“What about our crews?” the chairwoman asked.
“We would be best off not to move them in until after the effects of Tantalus have begun to surface in America. We can use the resulting chaos as camouflage for the sudden influx of personnel into South America that might otherwise cause a stir and lead to many questions. By the time the true answers are made known, we must be sure Tantalus has reached its full effect and the world is powerless to do anything about the follow-up portion of our plan.”
St. Clair settled back in her chair. “It appears, gentlemen, that from a technical standpoint, matters are proceeding very smoothly indeed. My concern now is for security.” Her eyes dug into Mandala’s. “What conclusions have you reached regarding our unseen enemy?”
“They are organized, but not powerful or overly strong in number” came Mandala’s precision response. If his own plan was to work, he couldn’t risk becoming the target of the old bitch’s wrath … and suspicions. “They must not represent any government or accepted body of another sort. Otherwise they would have exposed us instead of engaging in this foolish cat-and-mouse game.”
“The game may be foolish,” the chairwoman told him, “but it has brought them closer to us than any other group has come in a generation.”
“A problem soon to be rectified. I could accomplish this just as easily without Locke. I suggest we take him out while we are still in control of his movements.”
“No,” Audra St. Clair ordered staunchly. “Locke is to be kept alive until I direct otherwise.”
“That seems to me to be a clear violation of your own security precautions,” Mandala said, “as well as the Committee’s.”
The chairwoman leaned forward over the table, eyes narrowed into slits of anger. “Do not lecture me on Committee policy, Mr. Mandala. You are a killer and little more. We have existed for more than twenty-five years by steering clear of your kind and choosing more subtle measures.”
“And look where those subtle measures got you, while mine have put you on the brink of achieving your greatest goal.”
“You are a soldier to us, a mercenary, nothing more.”
“It took a soldier’s insight to make operational a great plan you could only conceive in raw form.” Mandala glanced around at the elegantly appointed conference room and smirked. “You call me here and expect me to be overwhelmed by your furniture and paintings? Hah! While you were holding meetings in air-conditioned rooms all those years ago, I was sweating in fields that stank of death, fighting to destabilize the world you wanted to control. Then when you needed someone to carry out your plans in the field, you came to me. And you have turned to me repeatedly whenever you didn’t want to get your hands dirty. Fine, but don’t criticize me because mine are not clean.”
“We tolerate your methods, Mr. Mandala,” St. Clair said in a softer voice. “We do not accept them.”
“Let’s not be naive, madam. We have thus far discussed Tantalus only up to its activation and immediate effects. What about after? The world will be at its most vulnerable. That is the time to increase destabilization and disruption strategies. We can bring the entire world to its knees, not just the United States.”
“People cannot reach bank tellers’ windows on their knees, Mr. Mandala. We are an economic body, not a political one. Politics is useful to us only when it functions as a vehicle for our economic plans. Tantalus will bring the U.S. — and the world — to their knees. But we will leave them able to regain their feet, with our assistance.”
“Power lies in controlling people, madam, not their bank accounts.”
“People are their bank accounts, Mr. Mandala.”
“We have the capacity to create total chaos and turn ourselves into the sole voice of order.”
“Precisely what we are doing. Economically.”
“Politically we would be far more effective and far reaching.”
“You’re missing the point,” St. Clair told Mandala. “Economics and politics are inseparable. People respond based solely on how full their wallets are. Tantalus will give us the ability to control that factor as we see fit.”
Mandala just nodded. It was not the time to say anything that might make the old bitch suspect the plan he was about to undertake.
The people in the room were used to silence. Meetings were often dominated by it.
“Let us return to the issue of this Locke,” Van Dam said finally. “If we are not going to kill him, we must have a backup means for controlling him ready should anything else go wrong.”
“I am in the process of arranging just that now,” Mandala said.
“And what if it isn’t good enough?” Van Dam demanded. “If Locke reaches someone powerful without our knowledge, what then? I believe Charney discovered my identity. He may have told Locke or left him some clue. Every minute he’s allowed to live increases the chances of my exposure. You must understand my position,” he pleaded, mostly to the woman at the table’s head. “I–I didn’t realize how important he was to our plans. I thought he had completed his usefulness. I couldn’t take the chance. I couldn’t!”
“What have you done?” St. Clair asked him.
“I ordered a man sent to erase Locke.”
The chairwoman’s features sank. “Recall him, you fool.”
“It’s too late,” Van Dam said.
Part Five:
Schaan, Monday Morning
Chapter 16
“We are now passing into the section where Sanii technology has discovered new ways of taking soil samples from other planets,” the tour guide’s voice droned as Locke’s eyes wandered.
Saturday night he had found an unpretentious mountain inn where a room was available. Chris’s first thought was to pay someone to go out and get him some new clothes, but the sight of the desk clerk gave him another idea. The man was just a little smaller and stouter than he was. His clothes wouldn’t be a great fit yet they’d certainly pass, and he accepted Locke’s cash with no questions. A bit more money gained Chris bandages and antiseptic for the hand chewed by the hag, and a hearty dinner. And, since on Sunday the offices of the Sanii Corporation would be closed, he had an entire day for much-needed rest and healing.
He slept past noon on Sunday. He found out from the desk clerk that regular tours of the Sanii Corporation plant began Monday at ten A.M. Sanii was one of the very few major corporations to have large facilities in Liechtenstein and was thus quite an attraction. It specialized in futuristic high tech, which meant there would surely be an agricultural experimentation section. There he might find a clue to what lay behind the South American land deals Felderberg had been a party to.
“It is now possible,” the tour guide explained as the group peered through glass at miniature displays of bizarre machines working on soil, “to program robot probes to travel millions of miles away and actually land on foreign bodies to collect samples and then return home. Sanii scientists have discovered a means to …”
Locke’s eyes wandered again. He was in the right area, he could feel it. This section dealt with soil. Agricultural experimentation couldn’t be far away.
He had arrived there in plenty of time for the tour and was impressed by the size of the Sanii site. There were four separate buildings: one giant one that ran across almost the entire length of the site, a smaller one near its right flank virtually hidden in the shadows, and a third at least half the big one’s size extending beyond its end to the site’s far left. The fourth was a mirrored building that probably contained offices. The tour began in the giant structure, which announced SANII in huge red letters on its sloping roof. The roof did have one large flat spot, and Locke could hear the exhaust from powerful compressors that would regulate atmospheric conditions for the experiments inside.