Diamond Rain: Adventure Science Fiction Mossad Thriller (The Spy Stories and Tales of Intrigue Series Book 2) (6 page)

“What’ll it be, boys?”
said a friendly woman from behind her cooking counter.  She was in her fifties
and had a motherly look.

“That special with
bacon, three eggs over easy and toast sounds like just what the doctor ordered,
Ma’am,” Thomas said with an enthusiasm which surprised even himself.

“You wouldn’t have a
bagel to go with that instead of toast, would you?” asked Billy.

“La di da.  Young man,
we only got to brown toast here last year.  You want your toast cut in
circles?”  She was laughing at him.

“Make it brown and not
too toasted, please.”  He grinned back.

Thomas stood up to get
the coffees she was pouring.

“I see you’re alone.  I’ll
be glad to take them to the table for you.”

“You’re obviously not
from around here.  Not just the way you speak, though.  Use’ to be we saw
manners like that in these parts all the time.”

“Top o’ the
marning
to you, lassie.  God bless.”  Thomas said, adopting his finest lilt.

“Now that’s what I like
to hear. The same
ting
to you, laddie,” the woman replied, her eyes
shining. “I’ve been to the ole’ country too, you know.”

“Where’re you from,
then?”

“Don’t be bothering
me.  I’ve got my work to do, you know.”

The sound of eggs frying
and bacon sizzling accompanied by all the smells of breakfast in America made
Thomas warm up inside, even if his stomach wasn’t sure it would swallow all
that food. 
Mother was so right to come here.  Daily life is so much easier
here than in Ireland.  Thanks Ma,
thought Thomas, as he finished up his
first cup of coffee and downed a glass of water taken from a pitcher on the
table.

The two of them ate in
silence and kept up a repartee with the warm-hearted woman behind the counter.

“With this fare,
surprising it’s not jammed in here?” asked Billy.

“They opened up one of
them Burger King’s in town about six months ago an’ I just can’t keep up with
the offerings.  That’s why I was sharp about the bagel earlier.  Sorry.  Not
sure I’m going to be able to keep open.”

“Once the novelty wears
off, people will trickle back in here. This is home cooking and there’s nothing
like it,” Thomas offered in a positive tone.

“Now I like you more
every minute, son.  Won’t you have some of my special tapioca, on the house?”

“I really couldn’t
bother you to get that out for me.”

“Now you know I was
going to get one for myself and it’d be no trouble at all.”

“Well, if you’re sure
you were going to get one for ‘
yerself’,
then.  I just might be
tempted.”

“Set yourself down and
I’ll bring the
ting
right over.”

“You really did spend
some time back home, didn’t you?”

“My gram’s from the
North.  From the sound of your English, I’d say you lived in the North too.” 
Just then several young men walked in, regulars, and she flirted with each of
them in a different way.

“Eunice, just serve up
that coffee of yours and get busy on the usual for us, thanks.”  The regular
sat down.

 Eunice winked at
Thomas when he looked back at her on the way out the door. 
What a great
country this is.  Anyone who wants it gets a fresh start here,
thought
Thomas
.

****

The roads near Boston were a mess of
construction as ‘The Big Dig’ to change all of Boston’s infrastructure
connecting I 93 to Route 1 and a new cable-supported bridge into the city were
under way.  It took time to navigate through the city and Billy missed a detour
sign forcing them to traverse all of Boston before making their way to what locals
call the Salt and Pepper Bridge over to Cambridge and The Massachusetts
Institute of Technology.

“It’s an arm and a leg
to park here, Thomas.  Can I trust you to make your own way from here?” Billy
asked when he stopped on Vasser Street.  “Just go in the main entrance there
and ask for Jean Pierre’s lab.  He’s working on moving stuff in space.”

“Beam me up, Scotty?”

“You got it.  Now go. 
Take care and don’t be a stranger.  My cell number’s on the card I left in your
bag,” Billy shouted through the open window just as he moved into traffic, not
even letting Thomas answer him.

A helpful security
guard greeted Thomas.  He called Jean Pierre and issued Thomas a day pass into
the engineering section where Jean Pierre worked.  He clearly described the way
to the Institute of Soldier Technologies.  Thomas took the pass and thanked the
guard.

Jean Pierre’s lab
sprawled across a whole floor and held large and small experiments and dozens
of busy scientists.  Thomas stood at the door.  It was secured by an unusual
security lock; Thomas could see that it required a particular scan sequence. 
An oriental woman dressed in something that looked like a Hazmat suit came to
the door and opened it for Thomas.

“Mister Deauville is
expecting you. Please, this way.”

“Jesus, Thomas. You
look – ah - let me think.  Rugged, but shitty.”

“Nice to see you too,
Jean Pierre.”

“You have to forgive
me.  I spend too much time in here and I only talk about the truth, so when I
go outside the lab, I’m always shocking people.”

“What happened to the
clown I used to know?”

“He’s still there, but
he takes a few drinks to come out now.  So what’d’ya think, my old friend?”

“Pretty impressive. 
You really running this show?  I knew you were smart, but this smart?  How’d
they find you?”

“Crazy, isn’t it.  You
know that special exam I told you I took at McGill a few years back before I
went out West to Edmonton to work on an oil rig?”

Thomas nodded, although
he wasn’t sure he remembered.  Jean Pierre continued.

“Well, that’s where it
all started.  One day this guy drove up to the rig site and asked permission to
speak to me.”

“Ya.  And?”

“Well, he gave me the
keys to the van he was driving, a late model Ford that I was dreaming about
buying and a cheque for 50,000 bucks and told me it was too dangerous for me to
work here and would I please come down to MIT and take over an experimental
department.”

“Really?  Blow me
away.  Congrats.”

“Listen, Thomas.  Here’s
my car keys and my apartment keys.  I wrote the address on a map I downloaded from
the Net and left in the passenger seat.  The parking garage is in the
basement.  Your pass’ll get you in there.  I got lots on my plate today so I
can’t leave just yet.  You go make yourself at home.  I’ll see you around eight
tonight. Okay?”

“You said it.  Till
tonight, then.”

Thomas was glad of the
time to clean up and buy some clothes in Boston.  He and Jean Pierre could
catch up later. 
All these great people around me.  I must’ve been doing
something right to have friends like Billy and Jean Pierre.

 That evening Jean
Pierre and Thomas talked for hours.  Slowly, Thomas felt the funk dissipate,
the funk that had drowned him in his sorrows since his mother’s and sister’s
murder. 
I have to move on. Billy and Jean Pierre are right
, Thomas
thought, as he decided to pick up the pieces and start again. 
I’m gonna
call up that guy who offered me a chance to work on syndicated photo reporting.

****

Thomas decided to take up an open offer from a
syndicate of newspapers, one that he had previously refused while freelancing
in Bosnia.  After much consideration he also went to Rikers Island where the
DEA was holding his grandpa while the old man awaited trial.  The case didn’t
look good; he was likely to get life.  The minute Thomas saw the sad state of
his diminished figure, the hollowed cheeks smiling at him through the glass in
the prison visiting area, he forgave him.  But it wasn’t enough for him to
resume any sort of relationship and he wrote him off.

Billy had taken a brief
vacation to help Thomas and had to rush back to a photo shoot in Tanzania.  As
with many people emerging from a grieving period, Thomas jumped energetically
into his new job with both feet. 
If I do some good with my skills, maybe
it’ll erase the ache inside me.

One thing led to
another and somehow time passed.  It was imperceptible to Thomas, involved as
he was with the excitement of learning and developing his skills, but
inexorable nevertheless.  Thomas, still single, found himself as the master of
his journalistic craft.  He was at the pinnacle of his career when he made the
fateful decision to move to Al Jazeera.

Chapter
Three

Al Jazeera Newsroom

Thomas found himself in the same position that
any experienced person in a new job finds themselves; a newbie but no rookie. 
It was a week into his cameraman’s position at Al Jazeera when he dropped a
hi-res satellite image onto one of the screens in front of his news partner. 
Sue Ann Lee’s manic fingers slowed down, her eyes focused on the location of a
heat signature, the graphic display piquing her curiosity.

“That’s a lot of heat
in the middle of nowhere, Thomas.  You sure you’re ‘on’ here?” Sue Ann asked,
her fingers hovering absently for a moment over her keyboard.

“I dialed in.  Looks like
there’s no vehicles, only people,” Thomas replied confidently.

“You’re a hell of a
quick study, man.  Why were you looking there?”

“I wrote a little ‘app’
that goes through a series of info sources twice a day and I sourced satellite
feeds as one of ’em,” replied Thomas.  “Simple enough, but effective, wouldn’t
you say?”

“Why isn’t anyone else
on this?” Sue Ann said slowly as she studied the images.  Scepticism was just
edging into her voice.

“Beats me.”

“Right.  Maybe you got
something there.  Show me just border areas,” Sue Ann requested, leaning
towards the screen.

“How’s this look?”
asked Thomas as he popped up an image showing the Gobi Desert.

“Holy shit.  Get me
close ups of the following cities and rivers at the border areas-” She started
to list names and places.

“I’m one step ahead ’a
ya girl.  Look.  Here’s ground action in Yining near Kazakhstan, Xilinhot just
under the Gobi and not that far from Beijing, Hulun Buir next to the Russian
Federation and check this out: Lake Khanka near the Northern tip of North
Korea, bordering on the Russian Federation and not far from the Sea of Japan.” 
Thomas paused for breath while Sue Ann caught up.

“How big is that lake?”

“Big.  Just a minute. 
Look at this while I pull up the size of the lake map.”

Sue Ann gasped.  Her
mind clicked over time zones as she looked at the Google street view that
Thomas had dropped on her screen.  Thousands upon thousands of figures of
Chinese men met her eyes.

“The lake’s 3030 square
miles of fresh water, seventy-two percent in Russia and twenty-eight percent in
China,” added Thomas.

“Blow my mind.  They’re
not carrying weapons and they’re crossing into the Russian Federation on the
water,” said Sue Ann.

“I sent this image to
your editor.  He okayed the funds for flights and a helicopter charter over the
Sea of Japan.”  Thomas smiled.  Sue Ann looked at him with incredulity.

“How’d you get that
impressive look-down image on the ground, Thomas?”

“Tricks of the trade,
Sweetheart.”

“Some tricks.  This is
big, Thomas,” Sue Ann replied, tilting her head to get a better look at the
images.  She reached for her phone to text her editor.  She read the
confirmation and then put her Blackberry to her ear before reaching under her
desk for a travel kit she kept there for emergencies.  When she looked up,
Thomas was holding his own kit up between them.  She laughed at him.

“Somehow I know you’ve
already ordered the taxi and it’s waiting downstairs.”

Thomas grinned back and
headed towards the door of the newsroom.  All those years of hard work since
winning his first photography competition seemed about to culminate in this
rewarding moment.  He was so charged up that he forgot to notice how well he
and Sue Ann were getting along.  Professional necessity had staunched the loner
in him.

Near
Sapporo, Japan

Thomas and Sue Ann perched beside one another
at a stainless steel shelf, facing a window looking out on a runway at the New
Chitose Airport terminal, Japan.  The scent of Sue Ann’s favorite thick, spicy
miso served with butter-sautéed scallops and fresh vegetables wafted up and
steamed the window.  Her mother had always served this miso soup whenever Sue
Ann faced a challenge and the smell and taste centered her.  She savored each
mouthful, feeling its warmth charging the blood which coursed through her
veins.  Thomas was making appreciative noises as he ate his soup.  Sue Ann
pointed her chopsticks at Thomas and took a deep breath.

“Chinese nonviolent
conquest.  How’s that for a hook, Thomas?”

“Maybe we should wait ’til
we see these guys up close before we talk about violence,” Thomas said, as he
considered the angles.

“You could be right. 
It’s just that screen shot you showed me.  They were all smiling.  Eerie, isn’t
it?” said Sue Ann.   She wore a faint trace of a smile herself.

“Look over there,” said
Thomas, pointing towards a screen providing news programs.

“Shit, someone beat us
in.”

“Nah, those are satellite
feeds, just like the one I showed you.  Maybe from your editor.”  He looked for
a moment longer.  “Yah.  That’s it.  Look, our logo’s in the corner.  Finish
up, we’d better get moving.  It’s a long walk to the helicopter charter
gate.”   Thomas drained his bowl noisily and stood up.

A young woman, dressed
in a dark blue uniform complete with gold braids and white epaulets approached
Thomas and Sue Ann at the Hokkaido Helicopter desk.  She offered an
outstretched hand instead of the expected bow.  A lock of windblown, jet-black
hair straggled out of her Captain’s hat.  Thomas did a double take before
recovering his composure sufficiently to shake her hand.

“This is Sue Ann Lee,
the lead reporter,” he said, deferring  to his new partner.  He gave a modest
smile.  “I'm Thomas, the cameraman.”

“And I am Captain
Yukimura, at your service,” said the pilot with a click of the heels, and a
deep bow as she removed her hat.

Before Thomas or Sue
Ann could say anything, she had executed a perfect about-face, returned the
uniform cap to her head and was making her way towards a door exiting onto the
tarmac.

“This looks sort of
like an attack helicopter, doesn’t it, Thomas?” asked Sue Ann, as they stooped
under the motionless blades and climbed in.

An eavesdropping
Captain Yukimura answered for Thomas.

“Sort of.  There are
many similarities.  Your travel protocol demands 2500 kilometers.  It wasn’t
easy to charter a ’copter able to cover those distances.  This one has
specially designed extra fuel tanks.  It’s the executive model, complete with
soundproof walls.”

“Military connections?”
asked Sue Ann.

“You got it.  Though I
retired early from the military, you are flying with the first woman graduate
from the
Hamamatsu
Airbase, Air Officer Training program, First
Class.  But you can call me Yuki.  All my friends do and I want you to feel
comfortable.”

“Thanks, Yuki.  That’s
really nice of you,” said both Sue Ann and Thomas at once.

“Shotgun,” shouted Sue
Ann before Thomas could get his word in.   She settled into the vacant co
pilot's seat.

After seating herself
behind the controls, the pilot passed both of them helmets instead of the expected
headsets.  They slipped them on and noted that the visors appeared to be
seriously hi-tech. The pilot’s next communication came through the comfortable
ear muffs built into their helmets.

“Cool visors, aren't
they? Connected to the nose cameras and what about that ‘Terminator’ view of
reality,” said the pilot.

“You lost me there,
girl.  What’s a terminator?”  Sue Ann sounded puzzled.

“Dating yourself, Sue
Ann,” Thomas piped into the conversation.

“Sorry about that, but
all pilots watch the “Terminator” series with Arnold Schwarzenegger.  And “Top
Gun” with Tom Cruise too,” Yuki grinned.

“Like my sister's kids
say: 'way cool'." Sue Ann wore a huge smile as she looked through the
visor to read computer generated analysis about everything she was seeing.

“I thought you’d get a
kick out of that,” said Yuki.

“This can help me when
we get on site too,” piped in Thomas.

“Where’d you pick up
your amazing English, girl?” Sue Ann asked.

“I spent a few years in
the states as a kid.  My father worked in Silicon Valley.”

 The pilot checked her
gauges and after a brief radio exchange she lifted the machine off the tarmac. 
She tilted the nose down slightly and started the helicopter on a slow taxi
towards a more open space on the tarmac.  She exchanged more radio messages
with the control tower.  Sue Ann addressed her when she’d finished speaking
with Terminal Operations.

 “If it wasn’t for
Thomas, we wouldn’t be first on scene like this.  He spotted the heat source
from a random research program he set up,” Sue Ann said, looking at Thomas as
she spoke.  He deflected the compliment.

“You took a risk.  Not
everybody would’ve acted on it, Sue Ann.”

“Old Chinese proverb
say: nothing ventured, nothing-”

“Chinese?”  Thomas
interrupted.

“Thomas,” said Sue Ann,
air leaving through fluttering lips as her eyes rolled up.

“Ya, ya.  I get it
lighten up, eh.  Do you know you look like one of those ‘Manga’ characters when
you make those faces.”

“You better not be
calling me a ‘ditz’, Thomas.”

“How could you think
that?”  Thomas rejoined, chuckling under his breath.

The helicopter gathered
speed parallel with the runway before Yuki allowed the nose to lift. She pulled
out into a wide arc heading towards their destination.  The ride passed
quickly, partly since the sound protection made the passage of time seem warped
and partly because Yuki provided a running commentary about everything from
cloud formations to the flora and fauna of the field of view below them.  Her
descriptions increased in detail once they crossed over land into Russia. 
Clearance into Russia had occurred without a hitch thanks to the pilot’s
frequent trips into their airspace.  In addition, the leaders of the Russian
Federation had decided to allow the world media to consume the peaceful people
movement out of China in the hopes that free information would defuse these
potentially destabilizing events.

****

In secret phone calls between the Russian and
Chinese leadership at the highest levels, the Chinese had denied any knowledge
of the reasons for why these men were on the move.  Sue Ann and Thomas were
fortunate;  by virtue of Al Jazeera’s nonaligned reputation, the Russians
bristled less than if it had been CNN making the plea to cover the story.

Behind the scenes, the
staff of a rogue and unknown general in China manipulated mid-level bureaucrats
to assure Sue Ann’s visa requirements met no obstacles. From a great distance
Colonel Lau’s satellite monitors tapped into the conversation on Captain
Yukimura’s helicopter, recording it for possible future reference.  On his
desktop, Colonel Lau had a picture of Sue Ann Lee from an earlier report of
hers.
I’ve never felt like this about a woman before. 
 Lau laughed to
himself when he thought she was part of Chou's plan to employ only Chinese
journalists in his propaganda.

****

“What’s that highway there?” asked Sue Ann.

“According to the GPS,
it’s M60, better known as the road to Vladivostok,” Yuki said.

“Can you take us in
closer?”

“Sure.”

“Are you getting this,
Thomas?” asked Sue Ann.

“You should’a let me
have the co pilot's seat.  It’s not very clear through the side window.”

“Touch your visor up
top on the right.  There’s a little canon icon there.  The nose feed will pop
up in the top left corner. Tap the icon to get zoom,” Yuki advised him.

“Amazing footage,” both
Thomas and Sue Ann said, almost simultaneously.  “Can we copy it when we get
back?” Thomas asked.

“It’s on a satellite
feed, so I can easily get you the link.”

“You couldn’t by any
chance get it sent to my editor now, could you?” asked Sue Ann.

“Probably.”  She looked
at a panel to her right.  “Let me patch through to my office,” the pilot
replied.   She punched a button on her radio and thumbed the button on the
control stick.

Captain Yukimura talked
over a private connection for a few minutes and then opened a channel to Sue
Ann and Thomas.

“Done,” she said. “He
can watch it right now if he opens his email.  I took the liberty of giving my
controller the email you included for your editor in your rental request,” she
added.

“I’ll be sure he opens
the email,” Thomas grinned.

“Thanks, Thomas,” Sue
Ann returned the smile.

A dust cloud obscured
the camera shot until they got closer.  The mass of humanity overflowed on the
road and the fields, everywhere more clear by the second in the fluttery image
on their visors.  It took their breath away.  Foreboding chilled them.  At
first no one spoke.  Finally, Yuki said something under her breath.

“What was that?” Sue Ann
asked as she caught the words.

“Nothing,” replied
Yuki.

“I heard something
about mushrooms,” said Thomas.

“You won’t believe I
could think about mushrooms at a time like this,” said Yuki.

“Spit it out girl,”
said Sue Ann.

“Okay.  I always picked
mushrooms on the hillsides of Lake Khanka with my parents when I was a kid.”

“You’re right, I don’t
get it,” said Sue Ann.  Thomas nodded in agreement.

“After these guys pass
through, there won’t be any mushrooms for years.  They’ll trample all the
spores,” Yuki explained.

“I dunno,” said Sue
Ann, grateful for normal things to talk about in the face of the frightening
image on her visor of millions of men walking across the countryside below
them. 

As the helicopter
approached, the mass of men looked up and shaded their eyes as one.  Sue Ann
trembled inside.  The synchronization of the movement was more than uncanny, it
was unsettling in the extreme.  She looked around for a place where the helicopter
might land but she saw none.  The mass of humanity sprawled out in every
direction like African ants on the march in the savannah.

“Thomas, did you see
when they all looked at us together?  And I mean – together?  Eerie.”

“Eerie’s not the word. 
I got the exact slice in the video from the time signature.  We can cut it out
and use it on the next story.  It gives perspective to the enormity of these
guys advancing across borders.”

****

Many kilometers away, Colonel Lau clicked on
an icon on his desktop.  Live, streaming conversation from Captain Yukimura’s
helicopter filled his ears. 
All is going according to plan,
he thought,
as he stopped multitasking, flexed his fingers together in front of his face
and laughed out loud as he listened to Thomas’ little speech. 
General Chou
was right again. Sometimes less control works better than a tight fist,
thought
the chief of
Operation Long March
.

****

“Take us closer, Captain,” Sue Ann requested. 
Her tone was insistent but Yuki hesitated.

“I am responsible for
getting this craft back in one piece, so I need some confirmation that these
guys aren’t armed.”

“Understood.  But I
need close ups and I have to try to get an interview,” said Sue Ann.

Thomas decided to try
to ease the apparently growing rift between the pilot's concern and Sue Ann’s
ambition.

“Let’s fly over Lake
Khanka,” he said.  “There’s bound to be more opportunity there for a short clip.”

“I suppose that’ll do,
but we come back here if there’s nothing there.   Agreed?”  Sue Ann said, not
surrendering.

“Agreed,” Thomas said. 
Yuki nodded too.

As the enormous lake
came into view, brisk winds curled high waves across the surface. Descending
towards the lake revealed a sea of humanity either on makeshift rafts, in commandeered
fishing vessels or in the water holding onto flotsam.

“You can’t see the
water for the people and boats in it,” said Sue Ann, her voice hollow with
shock.

“I’ve never seen
anything like it,” added Yuki.

Thomas was busy jotting
down footage times to help him with editing for slideshows to accompany their
article.  Screen shots like these would guarantee huge numbers of hits on their
website.  His spiral pad was a mass of small scribbles, cameraman’s shorthand.