Labyrinth (38 page)

“
Over
America,” Locke muttered. “The gas will be released by airplanes?”

“Cropdusters taking off from the center of the nation. A place in Texas called Keysar Flats. A chain will be set up through the country's center. Each set of cropdusters will handle a hundred-mile segment, then land and pass the remains of their canisters over to the next set. The switching process will not take more than an hour. In the course of little more than a single day, then, the whole of America's central portion, the nation's breadbasket and Corn Belt, will be infected.”

“And the fungus will begin moving both east and west with weather patterns.”

The old woman nodded weakly.

“But Keysar Flats is the key. If we can stop Tantalus there, we can stop it altogether.”

The old woman was breathing hard now, her strength ebbing. She grasped the bedspread tight as if to hold on to life. The doctor hovered over her again, probing with stethoscope. She pushed him away.

“Not anymore,” she managed. “Our plan was merely to eliminate field crops in the U.S. and Canada. That didn't suit Mandala. He has expanded the operation. Sunday is when the planes are scheduled to leave Keysar Flats. On Monday he will release the fungus in South America.”

“But the Committee
owns
those lands.”

“Mandala is not part of the Committee. We are a civilized body. Yes, our plan was to use genetic crop production to overcome the loss in the market caused by the destruction of crops across North America. The world would go on, but the United States and Soviet Union would be hostages to us.” The old woman lost her breath, snatched it back. “Chaos would reign throughout the U.S. but our crops would be the linchpins of order through the rest of the world. It was the beginning of a far deeper plan.”

Audra St. Clair hesitated as death reached out for her.

“With destruction of lands in South America, our order will disintegrate. Massive starvation will result. Economic chaos and upheaval will spread everywhere. We teeter on a tightrope. Mandala is going to push us off, even if that means spreading Tantalus … everywhere.”

“He could destroy the world,” Locke said.

The old woman nodded, face hardening. “But he can still be stopped. If North America can be saved, there is hope. His fleet of planes at Keysar Flats will be well protected but vulnerable to the right kind of attack.” St. Clair reached out and grasped Locke's arm. He stiffened but didn't pull away. “You and Nikki …” She was fighting for air every two or three words now. “… two of you must go there, go to Keysar Flats in Texas and find planes… . Destroy them before … contents of canisters … is released. Only sure way to kill fungus … is while it lies in inert state. Planes … must be burned, blown … up.”

“What about going to the American government for help?” Locke wondered. “They'd have to believe—”

“No!” the old woman ordered, fingers digging into his flesh. “Mandala's people everywhere. Government channels too open, take too much time to clear. Might … be walking right into him. Can't take risk. No time.”

Audra St. Clair started to rasp horribly. The doctor started to herd the others out of the room.

“No,” she commanded him in a voice that was barely a whisper, “not yet.” Back to Locke now. “Mandala's dangerous. Avoid him at all costs. Avoid his giant.” Her eyes dipped in and out of consciousness. She was rambling. “Bullets … can't … kill him.”

Locke shuddered. “He's the one who broke my fingers. I shot him six times.
Six times
and he kept coming!”

“Thanks to space-age steel, not magic” came a voice from the doorway.

Locke turned and saw Dogan. “Ross!”

“It's good to see you, Chris, and quite a surprise.”

Audra St. Clair's eyes wandered. “Grendel? Here?
Alive?
”

Dogan stepped forward. “I'm here, Madame St. Clair, and I'm very much alive.”

She looked up at Locke. “Tell him everything I told you. He'll know what to do. He'll know … how to stop Mandala… .”

The old woman's voice tailed off and she slumped forward. The doctor rushed over and checked her eyes and pulse.

“She's alive,” he announced grimly. “But it won't be long now.”

Chris looked over at Nikki and noticed her tears for the first time. She was holding the old woman's hand tenderly. So many questions had been answered now, so much was clear. Nikki was his half sister! No wonder she looked so familiar to him. No wonder—

Dogan's hand grasped his shoulder, lifting him from his daze.

“Let's go downstairs and sort this thing out.”

Locke started to follow him from the room. Nikki let go of her mother's hand.

“I thought you'd want … to stay with her,” Chris said.

“You heard her last orders. My place is with you.” Then, toward Dogan: “And him.”

“Meet my guardian angel, Ross, and my … sister.”

Then everything fell into place for Dogan. “The old woman's your mother, isn't she?” he asked softly.

Locke just nodded.

In the downstairs study, the three of them were met by a large, dark man with a black eyepatch. Both Locke and Nikki noticed a number of armed men standing around the perimeter of the semicircular drive before the castle.

“This is Masvidal,” Dogan said, “who has graciously agreed to lend us his firepower.”

“It must have been his people I saved you from in London,” Nikki explained, “the ones who sent the old hag to take you out later in Liechtenstein.”

“All that's in the past,” Dogan cut in before Locke could respond. “We're all together now and that's the only way we can win. First I want to hear everything Audra St. Clair told you.”

Chris related her words as best he could with Nikki adding elaboration on several key points.

“My God!” Dogan said at the end. He thought of the vague accusations of the woman in the shack before he killed her. She had been there to stand guard over the next phase of Mandala's operation. “Mandala's going back to San Sebastian.”

“And taking his Chinese monster along, no doubt,” Chris added. “What was it you said about space-age steel?”

“Our scientists—and others obviously—have been experimenting for years with a thin but virtually impenetrable alloy that can be molded to fit the body of a man. It would protect him from any shot other than a direct hit to the head or neck. This man Shang must make that kind of steel underlayer a regular part of his wardrobe.” Dogan paused tensely. “But Mandala's our problem now.”

Minutes later they were inspecting a map of Texas. They saw that Keysar Flats covered a surprisingly large patch.

“Christ”—Chris moaned—“it's the size of Rhode Island.”

Keysar Flats was located in northern Texas, nearly two hundred miles east of Lubbock off Route 82. The North Wichita River was its central landmark.

“Those cropdusters won't be easy to find,” Locke persisted.

“You'll have help,” Dogan promised, and his eyes moved from the map to Masvidal. “How many men can you get to Texas?”

“Given two days, between a hundred and twenty-five and a hundred and fifty.”

“Equipment and weapons?”

“I'll have them brought up through Mexico. A few helicopters should be easy to get. They should make the search for the planes far simpler.”

“I'll say,” Locke noted. “It'll be damned impossible otherwise.”

“You'll need lots of explosives too,” Dogan told Masvidal.

The head of SAS-Ultra smiled. “My specialty.”

“How did you find us here?” Locke asked Dogan, who gave him a brief review of what he had learned in San Sebastian and from Vaslov.

“The Committee's planners are out of the way for good,” he said at the end. “Mandala's the only thing we have to concern ourselves with.” He looked at Locke closely. “Chris, you and Nikki will go straight from here on the fastest route to Texas. We'll have to come up with a rendezvous point for you to link up with Masvidal in or near Keysar Flats on …” He looked to the one-eyed man for the answer.

Masvidal calculated briefly. “I'll have to gather the men together at my base in Spain and leave en masse. Say Saturday afternoon.”

“The operation is scheduled to begin sometime Sunday,” Locke reminded him. “That doesn't give us much time.”

“We won't need much,” Masvidal said. “I have been waiting for years for the chance to destroy my greatest enemy.”

“Then we're all agreed so far,” Dogan concluded.

“Sure, boss,” Locke snapped sarcastically, “except what am I supposed to do about my son?”

“I don't know what—”

“Mandala wanted some answers from me back in Rome. He thought showing me one of the boy's fingers might do the trick.” Chris steadied himself, backed off. “Nikki stashed him with a doctor in Devon.”

Dogan turned to Nikki.

“I've used him in the past,” she explained. “Just me. Mandala doesn't even know he exists.”

Dogan looked back at Locke. “Then your son's safer where he is for now. When this is over, the U.S. government will fly him home in
Air Force One
.”

“Unless we fail and there's no one left to make the reservation.”

“We won't fail, Chris. We can't.”

“I'm going after Mandala,” Nikki said suddenly. “No trips to Texas on my agenda.”

“So you'll leave Chris to make it there on his own?”

She hesitated at that. “You saw what the bastard did to my mother. I owe him.”

“And I'm the only one who can find him,” Dogan told her. “But he won't be in Texas; that part of the operation has been planned like clockwork all along. It can easily proceed without him. Mandala will be in South America preparing to get the second stage of his plan underway.”

“San Sebastian?”

Dogan nodded. “That explains the presence of those guards down there who tried to kill me. Mandala burned the town but he always knew he'd be coming back.” He held Nikki's eyes with his own. “But all this is speculation on my part. There's no sense in both of us wasting our time on what might turn out to be a wild goose chase. You're a professional. God knows you've proved that much. A professional's place is with Chris. Leave Mandala to me.”

“And his giant?”

“He's not indestructible.”

“Where will you be while the rest of us are in Texas, Ross?” Locke wondered.

“Washington. Trying to pry some people off their asses.”

“My mother said that would be a mistake,” Nikki reminded.

“For you maybe, but not me. Up until last week, Washington paid my salary. I'll find people who'll listen. I know the right buttons to push.”

Nikki nodded. “Insurance, right?”

Dogan said nothing.

“Ross, what does she mean by insurance?” Locke asked anxiously.

It was Nikki who answered the question. “I mean if we don't get the job done in Keysar Flats, he's going to try to have somebody standing by who can.”

“They might supplement your efforts,” Dogan said. “And there's San Sebastian to consider also. This whole thing's much too big for us to handle alone.”

“Why not let me take my people to San Sebastian?” Masvidal suggested. “It is my territory.”

“But Keysar Flats is the key, the
U.S
. is the key. We've got to concentrate our forces there. Both of us will have to succeed anyway if Mandala is to be stopped altogether.” Dogan met the eyes of Nikki and then of Locke. “I should reach Washington tomorrow about the same time you reach Texas. I'll start knocking on doors immediately.”

“And hope somebody answers,” said Locke.

“Someone who won't put a bullet through your head,” added Nikki.

Chapter 31

BEFORE LOCKE AND NIKKI
departed for America, Dogan gave them a number to call once they reached Paris. They would be speaking into a tape machine and need only state anything that had come up along the way. Dogan would need Vaslov's help in establishing the line, so he cautioned them not to bother calling it until Paris. It would surely be in place by then.

Next a site had to be found for the rendezvous with Masvidal and his people on Saturday. A guidebook provided them with a roadside motel just off Route 83 that would be perfect. Masvidal would arrive there with his men and equipment sometime after three but before five on Saturday. If he was going to be any later, he would get word to Locke through a messenger.

At Vienna Airport, Chris let Nikki take care of purchasing the tickets and obtaining their boarding passes. While she was at the ticket counter, he busied himself with watching the people. Airports were fantastically uniform locales. All cities in all countries featured the same luggage and the same people carting it in a rush to make their flight, nervously checking their watches as if their eyes might make the hands move slower.

Locke's attention was caught at a small café. An older man with little hair was seated at the counter. Chris felt a tingling in his spine, a warning of recognition. He tried to place the man, couldn't, and stared harder. The man swung round briefly and their eyes would have met if Chris hadn't looked away.

Nikki was by his side seconds later and when he turned back to the coffee counter the man was gone.

“Something wrong?” she asked him.

“No. I just thought I saw someone I recognized.”

“Well, we've got forty-five minutes before the flight leaves,” she said, placing their boarding passes in her shoulder bag. “A drink should settle those nerves of yours.”

Chris went with her to the bar but ordered soda. They sat on stools at the end of the small bar, a vantage point that gave him clear view of the airport lobby.

“The flight has a stop-off at Geneva and then goes to Paris,” Nikki was saying. “We'll be in by early Friday morning.”