Smith unfolded the steps and went cautiously down them with Eichmann close behind. As terrified as the elderly scientist was of the locals, he didn’t seem particularly excited about being left alone with Randi either.

“Dr. Eichmann!” the young Korean said, rushing up and offering his hand. “It’s good to see you again so soon.”

“Hello, Kyong. I’d like to introduce you to my associate…” He hesitated and Smith covered.

“Dr. Smith.” He indicated behind him, seeing no reason to bother with aliases at this point. “And this is Dr. Russell.”

Kyong gave them a quick nod and then started toward the jeep. “Please, if you’ll follow me.”

Temperatures were in the mid-fifties, but the sun was hot in the cloudless sky. There was no humidity and no pollution, just clear air and snow-topped emerald hills in every direction. A deceptively peaceful scene.

Smith slipped into the passenger seat, forcing Eichmann into the back with Randi, where he couldn’t cause any trouble. They took off at a casual pace with Kyong skillfully negotiating the uneven dirt road while Smith watched the trees for signs that they were headed into a trap.

Nothing but a few colorful birds, a distant waterfall, and a constant flow of small talk from their driver.

They came out of the trees after about fifteen minutes and began angling toward an enormous complex built near the shore of a small lake. A chain-link fence surrounded the entire campus but they didn’t slow as they passed through the open gate. The regular army guard seemed interested in them only insofar as it gave him an excuse to snap off a crisp salute.

The activity Smith had noted during their approach was even more frantic up close. Trucks of every type and size were coming in empty, being loaded, and then heading for the gate. What Eichmann had told them about the place being shut down was apparently true. But more than that, it looked like it was being completely dismantled. To the west, windows were being carefully removed and three men were carrying out a security desk that looked like it had been cut from the floor.

They pulled up to what appeared to be the main entrance—so far untouched by the demolition crews crawling over the rest of the facility—and Smith jumped out. A military flatbed rumbled by with a massive tarp pulled tight over its load. The shapes bulging beneath it were unmistakable: bodies.

Smith followed the vehicle with his eyes as it moved away, spotting a single hand peeking out from beneath the canvas. At first he thought it was covered with dust, but then he realized the color was natural. The body wasn’t Asian, but African or possibly East Indian.