR, and McNeil — for the time being. He wasn’t going to miss the golden opportunity that had just landed in his lap.

He’d been telling him about the three coincidental earthquakes before he’d looked at the report regarding MacNeil’s return to work, and noticed that the recommendation of Dr. Sayed was that he take another two months. At least. Sayed had put him at approximately 75 % physical capacity, and 85 % mental readiness.

But this little project Colin had in mind was not a demanding operation; and with MacNeil still officially on leave, Colin could utilize him without digging too deeply into tight, well-managed resources.

The fact that he would be putting one of his best officers on the project, under the blind noses of the Powers That Be, gave him only the slightest of hesitations.

“Everything related to those three earthquakes is being investigated, even a mass of flyers that were found blowing about the site in Allentown. You know how it is — everything out of the ordinary is a potential terrorist attack until proven otherwise nowadays.”

“I hardly think an earthquake, or even a series of them, could be considered a terrorist attack. As we know, subtlety is not one of their trademarks.”

“The theory is that it was some kind of underground explosion. Some professor at Princeton who was watching the seismograph at the time recognized the unusual activity — which consisted of several large spikes out of the blue; no other activity before.”

“An underground explosion.” MacNeil’s wheels were obviously turning. His hands were clasped on his chest, the left thumb tapping on top of the right as if in rhythm of his thoughts. “Certainly is a consideration, but how in the hell a bomb was placed twenty feet — or however deep — under these sites, in solid rock, is impossible to fathom.”

“You’re right of course, but the team, led by SA Helen Darrow, has been combing the areas, looking for anything that might indicate that’s what happened — but it’d have to be a cave or some other underground passage that gave them access. And there’s nothing like that in any of these places.”

“Darrow? She’s never handled anything this big before. She’s sharp, but if this is really a terror operation, she might be in over her head. Still. She’s no dumb blonde.”

“I didn’t realize you knew her that well,” Colin said.

MacNeil gave a short nod, along with a thoughtful quirk of his lips. “You could say that.”

“Well, you’re right — she’s sharp. Darrow did find something. And I’ve offered to put you on it.”

The spark of interest was back in MacNeil’s grey eyes; whether it was due to the lovely Ms. Darrow or the case wasn’t clear. But it didn’t matter. In a few moments, MacNeil would be fully engaged. Bergstrom slid a photograph across the desk. “Take a look at this. There were about twenty papers blowing around the Allentown site with this symbol on them.”

MacNeil took the photo. “It’s an odd-looking symbol. There were three other earthquake sites too, right? Were any found there?”

“No. Only Allentown. And that’s the crux of the matter — Darrow doesn’t have the man-power with her own team to follow up on something like this that’s likely unrelated. Yet she’s smart enough to know she can’t take the chance on something slipping through. The police chief told her he thought it was a gang symbol; guess they’ve been having lots of problems with that in the local high schools.”

“So, you got involved how? And you’re putting me on it — why? Because I’ve been away for a few months and I need to be eased back in, chasing around monkey clues? If this is a counter-terrorism investigation, a whole helluva lot has changed in the last few months.”

“This isn’t a Mickey Mouse operation. I happened to see the symbol, just by accident, and I contacted Darrow and told her I had someone who could do the follow up. Actually, I seized the opportunity. Purposely.”

“You know what it is then.”

“Yes.”

Bergstrom opened his mouth to continue, but MacNeil beat him to it. “If this was found at the scene of the quakes, how can you horn in? It’s a Bureau investigation. They’re still pretty touchy about domestic investigations, and I can’t see Darrow bowing out of the way for us.”

“Homeland Security’s all over the Feds’ asses on this. Darrow’s resources are tight, and if we can continue to collaborate with HSA, the Feds and the NSA in cases like this, then we have a better leg to stand on when we ask for budget increases. The biggest argument is that there’s no indication whatsoever that it’s related to the quakes. So she doesn’t want to waste her team, but if I’m willing to provide free resources … well, she’s on it like frosting on a wedding cake.”

He looked at MacNeil with a sharp gaze to ensure that the weight of his next words was clear. “This is an assignment that is extremely important to me, Gabe, in a personal nature, and that’s why I’m placing you on it. Even though Sayed says you’re not quite ready to come back.”

In Gabe’s opinion, Dr. Sayed was too conservative; and besides, he was going crazy at home every day, with nothing to do but think about what a fool he’d been. His leg still hurt a little from the car wreck — but not nearly as much as his ego — but a little pain wasn’t going to stop him. He was ready to be back, and though he’d rather something a little more challenging, this would do. It might be interesting to see Helen again.

Or it might not.

Regardless, there was something else going on here than met the eye.

He looked at his director and waited for him to continue.

Bergstrom’s sharp, intelligent eyes were framed by thick glasses that sank deeply into the sides of his nose. Whenever he removed them, two dark red ovals decorated either side of the bridge of his nose and he rubbed them harshly.

He wasn’t rubbing the red marks today; instead, he watched Gabe steadily, as if to gauge his interest. He seemed more intense than usual; or maybe it was just that Gabe had been away for long enough to forget. He shifted his aching leg to a more comfortable position.

Apparently satisfied he had the appropriate level of attention from his officer, Bergstrom leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, one on a stack of files and one on the smooth mahogany, and steepled his fingers.

“The symbol is from an ancient tribe in Siberia that still exists and continues to live in the mountains of that region. The Skaladeskas, they’re called. In the early Seventies, there were some incidents with their only known external member, who had expatriated himself to England. He was ostensibly studying there at Oxford, and — I happened to be there as well. I got to know him as much as anyone else did; he had some crazy ideas that weren’t well-received — along the lines of using crystals for energy. And he was more than a bit fanatical about environmental policies — even back then. A real Rachel Carson kind of guy.”

“What kind of incidents?”

“Some research went missing out of an engineering lab dealing with nuclear physics, and a man by the name of Victor Alexander — formerly Viktor Aleksandrov — was believed to have taken it. However, it was never found and never proven he took it. In fact, another young scientist, who had disappeared during the same time period, was also accused. It was said she had been…close to Alexander. She was never found. Later, Alexander gained entrance to the US and is the only known member of this tribe who lives here in the States.

“As I’ve moved through the ranks here at the Agency, I’ve taken it upon myself to keep a sort of eye on him, and his people — because he was Russian and because of the Cold War, initially. And because I knew him when I was at Oxford. I just wanted to make certain nothing untoward were to happen.” He looked at Gabe through his glasses. “You know as well as I do that there are Aum Shinrikyos and Kuala Pohrs perking out there, acting like harmless cults, but waiting for their opportunity to make a violent political statement.”

Gabe had first-hand experience with the clan that had called themselves Kuala Pohr—a seemingly innocuous group who followed a belief system around a leader startlingly similar to David Koresh. That alone should have put the CIA and FBI on alert, but they ignored the group until they were forced otherwise by a subway bombing on Washington DC’s Metro system in late 2004. His uncle, a National Security Officer, had been killed during the attack and Colin’s peer, Manning Browne, had been caught with his pants down.

More often than not when he reflected on the Kuala Pohr incident, Gabe wondered just how Browne felt nowadays when he looked at himself in the mirror. Did the dead bodies of burned women and children haunt him? Did he review every decision he’d made — every command, every order — and wonder if he could have saved the lives of those thirty people if he’d been a little more diligent, a little more suspicious?

Gabe didn’t want to have to interrogate himself in the mirror, and neither did Colin.

“All has been quiet until now, this incident with the earthquakes. These flyers being found there may mean something, it may mean nothing. They could simply be the symbol of a gang — maybe someone saw it somewhere and chose to borrow it for that purpose. But it’s your job to find out — and do it quickly, and quietly, because I haven’t any authorization from The Powers That Be to use resources for this. I’m afraid this administration’s attention is focused more on threats from fundamental Muslims and narco-terrorists than indigenous tribes in Siberia.”

Gabe took the photo again and stared at it, giving himself the opportunity to consider the situation. Bergstrom was being deliberately vague. No dates or reports or photos, or any of the other collateral he usually received when put on an operation. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to give.

But Gabe knew better.

He’d worked for Bergstrom for eight years; he knew he was holding something back.

He’d said it was personal.

“If it’s not officially approved, then what kind of resources can I count on?”

“You’ll have whatever you need. I’ll see to it.”

Gabe placed the photograph on the desk and looked at his boss. “What else is there, Colin? What aren’t you telling me?”

“There’s nothing else I can tell you at this time, Gabe.”

His words were carefully chosen. Not a lie. Not an admission that Gabe was right. Nearly an acknowledgement, in fact. Seriousness, and something bordering on desperation, held in his unwavering gaze as he stared back at Gabe.

It was almost as if he were asking him for a favor. Pleading silently, but proudly.

He’d never met anyone he’d respected more than Colin Bergstrom. If the man needed him, he’d do it. “All right. So I need to find Victor Alexander.”

Bergstrom’s lips twitched into a half-smile as he handed him a folded yellow paper. “He’s already found. You just need to bring him to me. Him, or his daughter Marina.”