Dr. Polk's daughter informed us of your discovery in India. Truly amazing. That information alone was worth transporting you all here. It's fascinating to contemplate that our heritage extends all the way to ancient Greece, to the famous Oracle of Delphi.
Gray cleared his throat. Your heritage?
He waved to the woman. And Elena's. We're all from the same genetic bloodline.
Gray remembered Luca's story. From the lost Gypsies.
Yes. Dr. Masterson has informed me that you were told about the unfortunate, but necessary acquisition of those children. In fact, my father was one of those
Gypsy children. And I believe you've met another of our extended family. Little
Sasha. A girl with a special talent.
Gray knew to whom he must be referring, but he kept his features bland, feigning ignorance.
Elena turned to Nicolas and spoke softly in Russian.
The senator nodded. So you have met Sasha. Please do not trouble yourself to lie. He motioned to the woman at his feet. Elena is quite well, perceptive, shall we say. Her touch is very sensitive, measuring the heat of your skin, your pulse. She is also keyed into your pupils and breath. Nothing escapes her. She is my personal lie detector.
Nicolas pointed to his ear. Elena turned, and with her other hand, she parted her hair behind her ear. Gray spotted a familiar curve of surgical steel. The same implant as the girl's. The woman was the adult equivalent of Sasha, only with a different savant talent.
She is quite remarkable, Nicolas growled, his words warmly proud, but with a hint of something darker beneath.
Gray studied the man, noticing something missing. So then where is your implant?
Nicolas's eyes narrowed back upon him. Gray enjoyed the flicker of irritation on his face, plainly a sore point. The man's fingers combed over his right ear in a self-conscious gesture. Such a course was not my path, I'm afraid.
Gray's mind tracked the implication. If Nicolas wasn't augmented, then he must have been born without any savant talent. Yet someone had placed him in a position of power in Russia. Why? What was the endgame here?
Nicolas continued, Back to Sasha. From all the turmoil going on in Washington, we've been having trouble gaining clear intelligence on her whereabouts. That was the main reason you were brought here from India.
Versus being shot on the spot like Abhi Bhanjee.
We are concerned about Sasha's welfare and want her returned. So first of all, we'd like to know where she is and who has her.
Gray stared straight at Nicolas. I don't know.
At his side, Elena shook her head.
Would you like to try again? I'm attempting to keep this civil. But we do have four of your friends here.
I can't say for sure, Gray answered. The last I saw her, she was in the care of our organization.
Nicolas glanced to Elena, who nodded. It was the truth.
And I assume you do not work for John Mapplethorpe, since the traitor attempted to assassinate you and Dr. Masterson at the hotel in Agra.
No, in fact, we're fighting to keep the child away from him.
Wise. That man is far from trustworthy. So then perhaps we truly can negotiate.
Especially since we now have something worth trading.
First, what do you want with the girl? Gray asked.
She belongs here. With the rest of her family. We can care for her much better than anyone in your country.
Perhaps so. But why do you want her? To what end?
Nicolas stared at Gray, studying him with shrewd eyes. Gray sensed a depth of cunning, along with a hard conceit, someone seeking recognition, compensating perhaps for a lack of talent elsewhere.
Gray pressed that weakness. Do you have a plan that goes beyond the exploitation of children like Sasha?
His eyes sparked. Do not underestimate the scope of our initiative. Nor paint us with such malicious intent. We have nothing but the most humanitarian goals in mind, to better the world for all. The sacrifice required of a few children is infinitesimally small when compared to the atrocities that go ignored every day in the world.
Gray read the need for validation behind the growing heat in his words. What goals?
Nothing short of changing the course of human history.
Here the man's vanity shone brightly. He even sat up straighter and leaned toward Gray.
Every few centuries, a great figure rises who abruptly changes history someone who alters the fundamental path of mankind. I'm talking along the lines of the great prophets. Buddha, Muhammad, Jesus Christ. Someone who thinks so differently, who sees the world through such unique eyes, that his very viewpoint bends humanity in a new direction. From where do such figures arise?
Where does this uniqueness of mind come from?
Masterson stirred, stretching a kink in his back.
Gray recalled the professor's discussion about autism and its role in human history. And the quote he had used. If by some magic, autism had been eradicated from the face of the earth, then men would still be socializing in front of a wood fire at the entrance to a cave.
Why wait for the right toss of the genetic dice? Nicolas asked. If such uniqueness could be recognized, singled out, and harnessed for the good of all, imagine the new age of enlightenment that could be fostered. Especially if such uniqueness could be heightened to astounding levels.
Nicolas's eyes settled on Elena.
Gray began to understand the scope of the project's vision. It was no mere spy program. Nicolas's organization planned to take control of the reins to human history by using the augmented individuals like draft horses. And Gray began to suspect why Nicolas had been put in such a place of power. Someone was grooming him as a figurehead, propped and supported behind the scenes by the augmented children. Gray tried to imagine all that talent at the bid of one individual.
Gray could not hide his horror and shock. How do you plan to ?
That's enough! Nicolas barked. Now that you better understand our intent, you can understand why we want Sasha returned. She is important to the program and especially significant to me.
Gray read something in his eyes. Why you?
Why? He stared hard at Gray. Because she's more than a test subject, she's my daughter.
Elena's fingernails scraped the underside of Gray's wrist. The woman turned sharply toward Nicolas. Apparently this was as equally surprising to her. No wonder Gray and the others had been dragged all the way to Chernobyl.
Before this day is over, you will know what I am capable of. Nicolas leaned toward Gray, his eyes fiery with determination. And I will get my daughter back.
8:20 A. M.
Southern Ural Mountains
General-Major Savina Martov stood in the heart of Operation Saturn. Behind her, the mine train waited on the tracks, snapping and crackling, smelling of smoke and oil. It rested a hundred yards from where the tracks ended at Mine Complex
337, an abandoned uranium mine that honeycombed the neighboring Ural Mountains.
M. C. 337 was where the prisoners housed at Chelyabinsk 88 had spent eighteen hours a day laboring in the dark, slowly being poisoned.
Now it served as a dumping ground for broken mining equipment and piles of rock from Operation Saturn. Over the course of five years, a small team of miners and demolition experts had filled several old shafts to the brim with the debris dug out of this site.
Operation Saturn occupied a small man-made cavern off the train tracks. The blasted room the size of a hotel lobby was framed by oil-soaked scaffolding and crowded with mining equipment: conveyor belts, hydraulic winches, rock dusters, water pumps, hoses, all surrounding a compact drill rig with a drummed tungsten-carbide bit. Most of it would be left where it stood or hauled out with the next train.
