After draping an old woolen blanket over Pasha while he slept sitting up, Jen moved over beside Tokarev and offered him one of the last remaining cookies.
Taking it, he smiled at Jen and set the book he was reading down on his lap. “Miss March, before Pasha decided to get some sleep, he confided in me that we aren’t the first people interested in his father’s old books.”
“Somehow that’s not a surprise. Did he say who else was?”
“Yes. About a year ago, when he was hard up for cash, a man claiming to be making a documentary about the Luna 15 mission approached him. For five thousand dollars, Pasha photocopied his father’s notes and sold them to the man.”
“Does he remember the man’s name?”
Tokarev shook his head. “Unfortunately not. He feels really bad for not telling us earlier.”
“What’s done is done,” said Jen philosophically.
“Miss March, what were you told about Luna 15?”
“Not too much,” replied Jen, “only that the official history is wrong and that it drilled into the Moon’s surface and subsequently returned to Earth with a sample of rock.”
“Do you know what they found when they drilled into the rock?”
“We were told that they found platinum.”
Tokarev placed his hand on his book, looked deep into Jen’s eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, but that cannot be possible. Someone was not being truthful with you. I have gone over the findings sent back to Earth by the probe as it sped through space and it most assuredly did not find platinum.”
“Okay then, what did it find?”
“The sample contained genetic material. I’m not a medical doctor, but after reading these files, I believe that they may have accidentally found a living pathogen up there.”
“My God. No wonder your government tried to destroy it by burning it up in the atmosphere.”
“Exactly,” said Tokarev, nodding his head. “Now, my dear, why would someone want to get their hands on a pathogen that we know absolutely nothing about?”
A sinking feeling in Jen’s stomach told her that they had stumbled across something that could potentially affect every living thing on the planet. “We have to warn the authorities.”
“Let’s not be too hasty. If the weather breaks in the morning and we can get a lift back home, I know a man who works at the university who can read these findings better than I can. I could be wrong, and the last thing we need to do is cause a panic because an old man misread some data that is over forty years old.”
“Right you are,” said Jen as she patted Tokarev’s arm. “You should try and get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
Jen stood up, ran a hand through her hair, and walked over by Sam, who was reassembling her pistol after cleaning it.
“You look like someone just stole your bike,” said Sam to Jen.
Jen sat down and let out a deep sigh. “I wish it were that simple. You know that before I met Ryan my life was boring and safe; now its months of routine paperwork laced with several days of sheer terror.”
“You seem to be doing all right.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Sam, have you ever known something that you wished wasn’t true?”
“Once or twice. Why, what’s on your mind?”
“The end of the world.”
22
At precisely eight o’clock, Mitchell walked into the hotel bar and took a quick glance around the dimly lit room. In the corner, a white-haired man in a tuxedo played the piano while he sang a Billy Joel song from the eighties in Spanish. The lounge wasn’t too busy. It was mainly older couples sitting together, spread throughout the room for a bit of privacy while they enjoyed their drinks.
Mitchell was dressed casually in khaki slacks with a blue polo shirt. He walked over to the bar and ordered a Scotch on the rocks. After tipping the bartender well, he asked if a young woman with short red hair and green eyes had been in the bar earlier in the day. Before the man could answer, Grace Maxwell slid onto the stool right beside Mitchell and ordered a gin and tonic.
“You’re late,” said Mitchell to Grace.
“A minute, perhaps,” replied Grace. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t followed.”
“And was I?”
“No,” answered Grace as she paid for her drink. Like Mitchell, she was dressed informally. Grace wore a loose-fitting, silver-colored shirt, with long, white pants and comfortable shoes.
“Why don’t we take a table and talk in private?” said Mitchell.
Grace nodded her head. They took a booth in the corner of the lounge.
“Any trouble getting out of the States?” asked Grace.
“None. I suspect the general was able to do the Potomac two-step shuffle for a few hours before they realized that we were gone.”
Grace looked around the bar. “Where’s your sidekick?”
“Over there,” replied Mitchell with a grin on his face as he pointed to a table near the piano player. With Jackson was an Asian woman in her late twenties. By the annoyed look on her face, she was none too happy that Jackson was sitting beside her.
“I see you found my backup,” said Grace.
“You’re not the only person to take precautions. Nate was in the lobby reading a paper. He must have spotted you and followed you and your friend inside the bar.”
“I’ll have to be more observant in the future,” replied Grace before taking a sip of her drink.
“If you don’t mind, Grace, I’d really like it if we got down to business.”
“Very well,” replied Grace as she dug out her phone from her purse. She brought up a picture of an oil rig. “This is the oil rig where McMasters was sighted two days ago. According to my source, he hasn’t left the platform.”
“How would you know? He could have left via a helicopter in the middle of the night, and your source would be none the wiser.”
Grace shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because my source is on the rig, that’s why.”
“I won’t ask how you pulled off that minor miracle.”
“It was too easy. Most of the culinary staff is women. I had her pay off one of the usual women to call in sick. They’re always having issues hiring good people, so my person reported for work and took her place.”
“Where is the rig?”
“It lies a few kilometers offshore.”
“Is it guarded?”
“No more than any other oil rig in Venezuela.”
“I take you have a plan to get us on board?”
“Naturally,” replied Grace, “but I want your assurance that if we find it, I get the Luna 15 probe.”
“You have my word. It’s yours. All I want is McMasters for killing Maria.”
“Very good, then. Meet me at this address in the nearby port of La Guaria,” said Grace as she handed Mitchell a piece of paper. “My boat shoves off at midnight. Don’t be late. I won’t wait for you.”
She quickly finished off her drink, stood up and then walked out of the lounge followed a couple of seconds later by her backup.
Nate sauntered over and slid into the booth. “So what’s up?”
“It looks like we have to go shopping for some new clothes and then catch a cab,” replied Mitchell, looking down at his watch.
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” said Jackson, looking down at his bright-red Hawaiian shirt.
“Nothing, if we were about to go walking through Disneyland; however, where we’re going, you’d stand out like a sore thumb.”
“And just where are we going?”