Free The Einstein Papers by Craig Dirgo Page A

China’s border with Kazakhstan-in the former Soviet Union-would take just over twelve hours. Taft had little to do except stare at the land as it rolled past the open door of the cargo car. In the distance Taft could see gusts of wind blowing the sandy soil, forming clouds of dust. Other than a single instance when he spotted a man leading an ox far in the distance, Taft had yet to see another living thing. Choi was sleeping, sprawled out in the far corner of the railcar. Taft could see him occasionally twitch and mutter in his sleep. Finally, with little else to do, Taft settled down to rest Placing his pack under his head, he concentrated on relaxing his muscles. Breathing deeply and regularly he began to drift off. It would be the last chance for sleep until he and Choi crossed the border-or died trying.
     
    “Bring the dogs!” Yibo shouted into the radio.
    The helicopter was parked on the edge of the stream, its engines shut down.
    “Do you think you have them?” Jimn asked over the radio.
    “The pilot spotted a set of tracks leading from the water. We are approximately one hundred twenty miles downstream of the facility. It appears the tracks match the set found near the fence, but the wind has been gusting and the tracks are already becoming obscured. They are disappearing as we speak.”
    “Can you search from the air until the dogs arrive?” Jimn asked.
    “Not enough fuel. We didn’t start out with a full tank,” Yibo noted.
    “I understand,” Jimn said. “I’ll bring a spare fuel pod and the dogs in another chopper. It will take me two hours to fuel, load the dogs, and fly out there. You’ll just have to wait until I arrive.”
    “Very well, Mr. Jimn,” Yibo said as he replaced the microphone, then settled in his seat to doze.
     
    In the executive dining room of the Chinese government offices in Beijing at eleven minutes past noon, the prime minister’s lunch was interrupted with the news that Choi had disappeared.
    The executive dining room was as ornate as the palace of a feudal lord. Finely detailed brass statues of horsemen, each standing seven feet tall, stood to each side of the carved ebony doors leading to the hallway. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, their beauty highlighted by hidden golden spotlights, while thick Persian carpets muffled the sounds of the servants as they set out the elegant repast.
    A large sandalwood dining table stood in the center of the room with a brass incense burner spouting thin tendrils of smoke. Delicate, nearly translucent vases were set to each side of the incense burner, and each one contained a visually perfect flower arrangement. The lunch for the leaders of China was artfully arranged on a separate side table and was kept warm in silver chafing dishes. There were dumplings filled with tiny bits of shrimp and crab and marinated beef, two kinds offish, a noodle dish, and a marinated cabbage, scallion, leek, and seaweed dish the prime minister particularly enjoyed.
    After reading the report on Choi’s escape, along with an update on the progress of the search, the prime minister sat back, raised his hands to have his plates taken away, sipped his tea, then lit a Chinese Panda cigarette.
    “I expect the boots and the pound note are but a crude ploy,” he said slowly to the vice-minister while at the same time lightly stroking his chin. “Even so, have the secret police give me an update on the location of all British citizens currently in the western desert. I may be wrong in my thinking, but I believe it’s not the British who want Choi-it’s the Americans. Ever since we liberated Choi they have been seeking his return through diplomatic channels. When that got them nowhere they must have decided to take action.” He paused and sipped the tea again, then turned to the army general at his left. “I would like a report on the placement of any American forces near our borders,” he said. Then he motioned to his aide that the meal was over and the