Syren's Song

by Claude G. Berube

  “What’s new?” Golzari asked.

  “The mine. The whole operation. Look at the entrance and the wood they used for supports. You use better-quality structures if you’ve been working on a mine for years. I’d say this one is maybe a year or so old,” he said as he felt the hewn rock around the opening. “But why go to all this trouble for zirconium? And then why throw it away? Look at this,” he said, showing them some fragments from the pile of discarded rocks. “It’s full of zirconium.”

  “What if it wasn’t zirconium they were looking for?” Golzari asked.

  “But what else would they . . . aw, shit,” Warren said. He quickly pulled off his pack and dug through it to get at a piece of equipment. Like a child finding a toy, he flourished a gray box with a display panel and a probe connected to it by a wire. He carried it to the work area, and the display came alive when he passed the probe over the ore. It did when he scanned the mine entrance as well. “Gamma fucking rays. This is why I couldn’t get the right readings in Trincomalee with the EMP,” the scientist said.

  “Hafnium?” Golzari said.

  Warren froze. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “An educated guess based on a conversation I had a few days ago with a retired scientist, one of Admiral Rickover’s Vulcans. I asked him about zirconium, and he mentioned that it sometimes occurs in combination with hafnium.”

  “Yeah, Admiral Rickover’s guys spent a while trying to find a way to use this,” Warren said.

  “Jay, how about condensing this for the rest of us?” Stark interjected as Melanie drew closer to the group.

  “Sure, sure. Hafnium is a rare earth element usually found with zirconium. About fifty years ago Admiral Rickover’s outfit started playing with it because of its potential for high-explosive weapons.”

  “Like atomic bombs?” Stark asked.

  “No, not quite on that scale. But pretty darn close.”

  “So why didn’t it happen?”

  “According to the scientist I spoke with,” Golzari interjected, “they needed pure hafnium, but no lode was known to exist.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Jay said. “So they scrapped the program. There’s only one problem.”

  “What’s that, Jay?” Stark asked.

  “I think there is a pure lode of hafnium. And it’s in this mine.”

  “How much is here?”

  “I’d need more time and a better look to tell you that. Most likely specks of dust with a few nuggets interspersed. They’d have to sift through a lot of earth to get enough to be useful.”

  Stark grimaced. “Not a problem if you have slave labor.”

  Hong Kong

  The Mercedes-Benz pulled off Wharf Road on the north side of Hong Kong Island, and the driver stopped in front of one of the city’s newest high-rises. The bodyguard exited the S-class sedan first and greeted one of the two security officers stationed at the entrance. The bodyguard adjusted his suit coat then stood by the door.

  Tao Hu picked up his briefcase and leaned over to kiss his wife. She reminded him not to be late to their younger son’s concert that evening. He gently pointed out that he had never missed any of their children’s performances.

  She smiled and touched his hand. “I didn’t say you would miss the concert, my dear, only not to be late,” she said.

  He smiled broadly. After all these years she knew how precise he was in his use of words. That precision had helped him throughout his career negotiating deals. It worked less well with his wife. He tapped twice on the window, and the bodyguard immediately opened his door. After Hu exited, the bodyguard closed the door and the car pulled away.

  When the car was out of sight, Hu took out a pack of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, tapped the pack against his forearm until one slipped out, then turned to the bodyguard, who already had a cigarette lighter ready. “I promised her she would never see me smoke again,” he said. The bodyguard chuckled. Hu allowed himself to enjoy half the cigarette because they were early for the meeting. Then he and his bodyguard entered the building, crossed the ten-story atrium with its nine-story waterfall, and walked to the elevator. The bodyguard made sure the elevator was empty and then, after Hu entered, pushed back a couple of businessmen hoping to get on as well. The elevator took them smoothly to the thirtieth floor at five hundred feet per minute.

  The doors opened to reveal a spacious marble lobby with mirrored walls that made it appear to be quadruple its actual size. The receptionist and other employees in the lobby stood when they saw Hu and remained standing until he passed. He recognized them with a quick nod as he made his way to the conference room. The floor-to-ceiling windows that formed one side of the room offered a breathtaking view of Hong Kong harbor and Kowloon, where glass buildings reflected the rays of the risen sun.

  The nine board members and chief financial officer of Zheng Research & Development were already seated at the oblong onyx table. Hu shook their hands one by one as he made his way to the end of the long table. Most of them had coffee or tea, and a few had elected to try the croissants made by the firm’s French chef. Hu believed that food relaxed people. As for himself, he attended so many meetings that he had found this luxury to be a necessity. His executive assistant was making last-minute adjustments to the papers before them as Hu took his seat.

  Sitting in chairs against one wall were three of Hu’s top staff—his chief scientist, his chief of security, and his corporate information officer, an innocuous title for intelligence chief. The latter two were Westerners. The burly chief of security had served with the Russian navy for twenty years. The slender, blonde intelligence chief was an American—or at least had been an American. She had done more to advance his company—and China—in the past eight years than many of his scientists. But success always came with a price.

  Hu began the meeting when the chairman of the board looked imperiously at him from across the table. The CFO spent the first half hour discussing the firm’s revenue and expenses along with projections. When a board member asked a question about the large spike in the out-years, the chairman replied that Hu would give a full report on that after the financial report. Ten minutes later the CFO closed his folder and deferred to the firm’s president.

  Tao Hu slid back his chair and called up a map of Sri Lanka. He motioned to his executive assistant to pass a black box around the table. The velvet-lined box contained a dull silver nugget of metal about the size of a raisin. “Gentlemen,” he said as the box was making its way around the table, “the contents of that box will pave the way for that spike in revenue along with placing China ahead of every other nation in the world in terms of first-strike weapons. This small piece of hafnium—pure hafnium—in your hands is more than anyone outside our operation has ever seen. In fact, few people even know that pure hafnium exists.”

  He asked his chief scientist to explain hafnium’s properties and how it might be weaponized. When he concluded, Hu continued his briefing.

  “As you know, we have many projects around the world, and many eyes and ears. One of those came to fruition eighteen months ago with a young Sri Lankan scientist. He was educated in Beijing, and we supported his research with money, transportation, and assistants. That research has produced stunning results. Almost as important, this young man is a close friend of a man who was a mid-level leader of the Tamil Tigers during their civil war.”

  “And this is the insurgent who is leading the new civil war, Tao?” the chairman asked.

  “Yes. We provided him with a shipment of weapons a few months ago. The cost of the weapons is a pittance compared to what we expect to receive in return,” Hu said as he tapped his finger on the onyx table and smiled. “With the weapons we gave them the Tamils gained control of the lode of hafnium in northern Sri Lanka.”

  “How are you ensuring that this mineral will come to us?” another board member asked.

  “Yes, and what happens if the Americans learn that pure hafnium exists?” asked another.

  “Is that
how the insurgents took out the Sri Lankan navy?” came another voice.

  The chairman’s voice overrode all of the others. “Tao, this firm must not fail as it did with the oil platforms off Yemen.”

  Hu’s smile faded at this reminder of his only failed project. “Gentlemen, I assure you that while the extraction process is largely in the hands of the Tamil Tigers, it is we who control the hafnium. Due to operational security, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.” This was technically true, but he simply didn’t want to tell them. The board meeting broke up, and Hu’s executive assistant closed the lid of the box and returned it to his office.

  Hu held back his chief of security and intelligence chief until all the board members had left. “What of the American agent asking questions,” Tao Hu said to the Russian.

  “He was too fast for the team in Singapore. For the American operation, it was easier to subcontract the hit to one of the Mexican cartels,” the burly man responded in a rich baritone voice.

  “Easier, perhaps, but did it work?”

  “Apparently not,” the Russian said dryly. “He was last seen boarding a flight to Chennai.”

  “We picked him up there,” the intelligence chief said. “An American destroyer was in port by coincidence,” she added. “We believe he boarded that ship.”

  Hu thought about this for a moment. “Forget him for now. Even if he got to Sri Lanka, he wouldn’t have the means to find Gala. No, let’s focus on the operation in Mullaitivu. Once they’ve extracted and processed the ore for us, we can deal with the American agent.” He dismissed them and stood by the window to admire the view, secure in the knowledge that the material for this new EMP weapon would provide him with a needed boost up the next step of his career ladder.

  Mount Iranamadu

  Melanie wrote in her moleskin notebook while Golzari walked the perimeter and Jay wandered among the caves that had been the monks’ quarters. Stark looked out at the water in the distance and tried to unwind. Dusk was approaching, and a few fishing boats meandered offshore. He wondered if one of them might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing—or in this case a Tiger in sheep’s clothing. It was time to get moving. The four of them were deep in enemy territory, and it was just a matter of time before more Tigers came to the site. This was the source of their power, literally and figuratively.

  Stark knew that his hunch to come to the mine had paid off. If they were going to find the Sea Tigers’ base, this was the only immediately available clue. The mine was clearly crucial for their weapon making, but there was no facility here to process the ore or to build the rockets. The material was being taken to another spot where the weapons were manufactured. He had seen no evidence that they used the trail he and the others had followed to reach the monastery. And as far as he knew, the Tigers lacked the ability to transport the ore by air.

  The other trailhead was the key. Beyond the wheelbarrows were large backpacks. One of the murdered monks had been wearing one. Stark opened the backpack and sifted his hand through the chunks of ore it contained. This was a primitive operation. Everything was carried from the mine to the processing facility. How far was it? How far could aging monks carry tons of earth?

  “Think I got something,” Jay said as he approached Stark. “There’s a pretty large cave. Normally a mine entrance will have a shack for equipment, the supervisor, and paperwork. They were using the cave for that. Probably less noticeable from the air.” Warren handed him a stack of papers.

  “Great. I can’t read Sinhalese or Tamil,” he pointed out.

  “I have an app for translations. I read through a few of them. They’re essentially accounting records. That ship we took? Asity? It’s listed here. You were right that it was carrying mining equipment here. They used some other ships as well.”

  “Then they’re not just using small boats, they’ve got an entire logistics network. But they have to keep it hidden from the Sri Lankan government,” Stark said. He used Jay’s translator to find the names of shipping companies and ports of entry and departure. The departure ports were scattered throughout Asia, but he saw no ports of entry in Sri Lanka. Most of the times recorded in the papers were in the evening. After allowing Melanie to photograph the papers Stark told Warren to put them in his pack. Then he thought about what he had learned. How would the Tigers get large freighters close enough inshore to offload their supplies without being noticed? They probably do it at night. A ship could easily make it into Sri Lankan territorial waters at night, transfer the supplies, and then be back over the horizon by daylight. Stark decided he had to see where the other trail led.

  As he turned to suggest that the team move out, a hair-raising howl issued from the mine tunnels behind him.

  “Mother of God,” Warren gasped. “What was that?”

  “Probably just the wind,” Stark said uncertainly. But there was no wind. They hadn’t felt so much as a breeze since they’d landed on the coast. He turned and drew his weapon. The haunting, ghostlike wail intensified. “Any chance there’s a second entrance to this mine?” he whispered to Warren, who shook his head.

  “Not in a cheap operation like this.”

  Golzari joined Stark, his own rifle raised. The howling was approaching the entrance now, becoming clearer and louder. Stark realized he was hearing more than one voice. What kind of animal makes a noise like that? Are there wolves in Sri Lanka?

  A small, shrieking shape burst through the mine entrance. Stark was about to fire when he realized what he was seeing. The first child raced out into Jay’s giant bear hug. Two more followed. All looked like they had just escaped from hell. Melanie grabbed the second child, and Stark dropped his weapon and scooped up the third. The children stopped screaming and started talking when they realized they had not run into the arms of Tamil soldiers, but Stark and the others couldn’t understand them. Warren tapped his smart phone, said a few words, then hit another key, and his words, translated into Tamil, spoke from the phone to the startled children.

  “Jay, ask them if there are any other children in the cave,” Stark said.

  Through the translator, the first child was able to convey that there were seven more in the mine, where they had taken shelter when the soldiers massacred the monks. Stark grabbed a headlamp from his pack.

  “How far back are they, Jay?”

  “He said as far back as they could go, but they were worried about being lost.”

  “Nothing more specific?” Stark asked.

  “No. And I don’t think the kids are likely to go back with you to show you.”

  “Stark,” Golzari said. “This could take a while. How much longer do you think we have before more Tigers arrive?”

  “I’m sorry, Damien, but we can’t leave them down there—especially if the Tigers are going to return. You stay here. If they do come back, hold them off if there’s a few of them. If there are more, just get out of here. Jay, you keep those three kids close to you.”

  As he walked into the entrance, Melanie pulled a flashlight from her pack and walked behind him. “I’m coming, too,” she said.

  Within minutes Stark began to feel claustrophobic. His breathing became labored, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He hadn’t prepared for this. He could see the frayed wire tying the primitive lights together, but the wires had been severed, probably during the explosion he had seen on the UAV image. There was no noise except his own beating heart and Melanie’s footsteps. Every few minutes they called out. There was no response.

  The tunnels were wide enough for a couple of people to walk abreast, but the wooden planks holding up the ceiling and sides were falling apart. The deeper they went, the more dangerous it became. They arrived at the first transfer station between two of the tunnels. He realized that without his headlamp and her flashlight they would be blind and helpless. His hand began to shake again and he considered turning back. But seven children would die if he did.

  Melanie took the lead and called out. Perhaps it was her voice—a woman’s�
��that made them brave, but she and Stark heard a whimper down one of the tunnel branches. They arrived to find six children huddled together. Nearby lay the body of the seventh; already frail when he entered the mine, the trauma of the past two days had been simply too much for him to survive.

  They spoke calmly to the children, who shielded their eyes from the painful light shining from Stark’s forehead. He took one child’s hand and then another’s. Melanie gathered the rest in front of her and they brought the little ones out of hell.

  Stark hadn’t wanted to start the trek down the mountain at night, but there was no choice. More Tigers would certainly arrive soon, and neither Stark nor Golzari had enough ammunition for another firefight. In addition, they now had nine children to worry about who were still in shock from their ordeal. Even after they had food and water several of the children could barely stand.

  Melanie and Warren had been able to communicate with them in a very simple fashion. The children were all from the same village, but they were only the most recent bunch brought to work in the mine. Many children from other villages had come before them. Some had still been there when this group arrived. A few of the strongest had been taken elsewhere to work. The others either died or were killed when they could no longer work. The Tigers had no trouble finding replacements. To her horror, Melanie learned that their village was apparently the one with the mass grave that she had visited before being captured. The children were free to go home now, but they no longer had homes and families.

  Golzari led the column down the back trail from the monastery, followed by Warren, then the children with Melanie, and last Stark. The moon had not yet risen, and only the four adults had flashlights or headlamps. When a child fell, Stark or Melanie would pick him or her up, administer a hug, and give a gentle push in the right direction.

  The group had gone a little over two miles before Stark finally whistled to Golzari to halt and went to the front of the column to consult with him. They agreed they had to stop for the good of the children, who barely had the strength to keep up. The vegetation was sparse enough at this point to move off the trail, so Warren and Golzari quickly cleared out an area thirty yards off the path large enough for the nine children to be gathered together.