Labyrinth (22 page)

“He sent you to Sanii,” Dogan concluded.

“He discovered a connection between the plant and his elusive clients. The answer was there all right, in the top-secret agricultural wing.” Locke paused. “They've got wheat, corn, oats, and barley crops there that have reached full maturity in
only three weeks
!”

“Genetic engineering,” Dogan muttered. “Our scientists have been working on it for years with no breakthroughs whatsoever.”

“Apparently the force behind Sanii has made plenty. Who are they, Ross?” Locke asked, surprised at how calm he felt.

“They call themselves the Committee.” Dogan's hands tightened on the wheel. “We've all heard stories about small groups of fanatics plotting to take over the world—usually they're products of someone's paranoid delusions. The Committee's the exception. They're real and they've been out there for God knows how many years looking for a way to gain control of the world economically. But its members don't operate above the surface. Only shadows emerge. The Committee functions apart from any government. Its members come from many races, nationalities, and countries. They hold high positions, which allow them to gain accurate intelligence as well as affect policy to the Committee's benefit.”

“You're talking about a sub-layer of control all across the world.” Locke controlled his shock at the enormity of what he was hearing.

“And governments have no way of knowing to what extent this sub-layer has influenced their policies. The Committee's manipulations are felt by everyone. Remember the gas lines of seventy-two? There are those who say the Committee, through a complicated series of maneuvers, was behind the whole embargo. Control oil and you control the world was the common belief back then. But America rallied and the emphasis had to be shifted.”

“To food… .”

“It's the one resource that cuts across all barriers. You can't control the distribution of water and air, but you sure as hell can manage the flow of food.”

“But developing all this land in South America won't go far toward
controlling
this flow. It'll just expand things a bit, widen the circulation and toss a new major supplier into the market.”

“No,” Dogan countered, “that's not how they work. What I said about the Committee seeking to run the world wasn't an exaggeration. But it's pretty difficult to run a world with two superpowers bookending everything in the middle. Their first thought has to be how to neutralize the U.S. and the Soviet Union.”

“What about undercutting us in the market, slicing into our share of the farm exports?”

Dogan shook his head, keeping his eyes steady on the road. “No, that's too chancy and conservative. Also, I doubt they would be that naive. Our allies aren't stupid. They know that a major item we export is food. If they buy from someone else, we—our dollar—gets hurt, which means they get hurt.”

Dogan glanced again at the rearview mirror. The view was clear behind them, and they'd been driving long enough now for concern over immediate pursuit to wane. The Swiss border would be coming up shortly. Once across it, he would head straight to Zurich and temporary refuge.

“The Committee craves power,” Dogan continued. “They've got something far worse up their sleeve than simple entry into the market, you can bet on that.”

Chris studied the man next to him briefly. His face was determined. When he wasn't speaking, he clenched his teeth tightly. Locke was astounded by the aura of strength he projected and felt as if he was seated next to a volcano about to erupt.

“How is it that the Committee has never been investigated?” he asked.

“They have. Unofficially. The problem is nobody knows what to investigate, even less where to start. The Committee never leaves a trail.”

“Until now.”

“And a lot of people have died already who were part of it, starting with San Sebastian. Felderberg revealed part of what's going on and Sanii clarified it. But a part is still all we've got.”

Locke recalled more of the financier's words. “Felderberg sent Lubeck to Florence, to someone called the Dwarf.”

Dogan nodded, a slight smile on his face. “It figures he might be involved in this somehow.”

“Felderberg said he brokered information.”

“Along with weapons, blackmail, extortion—just about anything for a price. I've dealt with him before. Sneaky little bastard, and it's my bet he'll have gone into hiding by now. There are ways to reach him, though.”

Locke thought quickly. “There was another man, an Englishman named Burgess. He was an old friend of Charney's and Brian sent me to him. He helped me get to Liechtenstein. Should we contact him?”

“I doubt there's anything he can do to help us,” Dogan said suspiciously. “You'll have to fill me in on the details of this later. He could be a Committee plant.”

“Impossible logistics,” Locke said. “He's clean.”

“Then I wouldn't want to be his insurance company. The Committee will get him before long.”

“He's one tough son of a bitch. He takes precautions.”

“Precautions mean nothing to the Committee. They can get to anyone anywhere. It's how they operate.”

“That doesn't say much for our chances.”

“Not entirely true. To begin with, we're on the move. More important, though, they aren't even aware of my involvement yet and they want very much to keep you alive to continue uncovering Lubeck's trail for them.” Dogan hesitated. “One of Felderberg's men was waiting to kill you in Schaan Saturday night. Someone cut him up like candy.”

“But there are other people who want me dead.”

“An old hag in the train station in Vaduz among them?”

“Yes! Yes! But how did you know? How
could
you know?”

“It doesn't matter. The old woman was a known assassin, quite proficient in her trade. You're lucky to be alive.”

“I was lucky two other times as well.” And Chris went on to relate the details of his deadly meeting with Alvaradejo and the bloody chase that followed it. “Whoever's behind these killers must have been the ones who used Alvaradejo to alert Lubeck in the first place,” he concluded, “which means we're actually on the same side. My—our—problem is that they don't know it. It looks to them like I'm being controlled by the Committee so they're going all out to eliminate me.”

Dogan was nodding, a bit shaken by Locke's conclusions.

“That presupposes that this mysterious third party knows what the Committee was up to in San Sebastian. Then, why did they attack the problem through Lubeck? Why not expose the truth themselves?”

“Fear of retaliation perhaps.”

“No, that doesn't wash. Otherwise they wouldn't have exposed themselves so much in trying to take you out. What was it that the old hag in the train station said?”

“She said it didn't matter if I killed her because another would take her place. She said there were a lot of them and they would see us all burn in hell.”

“‘Us' meaning the Committee.”

“That's the implication, yes. But she didn't have a Spanish accent.”

“Interesting. The reach of this third party obviously extends beyond a few Spanish fanatics. Individual teams are being called up, or just individuals, available for suicide missions.”

“I'll repeat the question: then why bother using Lubeck at all?”

“You tell me, Locke. What did Lubeck offer them?”

“Legitimacy?” Chris replied.

“I think you've hit on it,” Dogan told him. “These allies of ours who don't realize they're our allies can't risk exposure any more than the Committee can.”

“So we're dealing with another sub-layer here.”

“One that picks and chooses its times to rise above the surface. We'll know who's behind it soon enough. That friend of mine is tracing down the old woman's channels. Find out who hired her and we'll have our answer.”

“Just one of them, you mean,” Locke corrected. His voice grew distant. “Lubeck saw something in the fields of San Sebastian before he died, something that terrified him. It all comes back to land … and genetic crop growth.”

“Lubeck saw a lot more than just crops in those fields, even if they sprouted right before his eyes, and we've got to find out what. It's the key to this whole mess.”

The car crossed over into Switzerland. Both men breathed easier, though the security they felt in passing the border was fleeting. If the right connections had been made swiftly in Schaan, no border could protect them.

“You never explained how you found me,” Chris said suddenly.

“I put myself in your position,” Dogan explained, “and made a quiet search of all Schaan lodges and inns I'd have chosen if I were you. It wasn't until early this morning that I found the right one. I followed you to Sanii and shadowed you on the outside, ready to lend my services if it became necessary.”

“Lucky for me… .”

Dogan glanced over at Locke. “Charney was a bastard for drawing you into this.”

“He was only doing his job.”

“Bullshit. We don't involve amateurs. We never involve amateurs.”

“I had six months of training, remember?”

“And most men with a lifetime of it wouldn't have stuck this out like you have.” The car stopped at an intersection. Dogan's eyes bore into Locke's. “Running would have been the normal reaction.”

“No, Ross, I had to see this thing through,” Chris said softly. “I'd love to say it was out of patriotism, but I can't. These bastards killed the two best friends I ever had and that's part of it, a great part, but there's something deeper that's kept me going: fear. I've been scared all my life but the fear was never something I could overcome, because it was never tangible. Now I can see it, feel it. It's out there and it's alive and it's monstrous. And maybe if I can look it in the eyes and not be stared down, all the other fears won't mean so much and I'll be able to look myself in the eyes too. Being a failure isn't so bad; it's realizing you're one all of a sudden at forty-two.”

Dogan said nothing. He understood how Locke felt, better than he could admit to anyone. They were both trying to stop running. But to respond to Locke's words would have been too difficult, so he turned back to the subject immediately at hand.

“When we get to Zurich, I'll make the necessary arrangements to get you to Florence. The Dwarf will see you; he owes me lots of favors.”

“And what about you?”

“There's only one place with all the answers, Chris, and that's where I'm headed.”

“South America?”

“San Sebastian.”

Chapter 18

“GOOD EVENING TO YOU,
comrade.”

“It won't be good after you hear what I have to say.”

Dogan made contact with Vaslov after settling in at the Staadhof Hotel in the center of Zurich.

“Your voice sounds tired,” Vaslov noted.

“And scared. I caught up with Locke.”

“I never expected any less… .”

“His meeting with Felderberg was even more informative than we had hoped.” And Dogan proceeded to outline the information Locke had passed on, stressing those parts dealing with food, South America, and the experiments underway at the Sanii plant. “Your fears have been substantiated,” he said at the end. “The Committee is after both our countries and the key is food. The only remaining question is precisely how they plan to strike.”

“They couldn't have picked a better target, though, could they, comrade? Food, the ultimate resource to control. We are dependent on your supplies and you are dependent on your exports. But I agree that far more must be involved here than merely the crop genetics Locke discovered at Sanii. The problem is finding out what.”

“Locke learned the Committee was based in Austria. Will that help us?”

“Austria is a rather large country, comrade, but I'll start digging tomorrow. KGB computers should be able to obtain information pertaining to repeated trips into the country by certain individuals, perhaps some of whom are notable. This will eventually lead us to a list of potential Committee members.”

“Sounds like a lengthy process.”

“Too much so, I'm afraid,” Vaslov acknowledged grimly. “And time is short, very short. There is one thing your report to me excluded: the World Hunger Conference, which will begin in a week.”

“I didn't think it was important, just a random coincidence.”

“Unfortunately it's anything but. Let us say all our speculations about the Committee launching a massive strike against both our nations are true. What would be the worst turn of events for them?”

Dogan thought through the silence. “Some sort of pact between us, I suppose. But that's inconceivable.”

“Militarily perhaps, but not economically. From the intelligence I've recently been able to gather, that's where the purpose of the hunger conference lies: to announce a trade agreement between our two nations, the likes of which have never been seen before. Your President has determined quite accurately that the way to avoid war is through the stomach. Trade is being opened up for everything except your most advanced computer equipment. The Soviet Union is being granted favored-nation status in exchange for several political concessions, including a gradual pullout from Afghanistan.”

“Food and politics—a potent mix.”

“The best is yet to come. At the conference, delegations from our two nations will deliver a joint memorandum on plans to deal with feeding the world's starving people. Working together, our leaders believe we can accomplish anything, and in this case they might be correct. New supply lines will be made available, fertile land developed and cultivated where no crop has grown before.”

“Which would totally negate the Committee's plans for South America.”