Origin - Season One (39 page)

“Holy shit,” Mitch said.

“Yes, I said the same thing. But what’s truly fascinating about the ship, apart from its gargantuan size, is that she is one of a kind. Origin is a monumental achievement even by the standards of a race that is centuries, if not millennia ahead of our own. According to her own logs, she had been in transit for almost sixty-five years before she reached our solar system. And from what we can tell, her sole purpose was finding it.”

“She was looking for Earth?” Mitch said.

“Perhaps not Earth, but any life-sustaining planet they could find. The ship was built to travel distances in excess of anything else her makers were capable of achieving by other means. And when I say she is one of a kind, I mean Origin is truly unique, never to be duplicated. It took almost six decades to build her. My point is, if there is no one left on board, and frankly we don’t see how there possibly could be –”

“She’s the biggest insurance write-off in the history of the universe,” Mitch finished.

Heinz laughed. “I wasn’t going to put it quite that way, but yes, I guess you could say that.”

“And there are probably things on that ship that could wipe us off the face of the earth, am I right?” Mitch said.

“There are things on board Origin that could wipe the earth off the face of the solar system,” Heinz corrected. “Not that we haven’t figured out how to do that ourselves already. In that respect, we are equals at least.”

Mitch sat looking down at his coffee cup for a long time. To his amazement, the feeling that he had been swept into the Twilight Zone was passing rather than growing stronger. It was a testament to the adaptability of the human mind, if nothing else. When he spoke it was in a tone of resignation. “If this place ended up in the hands of the US government, we’d be as good as gone, wouldn’t we?”

Heinz nodded. “Peter was a dear friend of mine. The first time he showed me what he had found we were sitting in a park in Warsaw. I admit I didn’t believe him at first. Who would? But when I realized what I was seeing, I made a similar comment.”

“And what did he say?”

“He was a lot more cynical than I was. He said the only possible outcome of exposing Origin was World War Three.”

Mitch could find no answer to that.

“Of course, it won’t come to that,” Heinz said.

“How can you be so sure?” Mitch asked.

“I’m not,” Heinz said, “but it’s what I choose to believe. If I didn’t, there would be no point in any of this.”

They sat in silence for a long time, Mitch trying to imagine what might happen if someone really did find Aurora and Heinz looking at him in a way that suggested he understood exactly what he was going through. When their eyes met again, Mitch said, “What I can’t quite believe is how you can know about this while nobody else does. I mean, if the picture in the museum is real, where did it come from?”

“The picture is one of four taken by Voyager two on the ninth of July nineteen seventy-nine,” Heinz said. “And the story of how they evaded the people who run the program and landed in the hands of the professor is one that is both fascinating and a little too long for me to tell you here. Perhaps another time?”

“I’d love to hear it,” Mitch said.

“Good,” Heinz said and stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have to leave you. I’ll let Sarah know you’re here.”

Mitch watched Heinz leave. The waiter, a young dark-skinned man in a white jumpsuit, cleared the table and asked Mitch if he would like anything else.

“I’m all right,” Mitch said. “Well, that’s probably being a little optimistic. I’m as all right as I can be.”

The man only smiled, and Mitch realized his English was probably rudimentary at best. As he watched the man walk back inside, Mitch found himself thinking that things weren’t so different here after all. The thought was both a slight relief and disturbing at the same time. The man who had sat down at the table a few yards away must have seen the expression on Mitch’s face because he leaned over and said, “Guajas.”

“Sorry?” Mitch said.

“They’re Awa Guajas, an indigenous people from the Brazilian rainforest.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Mitch said.

The man laughed and stood up. He came over and introduced himself.

“I said the same thing when I first arrived,” he said. “Rest assured, they’re quite happy here. Most of them arrived before any of this was built. Kevin, that’s the name of your waiter, is actually a foreman of construction. Come back tomorrow and you’ll probably be served by someone with a PhD in metaphysics. We take it in turns. I’m on the booth at the theater this evening. And my wife will be serving the popcorn once her shift at the medical center is over. She’s our resident pediatrician.”

Mitch looked at him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t pulling his leg. When he didn’t smile, Mitch said, “Have you got a landscaping detail?”

To his surprise, Randolph nodded. “Sure do. If you want on board, you’ll have to speak to Steve Dunphy. He’s the chief electrician.”

Mitch only shook his head. “This place is going to take some getting used to.”

Randolph smiled and gave Mitch a pat on the back. “Welcome to the last outpost of true Marxist-Leninism.”

Zurich, Switzerland
Monday 24 July 2006

1100 EDT

Francis ordered another cappuccino and picked up the newspaper on the table in front of him. From his seat to the left of the cafe door he had a clear view of the entrance to the building. In the hour he had been there only three people had entered, and only one had left. The Karl Gustav Foundation apparently did not have many visitors. He had noted four cameras monitoring the entrance, two above the glass double doors and two on the building across the street.

He called the waitress over and asked for the check. When it arrived he left fifteen Francs on the table, tucked the newspaper under one arm and crossed the street. As he reached the curb on the other side, Mike rounded the corner and took up his seat outside the cafe. He watched Francis stroll by the entrance to the building, take one casual glance inside, and carry on down the street.

As soon as Francis came back around the corner Mike paid for his coffee and set off alongside the building in the other direction. They met up again ten minutes later in the lobby of Zurich’s central train station.

“It’s a goddamn fortress,” Francis said.

“It is?”

“All the adjacent buildings have cameras pointed across the street. Even at the back where there is no entrance. Don’t you think that’s overkill for an office building?”

“It’s not just any office building though, is it?” Mike said.

“No, it isn’t. The waiter at the cafe was also watching us.”

“He was?”

“Trust me.”

“So what the hell do we do?” Mike asked.

“We switch to Plan C.”

“Okay. What was Plan B, just out of curiosity?”

“Doesn’t matter. It won’t work.”

“And Plan C will?”

“It might. Ideally I’d like to get eyes on the place for a day or so but it’s too risky.”

Francis pulled an envelope out of his backpack and handed it to Mike. Written on it in cursive letters were the words
Caroline de Villepin
.

“You see that guy over there by the door?” Francis said.

“The one in the suit?”

“Yeah. Now look over there, the guy sitting at the table.”

“In the Lycra shorts?”

“Yes. He’s a bike messenger.”

Francis handed Mike a ten and a hundred Franc note. “Give the guy in the suit the letter and the money. Then tell him he can keep the ten if he gives the hundred and the letter to the biker and asks him to deliver it to number 53 Bahnhofstrasse. Can you remember all that?”

“Sure, 53 Bahnhofstrasse, I got it.”

“As soon as suit man stands up and walks, you head out the door. Go.”

Francis watched with some trepidation as Mike approached the man in the suit. The man listened then took the ten Franc note and put it in his pocket. When he got up and walked away Mike made a beeline for the door and was outside before he reached the biker. At first Francis didn’t think the biker was going to do it. The younger man looked skeptically at the envelope and shook his head. The man in the suit reached into his pocket and handed him the note. The biker took the money and put it in his pocket then stuffed the envelope into the shoulder pouch next to his chair and the two men parted company.

Francis waited until the messenger finished eating then followed him outside where Mike was waiting. They watched as he unlocked his bike and rode off.

“Suit man gave him the ten,” Francis said.

“You’re fucking joking!”

“Nope. He tried to get him to do it for nothing. When that didn’t work he gave him the ten.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Makes no difference to us,” Francis said.

“So now what?”

“If she’s there you’re going to meet her in an hour on the Munster Bridge.”

“You don’t actually think she’ll come, do you?”

“No. But someone will.”

“Great, so you’re using me as bait. And if the someone who comes isn’t happy about it? Then what?”

“I doubt they would try anything stupid in broad daylight.”

“You doubt? Are we talking about the same people? I seem to remember a speech you gave me once in which you made it very clear that these people don’t play by the rules.”

“If they pull up in a car and you think they might make a grab for you, jump.”

Mike’s face was stunned. “Into the fucking water?”

“It’s not a very high bridge. I checked.”

“Yeah, that’s not the point –”

“You said you wanted into the spy game; well, here it is. We kill people, we try not to get killed ourselves, and sometimes, when we have no other choice, we jump off bridges.”

“All right. And if they just want to talk?”

“Then you talk. Keep them occupied. The longer, the better.”

“And where do you come into Plan C?” Mike said. “You going to be sitting on a nearby rooftop with a sniper rifle?”

“Not exactly. She won’t come to the bridge, but I’m betting she’ll be there. She’ll want to see you herself.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re a friend of her father’s.”

“I am?”

“An old colleague. You’ve come to tell her something important, but you need to do it in person. You would have gone to the office but you think someone may be watching you. A regular mystery sandwich, as they say. Gets ‘em every time.”

“And while she’s watching me you’re watching her, is that it?”

Francis nodded and handed Mike several one-hundred Franc notes. “If they ask you to go with them you refuse and you make your way back here. There’s a police station around the corner from here in that direction. Wait outside and I’ll get back here as soon as I can.”

“And if I end up in the river?”

“Then you swim.”

Aurora

Monday 24 July 2006

1200 EEST

Mitch saw Sarah walking up the street as he stepped out of One Eyed Jack’s.

“So, what do you think of Heinz?” she asked.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Mitch said.

“He was the first person the director ever told about Origin. My father says they would never have found the signal without him. But I guess he told you that.”

“No, he didn’t actually.”

“I can’t believe he brought you here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do anything but work. He must like you.”

Mitch wasn’t listening. He was looking up at the roof of the cave. “He said we’re on an island.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “He did?”

“Yes. In the Baltic.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Although –”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell me that, I know. He also asked me to stay.”

Her face lit up. “Well if Heinz wants you here, you can stop worrying about the chief.”

“What’s his deal, anyway? The chief, I mean.”

“Brendan has always been that way. He was Peter Bershadsky’s personal bodyguard until he died. My dad calls him the ‘cold warrior’ when he’s annoyed with him. He said Peter met him in Berlin when Brendan was still in the army. He might be a pain in the butt sometimes, but he’s also one of Richelle’s most loyal friends. And he takes his job very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mitch said. “From what I’ve just heard, I don’t think that’s even possible. I just hope he doesn’t go on hating me, especially if I’m going to be sticking around.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Sarah said. “He just doesn’t know you. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”

To his surprise, she took his hand and led him down the side walk, “If you know where we are, I guess we might as well go up and have a look around.”

“Up?” Mitch said.

“To the surface. You didn’t think we were all stuck down here, did you?”

Zurich, Switzerland

Monday 24 July 2006

1300 EDT

Francis cursed and lowered the binoculars. If Caroline was here, he couldn’t see her.

They had arrived early. Not one, but two men, approaching from opposite ends of the bridge. One of them had stayed on the other side as his partner first passed Mike then turned back and leaned on the railing several feet away. They had been talking for almost two minutes, and Francis didn’t think Mike would be able to keep them there much longer with the little he knew.

“Come on. Where are you, Caroline?” Francis said.

Francis picked up the binoculars again and trained them on the man on the other side of the bridge, then swept back to Mike. The man standing next to him raised his foot and gave the railing a light tap with the toe of his shoe. Francis moved back to the man on the other side, who saw the signal and took out his phone.

“Go on, you son of a bitch. Show me where she is,” Francis said.

The glance was subtle but Francis was looking for it. The man’s head turned towards the east bank for a moment. There were two lines of cars parked there in front of the church on the street below him. Francis scanned them. In the middle of the row nearest the church there was a yellow GT3 Porsche with tinted windows. He was about to turn away when he saw her head come up briefly and then disappear again.