Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru

by Marshall Masters

  LeBlanc smiled warmly as he reached out to press the button for Boris's floor. “Yes I do. You're a good man, Boris."

  * * *

  Lifetime Partners

  THE PRESENTATION OF Andrea in Washington had been an unqualified success, and now Pavel Lebedev was anxious to return to Razumovsky's dacha outside the New Obninsk Centre, where he would personally brief Razumovsky on the results of the presentation. The trip from Washington had been comfortable, and upon his arrival at Moscow's Sheremetyevo II International Airport, he was transferred to an executive helicopter for the final leg of his trip to Obninsk.

  Craning his neck for a view out the window as the helicopter gently settled down behind the green house behind the dacha, he could see Yelena and Dimitri waiting for him, flowers in hand. Seeing them made his heart race for joy. His frequent trips abroad now were almost unendurable. Even though the Americans had lavished him with all the comforts imaginable, he wanted to be with them more than anything in the world.

  Once the helicopter blades had swooped to a complete stop, Pavel jumped out. As he started towards them, Dimitri ran to meet him. “Pavel,” he squealed with delight as he jumped into Pavel's open arms and received a warm hug and kiss. Hoisting the nimble 12-year-old on his back, he walked briskly to Yelena, standing at the edge of the pad, where he was greeted with warm kisses and flowers.

  “Pavel dear, we've missed you so much,” she said kissing him warmly. “Dimitri must have asked me a thousand times when you'd arrive."

  Tired from his trip and feeling the numbing effect of jet lag, he hugged her and said, “I've done nothing but dream of you and Dimitri. I'm so happy to be back."

  “Come,” she said gleefully. “Father is waiting for you in the banya and I've made you both some wonderful treats.” He smiled, and they made their way into the house as one of the helicopter crewman carried in the luggage.

  After spending a few moments alone with Yelena, Pavel undressed and donned his terrycloth robe as young Dimitri sat on the corner of the bed and rambled on in excited tones; “Isn't Anthony amazing?” Pavel nodded. “I told you he was amazing. Anthony cured Tanya, and now the world has a cure for 3G. Can you help me meet him some day?"

  “If I can, I will, but I cannot make promises,” he answered with a stilled voice. Without knowing it, Dimitri had touched on something that had now become a complication. In a few moments, Pavel would have to join the boy's grandfather in the banya and decide whether to unravel this new complication or to simply leave it behind.

  As he entered the spa, Pavel could hear the tinkling of glasses and Yelena admonishing her father not to capitalize the remaining hours of the evening talking business and setting out a feast for the two men.

  “And there is our hero,” Igor Razumovsky boomed out. Throwing a bear hug around Pavel, the older man kissed him three times on the cheeks with a bright cheery smile.

  Yelena pointed a finger at her father, “Remember, he is tired from his trip, so let's not hear of you keeping him up all night."

  “Yes, yes, yes. Now, please leave us to our business, and I promise to keep it short.” She scowled at him with a knowing smile, kissed Pavel on the cheek and left the two men to their business.

  “Sit, my boy, and let's enjoy a few of these delicious tidbits before we take our steam."

  They sat down facing each other, and Razumovsky poured two large shot glasses of icy cold vodka, handed one to Pavel and raised his hand for a toast. “Banya is the best medicine for long trips. Take it from me; my bones are older than yours, so who should know better than me?” He laughed at his own comment. “First we drink, and then we talk. To health!” They tossed back their drinks and began munching pickles and salt fish as they made small talk.

  The vodka warmed Pavel, and Tanya's delicacies seemed like little bites of heaven, especially after all the rich food he'd eaten in Washington.

  “Come, let's take some steam now and talk,” Razumovsky finally grunted.

  As usual, Razumovsky's personal bodyguard was tending the fire and throwing handfuls of water on the hot stones. The familiar, humid heat and smell of hot wood of the banya made Pavel feel that his journey was truly at an end. They sat upon the wood bench, and Razumovsky finally got to the heart of the matter. “I was hoping you'd return from America with LeBlanc."

  “I tried, but he is determined to meet with Jarman about the boy.” Pavel ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. “I was hoping to meet with Jarman together with him, but LeBlanc refused. I think he is very protective of Jarman and doesn't fully trust anyone."

  “So, he wants to handle this himself. Worse yet, he'll probably get himself killed trying to rescue his boy and thereby jeopardize our project,” Razumovsky chimed in.

  “This is the life."

  “Ah, do not be too fatalistic, my boy; let's take our steam."

  The two men built up a good sweat until the older finally said, “Come; we'll take a dip in the cold pool, and while we do, I'll give you a few ideas to sleep on."

  Unlike most Russian cold pools, Razumovsky preferred to cool his own spacious pool to a comfortable yet refreshing temperature. Two men plunged in, waded in the chest deep water and dunked their heads with pleasure as the water cleared Pavel's mind.

  “My dear boy, it might interest you to know that our intelligence people intercepted a message from UNE Governor, Merl Johnston to Secretary General Antonio De Bono detailing the arrival of a Colonel Yasin in Mexico.” Pavel raised an eyebrow. “The message was knowingly sent with a broken code and was also intercepted by the Israelis who assassinated Yasin in Mexico City, a ruthless and very capable man. It was a professional job too. Nice clean shot with a poison-tipped .17 caliber magnum caseless right through the eye while Yasin was walking to the curb. He was dead before he hit the ground. No doubt, De Bono wanted him dead and the Mossad was most happy to perform his wet work for him."

  “But why would De Bono want Yasin killed?"

  “Our FSB wondered the same thing and contacted the American CIA, and we learned that De Bono hired Irish and German mercenaries and sent them to Fort Hood as UNE peacekeepers. It wasn't until we found a routine news report in the post newspaper that we connected the dots. It seems that the day before Yasin was killed, a family was involved in a car accident near Fort Hood. The only survivor was a young boy, who sustained a subdural hematoma, a severe impact head injury. He received emergency surgery at the Darnall Army Hospital there at Fort Hood. After his surgery, he was transferred to a civilian hospital, even though he was reported as being in a coma following the accident. This is what caught our attention. In cases like these, the boy would have remained at the post hospital for at least a few more days."

  “And you think this boy could be Jarman's son?"

  “We cannot say for absolutely sure, but we are highly confident it is Jarman's son. After all, it fits with Yasin's death. Most likely, one of his Syrian UNE peacekeepers was somehow connected to the boy's injury, and he lied to De Bono about it. This also explains why De Bono hired more professional mercenaries."

  “So where is the boy now, and who is guarding him?"

  “We believe the boy was transferred back to the UNE-controlled missile silo at Fort Hood after his treatment. Yasin's second in command, a Captain Darkazani is now in charge of the Syrians, and they have changed their routine. Our source on the post tells us that Syrians are no longer going inside the silo as before. No doubt, this is because the European mercenaries are stationed inside the silo instead of the Syrians."

  “And what about these new European mercenaries."

  “They are all highly trained and very dangerous. What is worse is that the missile silo is virtually impregnable. At the first hint of an attack, the blast doors can be closed down in an instant."

  “And of course they would possibly kill the boy at the last minute if they felt the assault was going to be successful before reinforcements could arrive."

  “Of course,” Razumovsky agreed. “If thi
s Jarman fellow tries to rescue his son, he and his friends will be killed trying if they are foolish enough to go it alone, and his son will die regardless.” Pavel groaned. “Come, let's dry ourselves and have another glass of vodka."

  Drying himself, Pavel wondered if Jarman's participation in this project was beginning to exceed its value. After all, Andrea could still destroy Shiva without him. Yet, if Bachtman and LeBlanc were right, Jarman could bring a valuable added advantage to the project by working with Andrea, and thereby further ensure their chances of success. It was all beginning to make him feel as though he was dealt a bad hand in a high stakes poker game.

  “I so love this Gray Goose vodka from France,” Razumovsky beamed with relish as he refilled their drinking glasses. “What a pity it is that the French can make such excellent vodka.” He picked up a pickle from the tray and ran it past his nostrils, breathing deeply. He raised his glass. “I propose a toast to your success for the next trip to America."

  Pavel's eyes shot open as he raised his own glass. Typical of Razumovsky, the man loved to drink another glass of vodka before letting the other shoe drop. Pavel slugged back the whole glass and closed his eyes as its warmth ran down his body.

  Razumovsky slammed his glass down on the table and patted Pavel on the leg. “So, we know what Jarman does not already know, that the boy is most likely in a coma and I'm not sure telling him would encourage him to devote months or years of his life to teaching matters of spirituality to a computer program. You may think this idea is a little far fetched, but I've spent too much time looking at all the confusing sensor data coming back from our probes in orbit around Shiva. The magnetic anomalies are baffling everyone. If this Jarman can give Andrea some kind of sixth sense, it may just work."

  “I must be honest, Igor. I'm still not so excited about this spirituality thing. If it could work, how could we measure its effectiveness or predict what it will do?"

  Razumovsky shook his head. “You miss the point, Pavel. When it comes to Shiva, we cannot predict or measure anything accurately because of the object's bizarre magnetic anomalies, and we've tried everything. As desperate as this Jarman spirituality option may be, it is the only thing we have working for us now."

  “Then, if Jarman is that important to us, are you suggesting we perform this rescue ourselves. I mean, go and get this boy for him?"

  Razumovsky laughed. “Absolutely not, my dear Pavel Sergeevich. The UNE has made extensive modifications to the silo, so who knows what its present defenses can be. This makes such a mission exceptionally tricky, that is if we were insane enough to become directly involved. If such an affair were to go sour, the consequences would be an international incident of nightmarish proportions. I shudder to think of it. No, we can provide what you might call a bit of tactical support through the American, LeBlanc and the American CIA."

  “The CIA? This is interesting. Tell me more."

  “They know about De Bono's little game, here, and they are furious that he's holding an innocent boy hostage on one of their military bases, even if the boy is in an area under the exclusive control of the UNE.” He waved his hand, “But let's move onto more practical matters. Jarman is not the only psychic in the world, and if we lose him, I'm sure we can find a replacement. However, tell me about your A.I. Engineer, Berezovsky. If LeBlanc gets killed trying to be a hero, is our man capable of continuing his work?"

  Lebedev nodded. “While Berezovsky works under LeBlanc, he still reports to me and I am very satisfied with his work. LeBlanc has taken him into his confidences and we are learning a great deal more about his work than we could have hoped."

  “And what of Berezovsky's nanotechnology sensory controller? How far along has he come with integrating it with Andrea's systems?"

  “The interface is pretty much complete. They are still in beta testing, but the nanobots and microbot assemblies are responding to Andrea's commands with excellent results."

  Pavel then slapped his forehead as the connection formed in his mind. “I think I see where you are going with this!"

  Razumovsky laughed. “I think the banya helped you a great deal. Yes, we will let LeBlanc use his Andrea quasill to help this Jarman fellow to rescue his son. After all, we have a brand new IBM Biomass mainframe with a complete clone of the Andrea quasill, so let him use his old biomass desktop computer and quasill prototype for this adventure if he wishes to be foolish. Not that you or I could stop him without taking drastic measures."

  “So why not let the Americans do it? After all, it is their country!"

  “For the same reason that we cannot take a direct hand in the matter. To do so would be an unprovoked attack on a UNE installation by a UNE member state, because De Bono is doing this without the knowledge of the UNE itself. A clever bastard, he is."

  “So it has to be a private, unofficial rescue attempt?"

  “Of course, but mind you, the American CIA and their military will have something to say about all this, so I think you should try and get some rest to make your plans before you return to America."

  A puzzled look crossed Pavel's face. “By the way, how did you get the Americans to give us the data on the American missile silo, and will the Americans be angry with me about that? Data I may remind you that we have now shared with LeBlanc?"

  “Oh that,” he guffawed. “We've already had that for years and years."

  “But do you have the latest version of the data?"

  “Right through to the moment the Americans abandoned the silo. Compared to what they can do these days, it is rather primitive so do not expect them to be sensitive. And if they are, politely tell them to kiss your ass."

  “Tell an American general to kiss my ass,” Pavel laughed. “That's an entertaining thought but what still bothers me is that if LeBlanc and Jarman try this with the data they now have, they could be walking into a trap. After all, I'm not so sure the UNE will be so kind as to give us the most current data on the silo, including all of their modifications to the silo."

  “Yes, you're right, and this will decrease the chances of a successful rescue mission. However, I believe the Americans will secretly help them to improve their odds. Have a little faith."

  Pavel rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Igor, excuse me for being hard-nosed, but that's not good enough for me, and I'm not exactly sure of what I'm going to do in America. I'm a scientist, for God's sake."

  “You will be going there to personally reassure them that we unofficially support this rescue and to impress upon them the necessity of LeBlanc and Jarman surviving if they decide to go through with it."

  Pavel rubbed his forehead. “I'm too tired right now to think this through, but as usual, something will pop into my head while I take my morning shower. Then, things will come to me. In the meantime, there is one thing I know already; I will be gone for more than a week on this new adventure. So if we're finished with business, may I ask you a deeply personal question?"

  “Of course, my boy."

  “As you know, Yelena and I have become romantically involved, and Igor Petrovich, I am so in love with her that the thought of leaving again so soon breaks my heart. I love Dimitri, too, as if he was my own son. I will so miss my talks with him."

  Razumovsky leaned forward and put his arm on Pavel's shoulder. “So when are you going to ask me for my daughter's hand in marriage?"

  Pavel was taken slightly aback and cleared voice. “You're a step ahead of me."

  “Forgive my rudeness,” Razumovsky replied with a glowing smile. “I'm an impatient, old man who loves his daughter very much."

  Pavel smiled and then his face became intent as his eyes locked upon Razumovsky's with unyielding focus. “While I was in America all I could think of was Yelena and Dimitri and how they have changed my life. Yes, you have given me honors and privilege beyond compare but for me there is only Yelena and Dimitri now. I have come to love them more than life itself. With them, I am complete. Away from them, my heart aches without end. So now, I ask y
ou, Igor Petrovich, may I have your permission to ask Yelena for her hand in marriage?"

  Without saying a word, Razumovsky leaned across the table, grasped Pavel's cheeks in his broad hands and kissed him firmly and warmly on the mouth, as is the custom of Russian men when they express their joy. “Through their eyes, I have come to love you as a son, and I know in my heart that you will be a good and devoted husband and father. Come; let us toast our good fortune."

  Razumovsky refilled the glasses to the brim, sloshing vodka on the table. As they raised their glasses high, Razumovsky winked. “As your father to be, may I give you a small piece of advice?"

  “Please."

  “Do not be taken in by my daughter's modest protests. I know her too well. Trust me when I tell you that she is like any other woman in one special regard—the bigger the diamond the better!"

  Pavel laughed. “Then, with exception of diamond size, there is none like her.” He raised his hand for a toast. “To Yelena and Dimitri, the loves of our lives!” They embraced each other and tossed back their toasts with much bravado.

  “Come, we'll take one more steam and then you will go rest, so that I will not get an earful from Yelena in the morning,” Razumovsky said.

  As they entered the banya, he put his hand on Pavel's shoulder. “I must tell you one last piece of business and then we will talk of family things.” He face assumed a more somber tone. “Now that Jarman has become a world celebrity with this 3G flu cure, he's become more dangerous to De Bono than ever before. Trust me; things are going to start moving more quickly now, and this situation could become more dangerous, so be careful. That said, enough of business! Let's talk about important things as we take our last steam, like Yelena's ring size and how many carats will be the diamond."

  “And color and clarity, father. We cannot forget that."

  * * * *

  PROFESSOR IDAN GOLDBERG scrutinized the lighting on his monitor and turned to Pete, his soundman. “I think the backlight on Tanya's hair is a little hot. Rose and Anthony are OK though."