The Pacific Conspiracy Page 3

  "Hey," Joe asked. "Where are we going?"

  "I told you, there are some people I need you to meet."

  "Hold on a second," Joe said, pulling free of her grasp.

  "Right in here, Joe," she persisted. They came to another door, which she pushed open. "Here are my friends."

  Reluctantly Joe stepped inside.

  The room was bare except for a small folding table with two men seated around it. One man, who looked like an American, was wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie. Joe would have pegged him as FBI, except this was Indonesia. Even sitting, he was big, probably well over six feet tall, and close to two hundred and fifty pounds.

  The other man was clearly an Indonesian, short, solidly built, with a round face and golden brown skin. He was wearing a military uniform.

  "This is the man?" the Indonesian asked. "He looks so young."

  She nodded. "This is Joe Hardy."

  "Good," the man in the dark suit said, standing now. His suit coat was open, and Joe caught a glimpse of a shoulder holster with a gun in it. "We have a lot of questions for you."

  Chapter 5

  Frank was getting worried. Fifteen minutes had passed, and Joe still hadn't returned.

  He wasn't worried about his brother's safety. He suspected Joe had gotten away from Endang and was busy trying to contact the Network. He was worried that Nwali was going to get suspicious.

  He watched the Assassin leader, who was intently studying the preparations on the stage.

  "You must forgive my preoccupation," Nwali said. He sounded different, almost nostalgic. "This is all so familiar, and yet so very, very different. The size of this auditorium, all those microphones, and a light bulb ... " Nwali's voice trailed off. He shook his head. "The corruption of the form," he said almost to himself.

  Frank followed Nwali's gaze to the stage. The microphones he was talking about hung suspended over the dalang's throne, and the light bulbs illuminated the screen from behind.

  "Those are just technological improvements, though," Frank said. "They don't change what's in the performance."

  "Ah, I think you are wrong," Nwali said. "You see, my father was a dalang. I was going to be one, too." He fell silent again, lost in thought.

  Frank wanted to know why Nwali hadn't followed in his father's footsteps, but he didn't want to disturb him while he was deep in thought. At least the man wasn't worrying about where Joe was.

  Almost as if he were reading Frank's mind, Nwali abruptly stood. "I think I will go and see what is keeping your brother," he said. "After all, we would not want him to miss the start of the performance."

  ***

  "Remember the agreement, Ali," Endang said, circling the table. "I'm in charge here. I'll ask the questions."

  Joe was confused. "What questions? What are you two talking about?"

  "We followed you here to Djakarta."

  He shook his head, still not getting it. "We?"

  "Yes, we." Endang smiled. "I'm with the Network."

  Joe wasn't about to blow the cover that he and Frank had worked so hard to establish. "What network?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

  "Don't be stupid," Endang said. There was a strength in her voice that hadn't been there a moment ago. Joe thought she seemed about a dozen years older. Even if she wasn't a Network agent, she was clearly not a young and innocent girl.

  Endang leaned against the table, staring directly at Joe. "We've only got a few minutes before your friends get suspicious and come after you, and there's a lot I need to tell you. And a lot I want to hear from you."

  Joe folded his arms. "I don't know who you are."

  "Hey, look, kid." The man dressed like an FBI agent stepped forward now and pointed a finger at Joe. "You may not be in the chain of command, but I can have your - "

  "Take it easy, Mike," Endang said. She laid a hand across the man's chest. "Keep a lookout, will you?"

  The man nodded and stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  "All right, Joe," she began again. "You don't believe I'm with the Network. Then how about this?" She handed him a silver-colored diamond-shaped tag.

  Joe's eyes widened involuntarily. That was what had started it all, almost a month earlier - the luggage tags that the theft ring had been using to mark items at the Atlanta airport.

  Still, just because she had the tag didn't mean she was with the Network. She could be one of the thieves, even an Assassin herself, putting Joe's loyalty to yet another test.

  "Show me something else," he commanded. .

  "Why don't I tell you something?" Endang said. "Like the last words the Gray Man said before you left Alaska two weeks ago: 'This could be much worse than we feared.' "

  Joe nodded. "Close enough," he said. "How did you find me? And why haven't you contacted us sooner?"

  "There hasn't been a chance," Endang replied. "I've been watching you, and the Assassins haven't left you alone until today. As for how we found you, one of our men spotted an Assassin landing at Djakarta two weeks ago. In fact, it was special agent Michael Thomas, the man keeping a lookout in the corridor now. By the way, this is Colonel Ali Mangkupradja," she said. "He's our liaison with the Indonesian government."

  Joe nodded. Considering the stakes involved here, the Network would have a hard time keeping this affair entirely secret from the local authorities.

  "Now," she said, sitting down at the table, "I want you to tell me everything you've found out over the last two weeks."

  "There's only one thing you really need to know," Joe said. He took a deep breath. "In the hold of the Hatta are several crates. We found a metal casing in one that my brother thinks is part of a hydrogen bomb."

  "My god," Colonel Mangkupradja said, sitting down next to Endang.

  "Continue," Endang said.

  Joe told her other things that had happened to him and Frank, and he'd just gotten to that day's events, with the news of Krinski's arrival, when Thomas came back into the room.

  "The man you came in with is heading this way," Thomas said. "Looking for you."

  Endang nodded. "Colonel, you and Agent Thomas stay here. Come on, Joe," she said, taking his hand and leading him out into the corridor. Joe heard the footsteps coming just as Endang shut the door.

  "We'll pretend we've just been standing here talking," she said.

  Joe shook his head. "Who's going to believe that? I've got a better idea," he said.

  Before Endang could do anything he bent down and kissed her just as Nwali rounded the corner.

  "Joseph," he said with a frown. "Your energy is admirable, but you're about to miss the performance."

  "Right," Joe said. "Give me one more minute."

  Nwali left.

  "That worked pretty well," Joe said, smiling at Endang. "Don't you think?"

  "I'm a third-degree black belt," she said quietly. "You try that again, and I'll break your arm."

  "It was the best I could do on such short notice," Joe said. "Now listen. You've got to answer some questions for me. Who's this Krinski the Gray Man was so scared of? Why is his arrival such a big deal?"

  In answer Endang reached into her handbag to take out a snapshot. She handed it to Joe. It showed a young man with frizzy red hair, probably in his early twenties, standing in front of a blackboard. He was wearing a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt with the number twelve on it. An older, gray-haired man stood next to him, holding a pointer in one hand. His other hand rested on top of the young man's shoulder.

  "Hey," Joe said. "The older guy, that's Dr. Stavrogin. He's the one whose equations the Assassins stole."

  "Krinski is the younger one," Endang added. "They worked together one summer at MIT. Krinski's a prodigy who defected from Romania when he was twelve so he could work with Stavrogin. He finished college at fourteen, grad school at twenty. You two should get along famously."

  "Oh?" Joe asked. "Why is that?"

  "Because he loves anything and everything to do with America.
And you definitely fit that category."

  Joe handed her back the picture. "So why did the Gray Man become so panicked when he heard his name?"

  "Because of the research he did with Stavrogin," she said. "In particular, a specific proposal they were working on, 'The Geophysical Application of Thermonuclear Devices.' "

  "Huh?"

  Endang smiled. "I'll put it in English for you. Using atomic explosives to reshape strategically critical areas."

  Joe frowned. "I still don't get it."

  "For example," she continued, "they proposed using a nuclear bomb to dig a new Panama Canal."

  "What?" Joe said, so loud that his voice echoed in the empty corridor. "That's crazy!"

  "Keep your voice down," Endang warned, shaking her head. "It's not a farfetched idea, not at all. The Panama Canal is so old that none of the new supertankers can use it. A sea-level canal, like the one Krinski was recommending, makes tremendous economic sense."

  She leaned in closer and spoke more intently. "Listen, Joe, you have to understand something about Krinski. He achieved everything most people could by the time he was twenty. People like that, they just have to keep doing bigger and better things. When the U.S. government wouldn't go ahead with his project, Krinski decided to sell his expertise elsewhere."

  "To terrorists."

  "It seems so," Endang replied. "Anyway, he's not in Indonesia to build a canal. He's here to build a hydrogen bomb."

  "Can he do it?"

  "If the Assassins can get him the materials, he's perfectly capable of constructing it." She frowned. "Although Indonesia's certainly not the first place I would have picked to put it together. The infrastructure just isn't here." Her frown deepened. "Now you'd better get back before Nwali comes looking for you again."

  "At least we've got a way to contact each other again," Joe said. "That kiss. It gives you the perfect excuse to visit the Hatta."

  "And what if you need to get in touch with me?" she asked.

  "There's not much I can do about that," Joe said. "They've let us off the boat only twice in the last two weeks."

  "All right." Endang nodded. "I'll be in touch. Good luck."

  Joe walked back to his seat, still shaking his head. Build a new canal, as if you could rearrange the continents like Tinkertoys. What kind of nut thought like that? Krinski and Nwali probably made quite a team.

  "Joe!"

  He turned at the sound of his brother's voice.

  He'd been so lost in thought he'd walked right by his seat.

  Only it wasn't his seat anymore. There was someone else sitting in it now. Someone tall and lanky, with a mushroom cloud of frizzy red hair. Someone who looked remarkably like the young man in the picture Endang had shown him a few minutes earlier.

  "You must be Joe Hardy," the newcomer said, standing. "I've heard a lot about you."

  He held out his hand, and Joe took it, trying to mask his surprise.

  "I'm Alex Krinski."

  Chapter 6

  "Now that you're here," Krinski said, "we can go."

  "Go?" Joe shook his head, confused. What was going on here?

  Nwali stood. "Yes, we will go."

  The tone of Nwali's voice left no doubt in Joe's mind. He wasn't about to argue. They were going.

  They hurried out of the theater just as the dalang was walking onto the stage.

  "There has been a slight change of plan," Nwali announced as soon as they were outside. "Professor Krinski requires our assistance."

  Krinski nodded, turning to face Joe as he did so. "What are two young Americans like you and your brother doing with this group?"

  Joe shrugged. "Making a lot of money, we hope."

  Nwali came up behind Krinski and put a hand on his shoulder. Krinski flinched at the Assassin's touch.

  "These are very practical young men, as I told you," Nwali said.

  The Assassin leader hailed them a taxi. Joe crowded in front with the driver, who followed the directions Krinski gave him. About twenty minutes later the car turned into a long, circular drive lined with tall palms. They pulled up in front of a huge old mansion with white stone columns flanking the front entrance.

  "Wow," Frank said. "What hotel is this?"

  Krinski, next to him in the backseat, smiled. "This is no hotel. This is my house."

  As Joe was climbing out he caught a glimpse of another building out back. It was surrounded by a high stone wall that made it impossible to see anything other than the roof.

  "This guy's so rich, that's probably the doghouse," he whispered, falling back next to his brother.

  Frank smiled. "Only if it's a very big dog."

  Krinski stopped at the front door. Next to it was an oversize keypad with letters and numbers just like a phone. Joe heard him punch in five digits. With a barely audible click the door swung open.

  "Welcome to my home." Krinski held the door open to let the others pass through. The contrast in styles between the inside and outside of the house couldn't have been greater.

  When Endang said Krinski was fascinated by America she wasn't kidding, Joe thought. A huge Dallas Cowboys poster hung on the wall directly opposite the entranceway. A photo of Humphrey Bogart hung to the right. Every wall Joe could see was painted a different Day-Glo color. He couldn't believe the interior's contrast with the muted exterior.

  To Joe's left was a pair of double doors. Krinski opened them, revealing a living room with an entertainment center that looked as if it belonged on display in a state-of-the-art electronics store.

  An enormous projection TV screen dominated the room. Two leather couches were arranged in an L shape in front of it. Next to the television was an elaborate stereo and CD system. In the far corner was a mainframe computer flanked by two terminals.

  "Susanto!" Krinski called.

  A young woman appeared in an arched entranceway on the far side of the room and smiled at Krinski expectantly. She had long blond hair with golden tan skin and was dressed in a checkered miniskirt.

  "Snacks," Krinski commanded the young woman.

  Susanto nodded and returned minutes later with a pot of steaming hot tea and a plate of American cookies - Oreos, Fig Newtons, and chocolate-covered graham crackers. She set them down on the coffee table, and Joe scooped up a handful. He almost inhaled the cookies, he was so glad to see familiar food.

  "This is quite a collection you have here, Professor," Joe heard his brother say. Frank was standing next to a cabinet filled floor to ceiling with videocassettes. "You like gangster movies, I see."

  Krinski nodded. "Especially the ones with Humphrey Bogart. I have all of them. In fact, I had one on this morning while the simulations were running." He picked up a remote control and pressed a button. The TV screen flared to life.

  "I'm sure this is a fascinating film," Nwali said. "But in light of the work we must do, perhaps we can watch it some other time."

  The doorbell rang.

  Krinski pressed another button on the remote control, and the image on the screen changed to reveal Bob standing at the door. Behind him in the driveway was a huge tractor-trailer.

  Joe knew why Nwali had agreed to take him and Frank to the wayang performance that night. The other Assassins had been busy with things they didn't want the Hardys to know about.

  "Let's go," Nwali said, smiling directly at Joe. "Time to move some more groceries."

  ***

  "What's in here? Lead weights?" Frank asked, setting his end of a crate down on a waiting dolly. The truck they were unloading was filled with more crates, all identical to those they'd unloaded onto the Hatta earlier in the day but far heavier.

  "One thing's for sure," Joe replied, stopping to catch his breath. "It isn't groceries."

  These crates had SMCS stenciled on the side, too, Frank noticed. Krinski had instructed them to put two on a dolly and bring them around back to the building behind the house. Bob had already wheeled the first load away.

  "Come on," Frank said, grabbing hold of one of th
e two dollies. "Let's catch up." He was anxious to see what was inside the other building.

  Joe took the other dolly and pushed it up onto the narrow concrete walk that led around to the back of the house. As they cleared the back of the mansion Frank took a glance around. No one else was in earshot.

  "Did you get through to our friends before?" he asked quietly.

  "Did I ever," Joe said, nodding. He finished filling in Frank on the details as they moved up alongside Bob. The Assassin pilot had stopped next to a huge metal gate set directly into the concrete wall before them. The wall ran all the way around the building; the gate in front of them was the only way in. There was a keypad beside it.

  "I don't know the code," Bob said, obviously irritated. "We'll have to wait."

  Half a minute later Krinski strolled up the path and punched in the code. To Frank it sounded like the same five-digit sequence as before.

  "This way," Krinski said, pushing open the gate. To Frank's surprise, the stone wall extended on both sides to the actual front door of the building, forming a corridor for them to walk down.

  The door into the building swung open at Krinski's touch. Frank wheeled his dolly after the professor, following him into a large, featureless room with concrete floors and high ceilings. On the opposite side of the room was an oversize dull gray metal door. Frank was eager to know what was behind it.

  Krinski had them unload the crates in the middle of the floor and then return for more. It took almost an hour to unload the truck. Halfway through the job Boris and Bill showed up, which Was good. The last few crates were so heavy that all five of them were needed to move just one. Frank was hoping Krinski would unseal a crate, but he just had them stack the crates in as compact a pile as possible.

  When they were done they returned to the house and discovered that Nwali had left for the Hatta. The five of them were to spend the night at Krinski's.

  After Krinski showed the Hardys to the room they were sharing and said good night, Frank turned to Joe and put a finger to his lips. He mouthed the word bugged. He wasn't positive someone would be listening in, but with all the high-tech electronics Krinski had, he was taking no chances.