“What, finding the Ark?”
“No,” frowned the Admiral. “Something else. Could it be some unknown archeological discovery?” He turned toward the screen. “Dr. Lokke?”
She shrugged. “It could certainly be a historical item. Although that’s probably a stretch. If it was truly significant, I doubt the Guyana government would sit idly by while it was deconstructed and taken away piece by piece. Besides, what would the Chinese want with a piece of some Mayan type of history? I’m not an archeologist, but even a hidden temple or a tiny city couldn’t be disassembled in a few months. Nor would it explain the need for earth moving equipment. Unless, of course, you were trying to destroy it, but that makes even less sense.”
“What about some kind of ancient treasure?”
Bartman shook his head. “Aren’t most ancient treasures made of gold or silver?”
“Right. Again, too heavy,” conceded Langford. “I guess we’re back to the rare earths theory.”
Kathryn Lokke peered directly into her camera. “You know, the more I think of REEs, the more sense it makes. The Chinese have established a veritable stranglehold on the rest of the world with these elements. This has given them tremendous economic and technological leverage for a long time, even while other sources are found and brought online. So, if there was a super dense deposit out there, and I was the Chinese, I would grab it pretty darn quick.”
Miller turned to Langford. “Okay, so either it is elements or it isn’t. Either way, we need to get a look into those crates, and fast.”
Langford nodded. “I’m working on that.”
“What do you mean?”
Langford checked his watch. “I have two men who should be on the ground soon.”
Miller stared at Langford for a moment before grinning wryly. “And which two men would that be?”
“John Clay and Steve Caesare.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
The small city of Georgetown was clearly visible against the bright green background of Guyana’s rain-forested mountains. The Bowditch was still miles away, but by now was visible to anyone on shore, including the crew of the corvette.
Standing outside the bridge, Captain Krogstad lowered his binoculars and peered at the receding shape of the Oceanhawk helicopter, headed well south of the city. Next to him, Commander Lawton stared in the same direction.
Between that night’s observations and further verification from Borger’s footage, they had confirmed something sizable was indeed being loaded onto the Chinese ship. However, the crates were well sealed, leaving no visual clues as to what was inside. They had also verified that the ship had arrived just over four months prior, and while they could not achieve a positive confirmation, they suspected the Russian sub had arrived just a few weeks after the corvette. All the while, sitting quietly and watching.
Lawton was surprised to feel a tinge of worry for John Clay and Steve Caesare, who were both on the helicopter. She reluctantly admitted to herself that Caesare, while having a certain brashness to his personality, was also somewhat charming.
She straightened up taller next to the captain and quickly forced the thought out of her mind. They were grown men. They would be fine. Besides, she had a lot of work to do.
The chance of not being seen was almost zero, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be subtle. As the chopper lifted off the ground and headed back out to sea for the Bowditch, Clay and Caesare hefted their packs up and over their shoulders. It would be a long hike into town, but the early morning coolness meant they would have a head start before the humidity and heat really set in.
They covered the first five miles in less than an hour, which was surprisingly good time considering they had to stay off the road and out of sight. They were also traveling in the most casual clothes they had, knowing they would need to blend in quickly when they reached Georgetown. Both were dressed in shorts, yet while Clay wore a comfortable, dark green polo shirt, Caesare wore a rather loud button up. It was the most casual clothing they could find and from Borger’s suitcase no less.
Together they continued weaving in and out of the trees, picking up more moisture from the thick foliage than from the air. Both men stopped several times at the sound of a passing automobile, which was usually a truck headed north from New Amsterdam, carrying an early morning load of commercial goods.
When they neared the town, they crossed over the railroad and came in high up along Embankment Road.
Georgetown had a population of 750,000. However, it was the half million tourists it received annually which allowed Clay and Caesare to blend in. Originally settled as a Dutch colony, Georgetown was invaded and captured by the British in 1781, primarily due to its location at the base of the Demerara River. After decades of political friction between the local governing body and the policies of King George, the town finally received its city status in 1842. The wards and streets were named after the Dutch, French, and English, who administered the city through different periods of its history. As a result, and perhaps more notably, Guyana became the only country in South America with English as an official language.
It took them just under two hours to reach the city’s downtown district and to find a small obscure hotel. Leaving their packs in the room, they promptly found a taxi and slid into the back seat.
The old driver peered at them both from the rearview mirror. “Good afternoon,” he said, with a hint of a British accent.
“Hello, Mr.… Brennan,” Caesare said, leaning forward and glancing at the driver’s credentials overhead.
From under a thick mane of white hair, the driver turned and looked back over his shoulder while Clay slammed the back door shut. “Where can I take you lads?”
The two looked at each other in the back seat. “We’re… new in town. Thought we’d take a tour of the city.”
“Splendid.” Those words were music to Brennan’s ears. He grinned and set the meter before glancing over his shoulder and turning out into the lane. “Are you two with CARICOM?”
CARICOM was short for “Caribbean Community” and was an agreement to improve economic relations and foreign policies for fifteen Caribbean member nations. Guyana, and more specifically Georgetown, had the distinction of housing the CARICOM headquarters since its inception.
Clay shook his head at the question. “Afraid not. We’re here for a business meeting and taking a couple of personal days first.”
The driver nodded and turned right onto Mandela Avenue, heading north. “Well, you couldn’t find a better city for a holiday if you like the ocean and warm water. My family moved to Georgetown when I was six, ‘course it looked a spot different back then. Been here ever since.”
Clay and Caesare sat quietly for the next several minutes while the driver rattled off interesting tidbits about the city, including a drive-by of both the Georgetown Lighthouse and their National Museum. It was only when they’d reached the water and the renowned Georgetown “Sea Wall” that Clay spoke up and asked the older man to turn left.
He obliged and took them along the wall, which eventually curved onto Main Street and headed south along the Demerara River.
Brennan had been driving a taxi for over thirty years and couldn’t remember the last time he had a couple of fares quite like these two in his cab. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about them. He watched his passengers from the mirror as he pointed out several of the city’s most notable landmarks. Curiously, the two men in the back looked at very few of them.
After turning south, the two suddenly paid significantly more interest to the surrounding area. It was the area with the oldest and most rundown buildings in all of Georgetown. But it was when they made their way toward the tall bridge that the men really perked up. Their eyes were locked on the gray Chinese warship as they passed.