The Maya Codex (30 page)

‘The jaguar … one of the great cats of the Guatemalan jungle, and if I recall correctly, sacred to the ancient Maya.’

For the first time since O’Connor had burst into her apartment, Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘So those two nights spent studying had some benefit?’

‘Not enough, unfortunately.’

‘Don’t feel too bad about it. My grandfather spent a lifetime studying the Maya, and he only scratched the surface. We think we are the most advanced civilisation in history, but we’ve yet to uncover the real history of the ancients. When we do, we will find that the Maya, like the Inca and the Egyptians, were all much more advanced than pompous historians like Jennings allow.’

‘You’re probably right,’ O’Connor agreed. ‘There is something in this codex that has both the Vatican and my government very worried. Both sides will do anything to get their hands on it, so that truce between you and I is going to have to last, at least until I help you find it.’

‘Why do you think the Vatican or the US government is after it? And why would you want to help me find it?’

‘I’m not sure, but I know they’re both determined to get to this codex before you do, and if they do, I suspect they will bury it from public view.’

‘What about the warnings?’

‘They’ll take a chance on them. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time the public has been kept in the dark.’

Aleta looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure what’s driving your government, but I think I know why the Vatican would be after it,’ she said finally. ‘The Vatican kept the Dead Sea Scrolls from public view for over thirty years because the contents threatened the uniqueness of Jesus’ message. The Maya Codex might be a much bigger threat than the Dead Sea Scrolls.’

‘Meaning?’

‘My grandfather left some notes. He thought the codex would be found in the jungles of Guatemala, and that it would not only contain a warning of what might be about to happen to us, but it might be linked to the warnings the Virgin Mary issued at Fátima.’ Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘The Vatican has always felt threatened by Mayan spirituality, Mr O’Connor.’

O’Connor smiled wanly. ‘Do you think we might drop the “Mr O’Connor”?’

Aleta took a deep breath. ‘Look, I
do
appreciate what you’ve done tonight … It’s just that I don’t have people bursting into my apartment with guns and knives every day of the week, and it’s going to take me a little time before I can trust you – if I ever do. Although if what you tell me is true, and you’ve defied your boss to protect me, they’re going to be after you as well.’

‘That’s probably an understatement, and all the more reason why we need to get out of Vienna and head for Guatemala.’

Aleta shook her head. ‘Not before I find out what happened to my grandfather. Tomorrow, I’m catching a train to Bad Arolsen. The town houses millions of documents containing details on Holocaust victims, and they’re finally available to the public.’

‘Yes. I remember reading something about that. And you think your grandparents will be amongst them?’ O’Connor asked gently.

Aleta nodded sadly. ‘Along with my father and his sister, although they both escaped.’

‘Well …’ Now O’Connor’s mind was racing. ‘Bear in mind that as soon as Wiley discovers what’s happened here, there’ll be a manhunt on that will make the search for bin Laden look like a walk in the park. How long do you need at Bad Arolsen?’

‘A day – two at the most. I’ve already booked my time through the International Tracing Service. The Mauthausen records will be grouped together.’

‘And another day at Mauthausen itself. So allowing for travel, we need another five days in Austria. We might get away with it, but it’ll be touch and go. In the meantime, you and I had better get some rest.’

O’Connor scanned the
Ringstrasse
behind and then ushered Aleta through the old brass-handled wooden doors of the Café Schwarzenberg.

They found a vacant booth in a quiet corner of the eighteenth-century café on the
Ringstrasse
opposite the Imperial Hotel, and O’Connor passed Aleta the breakfast menu. The café was only half full, and again O’Connor scanned the clientele, but there was no one out of the ordinary. They were mainly business people, heads buried in newspapers, with a croissant and a
mokka
or a
schwarzer
for company. It was too early for the tourists.

‘Kaffee, Kipferl, Marmelade und ein weichgekochtes Ei, bitte,’
O’Connor ordered. The old waiter’s black suit and bow tie matched the ambience of the café’s chandeliers, tapestries, wood-panelled pillars and old leather-padded wooden chairs.

‘Und eine Zeitung, Herr?’

‘
Die
New York Times,
bitte
.’

‘Und Ihnen, Frau?’

‘
Ich werde
Die Welt,
und die Wiener Frühstück als Gut, danke
,’ Aleta replied in flawless German, ordering the German daily and the same Viennese breakfast as O’Connor.

‘Danke schön.’
O’Connor thanked the waiter for the newspapers and handed Aleta the wooden rod that had
Die Welt
attached. ‘You’re making me feel inadequate.’

‘You seem to get by. How many languages do you speak?’

‘I’m fluent in German, French and Italian, and I get by, as you put it, in Spanish, Russian and Chinese.’

‘Very impressive. I dare say Russian was a product of the Cold War, but why Chinese?’ Aleta thought she saw a momentary shadow in his eyes.

‘That’s another long story. I worked on security for the Beijing Olympics.’

‘You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?’

O’Connor smiled. ‘Comes with the territory, I guess.
Danke schön
.’ He thanked the waiter again as the coffees arrived, grateful for the interruption.

‘So what’s the plan? You need to check out of your hotel?’

‘Train leaves at 10.40 and my hotel’s just across the
Ringstrasse
,’ O’Connor said, indicating the Imperial through the high, curtained windows.

‘The Imperial? You do travel in style.’

O’Connor shrugged modestly. ‘It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.’ His eyes met those of a tall, thin man in a black overcoat and beret, standing by a newsstand on the opposite side of the
Ringstrasse
. The man immediately went back to reading his newspaper.

‘Don’t look now, but there’s a tall guy in a beret across the road who’s got us on his radar. After I’ve left, wait until he follows me, then get a taxi to Westbahnhof. I’ll give him the slip and meet you there.’

Aleta watched the man who had saved her life jog effortlessly across the
Kärntner Ring
towards the Imperial. As soon as O’Connor left, the thin man in the black overcoat and beret followed him down the
Ringstrasse
.

35

CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

H
oward Wiley flicked on the last briefing overhead for the new president’s first visit to the CIA headquarters. From Wiley’s point of view, the election had been a disaster: the new president eschewed the use of force in favour of negotiation. It was a language Wiley had never understood.

‘In summary, Mr President, America faces many challenges around the world. Terrorist networks are widely dispersed and growing in number. Nuclear proliferation continues to be a cause for grave concern. We know North Korea has had access to reprocessed fuel rods and enriched uranium from their reactor at Yongbyon, and increasingly sophisticated ballistic missiles are now available from international arms dealers. Caution is also required in any negotiations with Iran,’ Wiley warned. ‘Tehran will not give up on enriching uranium, and unless we act against them, in a few short years Ahmadinejad’s threat to wipe Israel off the map could be a reality.’

Wiley paused to judge the President’s reaction, but the new leader of the free world gave nothing away. ‘Despite the economic downturn, China continues to modernise her military forces, and this also poses a threat, not only to the balance of power in the Taiwanese Straits, but to our own forces in the region. Finally, while Prime Minister Putin is nominally subordinate to President Dmitry Medvedev, Putin remains in charge of the Kremlin and will likely run again for president once Medvedev’s term expires. There is no doubt Putin aims to reclaim Russia’s former position as the dominant power in Europe. We can expect the Russians to maintain a tough stance against Chechnya, the Ukraine and in Georgia, where Putin will seek to exert even greater control over the region’s oil and energy supplies.’

‘I received a briefing from your counterpart in DNI on our operations with HAARP in Alaska,’ the President said.

Wiley controlled his anger. The Directorate of National Intelligence had been set up as a result of the failure of the FBI to detect the 9/11 terrorists’ pilot training in Florida, Arizona and California. In Wiley’s view, because of the FBI’s incompetence, the CIA had lost its position as the country’s pre-eminent intelligence agency to a bunch of shiny-assed rank amateurs at DNI in Washington, who big-noted themselves to politicians on every top-secret project they had access to. Wiley had been very careful to ensure that even his own director wasn’t privy to those operations Wiley considered he alone was competent to run. Politicians who wanted to negotiate with the enemy, especially those like the newly elected president, were to be kept at arm’s length. As far as Wiley was concerned, HAARP was far too sensitive to allow wide access or briefing, and he wondered how much the President had been told.

‘What credence do you place on the Russians being able to control the weather?’ the President asked.

‘We have incontrovertible evidence that the Russians are conducting research on controlling the direction of hurricanes, Mr President, as well as increasing their intensity. They’re also conducting experiments on the triggering of earthquakes.’

‘And our own research?’

‘Our research on this goes back to the Vietnam War. Project Popeye was aimed at changing the weather over North Vietnam by seeding clouds with silver iodide and dry ice. We had mixed success back then, sometimes churning the Ho Chi Minh trail into mud, but the Russians have been at this even longer. In 1962 we discovered they were beaming electromagnetic radiation signals at our embassy in Moscow, and, more specifically, directly at the office of our ambassador. In the ’70s we discovered an extension of this experiment: the Russian Woodpecker. It was a series of electromagnetic signals in the three to thirty megahertz bands.’

‘Woodpecker?’

‘The Russians pulsed the signal at a rate of ten or twelve to the second – ham radio operators around the world christened it the Russian Woodpecker – but the signal is so powerful it is capable of disrupting communications here in the United States. We have reason to believe, Mr President, that Woodpecker was the forerunner to the Russians’ version of HAARP.’

‘And HAARP can change the weather? I thought there was a UN treaty banning those experiments?’

‘Resolution 3172, passed by the United Nations in December 1976.’ Wiley smiled condescendingly. He had anticipated the question. ‘It bans experiments aimed at manipulating the weather as a form of warfare; but, of course, that doesn’t prevent us from carrying out experiments for peaceful purposes, Mr President.’

Wiley returned to his office, satisfied that the President of the United States was none the wiser for his questions on weather wars, and that he was unaware of Operation Aether. Presidents came and presidents went, but the real power was here in the Agency, and Wiley was determined it would stay that way. His satisfaction was more short-lived than usual, though. A message had come in from the Vienna chief of station, marked for his immediate attention:

O’Connor observed having breakfast with target in Café Schwarzenberg. Unsure whether this is part of plan to eliminate her. O’Connor departed to Imperial Hotel but has not re-emerged, although cell phone is being tracked and is inexplicably moving slowly away from the Imperial. Endeavouring to get another asset to Café Schwarzenberg and will attempt to regain surveillance on Weizman. Sodano’s cell phone last tracked in vicinity of Bratislava, following the Danube towards Budapest. Request further instructions.