The Genghis Tomb Read online

  David played devil’s advocate.

  “A possibility, I suppose,” he said. “But couldn’t it also be true that having blown their best chance they simply didn’t give a damn what your people saw? If that colonel had indeed run out of options, then what would he care if it was known he flew back to China to lick his wounds?”

  “I guess,” Feliks conceded. “Yet it still bothers me. I don’t like the possibility of our being manipulated . . .”

  David butted out his cigarette. A few drags were all he really wanted.

  “What else troubles you?”

  “More a gut feeling than anything tangible. I’ve spent a large part of my career in Mongolia and have come to love this country. Despite its small population, I know how incredibly rich it is in a multitude of undeveloped natural resources; everything from oil, gas, minerals—even the ‘rare earth’ deposits now so necessary to modern technology. More importantly, I also know how much the powers in Beijing covet this land as part of China’s long-term vision. The very last thing they’d wish to happen at this juncture is anything promoting a sudden surge of patriotic nationalism—thus I understand the need for Mongolia to find the tomb of Genghis as soon as possible.”

  He paused.

  “In many ways, David, it’s all comparable to a lengthy game of chess—one always played under the radar, so to speak, each move and counter move carefully thought out by the opposing sides. Unfortunately, if looked upon this way, I fear Mongolia’s current position is fast becoming tenuous. On a brighter note, I think Dashiin is correct in believing the international attention gained by finding the tomb may be the single greatest opportunity this country has to stave off any imminent plans of aggression. If successful, it could conceivably provide decades of respite to reset the board and continue the match.”

  “Which then raises the next question—how far might the Chinese go to prevent this discovery from happening?”

  Feliks shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “Wish to hell I knew. Bad as this might prove for them, they really do have a history of being cautiously patient, taking the longer view to achieve their goals. Maybe this is the case here. That’s my fervent hope, anyway. Besides, despite our high expectations there’s no guarantee we’re going to locate anything, now is there?”

  David considered this in silence.

  It was obvious to him that Feliks’ instincts toward the Chinese were always those of constant wariness. But did that make him right to fear China might still have yet another trick up its sleeve? The memory of their violent encounter inside the temple at Karakorum had surely fueled Feliks’ natural inclination; yet even he couldn’t put into words what additional action the Chinese might conceivably undertake to thwart their mission—particularly so far within Mongolia’s borders.

  A somber Vlad projected this a step further.

  “And what of Russia?” he asked. “Where do they come down on all this?”

  “As always, on the side of Mongolia,” replied Feliks without hesitation. “But I must tell you in all honesty that my government’s reasons aren’t totally altruistic. If China should eventually succeed in absorbing Mongolia—God and all the Saints forbid—we would lose not only a valuable friend, but a strategic buffer state, as well. This would place a re-drawn Chinese border directly across the two thousand mile underbelly of Siberia. Not a reality we wish to contemplate.”

  Blunt as this admission was, it seemed to satisfy Vlad.

  Two hours into full daylight, they left the abandoned airfield behind and headed straight north across rolling grasslands. David drove the lead truck containing his entire group, their personal duffle bags placed atop unused seats in the rear. The majority of their supplies, including water containers and additional tanks of diesel fuel, followed in the second vehicle with the five-man squad of Mongolian soldiers.

  After the vague concerns raised by Feliks, David now felt their heavily armed presence was probably justified under the circumstances—though hopefully unnecessary.

  Feliks sat up front beside him, studying a recent topographical map as they navigated an undulating landscape completely bereft of roads. For the first time since being shot, he no longer supported his arm in a sling. Vlad, Elizabeth, and Zayaa occupied the seat directly behind them, the women apparently content to admire the continuing panorama of flower-strewn grassland unfolding around them.

  The wide-body trucks lived up to their reputation, covering the terrain at a comfortable speed. Within an hour of departure they came upon their destination rather suddenly. Though Feliks’ intent was to bring them alongside the westernmost of the three oval anomalies, he’d misjudged his mark by several miles. Considering the complete lack of reference points, this was hardly a serious navigational fault on his part.

  David brought his vehicle to a stop and shut off the engine. In comparison to the rolling countryside they’d been traversing, the open vista now before them was both unexpected and somewhat jarring to behold.

  The second truck pulled alongside as they got out.

  It was definitely the slightly smaller, middle plateau that lay directly in front of them. Beyond its flat, stone surface—which was actually lower than where they presently stood—the land fell rapidly away into a long, narrow valley, its entire length bordered well to the north by a line of partially forested mountains.

  David used his binoculars to better study their surroundings.

  While he did so, Feliks shook his head.

  “Sorry about my miscalculation,” he apologized. “This wasn’t to be our intended starting point, was it? Perhaps from now on—”

  David interrupted him with a raised hand, and then called Vlad over. Passing the little man his binoculars, he pointed at the farther side of the plateau.

  “Do you see it?” he asked. “About two hundred yards out. What do you make of that low formation? Is it my imagination, or does it somehow look man-made?”

  Vlad located it, adjusting the focus.

  “No, I don’t think it’s your imagination.”

  “Then let’s check it out.”

  Once Vlad retrieved the jade key from his duffle bag, all five of them made their way out onto the oval’s flat, limestone surface. It was clear the rather curious anomaly they quickly zeroed in on wasn’t natural. It was a square, roughly three feet per side, crudely delineated by a shallow row of stacked stones. But was it ancient? wondered David. A marker of some kind? Without evidence to confirm its age there was simply no way to determine—

  Then it hit him.

  God, could it possibly be this simple?

  There was only one way to find out. He stepped into the middle of the square and took the polished jade from Vlad’s hands. Turning to the line of northern mountains, he held it up at arms length, centering it on the one Vlad identified as the Burkhan Khaldun.

  Several long seconds passed before he slowly lowered the piece.

  “Well?” asked Elizabeth. “David . . . don’t leave us hanging here.”

  He smiled into their expectant faces.

  “What’s the Mongolian word for bingo?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  David stepped out of the square, allowing them to experience the wonder of it on their own. When lifted at arms length from that precise spot on the plateau, the irregular and jagged outline of the jade key instantly became a precision instrument—one that nested flawlessly into the mountainous ‘teeth of heaven’ as it was designed to do over eight centuries ago. Thus there was no question in David’s mind that the triangular arrow rising from below must likewise point directly to the long lost tomb of Genghis.

  Everything fit too exactly to mean otherwise.

  Using his notepad, he worked with Vlad to create an accurate sketch—though the need for it seemed unnecessary. All were in agreement. The arrow unquestionably ended at the base of the closest mountain over from Burkhan Khaldun—and at a spot in dramatic contrast to its immediate surroundings due to a high, vertical cliff rising imme
diately above. Devoid of trees or other vegetation, the tawny-colored bluff overlooked the eastern flank of the valley creating a striking landmark in and of itself.

  It implied something more, as well.

  If their eyes were to be believed, this could also put to rest the past several days of speculation regarding the probable manner of Genghis’ actual internment.

  Centuries of tradition always had it he was buried in an earth-dug grave in the customary manner, all physical evidence of its exact location then carefully erased. But this simply didn’t mesh with what they presently knew. Now it seemed almost certain this long accepted legend was an intentional deception . . . a ruse perpetrated by his contemporaries to mislead all who would seek to discover the true location.

  The strongest argument to support such a sham, of course, was the very existence of the horn map and the jade key. It stood in clear contradiction to accepted lore. Too, if Vlad and President Dashiin were correct in their supposition that all of Genghis’ immediate descendents were ultimately entombed alongside him—which now appeared increasingly likely—then this only further elevated the likelihood that some sort of elaborate construct must surely have been devised to house not only Genghis, but all of his future heirs in perpetuity.

  So if not a traditional burial, what remained?

  David had argued convincingly there could be but one viable alternative. It was his opinion that a natural cave formation of some sort was instead utilized—or perhaps enlarged upon—to serve this farseeing dynastic purpose.

  However, this was hardly something that could’ve been located or produced on short demand. Unless, of course, it was already known to exist.

  But if so, by whom?

  Deductive reasoning said this was probably where the elusive figure of old Manegen again came into play. David now believed it was Genghis, himself, who alone knew of its existence, only sharing the information with his childhood friend in the small hours prior to his death. For reasons known but to him, it was only then that Genghis revealed its secret location, giving the necessary instructions as to where and how he wished to be buried.

  But again, this was still all speculation.

  As they worked their way down off the oval plateau and drove across the shallow valley toward the steep cliff on the farther side, it actually appeared David’s cave theory was finally going to be put to the test—and hopefully validated. After all, it was directly at this singular stone bluff that the arrow pointed.

  Now a firm convert to this theory, Vlad offered substantive historical evidence to support this conclusion as they drove. Having replaced Feliks in the passenger seat beside David, his round face was one of eager anticipation.

  “When you read all the various histories of Genghis Khan compiled down through the ages,” he said, “it quickly becomes apparent that the least known period of his life is that of his early childhood when he was simply called Temujen. Almost every document still in existence was written many years after his death—and the majority of these are built on obvious fables, whimsical stories designed to enhance the image of the man he eventually became.”

  “You mean like the story of his birth?” asked Elizabeth. “The part about him being born clasping a clot of blood in his right hand?”

  “A good example. That rather fanciful tale apparently foretold he was destined to one day become a great conqueror. The reality of it actually happening must be taken with a grain of salt. It’s quite possible, of course, but most modern scholars put these later insertions of such prophetic signs and events as being more distracting than informative.”

  He turned his head and smiled back at her.

  “Yet despite this, some helpful facts can be gleaned regarding his early youth—which may go a long way toward supporting David’s cave theory.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for one thing, there’s always been the somewhat intriguing mystery of just how the youngster successfully eluded powerful enemies over an entire winter right here in this general area.”

  “He was being hunted?”

  “Indeed. You see, Temujen’s father, Yesugei, had been poisoned by the leader of the Tatars—a man who was likewise determined to see the boy and his siblings also dead. Forced to hastily flee in the night along with his mother and younger brothers, the adolescent and his small family somehow managed to survive the ordeal. How he accomplished this feat was a miracle in itself. Only if you know how truly grim and prolonged our winters are in this high country can you fully appreciate what a remarkable feat it was.”

  “The ancient historians offer no details or explanation?”

  Vlad shook his head.

  “Not really. Nothing the least bit believable, anyway. The best they ever came up with is that with Tengri’s divine guidance he somehow evaded the Tatar’s best warriors by merely hiding amongst the trees growing on the Burkhan Khaldun—which is patently ridiculous.”

  “Thus the cave theory, right? Temujen found the shelter he needed . . .”

  “I can’t think of another plausible scenario to account for it—and if David is correct, it was a secret he kept to himself right up to the evening of his death.”

  Zayaa now leaned forward in her seat.

  “If true, Vlad, do you think he always intended to be buried there?”

  The little man lifted his hands.

  “Who’s to say?” he replied. “I doubt we’ll ever know.”

  Listening to this exchange, David couldn’t help but smile.

  “Okay, guys,” he cautioned, “let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’ve yet to see if such a cave even exists.”

  With the valley being but seven miles wide, it took little time to reach the base of the high bluff. Fearing the possibility of falling rocks, both trucks were then positioned on flat ground a good forty yards west of where it began. There Captain Ubur set his men to preparing a proper campsite designed to accommodate everyone’s immediate needs.

  Though they were adequately provisioned for a minimum stay of another week, no one in David’s group believed for a moment that this day would close without them making the discovery everyone expected. The directions of the jade key were simply too specific to be denied.

  And so it eventually proved.

  While the soldiers prepared camp, David and his companions immediately began exploring the length of the precipitous cliff-wall. The most noticeable discrepancy to its otherwise smooth surface was an enormous stone slab at least ten feet thick and roughly sixty feet long that had apparently sheered off the bluff’s upper face sometime in the very distant past. The great force of its sliding descent had been such that it ended up jutting out at a severe angle, projecting itself toward what had clearly once been the bank of Vlad’s missing river—for not far from its tip was an exposed section of small, tumbled stones laying in a shallow depression, a definite indication of where a strong current of water had once flowed.

  But it wasn’t this massive section of stone that caught David’s eye.

  Instead, it was a considerably smaller and thinner slab standing a couple dozen feet farther to the right. Upright and flush to the cliff’s base, it was basically rectangular in shape, roughly twelve feet in overall width and perhaps a uniform forty inches, or so, thick. The only clear irregularity to its shape was a pronounced peak at its top edge. As to how deep into the ground the slab extended was unknown—but David guessed it wasn’t far.

  The others quickly gathered around.

  “Do you think this might be it?” asked Feliks.

  David nodded.

  “I’d be willing to bet on it,” he said. “But I want to check out the top. Can you and Vlad give me a boost up?”

  “No problem.”

  Putting a foot onto their interlocked hands, David was hoisted up high enough to get a good look at the upper peak. What he saw came as no surprise to him. “Okay, let me down. I found what I needed to know.”

  When back on the ground, he answered everyone’s un
spoken question.

  “There’s a hand-chiseled grove running horizontally across that upper rise—and I’m damn sure why it’s there. I’ve seen channels similar to this carved into the top of early Mycenaean tomb-blocking stones that had to be repeatedly opened and closed over generations for family burials. Like this one, those slabs were precisely fit, thus requiring a simple means to facilitate their removal.”

  Vlad was visibly confused.

  “And how exactly,” he wanted to know, “was this accomplished?”

  “First, my friend, we need a truck, a shovel, a length of rope—and then I’ll happily demonstrate.”

  Within minutes, Feliks drove one of the vehicles over and positioned it facing the slab at a right angle, needing no explanation for what they were about to do. Using a crescent wrench, he then got out and unbolted the heavy mesh grill, exposing the front mounted hydraulic winch. As he did this, David carefully shoveled the sandy earth away from the stone’s base. As anticipated, it took no more than the removal of a few inches to uncover the stone’s bottom edge.

  Again with a helping boost up, he passed a suitable length of rope through the channel, tying both ends together into a secure loop. Feliks returned to the truck and restarted the engine, then depressed the winch’s release mechanism enabling David to pull out enough cable to attach its hook to the hanging loop.

  Now curious as to what was going on, Captain Ubur and two of his men walked over to watch. With everyone well back, David gave the signal for Feliks to start rewinding the strong cable. As the slack was gradually taken up and the tension increased, the stone slab began to noticeably move, the top inching steadily outward until gravity finally sent it crashing to the ground.

  Only when the explosion of dust settled did they move forward, each staring speechless into what was revealed.