This confused Namche even more. What was the purpose of thawing out dead men?
As the blanket poured heat into the frozen flesh, Tai pulled something else out of his pack. A syringe and several plastic blood bags.
“What are you going to do?” Namche demanded, although he was beginning to get the idea. But the reason behind these apparently insane acts escaped him.
Tai continued to ignore him. He reached under the blanket and checked the exposed flesh of one of the bodies by the expedient method of poking it with the syringe. Apparently the body wasn’t quite ready yet as Tai turned his attention to what was left in and on his pack. He removed the two pieces of PVC pipe and unscrewed the ends. He pulled out a complicated mass of extendable titanium poles and Kevlar cloth from each. They connected together at an anchor point.
Tai turned back to the body and poked it with the syringe. The point punctured the skin and he searched, trying to find a vein. When he located one, he attached a small battery-powered pump to the line and began draining the blood from the body. Namche watched in horrified fascination. Tai drained the first body into four bags. Then he did the same to the second.
Namche watched, confused as to the purpose of Tai’s actions and what would happen next. As soon as Tai had the second body drained, he packed the blood bags into his rucksack. Then he unhooked his harness from the safety line.
“What are you doing?” Namche reached forward to grab him.
Tai connected a snap link on the back of his harness into the anchor point of the strange tube-and-cloth contraption, looked at Namche, smiled, and then jumped out into the clear air in front of the Kanshung Face.
Namche stared in shock as Tai free-fell. Then the poles on his back snapped out, spreading, deploying the high-strength cloth. A half mile below Namche’s position, the hang glider locked into place and Tai grabbed the controls, banking to the north and west, disappearing from view in the blowing snow.
Final checks were made, no glitches were found, and the countdown now moved into its final phase. A night launch was a bit unusual for Kouros; but Nosferatu had insisted, and since he was paying top dollar, the officials at the facility had been only too happy to agree. He was in launch control, in the VIP lounge, watching the procedures. He had been forced to pay a considerable amount of extra money to keep the launch information from being released, a particularly difficult task given this was the first manned launch ever performed outside of the American or Russian programs.
The overly attentive lackeys of the ESA were beginning to bother Nosferatu. Waiters hovered at his elbow, offering him champagne, and the luxurious buffet laid out at the rear of the room bustled with activity. He brusquely ordered everyone out of the suite.
The Ariane 5 booster, the X–Craft on top, was fixed in spotlights. A beautiful sight to Nosferatu, who had been at the forefront of spaceflight for many years, ever since the beginning. It was another of his objections to the Airlia — how they had hamstrung the human attempts to get into space. It was amazing that man had managed to make it to the moon and walk on it, an effort that had been rewarded with an intense push by the Ones Who Wait to make sure the space program went backward rather than forward. While science fiction writers had predicted that man would be much further ahead by the turn of the millennium, the reality had been a great disappointment.
The X–Craft design was simple but functional. He’d begun work on it many years previously and kept it as secret as possible to prevent interference from the Ones Who Wait. Over the years he’d brought in the best and brightest to work on certain parts, but he’d kept overall control of the development compartmentalized so that only the tiniest handful of people knew the big picture. Money had been no object.
The X–Craft was a delta wing craft, more arrowhead-shaped than the American space shuttle, and smaller. Its cargo bay could hold only one-quarter of what the American shuttle could, but it was one-tenth as costly to produce and fly. The crew consisted of a pilot and copilot. Additional personnel could be put on board if a crew pod was inserted in the cargo bay. For the moment, the cargo bay was empty except for two EVA space suits and special equipment they would need once they reached the derelict mothership.
Nosferatu had test X–Craft models flown in Australia and even achieved two successful landings of the craft that was now on top of the booster, flying it up on top of a 747 and releasing it. The Ariane 5 booster was proven with many successful liftoffs. As far as Nosferatu could predict, everything should work perfectly.
He was less certain of Vampyr’s actions.
His thoughts were interrupted by the final seconds of the countdown. The rocket ignited and began to lift. Nosferatu slipped on a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes as the flame seared the night sky. He watched the rocket accelerate upward until he could no longer see it.
Time to move on to his next task.
“You are not welcome here.”
Vampyr had had a feeling that he would not be warmly greeted in Hong Kong. He was standing on the tarmac at the new Hong Kong International Airport, an island set apart from the mainland. His jet was behind him in a secure area, bathed in the flashing lights of security vehicles. The man who had greeted him with those five words wore the blue uniform of the Hong Kong police. There was some rank insignia on his collar but Vampyr had no clue what they meant.
Vampyr had a pack slung over his shoulder. Inside the pack were some goodies he had rigged — just in case. He had walked into too many strange situations not to prepare for the worst possible scenario.
“You are not welcome here,” the official repeated.
Vampyr decided to ignore him as he saw someone approaching, a man dressed in a very nice suit that must have come from one of the most expensive stores in Hong Kong. More important, everyone in uniform who saw him approach immediately adopted body language that indicated this was a man with real power.
“I am Chon. Deputy governor of Hong Kong. How may I be of assistance?” “He”—Vampyr nodded at the man in uniform—“says I am not welcome.”
“A misunderstanding,” Chon said. “Things have been most in flux recently as I am sure I do not have to tell you. We in Hong Kong have a long history of welcoming guests regardless of outer circumstances.”
Chon had been on Vampyr’s payroll for over twenty years. He held his high position through Vampyr’s influence. He had had only one task all those years — to keep tabs on Tian Dao Lin.
Chon snapped a command in Chinese. The area immediately around them was suddenly clear for a distance of twenty meters. Chon glanced to the right, along the east-west runway. The sun was hovering above the western horizon, a landing 747 silhouetted against it. “We do not have much time before dark. Come with me.” With that Chon turned and headed for the helicopter he’d arrived in.
Vampyr followed. The blades were powering up for takeoff as they boarded. The chopper lifted and headed toward Hong Kong proper, over forty kilometers away.
Since Chon hadn’t bothered to put on the headset on the ceiling over his head, Vampyr assumed he didn’t want to talk while in flight. They landed on top of a tall building set among a cluster of skyscrapers. Chon got off and headed immediately for a door without looking back. Vampyr followed. They descended a flight of stairs, then went into a room containing a large desk and bay windows with a commanding view of Hong Kong.