The Genghis Tomb Read online

  “You’re insane—deluding yourself if you think you can get away with this.”

  Wu’s response was a barking laugh. “Brave words from someone about to experience the fires of hell.”

  He turned to his waiting companions.

  “All of you outside,” he ordered. “Leave the lantern where it is. I don’t wish our friends over here to die in the dark. Zheng, once everyone is aboard the transport chopper, signal it to immediately take off. Tell the attack copter pilot to warm up his engines—then you return to the entrance and help me close and bolt the bronze door. I won’t be long. Now go!”

  The colonel sighed in satisfaction as he walked over to the sarcophagus. He estimated another two and a half hours would pass before the arrival of Dashiin’s troops. By then he’d be fast approaching the Chinese border, his mission accomplished.

  “For you edification, Manning, the bomb is activated by an advanced electrical battery built into its system. It’s entirely tamper proof, of course, specifically designed to energize and trigger full detonation after receiving the proper radio signal burst.”

  He picked up the small, metallic box that was heavier than it appeared.

  “That’s where this comes in. I’ve learned it can be engaged in one of two ways, the first being to manually activate it from a safe distance. As much as I’d personally enjoy using this method, I’m told the signal might have a problem penetrating a hundred feet of solid stone to reach its target receiver. Thus I’ve settled for the second procedure. Much less satisfying, but also effective. This has been pre-set and locked into a timer mode. Once the top switch is thrown, it automatically starts an internal countdown that is quite irreversible. At that point, Manning, nothing can stop it. You’ll have precisely twenty minutes to live. No more, no less.”

  Wu set the box back down, again checking his wristwatch.

  It was 3:56 pm. No point in delaying this any longer.

  He depressed the switch.

  Nineteen miles due west, the Russian pilot of the Su-35 fighter-interceptor reduced altitude and velocity, dropping from 1.6 Mach to subsonic speed. In doing so, he felt a slight shiver run through his craft as the cone of his own sonic wave immediately overtook him. He knew the distinctive sound would precede him to his programmed co-ordinates—but he also knew any advance warning this provided would come too late.

  At five miles out his expected targets came into view.

  “Two helicopters, both as described,” he reported into his headset. The larger has already lifted off and is now airborne.”

  “Authorization given, Captain. Recommend taking out ‘airborne’ first.”

  “Understood.”

  The pilot selected and activated one of the six laser-guided missiles slung beneath his wings—then concentrated his eyes on the main screen of his display console as he electronically tagged the chopper. This done, he flipped open the cap of his control stick with his thumb and depressed the release button. The long, slender missile immediately sprang free, streaking ahead of him at a blurring speed. Due to the Su-35’s increasing proximity to the target, his training told him he should now bank away with reasonable confidence the projectile was securely locked. But to be absolutely certain, he held off altering his flight path a split second beyond what was prudent.

  The delay almost cost him his life.

  When the missile impacted the airborne chopper, the resulting explosion and expanding fireball was so unexpectedly massive as to momentarily blind him.

  “Holy mother of—!”

  Pulling the control stick hard to the right, he instinctively jam-accelerated his two powerful engines into an evasive maneuver, a tactic normally reserved for close-in dogfights with enemy aircraft. By doing so, he barely escaped the flying debris generated by the enormous blast. As he leveled off, he saw through his canopy the ancillary effect this surprising detonation had on the attack helicopter still on the ground. Not only was it now ablaze, the shock wave had literally flipped it onto its side.

  Wondering what in hell the big chopper had contained, he now realized there was incoming on his radio receiver and he not listening. “Say again,” he said.

  “Repeat previous transmission. It came in garbled.”

  Not about to repeat his panicked exclamation, he instead relayed the situation as he now perceived it—then asked, “Further orders?”

  A slight pause.

  “Return to base, Captain.”

  It was while hurrying back to the cavern entrance that Zheng heard the sonic boom.

  Not recognizing the unfamiliar sound for what it was, he stopped in his tracks to look around. By pure chance, he lifted his eyes to the west, then blinked in genuine puzzlement as a bright light streaked by overhead.

  Ninety yards behind him, the missile’s collision with the ascending transport copter was earthshaking—as was the corresponding fireball and shock wave that lifted him off his feet and threw him a full twenty feet into the exposed underbelly of the flipping attack helicopter.

  When he awoke, it was to a world of complete silence, blood seeping from his ruptured eardrums. But it wasn’t a world lacking in exquisite pain.

  He could see the jagged wreckage that impaled and pinned his lower half. He could feel the unbelievable agony of fuel-fed flames now consuming his legs. He could even smell the nauseating odor of his burning flesh.

  What Zheng couldn’t do, however, was hear the continuing wail of his own screams.

  The outside explosion shook the ground so hard David felt it reverberate through the cavern walls. It didn’t take any profound imagination on his part to determine its cause. For reasons as yet unknown, the colonel’s back-up supply of traditional explosives had clearly suffered unintentional detonation.

  But had it occurred before or after the entrance door was closed?

  He prayed it happened before—yet knew it was all a moot point unless he somehow manage to free his hands from behind his back. The more he strained, the tighter the tape became. So how was he to possibly—

  “Shift your back toward me,” said Elizabeth. “Quickly!”

  “What—?”

  “Just do it, David! There’s a small knife under my back waistband. I was terrified those soldiers would find it when they tied my wrists. Thank God they didn’t. I can’t quite reach it on my own. You’ll have to do it. My hands are bound too tight. Hurry!”

  He shifted around and extracted it.

  The edge wasn’t near as sharp as he hoped, but still workable.

  Putting the handle in her hand, he had her clasp it tight, holding the sharpest side out and pressing the tip against the stone floor. This done, he began sawing the stretched tape between his wrists against the now stabilized edge.

  “Wherever did you get this?”

  “From Zayaa. She grabbed it from the child’s body over there and told me to hide it just seconds before the soldiers stormed in . . .”

  The abrasive sawing effect on the tape worked, fraying it enough that David finally managed to pull it apart. After cutting his ankles free, he hurriedly severed all of Elizabeth’s bindings. His watch confirmed time was fast running out.

  Christ Almighty!

  If the boastful Chinese colonel told the truth—a huge ‘if’ all by itself—only about eleven minutes remained to not only get the activated, metal timer out of the cavern, but also carry it far enough away as to put at least a hundred feet of solid stone between it and the nuclear device’s targeted receiver.

  Theoretically doable—yet only if the bronze door wasn’t closed and latched!

  He gave Elizabeth the knife, leaving her to cut Vlad free as he ran the short distance from the alcove to check the entrance.

  What he found was the equivalent of receiving a devastating blow to the stomach. Though it was obvious the massive bronze door had been at least partially open at the time of the blast, the shock wave had effectively slammed it shut, ripping away the upper hinge in the process and twisting the middle and lower. The
net effect of this was that it might just as well have been closed and bolted.

  No way in hell was it going to be moved!

  Now what?

  The fucking clock was ticking!

  Somehow there must be a way to circumvent this looming disaster! The problem was, he had no identifiable plan B to fall back on.

  Or did he?

  He dashed back to the alcove, finding Vlad now sitting upright, partially supported by Elizabeth. Both raised their heads, looking hopefully at his tight features.

  “The entrance is blocked,” he announced. “Vlad, how much did you hear of what the colonel said?”

  The little man coughed, releasing fresh blood from his mouth.

  “Enough to—to know we’re doomed,” he mumbled through broken teeth and swollen lips. His voice was barely audible. “There—there’s no way we can now separate the—”

  “The hell there isn’t! There’s the pit!”

  Vlad blinked, nodded his sudden understanding.

  “Yes—it—it’s surely deep enough . . .”

  “Pit?” said Elizabeth in confusion. “What pit?”

  David knew he’d no time to explain. Precious few minutes remained on the box’s internal clock. Hefting the box off the sarcophagus, he ran as best he could toward the rear of the cavern.

  Wu was sluggish regaining his full senses, aware of the muffled sound of garbled voices now penetrating the semi-darkness where he lay.

  Though his head throbbed from the effort, he cautiously pulled himself up into a sitting position. A check of the radial dial on his wristwatch confirmed only ten minutes had elapsed since the outside explosion—which he now recalled in vivid detail.

  He’d been standing at the partially opened bronze door awaiting Zheng when it occurred—and doubtless it was only his many years of military training that kept him alive. At the first inkling of the fireball’s flash, he’d instinctively dived back and to his left to avoid its expected aftermath. Despite his quick action, however, the shock wave sent him tumbling well back into the cavern as the huge door slammed shut. If the heavy bronze slab hadn’t absorbed the brunt of it, the results would’ve been much different.

  He stoically accepted the reality that he was now likewise trapped and soon to die. Accomplishing the mission was paramount. If he was fated to die while achieving success—then so be it.

  And perhaps this was all to meet a greater purpose, he thought as he struggled to his feet, for he now saw a dimly lit figure he recognized as Manning racing back even deeper into the cavern—and damned if he wasn’t carrying the timer!

  What was the desperate fool trying to do?

  He drew his revolver, thinking the interfering American had tried to thwart him one time too many. This had to end.

  David was midway past the eleven separate tombs when he was suddenly thrown off stride by a bullet that tore through his sleeve and blew a spray of stone fragments from the cavern wall. This—plus the echoing report of the gun—was so startling that he had to crouch and lurch forward to maintain his grasp on the metal box.

  It proved fortunate he did so.

  Two more quick shots followed, each striking the wall at the height and space his head had occupied only a split second before.

  It had to be the colonel!

  Having no other option—and lacking any form of immediate cover—David regained his balance and again lunged forward, this time bobbing and weaving to reduce his target size. The timer had to be fast approaching critical!

  His goal was the inward curve of the opposite cavern wall directly ahead. Guiding his path was the glow emanating from the kerosene lantern he and Vlad had earlier left burning at the entrance to the debris pit.

  As he pressed onward, three additional shots followed in rapid succession, the whizzing bullets following his desperate progress by mere inches. Too, judging by the sound of the revolver, the colonel was now scarcely twenty feet away and closing.

  Another shot came as David darted behind the inward fold of stone—and this one he didn’t escape.

  He gasped as it tore a deep slice across his right bicep, effectively spilling the box from his weakened grasp just as he was preparing to throw it out into the pit as he’d intended. Now forced to his knees to retrieve it—and well shy of his target—the best he managed before the colonel’s arrival was to shove it toward the opening, only to see the heavy box’s forward momentum come to a sliding halt less than four feet inside.

  Not far enough!

  Before he could move, the colonel drove him down from behind, straddling his back and jamming the barrel of his pistol against his temple.

  “Game over, Manning! I don’t know what you were attempting, but you’ve failed. I could kill you right now, but why use my last bullet when I figure there’s—what?—maybe only a minute or so left on the timer.”

  Was this how it would end?

  David blinked, now seeking something that might possibly render the colonel’s declaration of victory premature.

  With his face pressed hard against the cavern’s stone floor, he believed he detected a slight movement inside the opening. Unless his imagination deceived, the metal box had actually started an almost imperceptive slid forward. Gravity and the sandy surface of the tilted stone were beginning to have its effect.

  But the actual precipice was still a good twenty feet away. Would the timer pick up enough speed to go over the edge in the scant time remaining?

  It seemed doubtful.

  He knew of only one possible way to speed its progress.

  Through clenched teeth, he said, “You wonder what I was attempting, Colonel? Your own experts thought the pulse from that box might not be able to penetrate a hundred feet of solid stone. So how about four hundred feet?”

  “What are you—?”

  “That’s how far down the drop-off goes.”

  The colonel hesitated, giving only a cursory glance at the opening. “Even if that’s true, Manning, the only fact that matters is you failed to get it over, didn’t you? All meaningless now, don’t you think?”

  “Is it? Better take another look.”

  As the Colonel did so, David heard the man’s sharp intake of breath as he likewise saw the timer’s steady movement—and too, recognized the possible consequences if it was left to continue.

  With this knowledge came sudden panic.

  Scrambling off David, he dove out into the opening with outstretched arms and successfully clasped the box to him.

  However, as he pivoted around on his stomach and locked eyes with David, his initial grin quickly evolved into one of confusion—and then became one of pure horror as he realized the trick played upon him. He was now trapped in a much accelerated and uncontrolled downward slide across the loose gravel—and with absolutely nothing to grab onto!

  Enraged at this deception, the colonel raised his revolver, only to find David had already rolled away from the opening and was no longer visible.

  Foiled even in this, he could only scream in frustration as both he and the timer plunged over the edge.

  EPILOGUE

  Ulan Bator

  After a short visit with Vlad in the recovery room of Songdo Hospital, David and Elizabeth were politely directed to an unobtrusive VIP waiting lounge. Expecting their arrival, a uniformed guard outside the unmarked door admitted them with a silent nod.

  Inside the room, its sole occupant turned from the tinted windows to greet them.

  By President Dashiin’s slightly disheveled appearance and drawn features, David had to wonder how much real sleep the man had attained over the preceding two days since their extraction from the tomb. He guessed probably not near enough; but under the circumstances this was far from surprising.

  “So how’s the arm progressing, David? No longer needs a sling, I see.”

  “Actually, it’s doing very well, sir. I’m told a couple more dressing changes and that should be the end of it.”

  Visibly pleased to hear this, the president ge
stured them both into comfortable chairs around a circular table. As he sank wearily into the third, he asked, “I take it you saw Vlad in recovery?”

  “Only for a few moments. He’s still groggy from the surgery and I suspect not the least bit happy about having his jaw wired shut. No more hamburgers and fries for several more weeks. I predict he’s going to be a handful for the nurses.”

  Dashiin gave a throaty chuckle.

  “I agree,” he said. “Knowing my old friend as I do, perhaps I should have the staff fit him up with a daily intravenous of black coffee if he gets too unmanageable.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  The president’s expression now became more serious.

  “Setting this aside, David, I want to bring both you and Elizabeth up to speed on what’s been going on. I assume your resolution to leave for home as soon as possible still stands?”

  David nodded.

  “We intend making all the essential flight arrangements for as early as tomorrow afternoon—or, if worse comes to worse, the following morning. It will depend on just what the airlines can—”

  “Unnecessary. You’ll be flying back to Greece aboard the same government jet that took you to India. No arguments. My pilots have already been so instructed and are prepared to depart whenever you wish. No long airline delays, no tiresome transfers while making airline connections . . . Believe me, this is the very least we can do considering all you’ve done for my country.”

  “Very generous of you, sir. And much appreciated.”

  The president lifted his hand and moved on.

  “I must admit, David, I’m still not entirely comfortable with your decision to seek complete anonymity in all of this—and yet the growing complexity of our present situation is such that I can’t quarrel with you in the matter. Despite your desire to merely slip into the shadows, I truly wish it was possible to give you and Elizabeth the full credit you both so richly deserve.”