Death on the Silk Road

by Russell Miller

  Rapidly changing the subject he stammered, “But--but--why did he do all this? I just don’t understand.”

  Charlie went into considerable detail describing his conversation with Riana. When he finished Trevor merely looked at him with astonishment. “I am shocked. Completely shocked! I think we had better talk to my boss in Vienna. He has to be aware of all this,” he said, grabbing the phone.

  When Vincent St. Claire’s voice came over the speakerphone, it eerily reminded Charlie of listening to Emmett Valentine. The husky timbre was somehow similar—perhaps a characteristic of age he thought. There also seemed to be a familiar distinguishing pronunciation. It felt reassuring to him to be dealing with someone who had been through similar situations before.

  This time Trevor did the talking, occasionally looking toward Charlie for a nod of corroboration. It was best this way. The Englishman was able to relate the facts with a detachment that Charlie did not—could not share.

  Listening to Trevor describe the events to Vincent, they were recalled graphically by Charlie, as if he were viewing an ancient black and white film. When it came to the part where he and Sammie confronted each other, the mental movie began to run in slow motion. The shot that dropped Sammie to his knees echoed like clap of thunder in his head. The second shot was less loud, but still caused the kneeling body to fall slowly—ever so slowly face forward in the stark white snow.

  Had he actually killed a man, he wondered, or was it just a very bad dream?

  ……”so I would strongly advise” the ever rational voice of Vincent St. Claire brought Charlie back to the reality of Trevor’s office, and everything compressed into sharp focus.

  The subject they now had to discuss was how much to tell the Kazakh Government officials about the deaths, and the attempt by the Uighurs to scuttle the project. There was general agreement among the three of them the less said the better.

  The Kazakh Government was becoming a considerable source of potential revenue for the Global Bank. The country’s revenue from oil and minerals was continuing to increase, and their influence in the region would surely follow.

  There is always a fear among consultants that problems occurring on a project will be viewed by government officials as the result of the personnel, rather than the circumstances. If that occurs, it will usually lead to the consulting agency finding themselves no longer in demand. The tendency then is to downplay the negative aspects of the project and the findings.

  After considerable discussion, between Trevor and Vincent, they concluded the presentation should stick exclusively to the mine and its management, avoiding any discussion relating to the deaths of the miners, and the advisors.

  “Just the facts mam” Trevor offered, before explaining to Vincent it was a quote from the tele he had seen some time ago.

  A hell of a long time ago, Charlie thought, but said nothing.

  As the conversation was ending, Vincent St. Clair had one more thing to add. “I think you people know a Michael Pearlman at the American Embassy.”

  Trevor asserted they did. “Good man—been a lot of help.”

  “All right,” Vincent concluded. “I believe after the presentation is over Charlie should sit with him, and fill him in completely on what has occurred.”

  After the phone conversation with Vienna was over, Charlie turned back to Trevor as he was leaving. “You understand that you will have to retrieve the bodies of Andre and Henry and return them to their family.” Trevor was surprised. He had not really thought of that. “I have what little personal effects I could find. Remind me to give you them tomorrow.”

  “Where are the bodies now?” Trevor asked, not sure how he was going to do that.

  “In the ice house, up at Tekeli,” Charlie replied leaving the office.

  In the conference room, everyone sat around the long table eating Chinese. There were several empty cartons already deposited in the wastebaskets. The room had taken on the distinct odor of sesame oil and ginger. It had been a long time since they had eaten, and the food from the Lotus Petal rapidly disappeared.

  Once they finished the food, and the empty cartons were disposed of in the overflowing baskets, everyone returned to the task at hand.

  Nadia and Elaina concentrated on preparing the flipcharts and separating each page with a heavy line running from top to bottom. The words appearing on the left side were in Russian, and the corresponding information appearing on the right was in English. How appropriate Charlie thought.

  While they worked, the flickering tubes in the overhead lights cast everything and everybody in a pallor that transformed the room’s occupants into a jaundiced looking group of tired workers.

  The glare seemed to accentuate Elaina’s olive complexion, and to drain the color from Nadia’s already pale face. The men’s features bore the strain of their fatigue written in the deepening lines crisscrossing their faces and foreheads.

  The two men finished first, and their facts and conclusions now flowed into recommendations carefully transferred by the two women to the large white pages.

  Dave dozed fitfully, and Charlie leaned back in his chair, extending his long legs and feet to the seat of another. It was only a few weeks earlier, in this same room, that the group originally became acquainted. So much had transpired since then. The number of people was now considerably smaller than it was originally. Andre, Henry, and Sammie were gone, and the remaining people were forever changed.

  As Charlie watched the work on the flipcharts continue, his thoughts returned once more to Tekeli. It bothered him that he felt so little regret over killing a man—any man.

  He believed he had no other alternative. The little man certainly deserved killing, after doing away with so many people in such a questionable cause. Nevertheless, it worried Charlie that he might be becoming callous. Could it be he was engaging in a wishful blindness? Perhaps it was. It was the second time he had taken a life-- once in Ukraine, and now Kazakhstan. Was it becoming easier, or perhaps since he believed he was left with no alternative, the end actually did justify the means.

  “We are done!” Nadia announced closing the cover on the charts. “Finally!” Elaina emphasized, collapsing in the chair next to Nadia.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Dave said waking, and standing to stretch. “It’s two in the damn morning,” he grumbled looking at his watch.

  Charlie left the conference room, heading for Trevor’s office. He found him, sleeping soundly on his leather couch.

  Nadia wanted to go home, and Elaina wanted to call her boyfriend, but they had to be at the meeting early the next morning and Trevor did not intend to give any of them a chance to oversleep. They piled into the Rover, and left for the hotel where he had made reservations.

  Darkness had engulfed the city in a heavy cape. The downpour that drenched them earlier had cleansed the air, and now the night was dark but clear. The streetlights cast shadows across the deserted sidewalks, and an occasional solitary light revealed the contents of a passing store window. The street vendors had boarded-up and abandoned their food stalls earlier in the evening. Stray dogs searched for the remnants of food left behind on the soiled sidewalks. A discarded page from yesterday’s’ newspaper blew across the street, threatening to cover the Rover’s wet windshield. Trevor swerved sharply to avoid it.

  The bright lights in the hotel driveway were a welcome sight to the tired travelers. They quickly piled out of the car, eager to claim their rooms and get some sleep.

  The lobby was empty except for a lone night clerk, dozing behind the reception desk. Trevor stayed behind to leave an early morning wake-up call with the night clerk, while the others headed for the elevators.

  Once in his room, Charlie placed a call to Beth. The call finally went through, and Charlie spoke into the echo chamber of a bad long distance line.

  “Hi Hon, how are things in Chicago?” He related a sanitized version of his experience, skimming the surface of events—he always did—careful not to reve
al the depths of his concerns. There would be ample time to fill in the details once he was home.

  My God, he thought after completing the call, will I be glad to get home. What in the hell was happening to him. This was not at all what he envisioned retirement to be.

  In spite of his concerns, he eventually fell into a profound sleep. He awoke early the next morning oddly refreshed.

  29

  Trevor waited impatiently in the Rover for his group to appear. He looked at his watch. It was still early, but he wanted to get to the meeting-room to make sure that everything was set-up correctly. Earlier, he had an opportunity to scan the list of prospective attendees, and was impressed with the number and level of people that would be listening to the presentation. He found their names where he had put it in his briefcase, and checked it again while he waited.

  First Deputy Minister of the Economy

  Deputy Minister of Industry and Trade

  Deputy Minister of Labor

  Deputy Chairman of the Committee for the Utilization of Foreign Capital

  Deputy Minister of Finance

  Deputy Director of Ferrous Metallurgy

  Deputy Chairman, State Committee on State Property Management.

  Glancing up from the list, he saw his people straggling though the revolving doorway. They didn’t look good. The hotel’s continental breakfast had failed to banish their fatigue and, as they climbed into the Rover. It was hard to ignore the dark rings under everyone’s eyes. Even the young women looked tired. The last few days at Tekeli had taken its toll, and the late night preparation for the meeting had not helped. Trevor put the list back in his briefcase, and pulled away from the hotel.

  Almaty had yet to achieve its morning pace, and the busses and trams held only a scattering of riders. An occasional van, making its deliveries before the business day began could be seen curbed in front of a store. Trevor’s passengers were not sufficiently awake to notice.

  The government’s Administration Building was not far from the hotel. It had been strategically positioned in the center of the city. Its imposing size dwarfed the other structures around it. Armed guards, in faded green uniforms, surrounded the building’s perimeter. The two at the door looked closely at everyone’s credentials.

  The recent revolt in neighboring Kyrgyzstan had caused considerable dismay among the government officials in Kazakhstan, and they had doubled their efforts to maintain their security. This was starkly evident at the Administration Building.

  The lobby floor was made of expensive Italian marble, and the women’s heels clipped a brisk rhythm as they approached the elevator. It was still early for the majority of workers to arrive, and most of the offices remained empty. The elevator went directly to the fifth floor without having to stop. Trevor wanted to get there early and make sure that everything was set-up satisfactorily. He had built his career at the Bank through attention to detail, and he did not intend to leave anything to chance.

  Opening the wide double doors to the conference room, he immediately saw that the floor was polished to such a high gloss it reflected the light from the bright balloon shaped ceiling lights. The night crew had arranged the tables in an extended rectangle, and placed pads of paper and bottles of mineral water at each place. Trevor scanned the room. “Perfect,” he told Charlie much relieved.

  Nadia and Elaina immediately began setting up the large charts they had finished the night before. They were both dressed in the best clothes they could find in their travel bags, and looked particularly efficient.

  The conference room began to fill. Each of the arrivals seemed to be instinctively aware of their individual place at the table. The Kazakh agency heads took the most prominent positions, and their Russian subordinates found seats at the far end of the tables. Before independence, their positions had been the opposite.

  For generations, the Russians led and administered the country, while Kazakh officials filled subordinate positions. After the country broke free of the Soviet Union, it was difficult for the inexperienced administrators to grasp the reins of power. Now the government was running more smoothly, and the ministers and deputy ministers were becoming more confident in their roles.

  Trevor greeted all of them affably at the door. Once everyone found his place, he strode to the front of the room and began his welcoming comments. The men decided the night before that Dave would follow Trevor and would describe the capacity and potential of the mine. Elaina would be his interpreter.

  Charlie was to follow them with the financials. Elaina had picked up the thread left dangling by Henry’s death, and competently wove it into logical conclusions. When Charlie suggested that she give that portion of the presentation herself she declined, intimidated by the thought of speaking to a large group of officials. As a result, it fell to Charlie to include the payroll data and receivables in his presentation.

  As Dave began, Charlie leaned against a wall in the rear of the room. He was reluctant to show any signs of fatigue and took shelter behind a thin smile as he strained to focus his attention on Dave’s talk.

  “Enough lead and zinc for the next 25 years.” Dave emphasized his finding with his pointer, first on the English line, and then moving across the page to the Russian translation.

  This potential capacity of the mine got the audiences’ attention. It had been widely believed that the existing vein would be running-out soon. Dave had planned his talk to attract their interest at the beginning so they would be more attentive to the routine bits of information that would follow. Everyone had done a good job wringing the emotions out of the past weeks work, leaving only the remaining facts relating to the operation of the mine.

  Elaina seemed to be handling her part well. A few of the men appeared to be more interested in the interpreter than they were in Dave’s data points. One of the Russians poked the man sitting beside him and winked suggestively.

  It was difficult for Charlie to maintain his concentration on the familiar information Dave was describing. Instead, he watched as a waiter, wearing a starched white jacket, entered the room and began setting up huge urns of coffee on a table by the door. Another man carrying a basket of rolls quickly joined him. They proceeded to quietly serve the men assembled around the table.

  The conference room was gradually filling with cigarette smoke. They apparently had never heard, or if they had didn’t care, that smoking can be injurious to your health. It reminded Charlie of the similar rooms he had sat in twenty or thirty years ago in the United States.

  Try as he might, he was unable to prevent the week’s events from shuttering, like a photo slide show, through his thoughts. Watching the disjointed and disconnected scenes emerge and dissolve, he became increasingly convinced that what he had done was the right thing to do. Looking around the room at Nadia, Elaina, and Dave, he realized that if he had failed to kill Sammie none of them would be there.

  Studying the men at the table, he wondered if any of them knew more of what was going on at Tekeli than he did. It was not unheard of in the newly independent states for nepotism and dishonesty to trump effective government. It could be entirely possible for some of the local officials in Almaty to enrich themselves by working with other countries against their own national interest.

  Dave was coming to the end of his presentation. Almost in passing he added “…and a preliminary analysis of deposits has indicated traces of rare-earth.”

  Only a few of the people around the table seemed to catch what he said. There was a flicker of understanding in the eyes of one or two of them. Trevor had planned it that way the night before. Later, he would fill in the details in private meetings with the major officials. He didn’t want the possibility of rare-earth to obscure the basic elements of the presentation, but they could not avoid mentioning its presence as a possibility.

  Dave finished, and laid his pointer on the table.

  Trevor had told the audience in his opening remarks that questions should wait until the presentation was over.
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br />   Charlie picked up the stick, while Nadia cleared her throat and took her place on the other side of the charts.

  As Charlie began to speak, he recalled the initial presentation to the miners at Tekeli. This audience appeared less hostile, and more interested in the information he was presenting than the managers at the mine did.

  The global financial crisis sweeping the world economies had yet to reach the borders of Kazakhstan. There was considerable concern, however, that if the meltdown persisted it might impact the demand for Kazakh oil. If that were to happen, it would place greater importance on the country’s ability to exploit their mineral resources.

  The audience appeared pleased with what they were hearing regarding a source of revenue they had previously discounted, which might prove to be more valuable than they thought initially.

  He began to summarize the projects findings

  -- Present level of staffing is far too high