“Chen was making snow globes at the factory,” Michael said. “Snow globes of the Earth marked by tiny lights. What do you think? Do the lights represent the Dragons' energy interests? Maybe their power plants?”
“They might. They might not. That’s what’s so frustrating about this group. We don’t know enough about them to know what their endgame is. It may be just to make money. Or to control the political landscape. Or it may be more. We’re not even sure about their interest in the Horten. The prevailing theory is that they have more of a negative interest in it than a positive one. That the Horten’s cold fusion reactor would interfere with business as usual, so they want it to remain hidden. It would certainly explain why your father was such a thorn in their side.”
“So my dad, how close was he to exposing them?”
“Really close if you were to ask him,” Ted said. “And that’s the other side of it. That’s why the investigation into your dad’s death ended so abruptly. Understand I haven’t been active for years, but I have it on good authority that the Agency thought he was close too. They did everything in their power to maintain your father’s cover by quelling any civilian investigation into his disappearance. The long and short of it is that your father had made some real progress and management didn’t want to spook the Dragons with a local investigation. They wanted to give them the freedom to pop their heads out of the sand so they could come in and lop them off.”
Michael thought it over. “This Green Dragon Group. The CIA with all its resources must have found more on them than what you’ve just told me.”
“Well there is one other thing, but they didn’t find it.”
“Who did?”
“You.” Ted pointed out the Japanese characters inscribed around the circumference of the platinum disk. “These Kanji are in the old style, but their meaning is clear.”
“What do they say?”
“They say,” Ted said quietly, “Here lies the dragon.”
Chapter 34
When the back wall of Alvarez’s office slid open like the door to the bridge of the Starship Enterprise, Mobi knew he was back at the JPL he loved. Alvarez’s anteroom was small, only about five feet deep and fifteen feet long, but it contained everything that her official office lacked: a secure server, pictures of her kids, and a well-used laptop which Mobi immediately cracked open. It was now obvious that the plastic alien out in the main office was a spare remote for the alcove, a key under the doormat in case Alvarez were to get locked out. He also realized that the alcove was probably built the way it was because even on a blueprint, nobody was going to miss that much space in such a large complex. No doubt the Director of Operations himself, a Caltech civilian to the end, had secretly authorized its construction because he didn’t trust the DOD and their pet project below his facility. The tiny private operations center Mobi now sat within would have been an antidote to all that, a thorn in the side of the militarists who wanted to turn JPL into an extension of the Defense Department. Here, Alvarez would be able to operate independently, secreted away from the watchful eye of the DOD. And here, if Alvarez had her way, Mobi would be able to do his thing as well.
Alvarez’s laptop demanded a password and the mystery of the scrawled digits on the keycard fell into place. Guessing that Alvarez had kept it simple, Mobi typed in the first five digits and he was in. The last thirteen digits beginning with the 011 were no doubt Quiann’s phone number. Mobi launched Alvarez’s secure soft phone. He knew the data packets were trojaned to resemble standard internet traffic. Not untraceable to be sure, but given that he was about to share state secrets with a known traitor for the betterment of all mankind, it was better than nothing. Now, after untold hours of waiting around, Mobi was so excited to finally be doing something constructive that at first he didn’t notice the door to Alvarez’s outer office swing open.
“What are you doing here?”
Mobi literally jumped out of his seat. It was the blonde Air Force guy who was asking the question; the one who had slapped the handcuffs on him in the restroom. Mobi stood and stepped outside the alcove to meet his guest in the main office. He gestured nervously to the green alien he held in hand. “Alvarez is a bit of a UFO nut.”
“I said, why are you here??”
“Just, computing.”
Mobi watched the cogs turn in the Air Force guy’s head.
“I’d like you to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Tautology. If there was anything Mobi hated, it was tautology. Because he said so. The argument was circular. This ball-breaking bully was treating Mobi like a child. And in that moment Mobi did what he’d wanted to do to every ball-breaking bully he’d encountered since the first grade — he hauled back with the green alien and hurled it at him. Which would have been fine if the alien had been a sack of bricks. But given that it was inflated plastic, it simply bounced off the blonde man’s square jaw. And only then did Mobi realize the mistake he had made. He’d made him mad. Worse than that, along with the alien, he’d thrown out the remote control to the retractable wall. Not quite the smooth escape he’d been looking for.
“You chunky prick.”
The Air Force guy strode toward him. Now Mobi knew he was in trouble. He stepped back into the alcove and tried to think his way through the situation. He was in an alcove with a computer and a chair. Not much else. Just him, the Air Force guy, and a retractable wall. The retractable wall was of course the key. If it opened, it had to close. And Alvarez had to have a better way to do so than poking a green alien in the foot. Mobi searched the walls of the alcove for a panel or a button as his new friend approached. He found nothing. Was the wall voice activated?
“Wall. Close.”
“Dream on, asshole.”
“Close wall!”
The wall didn’t listen and Mobi was fast running out of ideas. The blonde man had skirted around Alvarez’s desk and was only steps from the alcove. Think what Alvarez would do. She probably used this space only occasionally, when she didn’t want people to see what she was doing. Maybe when she was working in private. Maybe when she wanted to guard the contents of her computer. Mobi copped a glance at Alvarez’s laptop. Its screen was open. He thought about it as his assailant drew a weapon from a hidden holster. It was worth a try.
“Hands in the air,” the blonde man said.
Mobi risked it. He idly reached one of his outstretched palms to his side in a slow motion wave and slapped Alvarez’s laptop shut. He heard a relay kicking over. It was followed by a pneumatic whoosh.
“No you don’t, fat ass,” the blonde man screamed, diving toward him.
But it was too late. The wall had already closed. There was a click as it locked into place and Mobi found himself alone once again, only the glow of the server’s LEDs lighting up the dark space.
Chapter 35
Here lies the dragon. Michael mulled over the words. What they were looking for, what his father had been looking for, had remained hidden since the last years of World War II, despite repeated efforts by both the Chinese and a slew of foreign governments to locate it. Now, if what Michael had found buried deep within the old man’s skull was what it seemed, they were about to find it, hidden alongside a river that hundreds, if not thousands of people traveled daily. It seemed impossible, and yet, in some strange way, it also seemed right.