“I think it’s a real possibility,” she said, winking at her uncle.
The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows on the floor, making it easy to imagine that there were strange creatures lurking nearby, but Teri was having none of it.
“There are no such thing as dragons,” she said definitively. “I’m not three, Dad. I know make-believe.”
“There could still be dragons,” said Zen. “I wouldn’t rule them out just because I never saw them.”
The main keep—the large building at the center of the facility—had been turned into a conference center and museum. The large central room, once used by the lord of the manor to receive accolades from the peasants he owned and hand out punishment for crimes, was now lined with armor and antique weapons. Teri, eyes wide, stared at everything, practically dizzy with excitement, or maybe just jet lag.
Their guide, a young woman about Caroline’s age, swept her hand and declared that all of the weapons on this side of the room had belonged to the last family to own the castle. All had been restored to superb condition.
“The weapons were in significant disrepair,” she said in sturdy English, “when the People took the property over. The People have done a very fine job with them, do not you think?”
“I do think,” said Zen, rolling over to one of the battle-axes. The blades gleamed with the light from the fixtures suspended above.
“Were these ever used?” asked Caroline.
“We cannot to be sure,” said the guide. “Similar weapons would have been intended for show in other families. Sometimes they might be used in ceremonies, certainly. They are very old, so it is hard to tell.”
“I think I see blood on that handle,” said Zen.
He was teasing, but the others all looked.
“Maybe senator is correct,” said the guide.
The tour continued through one of the two doors at the far end of the hall. A suite of conference rooms had been built in the courtyard. These backed into the keep, so that the great room was connected to the meeting area by a short hallway. This transitional space was lit by a large glass skylight. The effect was as if you were stepping into a time machine and materializing back in the twenty-first century.
Zen, tired from the flight, had a little trouble negotiating the threshold, his wheelchair veering with the bumps. He barely kept himself from cursing as he crashed into the wall, fortunately at a slow speed.
Caroline looked at him, but knew from experience that he didn’t want or need any help. The guide, unfortunately, didn’t, and came over and took the back of his chair.
“I’m all right,” said Zen, pushing the chair back a little too hard in annoyance. “It’s OK.”
“Daddy likes to drive himself,” said Teri.
“So I do, my princess,” said Zen. “Makes me feel like a king. Appropriate for a castle.”
Flustered, the guide started talking about the work the People had done on the castle.
Zen thought it was interesting the way she used the phrase “the People” instead of the government. On the one hand, it was a vestige from the old days of Communist party rule, still a sore subject for many Czechs. On the other, it was a reminder of who actually owned the country, and Zen couldn’t fault it.
Except for the communist connections, he’d recommend it for the U.S. He knew far too many supposed government servants, to say nothing of elected officials, who could use the reminder.
They moved on, down a ramp past a modern kitchen. It continued in a series of rectangular turns, leading them to a large stone room below the main hall.
“This is the dungeon, where prisoners were kept. And wine,” added the guide. “I’m not sure whether they really went together. You can see the chains still on the walls. And the old graffiti.”
Teri followed the guide, craning her neck toward the wrought-iron circles embedded in the stones.
“Uncle Jeff, I think Teri may be getting a little tired,” said Caroline. “Her eyes are droopy.”
“I think you’re right. We’re probably all good for an early bedtime. We’ll head over to the rooms after this,” he said. “Pretty interesting place, though, no?”
“It’s a little creepy,” said Caroline.
“You think?”
“This room especially. Can you imagine it before they took the wall away? There would have been no light. It would have been a horrible place to be held prisoner.”
“You do the crime, you pay the dime,” said Zen.
“Or if you disagree with the lord of the castle,” she added. “He was god, as far as the local peasants were concerned. If he didn’t like you, the chains went on.”
“That’s a point,” said Zen. “Though probably if you did something to really piss him off, he’d just have you killed. Why waste the space?”
53
Kiev, Ukraine
“There’s no question about it,” said Hera, pointing at the computer screen. It displayed an image of the interior of the large building the Wolves had used on the farm. “This part here resembles the interior of the ministry where the NATO meeting is to take place. Look at the access path they took.”
Hera superimposed a diagram of the meeting hall on the photo, then had the computer show the paths the Wolves had taken inside.
“There are gaps in the walls here and here,” said Danny. “Those aren’t on the Kiev building.”
“True, but notice that they don’t go through those spaces. And they ignore this part as well. They could have run something across the space to block it off so the radar wouldn’t pick it up. A simple rope or ribbon. They might have realized that they could be scanned, and disguised the layout. Or maybe it’s something generic that they adapted.”
Danny rubbed his fingers across his scalp, scratching a nonexistent itch. He was extremely tired—he hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and if you added the time he’d actually slept the week before, the total would have come in under twenty. He’d already had one go-pill, but wanted to avoid taking another. While the doctors claimed they weren’t addictive, he just didn’t like the idea.
“I think they must have been planning to stash those robotic helicopters in one of these warehouse buildings,” continued Hera. She pointed to a row of buildings eight-tenths of a kilometer away. “They would have a straight shot right across the roadway here. Go over this fence—or blow it up—and they’re there.”
McEwen stared at the screen pensively.
“You don’t think that’s the place?” Hera asked.
“Oh, I think it’s definitely the place,” said the older CIA officer. “But those helicopters wouldn’t have taken them very far, according to what your scientists said. They had to have some other place in mind.”
“I think we should check out the warehouses,” said Hera.
“And the airport,” said McEwen. “Because the airport is within range of the helicopters. So they get in them, fly to the airport, and leave from there.”
“The airport would be shut down,” answered Hera.
“In ten minutes? I doubt it. You could have a private plane ready to leave. Or even a helicopter.”
“We should check into all of that,” said Danny, trying but failing to suppress a yawn.
“I think one of us should get some rest,” said McEwen.
“I’m OK,” said Danny. He got up from the chair. “All right, so they’re at the airport and they have an airplane. Where would they go?”