Helger’s mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes were crinkled and smug. “Who can say?”
“Who indeed. Besides, when I get back to Downport, I expect to be too busy to look her up.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I’ll be too busy filing reports that will retroactively justify the instructions I am going to relay immediately after dinner tonight.”
Helger seemed amused. “Instructions? What instructions? And to whom?”
“To the Navy-which, if CoDevCo doesn’t immediately cease archeological excavation, will compel the Port Authority to suspend all inbound and outbound movement of cargos, personnel, and communiques.”
Helger got pale, but then his color returned along with an unpleasant smile. “Mr. Riordan, this bluff is beneath your dignity. No messages get in or out of Shangri-La without my express permission: all external contact is routed through our Office of Communications. And I am not about to authorize any such transmissions.”
“Actually, I think you are.”
Helger’s smile widened and he studied his blood-red wine. “Mr. Riordan, in a place such as this, it is not wise to presume that you know what will happen next. This is a frontier world: anything can happen. And often, the most unusual events go unobserved or unreported. For instance, were you to fail to stroll out the front door of the refectory this evening, who would notice-or miss you?”
There it was: the thinly veiled threat-and with it, the opportunity to riposte. “Actually, some people would miss me-and would be asking you where I was, shortly after I failed to walk out that door.”
Helger was evidently disappointed that his threat had not jarred Caine’s composure. His tone was more brusque: “I don’t think you realize how very alone you are, Mr. Riordan. No one here is obsessed with your whereabouts, or your moment-to-moment safety.”
Caine sipped his water. “I have friends in high places.”
“I know all about your clearance-”
“No, I don’t mean ‘high places’ figuratively; I mean it literally. ‘High’ as in ‘orbital.’” Caine checked his watch. “In fourteen minutes, I’m due to contact Admiral Eli Silverstein on the USS Roosevelt: my daily call-in. He last heard from me when I landed here yesterday, just over sixteen-and-a-half hours ago-and Dee Pee Three’s seventeen-hour day rolls around mighty fast. So if he doesn’t hear from me very soon, twenty Marines are going to be landing, thrusters and rifles hot, in your courtyard. All told, that would be about twenty-nine minutes from now. And the Marines will be-pointedly-interested in whether or not I ever emerged from this refectory.”
Helger had become pale, was no longer smiling. “You are bluffing. You-the Commonwealth-would not dare-”
“Let’s not waste time and words on hypotheticals, Mr. Helger. Why don’t we just sit here for twenty-nine minutes and see what happens next? I’m sure you can wait that long to put a bullet in me.”
Helger’s eyes wavered; had they been equipped with nictating lids, Caine was sure they would have slowly shut at that moment. “Mr. Riordan, you are becoming overly dramatic. I never said anything so overtly threatening.”
Caine forced himself to smile. “Of course not.”
Helger’s smile was no less manufactured. “Perhaps I might be present when you make your call to the admiral, so that I might extend my compliments?”
And to make sure I’m not bluffing. “I would welcome that, Mr. Helger. That way, if you have any questions about my status here-and his prerogatives-you may ask him yourself.”
“Very well. Now, surely you were exaggerating when you threatened to have even our routine landings and launches suspended.”
“Surely, I was not.”
“Preposterous: you haven’t the authority to initiate such an action.”
“Be assured, Mr. Helger: I have the authority, and I will use it. Today, if I must.”
Helger’s hand stopped short of his glass. “Again, you are bluffing.”
“Again, you are wrong. I have no naval rank, but I have access to classified codes which can activate a variety of local contingency orders. I submitted one such code to the admiral the moment I arrived in-system.”
“Odd: the Commonwealth naval routine seems unaltered.”
“And it will remain so-until and unless a certain activating condition is met.”
“And what is the activating condition?”
Caine smiled. “My disappearance or demise.”
“I see.” Helger waved the waiter away restively. “So, if I shut down the dig site, I can keep my oil operation running.”
“For now, yes.” Of course, once I’m no longer in your crosshairs, I’ll recommend the Navy shuts that down, too. But if you lose the oil now, then you’ve got nothing left to lose-and you might once again decide that there’s no reason not to get rid of me-permanently.
“What guarantee do I have that I will be allowed to keep my wells in operation after you leave?”
“Mr. Helger, I do not have the power to make such guarantees. I will assure you of this: if I find no further violations, I will not make any negative recommendations regarding your oil operations.” Not that the Navy’s going to listen to my recommendations, anyway: I already know how Eli Silverstein is going to react. When I leave, and I give him the code authorizing his use of full discretionary powers, Silverstein is going to demand that site control is restored to the legitimate European Union administrators, or he’ll impose a full shutdown.
Helger’s lower lip protruded a bit; he pulled at it. “Very welclass="underline" it seems I have little choice. Does this mean you are done here?”
“I’m afraid not. I have something else that I need to investigate, although it’s nothing that should concern you directly.”
Helger relaxed a bit; he curved a finger in the direction of the waiter, gestured toward the wine. The waiter dutifully disappeared to fetch and do as he was bid. “And this final investigation is…what?”
“Reports of possibly intelligent creatures in this valley. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Helger maintained the same nerveless pose, but his face was less relaxed. “I hear the same wild stories that everyone else hears. Local apes, forest men, spirits of the wood: relatives of sasquatch and the yeti, I will wager.”
“You have no evidence of local wildlife that travels in groups, shows any tendency toward tool use?”
“Me? No-but you could consult Mr. Bendixen, here. I brought him along because he is our best field expert and woodsman, and I suspected that you were planning on conducting a search for these fabled creatures. Why else would you have arrived with a backpack instead of luggage, and a rifle instead of golf clubs?”
“Thanks. I might indeed ask Mr. Bendixen a few questions.”
“I suggest you make better use of him than that. He is an excellent guide.”
“Again, thanks-but I had planned on working alone.”
“You might wish to reconsider that plan, Mr. Riordan. You may not be aware of it, but we have our share of dangerous animals here in the valley. One in particular-we call it Pavonosaurus rex-is quite aggressive. More akin to an undersized allosaurus, I am told, but then again, paleontology has never been my strong suit. So do take Mr. Bendixen along: he has had experience with them. Personally.”
Caine looked over at Bendixen: square-banged, square-jawed, square-headed, and sleepy-eyed-but very watchful. Throughout the conversation with Helger, Caine could not recall having seen Bendixen blink or smile or even move. Prominently featured in the front-strap bandoleers that were part of Bendixen’s web-gear were two different kinds of old-fashioned brass cartridges: one kind for shotguns, the other an immense round with a sharply-tapering-or spitzen-bullet. He had a magazine bag that Caine recognized as being for an H amp;K G-81 assault rifle: caseless ammo, bullpup configuration, extremely high rate of fire. The more primitive tools of his apparently less-than-pacifistic trade included a machete, and a knife: no, two-no, three knives. One of the knives was a very old-almost antique-Spetsnaz all-tool utility blade, another was balanced for throwing, and the third was a kukri: the combat blade made famous by the Gurkhas, who swore that its design made it the optimal weapon for close-quarters combat.