The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  “That doesn’t leave a lot we can tell him.”

  “We need to get him to persuade them to let us go—they need to think we’re no threat. Especially Noah. That we’ll just go home and give up. And also see what he can find out about this woman Noah was with. Whether they know who she really is. Anything that will help us find her.” Because if they found the fake Star, they would find the location of the tomb, and that would give them the means to get Harper back.

  She stopped in front of the yurt she knew Tarkhan was using. “Hello,” she called out.

  Footsteps headed toward the door, then it opened from inside. Tarkhan gestured for them to enter.

  Unlike the Yurt they’d put Noah in, this one was actually furnished. There was a small desk covered in papers, a chair with a stool in front of it, and a cot bed. He waved them to the cot bed, and she sank down onto it, gripped her hands in her lap. Zach sat beside her.

  Tarkhan was still using crutches, and he’d aged in the last weeks. He was in his eighties, though she would never have known that; he’d appeared decades younger. Now his years were catching up with him. He hobbled across to the chair and sat down, rested his leg on the stool, and leaned the crutches against the desk.

  “How’s your husband?” he asked. “I heard he was injured.”

  “Ex-husband. And he’ll be okay. Though they have him locked up, and he’s not happy about it.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can understand why.”

  “Noah is no threat. He has zero interest in finding the tomb.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  Zach replied, “Because someone told him Eve had been murdered and his family was in danger. He was just trying to find out why so he could keep them safe.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Yes. He’s a good man, and he’s no longer in the military. Now that he’s found Eve, his interest in this is over. Let him go, and he’ll return to his old life.”

  And so would she. She was just not sure how to achieve that right now. She needed to think up a story as to why she was suddenly resurrected from the dead. She wanted to get Harper safe, and then she wanted her life back, and that was going to take some explaining. Probably some sort of amnesia was her best bet. She’d been wandering around not knowing who she was for the last few weeks.

  “So why did you want the meeting with the Darkhats? You came a long way. How do you think they can help you?”

  “I think the Descendants are planning their next move.”

  “Go on.”

  “They’re plotting a coup on a worldwide scale. In a few days’ time, the Descendants will be in charge, and after that, nothing will stop them.”

  “They’ll be out in the open,” Tarkhan said. “At least there will be an enemy we can fight.”

  “Not necessarily,” Zach said. “I think they plan to simultaneously take out all the major world leaders. There’s a summit taking place next week, and all the influential nations will be represented. I believe they have their own people in place to slide into those positions, but they may be no more than puppets. We need the person or persons pulling the strings.”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “I’ve been tracking these people for years. I’m sure.”

  Tarkhan shook his head. “I don’t think it will make a difference. But we can ask.”

  “There’s one other thing,” Zach added. “Noah was traveling with a woman he knew as Star. She was supposedly the space archaeologist Eve worked with, but the real Star was killed shortly after Eve’s staged death. We thought she might be with the Descendants.”

  “What does she look like?” Tarkhan asked.

  “About five ten, black hair, slim, pale skin, brown eyes—could well be Mongolian. And a tattoo on her throat of a star—presumably that was added as part of her cover.”

  He pursed his lips. Eve could almost see him thinking. Did he recognize the woman? Eve had no clue where his loyalties lay. Was he a member of the Darkhats or merely a sympathizer?

  She’d thought they were friends. Now she just didn’t know anything. It made no difference; she had to try. This woman was their only hope of getting Harper back. Eve stepped forward and rested her hand on his arm. “Please. We need to find her, Tarkhan. Can you ask them?”

  He blew out his breath then pushed himself to his feet and picked up his crutches. “Come with me. We’ll go and talk to the leaders.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. They’ll likely tell you nothing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Noah lay on the floor of the tent, gazing up at the vaulted ceiling. As tents went, it was elaborate. He concentrated on the details to take his mind off the fact that every bit of him throbbed with pain. Whatever Zach had given him to numb his shoulder was wearing off, and it hurt like a bitch. There was a dull pounding in the base of his skull and a sharper pain on the side of his forehead, where he’d hit his head in the crash. Just about every inch of his body was bruised.

  He wished he could close his eyes, shut it all out, yet as soon as he did, he saw an image of Harper. He kept remembering back to the night she had caught him with his gun and asked if they were in danger. And he’d said no. What must she be thinking now? That he was a goddamn liar.

  Christ, he had to get her back. Had to find a way. Someone must know who Star was. His Star. He’d sent Peter the information about their flight. He needed to chase him up—see if he had found any pictures from the airport security. Get a description to every contact he had. Every organization that had a database. Peter would do it. He loved Harper. He’d also get him to send any pictures to Tom; he could run them through the Clayton Industries systems. He didn’t have to reveal why he needed the information. He’d already told too many people about Harper—he couldn’t risk it getting out.

  At least Harper would have a mother to go home to if he managed to get her back—no, he would get her back. Failure wasn’t an option.

  He was still trying to get his head around the fact that Eve was alive. He’d been too shocked when he’d first seen her to be happy. Now a smile tugged his lips. She’d looked good. Well, right until he’d told her about Harper, then she had collapsed in on herself.

  Did she blame him? Probably.

  He hadn’t realized just how…weighed down she’d been by the fear that had been her constant companion. He’d known many people with PTSD over the years. Some found it harder to shake than others. Eve had carried hers around like a heavy burden.

  And he’d been unwilling to compromise on his job, not even to help mitigate her fears. He’d been doing something he saw as important. More important than his family.

  Now he just wished that things could have been different.

  That somewhere along the way, they could have made different choices and not ended up here. Ironic that the very quality that had drawn her to him was the same thing that had forced a wedge between them.

  He could return to his old life if they ever got out of this situation alive. His children would have their mother back, who was way better at caring for them than Noah had ever been. Except for when she was traipsing across the world looking for goddamn spears. He realized there was still a residual anger lingering in his brain. She should never have come here. Certainly not after she had discovered there could well be a terrorist tie in.

  He forced the anger down, because it wasn’t her fault. It was his. If he had been there for her, then maybe he could have talked her out of it. Or found her some reliable back up. Or…

  What was the point?

  He was going around and around in ever-decreasing circles and getting nowhere. He could only hope that this hadn’t been a wasted trip and they would get something useful from these Darkhats.

  He’d learned to sleep when he got the chance, and there was nothing he could do right now except
wait, so he closed his eyes and didn’t try to banish the images. Just let them fill his mind. He slowed his breathing and finally slept.

  He woke to a commotion and raised voices outside the tent.

  …

  Sara dismounted and stood for a moment leaning against her horse, exhaustion aching in every bone of her body. She felt like she hadn’t stopped moving in days, which she hadn’t. But there were things she’d needed to do, to put in place, just in case everything went to shit.

  She’d gone against a direct order, and that would have consequences.

  She’d been born close to this place. On the banks of the river Onon. She could trace her ancestry back to the first of the Darkhats. She’d had no choice in life. This was what she was destined to do.

  While she’d grown up in the U.K., fostered from the age of five, she’d lived in the camp before. They all did rotations here, guarding the Great Taboo. So they didn’t forget what their purpose was. And she loved those times, loved this place with the wide blue sky and the mountains. She wasn’t a religious person, but when she was here, she always felt that maybe there was something more. A purpose to everything. Most of the time, she just couldn’t see what it was.

  Plus here, things were so simple. In the outside world, she was often faced with decisions she didn’t want to make. Orders she didn’t want to follow. Lately, she’d been feeling more and more that she didn’t agree with the way her people worked. They were too ruthless. And what of their cause? Did it really matter if the tomb of Genghis Khan was found? Was it really worth all the people who had died to protect the secret?

  Her stomach rumbled. It was already late afternoon, and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But she needed to report in. She was supposed to have been back here two days ago.

  The place was busier than usual, and she frowned. “What’s going on?” she asked as a man she recognized stepped up and took her horse’s reins.

  “Foreigners in the camp. Americans and English.”

  She’d been about to turn away but now she stopped. “American? Who? Do you have a name?”

  “Blakeley.”

  What the hell?

  He was supposed to be back in England. Safe. Why hadn’t the Russians just gotten rid of him and sent him home?

  The last time she had seen Noah, he’d been sleeping deeply. Probably due to the drug she’d added to his water. They’d spent the night making love, and it had been so good. At the same time, at the back of her mind, was the communication she’d just received. She’d reported in that they were hunting for an image that had been sent to Eve Blakeley the night she died. Her people hadn’t known about the image. She’d only suspected its existence when Noah had first mentioned that his anonymous emails had said that Eve had information. And it changed everything.

  “Where is he?”

  The man waved a hand at a yurt in the center of the camp. There was an armed guard on the door. Christ, Noah was here. She felt a strange fluttering in her chest and ignored it. Now was not the time. Probably never would be the time for her and Noah. Likely, he was going to hate her for what he perceived to be her betrayal. Yet how could she betray someone to whom she owed no loyalty?

  She nodded to her horse. “Look after her.” Then she strode away toward the yurt, her feet slowing without conscious thought as she neared the waiting guard. What was Noah doing here? How had he even found the place? And what did he hope to achieve? Was he still hunting for the people who had killed his ex-wife? Maybe he had found them. While she didn’t know for sure—she hadn’t been part of the operation back then—there was a good chance that her people had either killed Eve Blakeley or arranged for her to meet an accident. Another reason for Noah to hate her. Still, she couldn’t put this off. She had to talk to him. Find out what he had told them. She had a feeling she was well and truly fucked, but she still needed to find out just how much shit she was going to have to crawl out from under.

  She halted in front of the guard. “Stand down. I need to talk to the prisoner.” Everyone in the camp knew who she was, and she outranked him. He nodded and stepped aside.

  Still, she hesitated then took a deep breath, tucked her hair behind her ear, and pushed open the door. The yurt was empty of furniture, the only contents a big angry man. Menace rolled off him in waves. Then, as she watched, he pulled himself under control.

  He stood at the far side of the tent, watching the door, his face totally void of expression as he took her in. He was wearing pants but was naked from the waist up, a white bandage around his shoulder. A cut on his head. He looked bruised and battered, and she had to fight the urge to run to him, wrap her arms around him. It would probably hurt like hell, and she doubted he would appreciate the gesture.

  Taking a step closer, she thought about what to say. Although she had so much that needed to be said, the words wouldn’t seem to come. “Hello.”

  An expression of disbelief flashed across his face, and he shook his head. “Who are you? Because I know for a fact that you’re not Star.”

  Well, at least he was to the point. Her hand went up automatically to the tattoo at her throat. She’d gotten it done especially for the role. There was no point in lying to him now. He had obviously found out that the real Star was dead. “My name is Sarangarel. Sara.”

  “And you’re one of these Darkhats.”

  She nodded. “I was born into the group.”

  “And I’m guessing your job was to make sure I didn’t find the tomb.”

  Again, she nodded. “At first, I was just monitoring you. Later, when it became clear you were looking into Eve’s death, I was ordered to make contact, find out what you knew. I have a background in computers, so I was the best choice for taking over the role of your space archaeologist.”

  “You saved my life.”

  She bit her lip. Should she tell him the truth? She had an idea lies wouldn’t help now. “Not really. It was my people who killed the men following you—I think they were likely bodyguards protecting you.” They’d spotted her—she hadn’t really had a choice but to silence them. “I needed you to trust me, and that seemed a good way.”

  “You had your people shoot me?”

  He seemed outraged at the idea, and she bit back a smile. There was nothing funny here. “It worked. You trusted me.”

  “Christ, I never doubted you were who you said you were.” He ran a hand through his short hair, a gesture she recognized as frustration. Then his expression cleared. “Where is the image?”

  She hadn’t expected him to be so open. Did he not know what would happen if the people here even had an inkling that he had seen the image? At least the guard spoke no English. All the same, she darted a glance at the tent flap then cast Noah a narrow-eyed look and stepped closer. “They can’t know we found the location. They’d kill you and likely me as well.”

  “You didn’t tell your people?”

  “I couldn’t. I told you—they’d kill you if they knew.”

  “And you expect me to believe that you would care one way or the other?”

  She didn’t expect anything, but suddenly she didn’t want him to hate her. Her eyes pricked. She was tired; that was all. The last few days had been emotional. A lot of good-byes. “My orders were to kill you if we found anything. No second chance. You had to die. That’s how we work. No one can know the location. For eight hundred years, that has been our purpose. To ensure the tomb remains lost.”

  “Yet I’m still here.”

  She gave what she hoped was a casual shrug. “Without the image, you would never find the tomb. There was no risk.”

  “And maybe even you can’t fuck a man one minute and put a bullet in him the next.”

  She didn’t bother to answer. What could she say? He was right. She should never have allowed herself to get emotionally entangled. Actually fucking and shooting she could probably have coped with
. It was caring for Noah and shooting him had been a whole other matter. She wasn’t going there—not now.

  He moved a little closer, as if now he understood that this conversation was best not overheard. “So where is it? The image? This is important. I need that image.”

  Why? “I destroyed it.”

  Something flashed across his face. Disbelief. Fear. He turned away for a moment, his fingers pressing against his skull. “No,” he murmured.

  A frown tugged at her brows. Why did he care so much? He had no vested interest in finding the tomb. That had never been what this was about for him and one of the reasons she had felt justified in not killing him. He’d wanted to find his wife’s murderers and a way to make his children safe.

  His shoulders were tense, his hands fisted at his sides. Something was very wrong. Well, something more than the obvious. And she filled the silence with words. “I told my people that there was nothing to find. That the image had never arrived or had been destroyed when Eve was killed. They still wanted me to eliminate you. I told them killing you wasn’t necessary.” And she was sure she would be punished for that decision. At least Noah was still alive, so they hadn’t just killed him out of hand. Why was he here? “I phoned the Russian police. Said you were a suspected terrorist. I thought they would lock you up for a couple of days until they found out who you really were then send you home.” When he remained silent, she shifted from foot to foot. “Noah, what is it?”

  He turned back. The look in his eyes was a pain so deep she reached out to him then let her hand drop to her side.

  “They’ve taken my daughter,” he said.

  The words didn’t make sense. “Who?”

  “At a guess, the Descendants of fucking Genghis Khan. They’ve taken Harper.”

  Harper was the older daughter. Sara had seen her at the cemetery that day. She looked like her father.