Bangkok, Thailand
The Scotch in Ivan
Kerikov’s glass was quickly diluting as the ice melted under the
onslaught of the Asian heat. The tumbler was jeweled with
condensation and the small napkin on the Royal River Hotel’s table
was sodden. Kerikov took another heavy swallow of the questionable
Scotch, mindful of water dripping from the napkin that clung to the
glass.
He had been in Bangkok now for two uneventful
days, basking in the delights of his hotel, the venerable Oriental,
where he had taken a suite in the original Author’s Wing, and
indulging in carnal vices on Pat Pong Road, Bangkok’s famous red
light district. He had also spent some of that time contemplating
his hurried escape from Moscow, wondering if he had been too rash
in executing the KGB auditor in his office. Hindsight said that he
should have suffered through the little man’s investigation and
left afterward, but killing him had given Kerikov the sense of
completion that he needed before he fled his homeland.
His leaving Russia was never in doubt, but the
abruptness of his departure left a few loose ends that he now could
never tie up. “So be it,” he mused lightly, and ordered another
Scotch from the attractive waitress. He had reason to be in a good
spirit and regrets for the past would not be allowed to dampen
it.
Last night he had been contacted by Dr. Borodin
from aboard the August Rose. Borodin
reported that he had a definite location for the volcano’s summit
and it was nearly a thousand meters beyond Hawaii’s
two-hundred-mile limit. The news was like a yoke removed from
Kerikov’s shoulders.
When Dr. Borodin had first proposed Vulcan’s
Forge forty years before, his selection for the most optimal
geologic site did not take into account any political
considerations. The area he chose had the right combination of
natural volcanism, ocean depth, temperature, salinity, and currents
as well as some native minerals that were necessary. Unfortunately
this spot was forty miles from Oahu. Because this site was
obviously unusable, Borodin had cut his margin as fine as possible,
detonating his device as far from the Hawaiian Islands as he could
without jeopardizing the results of his work.
At the time, Hawaii’s entrance into the United
States was a forgone conclusion, giving her the territorial rights
afforded a sovereign nation rather than those of a colony or
protectorate. Yet Borodin’s calculations demanded that the
explosion had to take place within that two-hundred-mile
demarcation if Vulcan’s Forge was to succeed. Boris Ulinev trusted
Borodin’s assertion that oceanic currents would skew the volcano
enough so that it would surface outside the limit, yet the wily
head of Scientific Operations hedged his bet by initiating an
audacious contingency plan.
He selected a young Japanese-born American, an
adolescent with a tortured background but an incredible mind. He
surreptitiously groomed him, guiding him from afar through
university and into business. Using the massive support of the KGB,
Ulinev shepherded wealth and power to this young man for many
years, all the while introducing him to people who shaped his
personality and goals. This shaping was done subtly over many years
and continued even after Ulinev had died and left Department 7 in
the care of others.
The end result was the fanatical racist and
megalomaniac, Takahiro Ohnishi. He had become a global
industrialist with a far-flung empire and had unwittingly been
programmed his entire life to attempt to break Hawaii away from the
United States if Scientific Operations ever decided that was
necessary for the success of Vulcan’s Forge.
Kerikov, when he took over Department 7, had
read about Ulinev’s original contingency plan and inwardly cringed.
He knew from experience that humans were easy to program,
especially considering the extraordinary depth given in Ohnishi’s
case. Yet experience also showed that controlling those who had
been so programmed was difficult at best. They often became active
without authority, or did not activate at all when called upon. The
idea of a “Manchurian Candidate” worked well for fiction writers
but not for true spy masters.
Kerikov was relieved now that this phase of
Ulinev’s original plan was no longer needed. Borodin’s call
confirmed that a revolution in Hawaii was no longer necessary to
ensure they would be able to control the volcano. And although the
KGB had spent millions of dollars creating Ohnishi, Kerikov really
didn’t care about the write-off. The volcano was outside American
influence and within his personal grasp.
Eight months earlier, Borodin, on a regular
pass-by of the burgeoning volcano aboard the August Rose, had reported that it would most likely
crest outside the two-hundred-mile line yet he would not have
conclusive proof for some time. Kerikov seized that moment to enact
a contingency plan of his own.
With one million dollars in cash and a
promissory note of an additional five million dollars, Kerikov
bought someone high up in Ohnishi’s personal staff to report on all
of the eccentric billionaire’s activities. If the coup in Hawaii
was unnecessary, Kerikov wanted to ensure that Ohnishi would not
continue his end of the plan. The mole was his insurance that
Ohnishi could be controlled. Permanently, if necessary.
At the same time, Kerikov set into motion a plot
to steal the wealth of the volcano for himself. Had the Soviet
Union remained the world power that it had been when Dr. Borodin
launched Vulcan’s Forge, Kerikov would have been proud to turn over
the marvelous achievement to his superiors. But the decades since
then had seen Russia degenerate into a Third World country, a
nation whose very survival depended on loan guarantees from America
and Western Europe.
After quietly capitulating the Cold War in 1989,
Russia had suffered a cruel peace. She was turning into a market
for goods and a source of raw materials, much the way Europe had
once treated the backwaters of Asia and Africa. In just a few
years, the Soviet Union had toppled from superpower to colony, and
the decline was far from over.
Watching dispassionately as his nation rotted,
Kerikov decided that if he could not save the Rodina, then perhaps the Motherland could save him.
Since Russia no longer possessed either the political clout or the
financial resources to develop Vulcan’s Forge, Kerikov opened
negotiations with a group of men who could.
The nine members of Hydra Consolidated, a
Korean-based holding company representing billions of dollars of
real estate, manufacturing, and electronics, recognized the value
of Vulcan’s Forge when Kerikov approached them. They did not balk
at the one-hundred-million-dollar price tag that he attached to the
volcano and its unusual riches, for the strategic element being
produced in the charnel guts of the volcano would make its
possessor the most powerful force on earth, in both the literal and
figurative sense.
Just a week after initiating talks with the
Koreans, Kerikov learned of the proposed meetings in Thailand to
discuss the Spratly Island situation. Sensing that the Bangkok
Accords could aid his plan, Kerikov pulled in some favors and
employed a little bribery and blackmail to get Gennady Perchenko
assigned as the Russian delegate to the meeting. He also managed to
get the Taiwanese ambassador to act on his behalf in return for
some information that would ensure Minister Tren the prime
minister’s office whenever he wanted it.
Even before the accord meetings began, Kerikov
knew how he would use his two agents-in-place to solidify
possession of the volcano when it crested through the Pacific
swells.
When his second Scotch arrived, he glanced at
the Piaget watch on his wrist. Perchenko would arrive at any
moment. Kerikov looked at the maître d’. It was his first night
here at the Royal River, yet he seemed comfortable in his
job.
The regular man hadn’t arrived for work this
afternoon. His body was secured to several cement blocks in a canal
about ten miles from the city.
An hour after receiving the confirmation from
Borodin, Kerikov had killed the maître d’ as the ultimate insurance
that he would never discuss his dealings with the Russian delegate
to the Bangkok Accords. After dispatching the young Thai, Kerikov
phoned his sociopathic assistant, Evad Lurbud, in Cairo and ordered
him to commence his housekeeping. This would mean killing an
Egyptian arms merchant and then flying to Hawaii to take care of
Takahiro Ohnishi and Kerikov’s mole.
Kerikov might have left behind some loose ends
when he fled Russia, but he’d be damned if there would be any from
the final gambit of Vulcan’s Forge. In just a few days, he’d be
spending the one hundred million dollars from the Koreans and there
wouldn’t be a soul left alive who would know how he got it.
Kerikov spotted Gennady Perchenko leaping from a
Riva River taxi onto the quay of the Royal River. In a moment, the
new maître d’ would guide the diplomat to his final briefing.