The Genghis Tomb Read online

  Elizabeth snapped a final photograph from that angle and stood up. She found Zayaa’s speculations both logical and impressive. She’d clearly given this much thought. On impulse, she asked, “Do you have any siblings yourself?”

  This query seemed to take Zayaa by surprise.

  “I do, in fact—or better said, I did. A younger brother by three years. He died in a bus accident when I was twelve.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry . . .”

  Zayaa gave a reassuring smile.

  “No need. It was a very long time ago. My parents never fully recovered from it, of course, but I do everything I can to—” She stopped, suddenly turning her head toward the distant entrance. “Do you hear that?”

  Elizabeth did—as much a thumping vibration as actual noise.

  “That’s strange,” she said. “I thought President Dashiin’s troop carriers weren’t due for about another three hours.”

  Now came the unmistakable sound of rapid and sustained gunfire.

  An expression of panic swept over Zayaa’s face.

  “Those aren’t our choppers!” she cried. “They’re Chinese!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Inside the mess tent, forty yards from the tomb’s guarded entrance, Feliks and Captain Ubur momentarily looked at each other in puzzlement, both startled by a sudden buzzing noise that rapidly grew in intensity. A chopper? Not possible!

  Unless—

  Then all hell broke loose.

  A thunderous explosion of continuous gunfire ripped the air, and they immediately dropped their coffees and scrambled outside—only to freeze in horror to see how just in the matter of seconds a low flying attack helicopter had swept in and completely decimated the four surprised Mongolian soldiers.

  Though Feliks automatically drew his revolver, he saw that the hovering military craft had already pivoted and was now heading straight in their direction, the power of its deadly four-barreled Gatling gun chewing up ground in a yard-wide path.

  He dove sideways—but not nearly fast enough to entirely escape the strafing run that literally shredded the line of unoccupied tents.

  The instant agony in his lower legs was almost unbearable as he rolled onto his back, the choking dust raised by the chopper’s shallow pass partially blinding him. Too, he felt the soaking spread of warm blood steadily working up toward his middle. He found himself close to passing out, slipping steadily into shock as he struggled to remain conscious.

  Captain Ubur—or what little remained of him—was sprawled a few feet away. Like his fallen comrades at the tomb’s entrance, the young officer had absorbed the full fury of the chopper’s devastating firepower, his violent death instantaneous.

  The helicopter swung around in preparation for another run—and no surprise to Feliks, he saw there was a Chinese red star emblazoned on its fuselage. Despite the desire to use his handgun, he accepted the futility of such bravado. The craft’s bulletproof canopy and under-armor would render it impervious to any small caliber fire.

  Instead, he chose to instinctively remain still, hoping the sheer volume of his blood would somehow divert attention away from him. He’d seen enough combat in his youth to know people who survived battle were usually those who followed their instincts.

  The ruse worked.

  The second pass was directed exclusively at the two, parked trucks. The blistering hail of high-impact bullets tore through the metal with such precision as to leave both effectively inoperable, the one farthest from him even exploding into an instant fireball.

  He again found himself starting to drift. Fighting off this sensation, he forced open his eyes, watching as the helicopter now landed outside the tomb’s entrance. Beyond it, yet another—one much bigger—began to approach, selecting a place to set down. It was a troop carrier.

  Fucking hell!

  The realization that the Chinese had pulled off such a complete victory was more than Feliks could accept. This couldn’t go unpunished! Somehow the bastards must pay for their brazen—

  A possible chance for retribution—albeit slim—now came to him.

  Slowly, doggedly, he used the failing strength of his arms to begin pulling himself toward the nearest truck.

  Still in shock as to just what the hell was going on, Elizabeth saw Zayaa inexplicably snatch the small, iron knife from the child’s skeletal remains—only to then thrust it into Elizabeth’s hand mere seconds before the sound of running footsteps closed in on them.

  “Hide it under your waistband,” she whispered, “—and follow my lead. As God is my witness, I swear I never meant for any of this to happen. ”

  Elizabeth instinctively did so, wide-eyed in confusion as three, uniformed Chinese soldiers suddenly confronted them with shoulder-slung automatic rifles. Behind these strode a tall officer, directing others to head deeper into the caverns. “Locate the other tombs,” he ordered, “then set up a secure perimeter beyond them. If anyone back there offers resistance, don’t waste unnecessary time. Shoot them.” He shifted his attention to Zayaa. “Surprised to see me again so soon?” he asked with a broad smile. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll forgive my not divulging everything during our last meeting.” He paused. “So tell me. Who’s back in there?”

  “No one,” she answered. “The others went outside.”

  “Really? Well, we’ll know the truth soon enough, won’t we?”

  Zheng and six soldiers had already completed a quick body count outside the tomb’s entrance. With four of the five Mongolian guards now accounted for, they then spread themselves cautiously apart, moving their search to include the shredded base camp.

  A minute later the lead soldier shouted, “There’s someone down beside the second truck. Still alive . . . though barely.”

  Not for long, thought Zheng, as he walked over.

  The trooper stood by the open driver’s door with the full weight of his booted foot on the man’s forearm. Now he handed over the pistol he’d just wrenched from his bloody grasp. Zheng immediately recognized it as a Russian made Markarov PMM—and as he gazed down at the semi-conscious figure, he absently stroked the swollen scars on his face. So here is the interfering prick who did this to me—and me with so little time to wreak any kind of proper revenge.

  “Go help check out the tents,” he said. “Others may still be alive. If you find any, kill them.”

  “And him?”

  Zheng flashed an unpleasant smile. “This one is mine.”

  When the soldier walked away, Zheng looked down and wondered if there was any way to keep the man alive—if even for a limited period. It seemed unlikely. The source of all the blood loss was the devastated legs. Splintered fragments of bone visibly jutted out from an ugly pulp of mangled flesh. It was unfortunate, but the man was definitely on the verge of expiring.

  Too bad. Well, this being the case . . .

  Zheng first kicked him in the face—then methodically ground his boot on what remained of both legs. His only reward for this effort was a low groan of renewed pain that escaped the Russian’s battered lips, but it was far too faint and ephemeral to be anywhere near satisfying.

  Denied his full vengeance, Zheng cursed in disappointment. If nothing else, he could at the very least extract one distinct pleasure from this. Aiming the pistol into Feliks’ broad chest, he squeezed off four shots in rapid succession.

  Seven hundred and eight kilometers to the northwest, an agitated General Perminov studied the map brought in by his CIO, then looked up into the younger officer’s expectant face. “How long ago was the transmission made?”

  “Just over eight minutes.”

  “You’re completely confident it came from Major Nikitin? His assigned designation code exactly matched the transmission?”

  “It was him, sir. No doubt of it.”

  The general pondered his limited options. Contacting Moscow simply wasn’t in the cards. No time. Besides, his previous orders had been relatively unambiguous. At least he interpreted his last directive
as such. He was to supply Nikitin with whatever aid he deemed necessary, short of involving Russia in a major diplomatic incident. Well, too late for that! The Chinese had already created one.

  “What’s our closest airbase to those co-ordinates in Mongolia?”

  “Dzhida. The 21st Bomber Aviation Regiment.”

  “Very good. Their pilots have been flight training with our newest Su-35s for the past seven months. Get Dzhida’s base commander on my line.” He snapped his fingers. “Colonel, ah . . .”

  “Koniev, Sir.”

  “Yes, Koniev.” He checked the time on his office wall clock. 3:11 pm. “Let’s see how fast he can put one of them up—plus a competent pilot worth his salt.”

  When David and Vlad became aware of an inexplicable commotion emanating from back toward the cavern’s entrance, they hurried to identify the source—only to find themselves surrounded by four grim-faced soldiers, each armed with the Chinese military version of an AK-47 assault rifle. It was all-too-clear to David by their determined expressions that any confrontation was guaranteed to prove fatal.

  Frisked for weapons that neither of them possessed, they were then pushed and prodded past the long line of tombs until reaching the alcove containing the stone sarcophagus. Once there—and to his immense relief—he saw Elizabeth standing beside a visibly distraught Zayaa. She turned and looked at him, giving a tight shake of her head. Though her drawn features projected shock and confusion, her eyes yet conveyed the welcome message that she was so far unharmed.

  But for how long?

  “Ah, so here are our two missing professors,” beamed the tall, Chinese colonel in charge. “Excellent!” To the man now beside him—one David recognized as the foiled gunman from Erdene Zuu Monastery—he said, “If your outside count is correct, then that’s everyone, isn’t it?”

  His face tightened as he now stared coldly at Zayaa.

  “Odd you telling me there was no one back in there,” he said. “Did you think to somehow save these two?” He shook his head as he stepped closer, drawing his revolver. With his free hand, he grabbed her by the wrist. “I must say, Zayaa, your shifting loyalties make for a vexing problem. Whatever am I to do with you?”

  “Leave her alone!” cried Vlad—and before David could restrain him, the little man lunged forward, only to have a soldier slam the butt of his rifle hard into his jaw. A profusion of blood immediately spilled from his broken teeth and torn mouth as he slumped dazed to the cavern floor.

  Only marginally distracted by this, the angered colonel then delivered a vicious backhand across Zayaa’s sobbing face with his gun hand. As her legs collapsed beneath her, he released her arm with a tossing gesture of contempt.

  He pointed to the nearest guards.

  “You two . . . tie up her three friends,” he ordered. “Wrists and ankles.” He then pointed to Zheng. “As for Zayaa, get her out of here. Have her secured in the second chopper under guard—and I do mean secured, understand?”

  Though his henchman seemed surprised, he obeyed by hoisting Zayaa roughly to her feet. “Since she’s of no further use to anyone,” he said, “why not simply let her experience firsthand the—”

  The colonel cut him off with a curt shake of his head.

  “As tempting as that is, I’m not completely ungrateful for her recent contributions. Taking her with us provides time to make a final determination on her fate. In the interim, keeping her alive might prove useful.”

  He checked his watch in mild irritation as the soldiers taped David and Elizabeth’s limbs, pushing them down into a sitting position against the alcove wall. Though likewise bound hand and foot, Vlad was left where he fell, face down and barely conscious on the cavern floor.

  “And speaking of time, just where the hell is— Ah, well here they come now.”

  David watched in silence as two men now trod slowly into view, each carrying opposite ends of a rectangular crate. Guiding them was a third man holding a bright, battery-powered lamp.

  Once the box was deposited where the colonel indicated, a metal rod was carefully extracted from each of the four corners, effectively revealing what it contained. Lashed to an undercarriage support platform was a metal cylinder some forty-five inches in length and perhaps eight inches in diameter—and David’s blood ran cold.

  Unless he was completely mistaken—which he didn’t believe for an instant—the exposed device was nothing less than a small, tactical nuclear weapon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Colonel Wu’s delight was immense. By his calculations, everything was proceeding on schedule. Perhaps another ten minutes. No more. His two skilled technicians assured him by then everything would be ready to go.

  Perfect!

  Though not a boastful man by nature, his emotions were such that he felt a growing desire to share his impending victory with someone other than Zheng. His scarred henchman had his purposes, certainly, but he was basically a mere instrument to be employed and discarded as situations warranted—hardly an intellectual equal capable of appreciating the scope of this magnificent achievement.

  Thus his eyes swung to Manning as he lit another cigarette—and it was gratifying to see by the American’s face that he understood the full magnitude of what was soon to happen. Too bad he wouldn’t value its significance for long.

  Aloud, he said, “I must admit, Manning, you’ve proven an admirable adversary throughout all of this. Perhaps the use of the word adversary is too strong a description. Nevertheless, not only were you able to locate and procure the elusive jade key, but it was accomplished with stunning results. For this alone you’ve earned my deep respect.” He paused. “You wouldn’t know, of course, but Zheng found that artifact while searching through the debris of your tents. Since its function is no longer relevant, I gave it to him as a souvenir.”

  “Really? Rather generous of you considering the intrinsic value of white jade.”

  “Do you think?” Wu shrugged. “Well, I like to believe I’m a man of my word. Let him do with it as he wishes. Acquiring wealth has never been my goal in life.”

  “Apparently. Let me ask you a question, Colonel. Do you have any conception of just how much actual treasure these tombs contain?”

  Amused, Wu took another drag on his cigarette. He knew Manning was stalling for time. Under reverse circumstances, he’d probably be employing the same tactic. He again noted the time and glanced at the two technicians, thinking it would cost him nothing to continue with this pointless charade for a few minutes more.

  Before responding, however, he ordered all his unneeded soldiers back outside.

  “Truth be told, I admit I was at first tempted—if only briefly—to take a look inside the tomb of Kubilai—he being the very first enthroned of the Yuan Dynasty. He reigned a long time, so I figure if anyone took excessive wealth to his final resting place, it was probably him.” He smiled before adding, “But as I said, this twinge of curiosity was only fleeting.”

  Manning’s wife now spoke for the first time, her voice surprisingly calm.

  Long convinced of the inherent weakness of all women, Wu concluded she was either exceptionally brave—which would be admirable—or still in denial of what was shortly to take place. His natural inclination tilted toward the latter, yet he chose to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “Putting aside the material wealth stored here,” she said, “I can’t believe the historical value of all this means nothing to you. In a way, this is as much a part of China’s legacy as it is—”

  Wu snorted in derision.

  “Historical value? Surely you jest!” He lifted his hands. “What these caverns contain is nothing more than a pathetic memorial to a degenerate family of barbarians. Their single greatest accomplishment of any lasting worth was to finally unit China under one government—and this only to enhance their ability to loot and pillage.”

  “Scholars would strongly disagree.”

  Wu shrugged his indifference.

  “Let them. At this po
int in time, my opinion of history is the only one that really matters. Besides, it’s the near future that most concerns me—not the distant past. Preserving all of this serves no real purpose. Its total obliteration, however, will mean a great deal to my country, I assure you.”

  Wu turned as Zheng walked into view, noting how the man’s eyes flitted nervously to the opened crate. “Not to worry, my friend,” he assured him. “We’ll be well away at a safe distance when this detonates. Are all our people outside and accounted for?”

  “Only awaiting your orders.”

  “Excellent.”

  It appeared the two specialists were about done with their final preparations. As evidence, one of them now carefully detached an orange-colored metal box from the base of the crate. Lifting it free, he then looked at Wu for direction.

  “Place it on the sarcophagus,” he told him. This wasn’t something he’d given prior thought to, but it now struck him as somehow appropriate that the timing control should be placed atop the remains of Genghis. It satisfied his sense of the ironic.

  He grinned a last time at the American.

  “You might be interested to know, Manning, that my decision to use this device as opposed to more traditional explosives is the result of monitoring the transmission Zayaa and your colleague made to President Dashiin. I actually came prepared to go either way, but once I overheard the extensive nature of your discovery, I thought why risk the chance of doing an incomplete job?”

  He paused, extinguishing his cigarette with the toe of his boot.

  “And don’t think for a moment I haven’t taken into account the flawed geology of this cavern system. Not at all.” He jerked his head toward the cylinder. “What you see here is a 2 Kiloton device—somewhat modest by nuclear standards, to be sure—yet more than adequate to accomplish two things. The explosive yield it will generate is the relevant equivalent of detonating two thousand tons of TNT. Not only will it instantly vaporize all traces of Genghis and his wretched line of descendants, but also my experts assure me it will produce the added benefit of collapsing a full third of this mountain down atop whatever remains.”