The Genghis Tomb Read online

  The ring of the phone pulled him to his feet.

  It was Vlad.

  “The meeting is set for eleven o’clock tomorrow morning in the president’s private quarters,” he informed him. “Somewhat later than I hoped—but this gives Zayaa’s people adequate time to sweep my office for any electronic listening device. In the interim, he’s ordered rotating government security guards posted outside my door. Until it’s done, absolutely no one is allowed inside.”

  “A smart precaution.”

  A lengthy pause; then, “David, if this proves true, I—I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to Elizabeth. The fault will be entirely mine.”

  “Don’t rush to judgment on this,” cautioned David. “We won’t know if I’m right until Zayaa’s people do their job. Besides, you can’t take blame for something you had no knowledge of, right?”

  “Still and all . . .”

  “Put it from your mind and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’ll try. Pick you up a half hour before the meeting?”

  “Sounds about right. We’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

  Elizabeth walked over as he hung up.

  “We—?” She cocked her head mischievously, her slender fingers caressing his cheek. “Does this mean we’re a team again?”

  “Of course, my love. Can’t imagine it ever being otherwise.”

  This said, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  Nine miles due west of the Ramada Citycenter, Zheng replaced the duct tape back across the trembling lips of his panic-stricken victim. It wasn’t yet midnight, leaving ample time for what remained to be done—and certainly abundant opportunity to further amuse himself at Peng’s expense.

  They were in the basement of a modest, single-story ‘safe-house’ owned by the Chinese government, one of several placed discretely throughout the city. This particular one was by far the best suited for Zheng’s needs. Presently unoccupied, it was located well back from the nearest street, providing all the necessary privacy he required. Too, the basement floor had the added benefit of being composed of loose, gravelly earth—which solved the problem of Peng’s soon to be permanent disappearance.

  Acquiring his target had been accomplished with relative ease.

  It merely took a bit of planning and patience on Zheng’s part.

  Three hours earlier, he’d surprised the slightly inebriated linguist as he exiting a local bar that he regularly frequented. After a brief handshake of greeting, the confused Peng then made the mistake of being guided into Zheng’s rented car with the offer of a lift back to his apartment. If he’d even felt the tiny pinprick on his wrist, it quickly became a moot point. Though the effective duration of the drug would be a scant twenty minutes, it was almost immediately immobilizing, thus sealing his fate.

  Now Zheng casually lit another cigarette, appreciating the look of pure horror that this simple act engendered in the little man’s blood-shot eyes. And Peng had every reason to be freshly terrified. Naked save for his urine-stained trousers, he was bound securely to a narrow, iron cot, his upper body covered with uncounted burns.

  Zheng gave a reassuring pat to the man’s shoulder.

  “You did the right thing by finally confessing,” he said softly. “A pity it took you so long. And you say your translation notes are truly in your apartment? The top drawer of your bureau?”

  Peng nodded as vigorously as the tight restraints allowed, a faint flicker of hope invading his eyes.

  “I believe you,” said Zheng. “But I’m afraid I really can’t honor our little agreement to release you. You see, your confession changes things considerably. Surely you can appreciate this. Perhaps if you’d told me the truth earlier . . .”

  Peng groaned as Zheng pulled his chair closer. The neutral smile on his torturer’s face was now replaced by a sadistic grin of anticipation. Any pretense of it being otherwise was no longer necessary.

  “Dawn is a very long way off,” Zheng whispered, “giving us several hours to further enjoy each others company. More than enough time to see you properly punished for your sins, don’t you think?”

  He held the red tip of his freshly lit cigarette for Peng to better see.

  “So then, my friend, just where shall we begin?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The revelations that came out of the eleven o’clock meeting with President Dashiin were disturbing, to say the least.

  Not only was David proven correct in his hypothesis—but also the listening device removed earlier that morning from under Vlad’s desk proved of a manufacture and design used in past covert operations by the Chinese government. By itself, this wasn’t proof positive of their involvement, per-se, yet adequate to convince the president that a worst-case scenario now confronted them.

  “Our people have seen these before,” he said, pouring a cup of tea. “Last summer we retrieved several just like it from our embassy in Beijing. They were extremely well hidden, doubtless going back to the original construction of the building—all of which was supervised by the Chinese, of course. Since that time, we’ve relied on regular electronic sweeps to keep it free of unwanted eavesdropping.”

  Elizabeth voiced what all were thinking.

  “And what about here?” she asked as he returned to his desk. “I assume your private quarters would’ve also been a prime target.”

  “Not to worry on that score,” he replied. “After the embassy discovery, we quickly instituted a program of weekly sweeps in all official and private offices throughout this entire building. Which now reminds me . . .” He pivoted in his chair. “Zayaa?”

  “With both of your permission, Elizabeth,” she responded, her eyes flicking also to David, “I want our people to slip over today and run a complete check of your suite. If this is indeed what we fear, I can’t imagine you two weren’t also targeted. I can promise you it will be done quickly without being intrusive. If you agree, I’ll need one of your keys so as not to raise unwanted questions at the front desk.”

  “Not a problem,” said David. He then gave a sympathetic glance at Vlad, who still seemed in shock at the discovery. “I suppose there’s probably no way to determine how long ago the device was placed in his desk.”

  It was as much a question as an observation.

  “If I were to guess,” said the president, “I’d say it’s very recent—and hastily done. There were better places to hide it, ones not so easily located. Which, if true, raises an even more disturbing question. If it is the Chinese behind all of this—and the initial source wasn’t picked up from Vlad’s office conversations—then what could’ve possibly brought all of this to their attention in the first place?”

  He then lifted his hands. “But such speculation gains us nothing at the moment. However, there are some positive things we can do right now to facilitate our goal. Two in particular. To keep myself as involved as I wish, I’m going to free up as much of Zayaa’s valuable time as possible each afternoon. The intent is for her to act as a daily liaison, so to speak, between myself and the three of you—not only assisting you in any way possible, but keeping me informed of your progress.”

  This said, he swung to Vlad.

  “I suspect you won’t much like what I’m about to say, old friend, but please hear me out. I’ve instructed Zayaa to reserve the next available suite on David’s floor in your name. Once that’s done, I want you to pack up whatever you think you’ll need from your apartment and move in.” He smiled at the perplexed—if not alarmed—look on Vlad’s face. “This really shouldn’t be too inconvenient for you since I know first-hand you spend almost all of your waking hours in your office anyway.”

  “Then why is it necessary to—”

  “Several reasons. Hotel surveillance cameras are installed on each floor. Should it become necessary, we can access them at any time. Between this and regular sweeps, the three of you can feel relatively secure that any private conversations you have in the evening h
ours are just that—private. The less contact back and forth by phone, the better.”

  Vlad reluctantly accepted this reasoning. Though not someone who easily embraced any change to his routine, he could appreciate the possible benefits to be gained. “I can see where this would provide additional opportunities to discuss whatever ideas may crop up during the day . . .”

  “Exactly.”

  The president stood, bringing their meeting to a close.

  Before they left, however, he caught David’s eye.

  “Professor, I’m hesitant to ask, but regarding where we left off our last conversation, may I now assume you’re—”

  “In this for as long as takes, yes. After what happened to Elizabeth, resolving this mystery has now become very personal.”

  Zheng briefly smiled as he passed the envelope over to Wu. It pleased him to demonstrate his worth—plus it was gratifying to see the appreciative nod of his employer as he looked through the physical evidence of Peng’s treachery.

  “So he actually did plan on taking something extra back to Beijing,” said the colonel. “I admit to being a bit surprised. Didn’t think he had it in him. Any trouble retrieving this from his apartment?”

  “Not at all. A quick in and out well before dawn. They were in his bureau drawer, exactly where he said they’d be. Getting his full confession took much less time than anticipated—but I more than made up for this disappointment afterwards.” Zheng paused to light a cigarette, the last in his pack. “He lived long enough to regret his—”

  Wu stopped him with a dismissive movement of his hand.

  “The sordid details don’t interest me. Just tell me you weren’t seen and Peng will never be found.”

  “I can assure you on both counts.”

  Wu was satisfied.

  “Well done. Now go back to your hotel and get some well-deserved sleep while I work out your next assignment. Remain close to your phone.”

  “Always.”

  As Zheng left, Wu folded the translation into his breast pocket for later comparison to the original. Since Peng had deceived him once, it was probably worth verifying both copies against one another. But this task wasn’t high on his priority list.

  Not even close.

  He’d far more pressing things to occupy his mind—not the least of which was the unexpected loss of the two listening devices. He always recognized the chance of this eventuality, yet the unfortunate timing and manner of their discovery was decidedly troubling. Whoever the embassy in Athens employed to do the burglary in Salonika had blundered badly—and by all rights should be made to pay!

  Yet he accepted that the damage was done.

  Conversely, a surprising benefit to all this had emerged. Out of this annoying mishap, new information had surfaced that Wu now fully intended to exploit to his advantage—something that promised to buy him considerably more time.

  A careful listening to the single tape made inside the suite between Manning and his wife revealed President Dashiin was determined that no one outside of their small group learn of the map’s existence until an actual discovery was made. Not only did this take the immediate pressure off arranging for their collective demise, it likewise opened a whole new array of possibilities. After all, if containment was no longer an urgent issue, why not simply allow them to continue with their efforts. Perhaps they might even locate the jade key, itself?

  Why not, indeed?

  Wu inwardly smiled as he poured another cup of coffee. When studied from this angle, the screw-up in Salonika might’ve actually been fortuitous. Besides which, he also knew any future need for eavesdropping devices was now unnecessary. It always paid to plan ahead for such disruptive contingencies—and he’d done so. An alternate method of maintaining close tabs on them was already firmly in place, only awaiting activation.

  All in all, he believed events were developing quite nicely in his favor.

  The information Zayaa brought to Vlad’s office later that afternoon wasn’t entirely unexpected.

  “The bug was placed inside your phone,” she told David as she removed her jacket. “No real surprise there, I suppose. It must’ve been installed in the suite after Vlad picked you up yesterday morning—yet sometime before Elizabeth’s arrival at the hotel.”

  “Meaning I could’ve easily walked in on the culprit, right?” said Elizabeth. Her faintly amused smile was less than convincing. “You know, David, this is getting sort of repetitious—and, quite frankly, definitely a little scary.”

  The negative possibilities had crossed his mind, as well.

  “Well, darling, of late you do seem to have a knack,” he teased, trying to downplay the seriousness of her valid conclusion. “Let’s just be glad your timing was off this time.”

  He picked up the package Zayaa had deposited on Vlad’s desk.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “As promised. These are all the satellite photos taken by Toyo Engineering and sent to Mongol Sekiyu Corporation in Darkhan. We received this about an hour ago. According to the accompanying paperwork, it should be in two different formats—the actual eight by eleven prints, all black and white, plus a separate computer disc presenting the same material.”

  David opened the package, finding the disc on top.

  They cleared away the dozen or so books crowding the second computer on the side table, leaving a preoccupied Vlad to continue exploring National’s huge database of research material on his desktop.

  “This one does work, right Vlad?” asked Zayaa.

  “Huh--? Oh, sure. A bit slow, but otherwise it’s good.”

  They pulled up a couple of chairs, letting Zayaa boot the system up and load the disc. “This may be a bit tricky,” she said, scrolling the cursor up and down a long list of five digit numbers, “but we requested they—wait, there it is, right at the beginning.”

  She clicked the enter key. A second later a detailed photo filled the screen.

  “What we should be seeing is an overhead of Burkhan Khaldun—and if I remember my geography correctly, I’m guessing this and all the other images will be in the same north to south orientation. At least I hope so, anyway.”

  “You mean like a street map?” asked Elizabeth. “Top being north, right?”

  “They’d better be. If not, this is going to be hell trying to organize.”

  Elizabeth took the chair beside Zayaa to adequately view the screen.

  “Let’s go back to the menu,” she suggested. “See if they included a sequential ‘relationship’ grid of some sort.”

  “Good idea. I did sort of skip over it . . .”

  David was content to leave this in their capable hands.

  Instead, he returned to Vlad and the couple of annoying problems that had so far consumed the bulk of their day. As he did so, the little man now pushed his chair back from his desktop, a disgruntled scowl on his face.

  “Still nothing, I take it?”

  Vlad heaved a sigh, then ran his spread fingers through his unruly hair, a habit of his when overly tired or perplexed.

  “I’ve been through everything imaginable in our research data base,” he said, “and there’s simply no reference whatsoever pertaining to ‘the footprints of Tengri’—or anything even remotely similar, for that matter. If it’s a place—which we both think it must be—then damned if I know how to locate it.”

  It was disheartening for both men.

  “Okay, then let’s set it aside for the moment and go back to the problem of the missing river. To be honest, I’m not as persuaded as you that it’s even something for us to worry about.”

  He picked up the copy of the sheet in question. Across the top was the red ‘hack-saw’ image that first caught Elizabeth’s eye back in Salonika. However, it was the faint blue line beneath it that had recently become such a major distraction for Vlad. In his present mindset, if the upper markings symbolically represented the Khentai range of mountains—which included the Burkhan Khaldun—then it was only logical
to assume that the blue line must represent a river.

  The problem was, no such river existed in the near vicinity.

  No branch of the Onan River, nor the Kerulen.

  Though David remained unconvinced Vlad’s interpretation was correct, he recognized the ugly possibility that just perhaps the mountain presently called Burkhan Khaldun wasn’t the same one so identified in times long past. If true, it would render the satellite photos that Elizabeth and Zayaa were presently laboring over next to useless.

  Not to mention everything else.

  Pondering this, he watched as Zayaa found a second printer and hooked it up to their computer. She then ran off several copies of the explanatory numerical grid they’d located until both were satisfied with the adjusted font size and pixel density.

  “If it’s no problem,” said Elizabeth to David, “I want to take this and the photos back to the hotel for further study. Besides, it’s getting late and I’m famished.”

  He agreed, not wishing to throw cold water on her enthusiasm.

  Zayaa retrieved her light jacket, saying, “And I have a report to make. Since Vlad has something else requiring his immediate attention, I can drop you both off if you’re about ready to go?”

  “What else today requires my attention?” asked Vlad.

  “For openers,” she said, “packing a few bags from your apartment. I may have forgotten to mention, a suite opened up two doors down from David. The president insists you move in tonight.”

  Vlad lowered his head, freshly reminded of his earlier commitment.

  “Oh, wonderful,” he muttered under his breath.

  CHAPTER NINE

  David’s first inkling that Elizabeth was onto something came from a rather casual question she posed much later that evening. It was approaching ten o’clock, he stretched out on the couch, methodically jotting down random scenarios that could conceivably satisfy the small discrepancy that so plagued Vlad.

  “David?”

  “Yes, hon.”