Andre remained among the missing at dinner. “See I was right,” Henry told them. “Sound asleep. Do you think we should wake him?”
“Let him sleep,” Dave suggested. “He can catch a sandwich when he wakes up.”
There was not the usual banter among the men. As the meal progressed without Andre, a sense of apprehension was beginning to settle over them.
Time seemed to have stopped since they sat down. Charlie glanced frequently at his Zenith chronograph. It had enough dials and buttons to tell him many things, but it gave no indication of the time Andre might appear.
“Where is Sammie?” Nadia asked, counting heads.
“Maybe in the mine with Andre,” Henry suggested.
“Sammie left earlier this afternoon,” the manager remarked, as she began to clear the dishes in preparation for desert.
Charlie was surprised. “Where did he go? How did he get out of here? Pembroke took the Rover back to Almaty.”
She shrugged indifferently. “Some people came in a pickup truck, and Sammie left with them. He comes and goes regularly.”
Peeling his apple, Charlie mulled this over in his mind. Suddenly he put down his knife. “Nadia, would you please check on Andre-- just to be certain he is all right. If he is asleep, leave him alone.”
She returned a few minutes later “Not there. The bed has never been disturbed. I also listened at the bathroom, and it was empty.”
“Thank you Nadia.”
“This is not good,” Charlie told them. “I think we had better check on him.”
“How? Where? Not In the mine?” Henry asked, astonished at the turn of events. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Damn it Henry, I don’t have the foggiest idea where he might be, but if he is not in the hotel it would seem that the mine would be the most likely place to look.”
“You Americans are so relentlessly logical,” Henry replied sheepishly. “We Brits always wait for a miracle to save us from having to make an undesirable decision.”
Charlie was not as certain as he sounded. Going down that damn hole was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but something had to be done.
“Dave, why don’t you come with me? Henry you stay here, if we are not back in a couple of hours try and get some of the miners to come and help. And stay away from the vodka” he chided him, attempting to lighten the mood.
Henry slumped in his chair without offering an argument..
“Do you mind if I come along?” Nadia asked. “Maybe I can help somehow.”
Charlie looked at her. She certainly had nerve. On the other hand, perhaps Emmett was right. She could be a mole, only trying to keep track of things for the Russians
“Bring the diagram,” he told her getting up from the table.
After putting on their coats, Charlie found a flashlight in the pantry. Outside, the snow was falling more steadily than when they returned from the administration building. He looked around outside of the hotel, but there were no footprints. It was too dark, and the snow made it increasingly difficult to see anything very well.
The three of them moved tentatively through the birch trees lining the path to the mine. The snow-filled branches brushed against their faces, dumping cold flakes down their upturned collars.
Finally, they reached the buildings at the perimeter of the pit. Each of them stomped their feet before entering the equipment building. It created a hollow sound that echoed ominously through the old building.
Charlie aimed the flashlight at the cabinet with the helmets. The yellow hats lined along the shelves reflected the beam, casting an eerie glow among the gloom. Each member of the search party hurried to select one that would fit.
Turning on their headlamps, they checked to make sure all the lights functioned properly. This time there was no laughter at each other’s outlandish appearance. They all knew it would be pitch-black in the tunnels, and they would need all the lighting they could get.
Dave checked the generator before prying open the creaking gate to the cage. Charlie and Nadia squeezed past, taking their place in the rear. The lift shook violently, then shivered as it began its uneven decent.
Dave gave out a feeble laugh. “This thing is as cold as we are, but it will get us where we are going.”
The bottom of the shaft came sooner than Charlie wished. He glanced at Nadia as they were leaving the cage. She was expressionless. That is one cool broad he decided, a little short on looks, but long on nerve. He envied her composure. He didn’t feel that way at all. His palms were moist in the cold air, and his underarms felt clammy. An occasional gust of wind would funnel down the shaft creating a banshee-like sound that unnerved him.
Dave was more accustomed to the surroundings, and ignored the noise.
“Let’s go this way,” Charlie suggested, heading toward a tunnel he thought looked familiar. Charlie had spent half of his adult life trying to find his way in foreign places. The murky mineshaft was the strangest by far.
Their headlamps transformed their shadows into giants as they groped their way down the reinforced passageway. The light from his flashlight would occasionally illuminate opaque eddies of suspended dust. I hate mines he decided, as he steadied himself after stumbling over a loose pile of rock.
“Let me see that damned diagram again,” he said turning to Nadia. The three of them huddled together studying the rough drawing they had used to locate the dead miners.
“It looks like we can go a little further down this way,” Charlie decided, groping his way through the narrowing tunnel. “We will cut off to the right in a little…..oh my God!” he blurted as the beam revealed the crumpled form of a man.
Nadia screamed, as she stepped in puddle of blood. “Is it--- is it Andre?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Charlie replied, praying that it was not. “Dave, give me a hand here,” he asked as he struggled to roll the body over.
The light from their helmets centered on the man’s face. It stared vacantly upward, contorted with fear, sheathed by white blood streaked hair.
“Jesus!” Dave exhaled reverently. “It is Andre. Oh my God! Poor old Andre.”
“The poor man. Is he dead?” Nadia sobbed.
Charlie leaned over, attempting to find a pulse in his neck. He could not find one. He brushed the eyelids closed, and then turned away, sadly shaking his head.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Dave told them. “How the hell do we get him out?”
Charlie took off his coat. “He is too heavy to carry as far as the lift. Help me roll him onto this. Maybe we can drag him out.”
Nadia led the way holding the flashlight.
Charlie and Dave dragged their dead friend along the path they had just come. The air was heavy. They had to stop frequently to catch their breath, and reposition Andre’s body on Charlie’s Burberry. The shadows seemed even more ominous. Each of them realized that whoever killed Andre might be waiting for them hidden behind the next turn.
“Perhaps he was struck by a falling rock,” Nadia suggested.
“Charlie strained to provide a positive response. “Yes perhaps that was what happened,” he said, hoping to reassure her.
After he had rolled the body over, he had stolen a furtive glance around the area. There were no loose rocks anywhere near. He was sure whoever killed the miners had also killed Andre, but this didn’t seem to be the right time for that discussion.
The lift was a welcome sight. Nadia boarded first, and then directed her beam of light through the gloom toward her trailing companions.
The men carefully placed André’s lifeless body on the floor of the enclosure.
“Ready?” Dave asked, turning to see if everyone was properly located before starting the lift.
The ride to the top seemed to take much longer than it did coming down. Both men were sweating heavily from their trek. They shivered violently when the frigid outside air whistled down the shaft.
“Now what?” Nadia as
ked, turning to the men who were struggling to pull André’s body from the cage.
The wind had picked up considerably since their decent into the mine. Drifts were beginning to form around the mouth of the pit. Their approaching tracks had been entirely wiped out.
It was cold. Damn cold Charlie thought, shivering without his coat. The wind seeped through every seam of his cashmere turtleneck. He had read once that the one indispensible item a traveler needs is a black cashmere turtleneck. That advice had never been more correct, he thought grudgingly.
“Now what? Dave asked echoing Nadia.
“The ice house,” Charlie answered. That’s where we took the miners, and it’s close to the hotel.
Dave was thrashing his arms to keep warm. “Take my coat awhile,” he offered Charlie.
“Thanks, but let’s get on our way. It will go a little faster now that we are sliding him on the snowy ground instead of the floor of the mine.”
Nadia led their way, shining the flashlight in front and behind her. The beam sliced the night like a narrow knife.
They finally saw the ancient structure a short distance ahead.
The icehouse door had frozen shut. Dave backed up and gave it a resounding kick that reverberated like a gunshot through the night. The door did not budge. He tried again, with the same result.
“Wait a minute,” Charlie told him. “Let’s try shouldering it open--together.” The two men backed up.
Nadia counted, “one—two—three.”
At the count of three, the men flung themselves against the door. It groaned and creaked, opening only slightly.
“Once more,” Charlie shouted.
Nadia repeated the count. One—two—three!” she screamed.
The door swung open, and the men stumbled through. After pausing to catch their breath, they lifted Andre’s body onto a large block of ice. It was an ignominious bier for a good man.
Charlie removed Andre’s wallet, watch, and an opal ring he always wore. He then picked-up his coat from the ground and flung it over his lifeless friend. Shaking from sadness and cold, Charlie made the sign of the cross over the Frenchman’s prostrate form. “May God have mercy on his soul,” he whispered. In the numbing cold of the frigid icehouse, it was all he could think to say.
The three turned away, and began the slow journey through the driving snow toward the warmth and protection of the hotel. Charlie led the way back, half-running, half stumbling, wildly beating his arms against his body as he went. Nadia trailed behind him, her boots making a path for Dave who followed her.
Henry was waiting in the lounge, pacing nervously back and forth. Dave told him what they found, while Charlie and Nadia went directly to their rooms.
Charlie’s hand shook as he took the vodka bottle from his desk drawer. He fumbled with the cap until it fell to the floor, rolling under the desk. It was of little concern to him, as he poured the stained water glass half-full of Stolichnaya. Downing the fiery liquid in two large gulps, he hurried across the hall and the soothing affect of a steaming shower.
After the shower, he felt much better, and returned to his room. Sitting at his desk, he opened his laptop and addressed a message to Emmett’s secure address.
Sorry to tell you that your old friend Andre Malott died suddenly today, while inspecting the mine. Will inform later regarding funeral arrangements. Signed CC
Hitting Send Charlie felt confident that even WikiLeaks would not have an interest in such a distressing personal message.
Charlie poured another drink, before picking up the phone. He knew he should call Trevor Gunn to tell him about the death of his mining expert. He also knew that even the diligent Englishman would not be in his office this late in the day, but he hoped his recorder would be working.
He was right. The recorder was on, but the phone line was breaking up. The storm, Charlie decided. He told Trevor about Andre’s death as briefly as possible, hoping to convey by his tone his concern for the project and the plight of the isolated experts.
Finishing the call, he hung up and dialed again, repeating what he had previously reported. Perhaps Trevor could put the two messages together to obtain one coherent description of what was happening at Tekeli.
He knew Trevor must do several things. After notifying Andre’s family, if he had any, he would have to make arrangements for getting the old man’s body returned to them. Charlie knew that he would also have to immediately alert corporate headquarters in Vienna that there were serious problems facing the Tekeli project.
Charlie poured himself another short shot of Russia’s best before removing Andre’s personal effects from his pockets. Spreading them across the desk, he thought that they represented pitiful evidence of a long life. There were a few credit cards, some family pictures, and a folded, yellowed article from an English language Santiago paper.
Charlie’s hand began to tremble again as he read a description of how the Sendero Luminosa had brutally murdered Andre’s wife after attacking the small mountain village where the two of them lived. At the time, Andre was consultant for a nationally owned silver mine, and he and his wife were living in the small mining community. The Maoists shot his wife, and then hung her upside down in the village square as a warning to others.
The article told how Andre was in Santiago, meeting with the government’s Bureau of Mines. The local authorities never found her killers, although the Chilean Government later convicted the leader of the Maoists for other crimes. Charlie carefully refolded the article before replacing it in Andre’s wallet.
Rising from the desk, he took the billfold, pictures, and ring and locked them in his travel case. Satisfied they would be secure, Charlie went to the hallway. It was empty. The light at end of the aisle glowed weakly, providing enough light for Charlie to find his way to the lounge. Everyone was in bed. The kitchen was empty.
He tried Andre’s door. It was unlocked, and he glanced around the small room. The lamp on the desk cast its light on the room’s masculine disarray.
Charlie quickly searched to make sure there was nothing left of value. He found Andre’s carefully written technical notes in a desk drawer, and hurriedly collected them to carry back to his room. Satisfied he had located everything of value he opened the door to leave. He paused in the hallway and turned back. He quickly located what he was looking for in the closet, and removed Andre’s heavy anorak. There was a tinge of guilt, but the hooded coat could replace the Burberry he left in the icehouse. It was like a trade, he rationalized.
Charlie flipped the lock, and returned to his room carrying Andre’s papers with the heavy coat flung over his shoulder.
It had been a long day. A hard day. A very long hard day. He was exhausted, but there was one more thing to do before turning in for the night. He knew very little about the details of intelligence work. And even less what a field agent does, but he knew enough to know that in order to figure out who might be behind a series of events it was necessary to try and shrink the pool of suspects. It was the same thing that a corporate planner does in order to reduce the number of alternatives to his business plan.
Charlie found the list of names he had sent to Emmett for a background check, and began to pore over it hoping to reduce the list of possibilities. He first crossed Andre’s name from the list. He recalled that Nadia, and Elaina were working in the administration building with Henry and Dave while Andre was in the mine. It would have been impossible for them to have anything to do with his death.
The manager had told them that Sammie had left earlier, so he crossed that name off his list. Now, there was only the kitchen staff as a remote possibility—and the miners. He stared at the paper, still searching for an answer. It must be one or more of the Russian miners he concluded. They had a motive and the opportunity. Perhaps Emmett was right. The Russians must be behind all of the deaths.
Charlie was too drained to think clearly, but still had difficulty sleeping. He tossed and turned, unable to get Andre’s face from his mind.
During the night, he awoke soaked with perspiration. He rose stiffly from the bed and looked outside. It was jet black, but he could see that the snow was continuing to fall.
He watched for a few minutes longer before returning to bed. The shortwave radio was on his nightstand, and he spun the dial. The Voice of America was featuring Porgy and Bess, and a young woman was extolling the virtues of a summertime when the living is easy. Charlie had already fallen asleep, unaware of the lyrical irony of the song.
20
The storm intensified during the night. The wind howled against the side of the old hotel. By morning it had moved on, but it had driven deep drifts against anything obstructing its path.
Looking out the window, Charlie was amused to see several miners were already beginning to shovel paths from their homes to the brewery. He checked his watch, and hurriedly finished dressing.
Death on the Silk Road Page 17
