by Gar Wilson
True to his word, Captain Tsedenbal soon had a truck ready. It was a big ZIL-150, a husky vehicle with a four-ton capacity. The driver's name was Dzhambin. He was built like a fireplug and seemed about as talkative as one. Captain Tsedenbal said Dzhambin was a Kazakh and rolled his eyes as if to suggest Kazakhs were beyond the comprehension of mortal man.
Katz, Alekseyev and Professor Sudoplatov joined Tsedenbal in the Zim. The others climbed into the back of the big ZIL-150 truck. The two vehicles rolled into the street, headlights slicing through the darkness.
Captain Tsedenbal's most endearing quality was his enthusiasm for the alleged leaps and bounds his country was making in education, technology and industry. As the captain drove the Zim through the streets of Ulan Bator, he cheerfully pointed out national landmarks.
The Mongolian State Archives and State Public Library looked like any large city library, but Tsedenbal claimed it contained more than three million books. They passed a building that vaguely resembled the Jefferson Monument, with block-shaped six-story houses at each end. The Mongol captain announced that this was the parliament, where the 354 members of the People's Great Khural — the legislative branch of the Mongol government — assembled.
Surprisingly, the Mongolian government, like that of the United States, has legislative, executive and judicial branches. The Council of Ministers is comprised of the executive, but those offices are filled by those appointed by the Great Khural; they are not elected offices. The judicial system consists of a supreme court, eighteen provincial courts and district courts. Their members are also appointed by the khurals on each level. Members of the khurals are elected to office, but there is only one legal party in Mongolia to choose from — the Mongolian Revolutionary Party, which is the colorful title for the nation's brand of Soviet-inspired communism.
The supreme power in Mongolia is the Presidium, also appointed by the Great Khural. The chairman of this nine-member elite group is also the head of state. Captain Tsedenbal did not seem to mind that only members of the Communist MRP could elect someone to the Khural, or that those who were elected then decided who would run the whole government. Of course, if he did mind, he would never say so in front of a KGB major.
The two vehicles left the city limits of Ulan Bator behind and headed for the open country. The streets had seemed lonely and deserted, but the vast emptiness beyond struck Katz even more. Mongolia reminded Katz of Alaska, the largest state in the U.S. Alaska was only slightly smaller than Mongolia, with perhaps one-quarter of Mongolia's population.
Although it was summer, the night was cold. The temperature in Mongolia seldom reaches eighty degrees in summer, and in the winter it often plunges to minus twenty. There is little rainfall, and animal life is far scarcer than one might expect in such a vast and sparsely populated country.
The car and truck continued across the rugged dirt roads as the sun rose. The dawn revealed mountains in the distance, adorned with forests of pine and larch trees. However, Mongolia has never developed much of a lumber or paper industry. Livestock, wool and fur comprise Mongolia's chief exports.
"Our wonderful allies in the Soviet Union are helping us with our newest five-year plan," Tsedenbal declared, chatting about his country as he continued to drive. "We're concentrating on mining operations, you know. It is believed we have great untapped reserves of valuable minerals. Coal, copper, silver, gold and uranium are waiting to be dug out of the mountains and perhaps from the grounds of the desert."
They soon saw the desert for themselves. The great Gobi Desert extends across central and southeast Mongolia and stretches into the Sinkiang province of China. Five hundred square miles, the Gobi is the largest desert in Asia and is second in the world only to the Sahara Desert.
Yet they saw no sand dunes or nomads traveling the Gobi. Miles of arid land surrounded them. The earth was dry and cracked. A few dead shrubs jutted from the rugged tiles of hard mud. Only a handful of sturdy weeds seemed able to survive in the hostile environment.
"I hope you've got enough petrol," Alekseyev remarked. "I'd hate to get stranded out here."
"There are extra petrol tanks loaded on the truck," Tsedenbal assured the KGB major. "And extra tanks of water. That's the biggest danger when you travel through the Gobi. The desert gets only about 120 millimeters of rainfall a year."
The engine of the Zim began to overheat before they passed through the wide strip of desert. Tsedenbal and Dzhambin did not seem concerned about this. They assured the others that vehicles often overheated in the Gobi. The Mongols opened the hood, poured water into the radiator and splashed some over the hot manifold. The car needed to sit for a while, so the pair took advantage of the time to fill the gas tanks of both vehicles. They decided to put water in the truck's radiator as well. Steam hissed and spat when liquid splashed hot metal.
"We can all use a break, eh?" Tsedenbal suggested. "I packed some food. Plenty of dried beef, cheese and bread, with some bottled water and beer."
Phoenix Force, Trent and the three Russians would rather have waited until they were out of the desert, but the Mongols were doing most of the work, so it seemed fair that they decided when to take a lunch break. The afternoon sun burned brightly overhead. The temperature was only about seventy-eight degrees, but the air was leaden. The lack of a breeze, the dry hot air and the psychological effect of being in the middle of the Gobi Desert had most of the men of Phoenix Force sweating cold beads of perspiration and gulping bottled water to relieve the unnatural dryness in their throats.
Only Katz and McCarter took the desert in their stride. Both men had spent extensive time in desert environments in the past. The Israeli had traveled and fought in many deserts throughout the Middle East, and McCarter had been in Oman with the SAS and had spent part of that time in the harsh Muscat region. They realized the situation was not as bad as the others feared.
The three Russians were particularly uncomfortable. They were accustomed to harsh winters, but deserts were alien to the Soviet-bred trio. They were visibly relieved when the Mongol captain announced that the vehicles were ready and they could move on.
The travelers continued on their journey through the strip of desert without further incident. The terrain became steadily less hostile. First they saw only thistles and thorn-bushes, then plants with full leaves and small yellow flowers. Finally they encountered a prairie with grass and a few young larch trees. From a burrow at the base of a rock formation, a marmot watched the vehicles approach. The large rodents, similar to the American groundhog, were hunted and bred in Mongolia as part of the fur industry. This marmot may have sensed that man was a potential enemy and retreated, or it may simply have been frightened by the noise and size of the car and truck. Either way, the marmot had escaped capture or death, at least for now.
At last, the Zim and the ZIL-150 approached the site of the remnants of the VL-800 installation. The reports had been correct; there was not much to see. A large charred imprint marked the spot. Most of the ashes had been scattered by the wind. A few burnt rafters stood among the debris. It seemed unlikely Phoenix Force would find anything of importance among the ruins.
Another big black Zim was parked near the burnt rubble. Two flags were mounted on the hood above the headlights. The blue and red bars, with the scepter-shaped soyombo national emblem, capped by a gold star, was mounted on one side. Across from the Mongolian banner was the familiar red flag with a hammer-and-sickle symbol in the left-hand corner. Two men waited by the car, patiently watching the other two vehicles draw closer.
"Priveht, tovarishch" a weary, balding man greeted them with a halfhearted salute. "Welcome to Mongolia, Major Alekseyev. How do you like it so far?"
"I've been to worse places," Alekseyev replied as he emerged from the Zim. "Are you Captain Zhdanov?"
"Da," the bald man confirmed. "Ohchen preyahtno puznakom'ettsu svami, Maeer Alekseyev."
"Spacibo," the KGB major replied with a nod. "These gentlemen will be assisting us. You are to give t
hem full cooperation."
"Of course," Zhdanov agreed. He turned to the muscular young man who stood rigidly at attention near his Soviet liaison car. "This is my aide, Lieutenant Vladimir Yurivich Savchenko. He is also with Special Operations. Vladimir was a sambo champion in Kiev before the KGB realized he had the potential to learn languages. He speaks Chinese, Mongolian' and English. I couldn't get along without him here because he can communicate with some of the Mongols who don't speak Russian."
"Sambo champion?" Alekseyev stared at Savchenko and frowned. Sambo is a Russian form of wrestling, similar to jujitsu. "Tovarishch Savchenko, did you participate in a judo tournament in 1981 at Leningrad? It was to determine the athlete who would represent the Soviet Union in the Olympics in 1984."
"Da" the lieutenant said with a nod. "I participated in such a contest, Comrade Major."
"I saw that tournament," Alekseyev declared. "You fought very well, Lieutenant."
"Some might say too well, Major," Savchenko replied.
"I remember," Alekseyev remarked. "You were disqualified from judo because you killed an opponent. Broke his neck."
"It was an accident," Savchenko stated. "But after it happened, the KGB took an interest in me as a possible recruit."
"Well, the Soviet Union boycotted the Olympics in 1984, so you couldn't have won a gold or even a bronze medal that year anyway," Alekseyev commented. "Glad to have you on our team now, Lieutenant."
"Spacibo, tovarishch," Savchenko replied dryly.
"Shoto eto?" Zhdanov asked, staring with surprise at the six figures with clear plastic masks covering their faces. "What is this? Who are these people?"
Savchenko quickly unslung a PPSh-41 submachine gun from his shoulder. Alekseyev gestured for the lieutenant to put down his weapon. The junior KGB officer dropped his weapon and raised his hands. The men of Phoenix Force had pointed half a dozen weapons at Savchenko before he could work the bolt to his PPSh-41.
"Whoever they are," Savchenko remarked, "they're good."
"Don't worry about the masks," Alekseyev urged. "They're on our side. They're not Russians, but they're on our side."
"We need to see your files, Captain Zhdanov," Katzenelenbogen stated. "Descriptions of the site before it was disturbed by your investigation team, photographs, physical evidence, whatever."
"Major Alekseyev," Zhdanov said, turning to the KGB case officer, "are you certain about this, sir?"
"Check with Moscow if you want," Alekseyev invited. "But leave your records and Lieutenant Savchenko here while you head for a transceiver to contact the Kremlin. These men have to get to work immediately."
"I can't leave those records unprotected," the captain said.
"That's why you'll leave Savchenko with us," the major answered.
"I'd better stay, too," Zhdanov said, shaking his head with an air of defeat. "But I am going to contact Moscow as soon as we finish here, Comrade Major. If these men aren't authorized, you'll never get out of Mongolia alive."
"Captain Tsedenbal can verify that we arrived on a Soviet plane from Moscow," Alekseyev told Zhdanov. "Did you bring your files on the investigation?"
"They're in the car," Zhdanov replied.
Katz, Alekseyev, Gary Manning and Professor Sudoplatov followed Zhdanov to the captain's Zim. Calvin James and Rafael Encizo walked to the burnt ruins of the installation. The black man shook his head as he stared down at the ashes and charred pieces of metal and wood.
"We're not going to find anything here unless we use a microscope and chemical tests," James told Encizo in a quiet voice. "That would take months, and even then we might not find anything that will help."
"Zhdanov's team must have chemists who've already exhausted the debris," Encizo replied, keeping his voice low. There was no need to rattle the cages of Zhdanov or the Mongols by allowing them to hear the masked strangers speak English. "Maybe you should look at the files, Calvin. You're our chemist."
"Yeah," James said. "But I don't understand Russian. Professor Sudoplatov can probably handle the files better than I can. The guy's obviously a biochemist, and he's familiar with the VL-800 formula. Probably worked on it back in Moscow."
"I hope somebody comes up with something," Encizo sighed.
Gary Manning did not understand Russian either, so he examined photographs from the files while Katz and Alekseyev read parts of the records. Captain Zhdanov pointed to a sheet from one of the folders.
"You'll notice the bodies of Voroshilov, Stolyarov and Captain Zagorsky, the KGB case officer in charge of the installation security. The other two men were chemists, working on the VL-800 project. They were killed outside, near the tire tracks of the truck. This is why we believe the VL-800 was stolen. Apparently, Zagorsky and the others had set the self-destruct for the lab and tried to flee in the truck with some of the VL-800. The enemy was waiting for them."
"What happened to the truck?" Alekseyev asked.
"It was abandoned in the Gobi," Zhdanov answered. "Apparently, there was another vehicle waiting for them. They left in it and headed for the coast. We believe the thieves fled the country..."
"It says here Zagorsky was shot to death," Katz said, glancing over an autopsy report. "But Voroshilov was stabbed and Stolyarov was decapitated. Chopping a man's head off isn't standard tactics for most military commandos. The Gurkha mercenaries still use a kukri knife with a long, heavy curved blade that can decapitate an opponent with a single stroke. But it seems very unlikely the Gurkha would be involved in this."
"Herr Gray," Manning said, turning toward Katz.
"Was ist das?" the Israeli replied, easily switching from Russian to German. "Was haben sie?"
"Die Photographie," Manning stated, handing a photo to Katz. "Erne Schwert."
"Ja," Katz agreed as he examined the picture of a pile of burnt wreckage. A long, curved blade jutted from the ashes; the steel blackened with smoke and soot.
"What are you talking about?" Zhdanov demanded.
"My friend found a photo of a sword," Katz answered.
"Da," Zhdanov said, nodding. "I was about to explain that. It was apparently a weapon used by the invaders, one of them used a sword like that to decapitate Professor Stolyarov."
"It looks like a Japanese sword," Katz commented, handing the photo to Manning. "We happen to have an expert on Oriental swords in our group."
Manning carried the picture to John Trent. The American ninja studied the photo and returned it to Manning.
"It's a wakazashi," Trent declared. "A samurai short sword."
"That's what I thought it was," Manning said. "We've seen blades like these before. Just thought I'd check with you to make sure."
"Was this found here?" Trent asked, tilting his head toward the remnants of the installation.
"That's right," Manning confirmed. "And this gives us a pretty good idea who hit the place and stole the VL-800."
The Canadian returned to Katz and told him what Trent had said. The Phoenix Force commander nodded.
"Gentlemen," Katz told Alekseyev and Zhdanov. "We have a very strong suspicion about who raided the installation and stole the VL-800 formula. We could be wrong, of course, but we don't think the Chinese did it. In fact, we don't think this involved any government organization or the military."
"What?" Zhdanov glared at Katz. "What are you talking about? If a government didn't send agents to do this, then who did it?"
"A criminal organization," Katz replied. "A worldwide network of Asian criminals. Very clever, very ambitious, very dangerous. We know it's real because we've encountered them twice before. It calls itself TRIO."
7
Temujin peered through the lenses of his binoculars, his mouth pressed into a firm line. The young Mongol had been watching the site of what remained of the Russian installation since the first Zim had arrived with Captain Zhdanov and Lieutenant Savchenko. The Russians had been there before, and it had not seemed very important until Temujin realized the two men were waiting for someone. Then the seco
nd car and the Soviet truck arrived.
Six men were among the newcomers. Six strange individuals who wore masks and gloves as if trying to hide their identity from the Soviets. Temujin decided he should watch and learn more about these bizarre strangers. He had heard his father speak of five men, five special enemies who had caused two great operations to fail.
"Lord Temujin," Yumjaagiyin began. "Are these men a threat to us?"
"Anyone who is not a member of the brotherhood of TRIO is a threat," Temujin declared as he lowered the binoculars.
He was a serious man with a slender rock-hard body and a sleek head with fierce features. His eyes resembled black almonds, and a long mustache drooped from the corners of his mouth. Temujin was only twenty-six years old, but he was accustomed to command. He was used to giving orders and to being obeyed.
Temujin was the eldest son of Tosha Khan. He believed his father was a great man, a man of destiny. Tosha Khan believed he was descended from the great Genghis Khan, who had united the Mongol and Tartar tribes and had conquered Northern China, Korea, Iraq, Iran and most of Russia. A family legend led Tosha Khan to believe that a distant ancestor had been a concubine of Genghis Khan. Thus, he believed it was his birthright to rule an empire.
But Tosha Khan's inheritance was only stories of the past greatness of the Mongol Empire. The Mongols had not been a world power for six hundred years. Tosha Khan believed the Mongol nation would have risen to its former greatness if the Soviet Union had not thrust communism upon his country, making it a puppet of the USSR. Yet Genghis Khan had also been born into a world full of enemies and oppressors. Now, the man who claimed to be his descendant was determined to triumph over the Soviets.
Tosha Khan had realized he could not have a military or political empire... not yet. So he had built a shadow empire, a criminal network that extended across Asia and had branches in Europe and the South Pacific. He called this crime network the New Horde, his own modern version of the Golden Horde. Led by Batu Khan, grandson of Genghis, the Golden Horde had invaded Eastern Europe and had forced the Russian princes to surrender. One day, Tosha Khan vowed, the New Horde would repeat this historical victory and crush the Soviet Union.
