“Is it time?” Young asked before peeking at his watch.
Sinclair nodded. “We’re docking into port as we speak. Have your men ready as we’re about to go ashore.”
Ten minutes later, Young exited the cabin and reached the deck followed by Karelin and both their security teams. Night had fallen hours ago, and the sky glittered with stars on the moonless night. A cool breeze whipped across Young’s face, while nearby palm trees rustled.
“Where are we?” Young asked.
“It’s certainly not Washington,” Karelin cracked. “I don’t smell a stench.”
“That only happens when Congress is in session,” Young snapped.
Karelin chuckled. “Still pitching yourself as a man of the people, I see.”
“If the shoe fits,” Young said.
“Your country is so gullible,” Karelin scoffed.
“At least our government tells its citizens the truth.”
Karelin snickered. “Delusion is a terrible thing, comrade.”
Young ignored Karelin and walked up the ramp onto the dock where Sinclair was waiting for them.
“Welcome to the Andaman Islands, and, more precisely, Rutland Island,” Sinclair said. “I trust that you’ll enjoy your accommodations this evening before we reconvene in the morning. I will be riding with you all on this bus and be happy to answer any questions you might have. So, gentlemen, comrades, is there anything you’d like to know?”
“What exactly are we going to see tomorrow?” Young asked.
“That will have to wait until after you’ve both had a good night of sleep.”
* * *
YOUNG DIDN’T APPRECIATE all of Sinclair’s theatrics, but there was no argument that the living quarters were worthy of kings and presidents. Marble floors, mahogany walls, hand-crafted leather couches—Young made a note to inquire about Sinclair’s designer before the morning meetings.
The White House sure could use a facelift.
The Secret Service agents scurried ahead of Young as he toured the rooms. Once the security detail gave him the signal that the place was clear, Young settled in for the evening. And by 10:30 p.m., he was fast asleep.
When he awoke, he was treated to a hearty breakfast before Sinclair ushered all his guests across the property to a building hidden in one of Rutland Island’s natural rain forest habitats.
“I didn’t know the Indian government allowed foreigners to inhabit this island,” Young said.
Sinclair smiled and winked at Young. “With enough money, anything is possible. And in this case, all it took was installing a pipeline to bring fresh water here along with establishing a power unit. We needed both of those things for our laboratory anyway.”
“You do research here?” Karelin asked.
“Quite a bit, actually,” Sinclair said. “By conducting our business in such a manner, we avoid outside prying eyes, corporate spies, and blatant lies.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Karelin said.
“It’s the only way I operate. Life is too short for someone to steal your ideas and profit off them. Sadly, that’s the world we live in today, and I won’t apologize for taking every precaution to prevent that from happening.”
Sinclair hustled up the steps and glanced over his shoulder at his party. He walked over to a black box to the right of the front door and depressed his forehead against it. A red laser scanner moved across his face before the screen flashed green and the door unlocked.
“Now, if you’ll wait just inside,” Sinclair said as he swung the door open and held it for his guests. “I’ll give you a brief primer, and we’ll get started.”
Young, Karelin, and the rest of Sinclair’s entourage congregated in the narthex, awaiting the billionaire’s next instructions. He gestured toward one of the doors before walking up to it. He placed his face in front of another facial recognition scanner.
“State of the art security for some of our more sensitive rooms here,” Sinclair announced as he opened the door.
But when Young’s Secret Service team attempted to go inside first, Sinclair slid in front of them, blocking their way.
“Excuse me,” one of the agents said. “We need to sweep this room first.”
Sinclair didn’t budge. “There are only two people allowed in that room besides me—and that’s President Young and President Karelin. So, if you’ll kindly step aside so they can join me, I’d be most grateful.”
“If we don’t go inside, he doesn’t go inside,” the agent said with a growl.
“Fine,” Sinclair said. “I’ll just take the Russian president. Thank you for your time. You’re free to go.”
Young pushed his way past his guard. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out here and wait for me.”
The agent relented, stepping back with a sigh. Young gave the man a reassuring nod.
“This is not what we agreed upon,” the agent said.
“I know, but it’s okay. Mr. Sinclair isn’t going to do anything reckless. And neither is President Karelin. It’s just a cordial meeting. Now, carry on.”
Young wasn’t sure he believed the words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Sinclair showing off a piece of high-tech weaponry without at least knowing what his enemies had in their possession. He wasn’t entirely convinced that this was a simple demonstration, but he was confident that Sinclair wouldn’t do something to jeopardize his fortune.
Once they were all inside, the door locked behind them, the room rotated ninety degrees, and it then sank beneath ground level.
“What’s happening?” Karelin asked.
“Nothing to worry about,” Sinclair said. “We just need to move to a more secure portion of the building.”
A half-minute later, the room came to a stop and the windows revealed that the trio of men were standing in a control center overlooking a warehouse floor. Below them, dozens of workers clad in all black outfits occupied computer terminals, communicating with one another while they typed.
“What are we looking at here?” Young asked.
“Welcome to the Janus Control Center,” Sinclair said as he swept his hand past the large plate-glass window. “Everyone down there has been preparing diligently for the past six months in anticipation of your arrival.”
Young raised an eyebrow. “Did you say six months?”
Sinclair nodded. “Probably longer, but about that amount of time.”
“I didn’t even know I was going to be here until a
