“Very informative, thank you,” responded Mitchell.
“Yes, your robotic labs are a sight to see,” added Jackson.
“Gentlemen, where are my manners,” said Lee. “This is Krasimir Dimov, Mister Sandesh’s head of security.”
Dimov dipped his head, slightly. “My pleasure.”
“This is quite the setup you have here,” said Jackson.
“I’m sure Doctor Chong has explained to you the need for security in our line of work,” replied Dimov.
“Yes, very much so.”
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have to make sure everything is in place for the visit tomorrow from the Brazilian government.”
“Busy times,” noted Mitchell.
“Indeed. Until later.” Dimov turned and walked out of the control room.
“Mister Lee, during our tour, Doctor Chong said that this place operates non-stop,” said Mitchell.
“That is correct,” said Lee.
“Back home, to get your DNA tested it costs you anywhere from one hundred to two hundred dollars. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how can so many people living in poverty in Asia afford such a procedure?”
“Mister Sandesh charges on a pro-rated system. If you have money like me, well, you pay the maximum. However, if you’re a poor farmer living in Laos, the procedure is free.”
“The more I hear about this guy, the more I respect him,” said Jackson.
“It’s hard not to like him,” said Lee,
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Doctor Kim will be on his way to the cafeteria for lunch,” said Chong.
“Lunch sounds good,” said Jackson, patting his stomach.
“Please enjoy your lunch, and I’ll meet you by the helipad at fourteen-hundred,” said Lee.
The building’s cafeteria was in the basement. After Mitchell and Jackson grabbed a light meal of soup and sandwiches, Chong led them to a quiet table, where a corpulent man in a tight-fitting lab coat waited for them.
As they took their seats, Chong made the introductions to Doctor Kim.
“Do you work with Doctor Chong?” Jackson asked Kim.
“Yes, we are responsible for the collection of DNA samples from all across Asia, and the detailed analysis of the human genome,” answered Kim.
“Please excuse my ignorance, but what is the human genome?”
Kim smiled. “You are far from ignorant, Mister Jackson. This is a very complex subject. To put it simply, the genome is the very essence of life. Without it, we couldn’t exist.”
“I take it Mister Dinu was engaged in a similar line of work back in Romania?” asked Mitchell.
“Yes. Max was a fellow geneticist,” said Kim. “His specialty was studying Y-DNA haplogroups.”
“Excuse me, but I’m feeling like I should have taken a university course on genetics before coming to visit the island,” said Mitchell.
“The study of Y-DNA haplogroups looks at genetic population groups across the world and breaks them down into identifiable groups. Haplogroup C consists mainly of people who live in Asia, Oceania, and North America, while haplogroup D is focused on the populations of China, Japan, and the Andaman Islands. Almost all of the people within these clusters share similar DNA traits.”
“Mindboggling stuff,” said Mitchell. “Was Mister Dinu an employee of Mister Sandesh?”
Kim looked over at Chong. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t recall, either, but if he wasn’t, he must have worked for a company closely associated with ours,” said Chong.
“Did he happen to say where he was going after his time here in Singapore was finished?” asked Jackson.
“Yes, he said he was flying to Indonesia to pay his respects to his grandfather, who had been killed in the war,” said Chong.
“Did he say where?”
“I’m positive he said he was going to the Commonwealth cemetery on Ambon Island,” said Kim.
“Are you sure?” asked Jackson. “Because I’d hate for us to fly all the way out there to find out we’re in the wrong spot.”
Chong nodded, along with Kim. “Ambon Island is what he said.”
“Thanks, you’ve been most helpful,” said Jackson, before taking a big bite out of his sandwich.
Mitchell looked at his plate and fought off a chuckle. His friend had caught the two doctors in a lie and made them confirm their duplicity, as Jakarta was Dinu’s resting place.
The rest of the meal was spent in idle chatter about families and the weather. Mitchell and Jackson boarded their helicopter on time, and flew back to Singapore Island. At their hotel, Lee handed them each a VIP pass for that evening’s grand prix.
“Gentlemen, please enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” said Lee. “I’ll be back at 1900 hours to drive you to Mister Sandesh’s private box overlooking the grand prix.”
“I can’t wait,” said Jackson, eyeing his pass.
Lee waved goodbye, got back in his vehicle, and drove off.
“So, what do you think’s going on?” Mitchell asked his friend.
“I haven’t a clue, other than we’re being lied to,” responded Jackson. “I don’t think Sandesh is as much of a saint as people make him out to be.”
“Jen and Fahimah need to be brought up to date, and I think it would be in our best interests if they dug a little deeper into Mister Sandesh’s corporation, his head of security, and genetic engineering.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Meet you back here in a couple of hours for a steak before we head to the race?”
“You read my mind.”
12
Muscat, Oman
Sam and Gordon gathered their bags and made their way through the bustling airport to a car rental kiosk, where a Mitsubishi Pajero had been reserved for them. Both were used to working in Muslim countries, and wore tan- and brown-colored, long-sleeved shirts and pants. Unlike some other countries in the Middle East, Sam was surprised to see that she could also drive their rental car, and wasn’t expected to wear a headscarf.
Outside, a sandy haze blanketed the horizon. The dry heat felt like a furnace blowing on their faces. They found their SUV and tossed their luggage in the back. Cardinal took the wheel while Sam grabbed a map.
“How far is it to our hotel?” asked Cardinal, as he started their vehicle.
“According to this map, it’s no more than a forty-kilometer drive from here to there,” said Sam.
Cardinal shifted the SUV in gear, edged out of his parking spot, and headed for the exit. Before long, he was on the highway, heading for Muscat.
Sam opened her iPad and checked her messages. “We’re in luck. Jen has arranged for us to meet with Professor Al Zawawi tomorrow at ten AM.”
“Who’s he?”
“Jen says that he’s a retired historian who wrote several books about Oman’s participation in the Second World War. If anyone can help guide us to the crash site, he’s probably that person.”
“Well, that is a spot of good luck.”
“She also wrote that she’s working on booking us a helicopter to take us up into the mountains.”
“Now all we need is a few days of good weather, and we might be able to find her.”
“Gordon, slow down a bit,” said Sam, excitedly. She brought up her tablet and filmed a long line of camels walking along the side of the road, seemingly unbothered by the traffic racing by them. “My nephew, Kyle, will love this. He’s fascinated with anything that lives in the desert. He’s got a poster of a scorpion over his bed. The kid’s nuts about this stuff.”
Cardinal chuckled. While his family consisted of a handful of people, in comparison, Sam’s family was enormous. She had numerous brothers and sisters spread all across the States, many of whom had children of their own. It got him wondering when she would bring up the subject of marriage and having a family. He wasn’t opposed to settling down, he just couldn’t see Sam slowing down anytime soon. She lived her life to the fullest, and he loved her f
or it.
They pulled into the parking lot of the Hotel InterContinental Muscat and parked their SUV. The modern-looking hotel sat on the beach, with an excellent view of the dark waters of the Gulf of Oman. While Cardinal signed for the room, Sam took a moment to check out one of the hotel’s gift shops. Her eyes widened when she saw the price for a plain gold ring. “Not today,” Sam muttered to herself.
Their room on the fourth floor looked out on the gulf. Sam and Cardinal stepped out onto the balcony, and sat down on a pair of wicker chairs.
“Quite the view,” said Cardinal.
“It sure is,” responded Sam. “It’s a shame we’re not on holiday. The water looks like it would be perfect for surfing.”
Cardinal took Sam’s left hand in his. “You know, there’s nothing stopping us from coming back the next time we get some time off.”
“Did you see the price of this room?”
“Yeah, I put it on the company credit card. Besides, we only live once. Of all the people we know, we can afford it.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah, I guess we can. Okay, it’s a date.”
“Do you want to have a late lunch, or wait until supper to eat?”
Sam leaned over. “I have a better idea. Since we have nothing to do until tomorrow morning, why don’t we skip lunch and get room service later?”
“Why wouldn’t we go downstairs to one of the restaurants to eat?”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, got it. I’m getting rusty at this, aren’t I?”
Sam reached over and stroked her lover’s neck, a familiar stirring inside of her. “I’ll tell you when you’re not living up to standard.” With that, she pulled him close. Their lips met in a warm embrace. Night fell long before either of them reached for the phone to call room service.
13
Singapore
Mitchell and Jackson met Lee in the hotel lobby. He was dressed in a sharp-looking tuxedo with a gold vest and tie, while the two guests wore their gray suits, minus their ties, with their shirts’ top buttons undone.
“Please wear these while you’re at the Grand Prix as a guest of Mister Sandesh,” said Lee, handing each man an enameled pass.
Jackson grinned like a teenager who had just found the key to his father’s liquor cabinet. “Thanks,” he said attaching the pass to his jacket.
“I hope your visit to Hygeia Designs was fruitful?” asked Lee.
“It was quite illuminating,” replied Mitchell. “I can’t thank your boss enough for the help and hospitality he has given us to date.”
“I’m sure he will be most pleased to hear that,” said Lee. “Shall we go?”
“After you, sir,” said Jackson to Lee.
With the downtown core of the city closed off for the race, Lee’s driver took a circuitous route to the start line. Dozens of police barricades blocked the city’s traffic from entering the track. Lee, with his special access pass, got them through several checkpoints before parking behind the pit grandstand.
Everywhere Mitchell looked, private security guards, in conjunction with the police, patrolled the grounds behind the stands.
“Will you look at that,” said Jackson, admiring a line of parked cars. There were million-dollar Ferraris mixed with Bugattis and Mercedes-Benzes. “There’s got to be twenty million dollars’ worth of cars over there.”
“This way, please,” said Lee, motioning toward a set of stairs. After a quick check by one of the race’s security people, they headed upward. One more check at the top of the stairs, and they were in.
Mitchell shook his head at the size and splendor of the spacious room. He’d been to a football game back home as a guest of a friend and had watched from a private box. That space now looked like a garden shed compared to the room he found himself in. The room comfortably sat one hundred guests in lavish comfort. Anywhere you stood, the view of the track was outstanding. From where they were, Mitchell could see the start/finish line for the race, and the various team’s pit garages. Dozens of well-dressed people stood chatting with one another. Mitchell spotted a couple of older television stars, but apart from that, he judged the rest of the guests were from Sandesh’s business, or key players in the Singaporean government. Servers circulated the room, offering drinks and fancy finger foods.
A beautiful young woman holding a silver tray of champagne flutes walked over and smiled at Mitchell. “Care for a drink, sir?”
“Sure, thank you,” replied Mitchell, grabbing a drink for himself and Jackson.
“Quite the place,” said Jackson, as he took a sip of his drink.
“I shudder to think how much all of this costs.”
Jackson chuckled. “Ryan, ever since you became a father, you’ve been obsessed with how much things cost. Wait until Sarah finds a sport she likes. That’s where the real money goes. Besides, do you think a man like Sandesh cares how much a night like is going to cost him? This is chump change to him. Have you seen the size of the shrimp in the shrimp cocktails? They look like mini-lobsters to me.”
The crowd parted, and Sandesh appeared, wearing a stylish, white-jacketed tuxedo, with a black bow tie. Hanging off his arm was a tall, beautiful, blonde woman, wearing a thin, red dress with a hip-baring side slit. Sandesh smiled. “Ah, gentlemen, it’s good to see you again. I hope your visit here to Singapore has been useful?”
Mitchell toasted Sandesh with his champagne flute. “Yes sir, it has, and we have you to thank you for that.”
“Nonsense, it’s the least I could do. My head of security gave me an earful after our encounter in Monaco, but to tell you the truth, I couldn’t resist meeting you. Men of bluff and bravado are lacking these days. Nowadays, it’s all spreadsheets and endless corporate meetings. I envy you your life.”
“It isn’t all fun and games,” interjected Jackson. “Some days, the opposition tries its best to make it your last.”
“Still, sounds better than my life.”
Mitchell glanced around the room. “You’re doing all right, sir.”
A cheer filled the room.
“Come on, Miss Chan is about to perform,” said Sandesh, letting go of the woman and ushering Mitchell and Jackson to the front of the box, where they could see the track. A stunningly beautiful Asian woman in her early twenties, wearing a long, green dress, walked out onto a stage, waving her hands in the air at her adoring fans. The track went quiet as Chan brought her microphone to her lips and began to sing the Singaporean national anthem. Mitchell had never heard the anthem before, but by the euphoric way the crowd reacted when she finished, the young woman had sung it to perfection.
The drivers strapped their helmets on their heads, waved at the cheering crowd, got into their race cars, and started their engines.
Jackson nudged Mitchell. “You can’t tell me this isn’t better than sitting around the hotel.”
“It’s quite the sight, I’ll give you that.”
The sound of the cars revving their engines reverberated off the glass. The race cars moved out onto the track, in two lines of ten autos on either side.
Mitchell leaned over toward Sandesh. “Do you have a team in the race?”
“Yes. Team Sandesh is in the black and gold colors of my company,” he replied.
Mitchell looked over at the track and spotted the two cars about two-thirds the way down the line. With a flourish of the start flag, the race began. Right away, the autos broke formation, and raced to get to the front of the pack. One of Sandesh’s race cars deftly maneuvered around the cars in front of him and slid into second place. People cheered in the private box and waved on the driver as he turned the first bend and disappeared from sight. The guests stepped back from the glass and looked up at the dozen screens spread around the room covering the race.
“Please excuse me,” said Sandesh to Mitchell. “I must socialize with my other guests, or they’ll get jealous.”
“Better you than me,” said Mitchell. He turned to say something to Jackson, but found him in an anima
ted discussion about the race with a fellow enthusiast. Mitchell shrugged his shoulders, took a seat, and watched the race for more than an hour, growing more restless with each lap. A grumble from his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Mitchell turned around and went in search of the mythically large shrimp his friend had gone on about. On the far side of the room, he found a table with a few shrimp cocktails on it. Mitchell nodded his head as he helped himself to one. Nate was right; the shrimp were enormous.
A beer, thought Mitchell to himself. He walked over to the bar, where five young men in white suits were busy making and serving drinks. “Can you recommend a good local beer?” asked Mitchell.
“I’m partial to Tiger Beer,” said one of the servers.
“A Tiger Beer it shall be.”
The server poured the beer into a tall, frosted glass, and handed it to Mitchell. He took the drink and tasted it. It was a refreshing lager with no aftertaste. “Thanks,” said Mitchell, before tipping the young man and looking around the room to find a quiet spot to eat his shrimp and drink his beer. He found a table by the door, and took a seat. Mitchell watched the race on the TVs for a minute or two, before deciding that watching cars go around in circles on a track for close to two hours wasn’t his thing. His mind wandered back home to Jen and Sarah. Mitchell looked around the room. Most of the people were there to socialize. Apart from Jackson and handful of others, the race was the last thing on most people’s minds.
The door opened, and two people walked into the room. Mitchel almost choked on his food when he spotted Grace standing next to Krasimir Dimov. Grace’s short hair was jet black, as Chevalier had described. She wore a long, black evening dress, with a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Dimov’s attire was a black tuxedo, with plenty of room under the arms to conceal a weapon.
“Baroness, I’m so happy you could make it,” said Sandesh smiling from ear to ear as he took Grace’s hand in his. He brought up her hand and delicately kissed it.
Mitchell sat motionless in his seat, as if he were watching a play he was not privy to.
Eternal Night Page 8
