Convergence Page 3

  Chapter 6 – Reporting Up

  Frank sat in a small room with a double bed. It was in the Drake, just below where Jenny was staying but the room was certainly not of the same caliber. He had stayed at much worse but he had a slight resentment that one of his subordinates was in a much nicer room. But it was still the Drake Hotel. He was senior enough to get his own room. He had returned to his room to make a phone call.

  He didn’t like the idea of having to call his superiors and inform them that the civilian they were using was about to get intimately involved in a major CIA operation. Sure, his boss knew about using the accountant from Chicago as the face of Jim Conrad. He even approved and encouraged the “real touch” to Jim Conrad. However, including him in the heart of the operation was not how the CIA operated and he knew he would get a lot of pushback from his superiors.

  He also knew that in order for the total plan to work, Jim Conrad had to be a real person that could be seen and had to be met by some shady characters. The CIA had invested a lot of money in this operation and wanted to see it successful. Frank had invested a lot in this personally and was equally anxious to see the scheme play out.

  Deputy Director Frank Warner would call his boss, Sr. Director Tom Sportsman, after Jim and Jenny had entered Ricardo’s room. That way there would be no way to say no.

  Chapter 7 – London Town

  Sir Arthur Borden and his wife had just taken in the London Eye with Arthur’s college friend from the states. It was well after midnight. The London Eye had been kept open all night to celebrate England’s success in recent international football competitions. One would have thought that they had won the World Cup, but any international success by England was reason to celebrate at this time. Sir Arthur Borden grew up in the states and was a US citizen but had learned to be a strong soccer fan since he moved to England. His favorite team was the Manchester United.

  Sir Arthur Borden was actually knighted nearly forty years earlier when his young family moved to England. It was a “tragic happening that we are pleased was bestowed” became the official statement from the monarchy after accidentally bestowing the title of “sir” on a young professor from the states.

  Arthur had taken a professorship at Oxford so that he could be close to London to observe and study all of the ancient manuscripts from the Middle East and Egypt that came through the museums in London. Paris may have been his first choice, but he spoke only English. However, he was considered an expert on many ancient languages.

  His friend, a controversial professor of political science over the same period of time, had come to London for a conference to speak. He was the keynote speaker on “English Aggression manifested in Modern America.” The lecture was based on a few papers and an upcoming book. He connected with Arthur and his wife on the few occasions he came to London. They did not share the same political view, but enjoyed the banter and reminiscing of old times together.

  On the way to the tube, Arthur’s wife took the arm of the old college friend to help her down the stairs. It was half way down the stairs when a man in a hooded shirt stabbed the old college friend and Arthur’s wife. The perpetrator quickly disappeared into the night.

  Chapter 8 – Meeting Ricardo “Ric” Martinez

  Jenny entered the room cautiously. Jim followed just one step behind her. Jenny scanned the room as they entered. The room was not as big as Jim’s room. It was still bigger than most hotel rooms. It had a bed in the main section as they came in the door. The bed had not been slept in. Jenny surmised that they only got the room for this meeting. She knew that Ricardo lived in Chicago and did not need a hotel room. In an adjacent room there was a working table for a meeting and a desk. She also checked the bathroom. There was no adjacent suite where a door could be opened. In the room were Ric and his two sons. Jenny knew that he also had a daughter, but she didn’t expect to see her. This was Ric’s most trusted inner circle and no one else.

  Ric, his younger son Victor and Jenny sat at the table. The oldest son, Ricky, stood behind Jenny. He was smaller than his younger brother–but looked rougher. Jim pulled a chair away from the table and sat positioned so that he was looking directly at Jenny and to the left of Ric. Ricardo was anxious to meet Jim and to do business with him. He had heard of Jim and his reputation and knew that the prestige of working with someone like Jim would also raise his own prestige as a businessman.

  Ric got straight to business. “So Mr. Conrad–you are looking for something to add to your collection.”

  “Mr. Martinez, you can call me Jim–and Jenny will conduct my business for me.” Jim said in short.

  “Thank you Jim, you can call me Ric. This is my son Victor and my oldest boy Ricardo Jr. We just call him Ricky” Ric then turned to Jenny and continued. “You are looking for something specific.”

  “Jim has a small collection of old books, manuscripts and the like. He is looking for something unique…”

  Ric interrupted. “Anything in particular? Original Shakespeare? A Gutenberg Bible?” He sat anxiously but in a quiet tone waiting for her answer.

  She looked at Jim and he gave a nod. It really meant nothing, but gave the illusion that he was in charge. “Well, Jim is looking for something unique to display his collection in, something fitting from a royal renaissance time period.” The plan had been to get some type of rare manuscript. However, Jenny decided to bait him with something different.

  “We can look and maybe we can also find some literary classic that would also catch his fancy.” Ricardo responded hoping to entice additional business his way.

  “Perhaps, why don’t you see what you can find and we can talk. However, an antique desk or bookshelf would be the most desired item. If you can find a manuscript Jim would like something, shall we say, that is ‘unique’.”

  Ric’s oldest son, Ricky, jumped in. “We are not stealing something just to find out you aren’t buying.” The oldest son was unpredictable. Ric always thought that he might need to give the business to his younger son and find something else for his older son. Ricky spent too much time with some of the older business acquaintances and developed a short temper–a necessity from the old business, but not needed in Ric’s new empire very often.

  Jenny physically turned towards the older son and said. “I didn’t ask you to steal anything. Just find out what some people may be willing to sell and give me a shopping list.” She quickly turned her back on him and faced Ric again.

  The son took this as an insult and quickly grabbed her by her hair pulling her head back. He had a gun to her head in a matter of seconds.

  Jim did not hesitate; he pulled his gun and put it to Ric’s head. “No one puts a gun to my Jenny’s head.”

  Jenny looked horrified.

  The younger son didn’t move. His father gave him a stern gesture to remain calm. Then Ric said. “Jim, I cannot find you your treasures with a gun to my head. But being a practical man, I suppose you cannot remove the gun without the gun being removed from Jenny’s head.”

  “I think I will like doing business with you Ric.” Jim concluded as he lowered his gun.

  It only took a look from Ricardo and his oldest son reluctantly lowered the gun. As he did so, Jenny swung out of the chair, grabbed the gun from his hand and had him pinned to the wall with her fingers around his neck. “If you ever pull a gun on me again, I will kill you. A shot to my head won’t stop that.” She then released his neck, handed him the gun and turned her back on him once again.

  They spoke for the next hour. Ric always liked to keep a record of his interactions so he took a photo to “commemorate their friendship”. Jenny and Jim were not aware of this gesture and Jenny certainly would have never allowed it.

  “I will contact you in a few days and let you know what I have found.” Ricardo already had things in mind, but wanted to set the expectation a few days out in case the prospects in his mind didn’t work out. If they did work out, he knew he would be calling much sooner

  “You have my
cell number,” Jenny responded.

  Chapter 9 – London Police

  Sir Arthur Borden cradled his wife in his arms. She was dead but he continued to cuddle her. Arthur sat in shock and disbelief as to what had just happened. Holding his wife he knelt partially over one of his oldest friends that was now lying dead in the tube of London. All he could think about was calling his children to let them know what happened.

  His children both lived near Washington DC with families of their own. His mind crossed over to a discussion his wife had with their daughter the day before about visiting the grandchildren. Both his wife and daughter were excited at the time. These were now just shattered dreams. He did not even notice the police and the other authorities come until they pulled his wife’s bloodied body from his arms.

  The police spent about an hour talking to him and cleaning up the stairs to the tube. It did not appear to be robbery, but a deliberate murder. The police seemed to conclude that this was an “opportune murder” of the controversial American professor that happened to get Arthur’s wife in the mix. The thought did cross Arthur’s mind that he was the intended target, but he couldn’t figure anybody that would want him or his wife dead.

  The police dropped him off at his office at Oxford. He couldn’t convince himself to go home. He would sleep on the sofa after calling his children. He called each of them and explained the situation as clearly as he could and told them he would call back tomorrow morning their time to talk more.

  It only took a matter of minutes until he cried himself to sleep on the sofa in his office.

  Chapter 10 – The Winding Road to Bucharest

  Dragos was now involved in an extreme early morning drive down the long and winding road to Bucharest from Brasov. He knew a friend at the university that he thought might be able to help translate the bronze plates. He thought that his friend might just claim his etched plates for the national museum. The last artifact that he brought to “Bucky” had been confiscated and put into the national museum. Of course, the last item happened to be a shield that had likely been used by Vlad the Impaler.

  Dragos’ mind was not on his friend Bucky or even the legend of Prince Vlad, but on the events the evening before. He did not intend to get in the middle of a KGB gun fight. The KGB agent, Daniel, had come to Dragos for help. He was Romanian by birth and had gone to Russia at a very young age because of his aptitude for learning languages. This made him a very desirable candidate for the KGB. He was indoctrinated early but never forgot his roots in Romania.

  His father knew Dragos’ father and told his son to look up Dragos’ father if ever he needed anything. Dragos’ father died and the former KGB agent now looked to Dragos for that help. Ever since the fall of the communist Russia regime, the KGB stayed intact to some degree and still functioned in many of the cold war tactics, including some of the internal Russian affairs. Some also formed or become part of the Russian mob–a name that indicated a single unit. It is not. Nor can you always tell the KGB from the mob, sometimes they are the same.

  Dragos got a call in the middle of the day and he agreed to meet Daniel, the former Romanian KGB member, at the Aro Palace. The Aro is a hotel in the middle of Brasov. It is considered one of the more elegant locations in the town.

  The Aro is a beautiful hotel with a large foyer. It was open with a few couches in the middle. It did not as of yet conform to the “no smoking” policy that most of the rest of the world adhered to. When Dragos entered the hotel there were several individuals huddled together smoking.

  There were many small meetings being carried out in the lobby. These were conducted in either Romanian or English. Dragos sat in a chair facing the entrance near an American and Englishman, he surmised. They were talking about touring a local chocolate factory. Dragos knew the one.

  Daniel was easy to pick out of the crowd as he walked into the Aro. He wore a long coat with a fur collar, maybe standard issue for the KGB. He carried a backpack and had a distinct haircut. He walked more upright and alert than the average clientele of the Aro. The typical crowd was a little more like Dragos– average and slightly plump, or a little more in his case.

  Dragos pushed himself up and walked to meet Daniel. After a few minutes of quick introductions Daniel asked for a more quiet location to talk. Dragos knew just the place. They walked a few blocks down a back road until they came to the town center. Dragos led Daniel down one of the roads off the main square and then into a narrow offshoot. They went into a door and then down the stairs. He spoke to the owner and they were escorted to a private, secluded section of the restaurant. There were two tables but Dragos was assured that the second one would not be filled that evening.

  Dragos and Daniel ordered a few drinks and a small dish each and asked not to be disturbed. This was not the first time Dragos used this room to conduct business. It was also not the only room he had that he could arrange like this. However, this was his favorite. Something the cellar setting reminded him of “spy” work. And he considered his line of business the equivalent of free enterprise “spy” work.

  Once the food and spirits were served and a complimentary shot of brandy, the small room quickly emptied, Daniel opened the backpack he was carrying. He pulled out two bronze plates with something etched into them. Each was encased in a similar wood frame with wax around the edge to seal the plate to the wood. The plates looked old, except for the splatter of blood on one of the plates. They looked bronze, but could have been any number of metals.

  “What are these?” Dragos certainly had an inclination that this might be important or better yet, valuable.

  “Professor Blovaski felt that they were ancient plates, perhaps written in a form of ancient Egyptian or ancient Hebrew or some combination.” Daniel went on to explain that Professor Blovaski sent pictures to a colleague that might be able to interpret them. He estimated that only a dozen or so could actually interpret them quickly. Another couple of dozen linguists might take years. Professor Blovaski focused on the one he knew best, albeit from reputation only, from the shorter list–Sir Arthur Borden.

  “What are you doing there?” Dragos asked Daniel.

  Daniel explained that Professor Blovaski was a Jewish linguist, primarily for ancient languages. He only survived because he had been so good at what he did. He had been assigned to him while he was young to help learn more languages. Daniel spoke nearly thirty languages, most fluently and he spoke many of them as though they were his own tongue. He just happened to show up the night the professor got the plates.

  “Where did he get them?” Dragos pushed.

  “He wasn’t sure where they came from.” Daniel explained that he got them from one of the ministers in the government and was asked to just authenticate that they were ancient records. He assumed that one of the archeological digs in northern Russia was the origin, but he had no idea for sure. He explained that he was given explicit instructions not to share with anyone, but just authenticate that they were of ancient origin. He was afraid that someone found out he sent photos of the plates.

  “We were chatting when a bullet came through the window and killed the professor. I do not even think they knew I was in there until I grabbed the plates and ran.”

  “Do you think he was killed for the plates?” Dragos asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know, but he was troubled and he told me that these may have value beyond just monetary value. He was only part way through his story when he was shot.”

  Dragos’ gut was telling him by this point that he ought to just leave, but the story kept him intrigued. Daniel showed him the plate again, this time he could see a clear writing on the tablet in blood “Король 1131”. Daniel said, it was the last thing he did besides hand me the plates and point for me to leave.

  “He just didn’t tell you what it meant?”

  “He was shot in the neck and couldn’t talk.” Daniel had paused to let it sink in. Then he continued, “But ‘Король’ means ‘King’.”

 
“King 1131, but king of what country? Who wrote it?” There was no easy answer. Dragos was now anxious to return to his house to do an internet search on Kings in Russia or Europe or even the middle–east around the year 1131. It would have to wait.

  It was about that time that a man came into the same secluded section of the restaurant as Dragos. He stood upright and was dressed in a long coat with a fur collar. The coat was open as he started to pull a gun. Daniel quickly became aware of the situation and pulled his gun. The guns were identical; the technique for pulling the guns was identical. The strange man, however, started to draw first and that was enough time to get his shot off first. It didn’t kill Daniel, merely incapacitated him. It would take a second shot to finish him off.

  For Dragos that was enough, he wasn’t as quick or as elegant–but he managed to pull a taser gun that he purchased from an American citizen and shoot the man in the chest with it.

  The man went down in convulsions. Dragos grabbed the bag and put the plates into it. He hurried past the Russian. He knew that it would only buy him minutes if that. He was sure that this guy was KGB and probably would recover far quicker than the average man. He was right.

  Dragos didn’t waste time with going by his house. His car was parked between town and the Aro Palace. He made his way to the car and did not bother going by the house. Maybe the stunned KGB agent would spend some time looking into his properties in Brasov before realizing he left town. He headed straight for Bucharest to the only man he knew might be able to help translate these plates and help him understand what he had inherited.