To their left, half hidden behind a long row of hedges, stood a low-rise brick building, similar to those found in a modern industrial park. Seemingly out of place, there was a horse stable attached to one end of the building. A half dozen stodgy horses milled about a large corral, nibbling remnants of grass that poked through the dust. At the other end of the building was a large steel garage, which housed a fleet of trucks and mechanical equipment. Inside, a handful of workers in black jumpsuits were working on a dusty fleet of earth-moving equipment.
"I thought the Taj Mahal was in India," Roy said.
"Well, maybe we are in India," Wofford replied with a pained smirk.
Theresa turned and studied the other building in the compound. She had to agree with Roy, it did bear a slight resemblance to the Indian landmark, albeit a much smaller version. In contrast to the functional efficiency of the brick industrial building, the structure before her was built with ornate flair and drama.
Thick columns fronted a gleaming white marble edifice that was built low to the ground. At its center, a circular portico enveloped the main entrance. A bulbous white roof capped the entry hall, topped by a golden spire protruding from its peak. The design was, in fact, little removed from the dome of the Taj Mahal. Though elegant, the image looked to Theresa as if a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream had fallen from the heavens.
The landscape in front of the structure was equally palatial. A pair of canals flowed across the compound, feeding a large reflecting pool before disappearing under the front of the building. Theresa could hear the rushing waters of a nearby river, which fed the canals some distance from the compound.
Around the canals and pool stretched a lush green ornamental garden, manicured to a detail that would shame an English nobleman.
Across the lawn, Theresa spied Tatiana and Anatoly conversing with a man who wore a holster on his side. The man nodded, then approached the back of the truck and said, "This way," in a thick accent.
The two guards bunched up behind Roy and Wofford to emphasize the command.
Theresa and Roy each lent an arm to Wofford and followed the squat man as he marched down a walkway toward the opulent building. They approached the portico, where a large carved wooden door led into the premises. Flanked on either side, like doormen at the Savoy Hotel, was a pair of guards dressed in ornately embroidered long silk coats colored orange. Theresa knew they were guards, as they made no move to open the door, instead standing perfectly still, firmly grasping sharp-pointed lances in one hand.
The door opened and they entered the domed foyer, which was filled with aged pastoral paintings of horses in the field. A short housekeeper with a crooked grin slipped from behind the door and nodded for the group to follow. Padding across the polished marble floor, he led them down a side hallway to three interior guest rooms. One by one, Theresa, Roy, and Wofford were escorted into comfortably decorated rooms, then were left facing a closed door that the housekeeper locked and bolted behind him.
Theresa found a side table next to the bed that was set with a bowl of steaming soup and a loaf of bread. Quickly washing the road grime from her face and hands, she sat down and devoured the food in hunger. Exhaustion finally overcoming her fears, she lay on the soft bed and promptly fell asleep.
Three hours later, a hard knock at the door jolted her from a deep sleep.
"This way, please," the little housekeeper said, eyeing Theresa with a hint of lasciviousness.
Roy and Wofford were already waiting in the hallway. Theresa was surprised to see that Wofford's leg had been wrapped and he now sported a wooden cane. Roy's head gash was also bandaged, and he wore a loose cotton pullover in place of his bloodstained shirt.
"Don't you two look the model of health?" she said.
"Sure. Assuming the model is a crash test dummy," Roy replied.
"The hospitality has taken a slight turn for the better," Wofford said, tapping his cane on the floor.
The three were led back to the foyer and down the main hallway to an expansive sitting room. Shelves of leather-bound books lined the walls, punctuated by a fireplace at the far end and a bar along one side.
Theresa looked up nervously at the torso of a black bear that lunged from the wall above her head, its sharpened claws and bared teeth frozen in a permanent display of aggression. Panning the room, she saw it was a taxidermist's heaven. A variety of stuffed deer, bighorn sheep, wolves, and foxes guarded the enclave, all leering viciously at the visitors. Tatiana stood in the middle of the room, next to a man who looked like he could have been mounted on the wall as well.
It was the grin, she decided. When he smiled, a row of sharp pointy teeth flashed like a shark's, seemingly eager to devour some raw flesh. Yet the rest of his appearance was less imposing. He had a slight though muscular build, and wore his jet-black hair brushed back loosely. He was handsome in the classic Mongol sense, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that had an odd golden-brown tint.
A sprinkling of wind-and sun-borne wrinkles suggested he had spent his earlier years working outdoors.
However, the mannerisms of the man dressed in the fashionable gray suit suggested that those days were long over.
"It is good of you to join us," Tatiana said in an emotionless tone. "May I present Tolgoi Borjin, president of the Avarga Oil Consortium."
"Pleased to meet you." Wofford hobbled over, and shook the man's hand as if he were an old friend.
"Now, would you mind telling us where we are and why the hell we're here?" he asked, applying a vise grip to his handshake.
Wofford's sudden demand seemed to catch the Mongol off guard and he hesitated before answering, quickly letting go of Wofford's hand.
"You are at my home and enterprise headquarters."
"Mongolia?" Roy asked.
"My regrets for your hasty exit from Siberia," Borjin replied, ignoring Roy's remark. "Tatiana tells me that your lives were in peril."
"Indeed?" Theresa said, casting a wary eye toward her former cabinmate.
"The forced departure at gunpoint was most necessary for your security," she explained. "The environmental radicals of Baikal are very dangerous. They had apparently infiltrated the institute's survey ship and tried to sink it with all hands. I was fortunately able to contact a leased vessel nearby that assisted in our evacuation. It was best that we departed secretly, so as not to call attention to ourselves and risk further attacks."
"I have never heard of the Lake Baikal environmentalist groups acting in such a violent manner," Theresa replied.
"It is a new breed of youthful radicals. With the reduction in state administrative controls in recent years, I am afraid that the rebellious youths have become much more brazen and forceful."
"And what about the scientist, Dr. Sarghov, who was taken off the ship with us?"
"He was insistent on returning to the ship to alert the other institute members. I'm afraid we could no longer vouch for his safety."
"Is he dead? What about the others on the ship?"
"We were forced to evacuate the area for everyone's safety. I have no information on the research ship or Dr. Sarghov."
The color drained from Theresa's face as she contemplated the words.
"So why haul us here?" Roy asked.
"We have abandoned the Lake Baikal project for the time being. Your assistance in evaluating potential oil field sites is still of value to us. You were contracted to work for us for six weeks, so we will honor the contract through another project."
"Has the company been notified?" Theresa asked, realizing her cell phone had been left behind on the Vereshchagin. "I shall need to contact my supervisor to discuss this."