"No one could stay married that long."
"Have you ever been married?"
His whole body went tense.
"No. I was engaged, once."
He remembered.
Megan was laughing, her fine, brown hair blowing in the wind coming off the Pacific. They'd gone up the coast to Trinidad for the weekend and found a Victorian bed and breakfast, on the cliffs looking out over the water.
From the deck outside the room they'd watched the seals sunning themselves on the black rocks out in the ocean.
They were getting ready to leave. Megan was beautiful, that day, her green eyes sparkling in the morning sun, excited about going to her new job down in San Diego. Nick had held her close.
"I love you," he'd said. "I'll always love you."
"Nick. You've got to come back to me, come back safe."
"We'll get married when I get back. My tour is up in six months. I'll be a civilian and we can have a real life together."
"And a very, very fine house?" She'd smiled and punched him lightly in the chest with both hands while he held her.
"And two cats in the yard, just like the song." He'd kissed her.
"Why didn't you get married?" Selena asked.
He took a breath. "She died."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. Anyway, I haven't been involved with anyone since then."
The plane lifted into the air.
They'd gotten to the airport in plenty of time. They were both flying out, Megan to San Diego, Nick back to the East Coast.
They'd killed time in one of the airport cafes until she had to go. Nick had watched her enter the gangway to board her plane. She'd turned and smiled, waved at him, and disappeared in the stream of passengers.
He'd stood by one of the big windows looking out over the runways, waiting to see her plane take off.
In a few minutes he'd seen it. The plane picked up speed down the runway, lifted into the air, the wheels coming up. He was about to turn away when the aircraft made a strange motion, the wings dipping unevenly right and then left, the nose angling downward.
Fingers of ice wrapped around his chest.
Then the right wing turned straight down. The plane arced into the ground and exploded in a billowing fireball. The shock wave slammed against the window and shook the terminal. At the end of the runway a dense column of orange flame and black smoke boiled up into an indifferent sky.
Megan.
He shoved the memories back into their dark box.
"Have you ever been married?" he said.
"No. I was close, once. I thought I was in love. We'd had dinner and a few drinks and then we got into a big fight. I forget what it was about, some stupid thing. He hit me. It made me mad. I broke his nose, kicked him where it hurts and walked out."
"You broke his nose?"
"He asked for it. I'm good at martial arts."
She shrugged, as if to say what else could she have done?
"Since then I haven't met anyone I wanted to know better. Men are attracted by the way I look. When they find out who I am and don't get what they want, they back off. I guess I scare them away."
"Too much competition for the male ego?"
"If it is, that's not my problem."
She shifted gears. "How would those men yesterday know where I was?"
"It's not hard. You're high profile."
"Do you think they'll try again?"
"They might. Until this gets resolved you should always have people around you. Right now all you've got is me."
"That was good enough yesterday."
She looked out the window, pulled a box from under the seat.
"Hungry?"
After lunch and the mimosas, he was slowing down. He fell asleep. One thing he'd learned in the Corps was how to fall asleep anywhere. Asleep, he wasn't remembering anything, unless he was dreaming.
Chapter Ten
Selena looked over at the man sleeping next to her.
Who is he, she wondered. They let him take his gun right on the plane. He's some kind of spy or something. He lost half an ear and killed five people and never blinked an eye. All I know about him is he's got a mother and a sister, had a jerk for a father and he probably saved my life yesterday.
His fiancé died. He didn't say how. Maybe that explains the wariness I feel in him. Like he's waiting for something bad to happen. Like he thinks something is going to jump out at him.
She watched Nick twitch in his sleep.
Black hair, strong jaw, he's already got a trace of shadow. He's not handsome, but he's not bad either. Black eyebrows. And he's got those odd eyes. I've never seen eyes like that, like some kind of animal, a big cat or a wolf. He's built, but not like one of those body freaks in the gyms. I wonder how he is in bed?
Sudden heat and moisture between her legs took her by surprise. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had that thought about someone.
She shook her head. No way was she getting in bed with him. She felt too vulnerable to deal with the intimacy sex would bring up. Besides, this man was dangerous.
Selena looked out the window at a layer of white cloud passing below. She thought about her uncle and her parents.
She could remember her parents, but she couldn't quite remember their voices. The day everything changed, she'd been playing by the window at home. She wasn't supposed to. She was sick and supposed to stay in bed while her brother and her mother and father headed down Highway One toward Big Sur.
When her Uncle came into the room she'd known something bad had happened. He'd started to tell her but she wouldn't listen, drowning his words with a song she'd learned in school the week before.
The engines droned outside her window. I should have been with them in the car, she thought. If I'd been there it would have been all right. We would have stopped somewhere, to get something to eat or so I could go to the bathroom or something. Then they wouldn't have been there when the truck came around that curve.
Her fault.
She'd buried the guilt and armored herself against the world. She knew she'd done it, she wasn't unaware. Be the best in everything. Sports, dangerous hobbies, martial arts, academics. All that success, all her training, hadn't prepared her for this. She wasn't in control anymore. She couldn't make things work the way she wanted.
It scared her, and that was something new. She didn't like it.
She took a few deep breaths and glanced again at Nick. This man doesn't scare, she thought. Maybe he'll make it right, if anyone can.
Chapter Eleven
Carter watched the crowd as they walked through the airport terminal. Nothing seemed out of place. Nobody paying any attention. The shuttle dropped them in the lot and they walked over to his Silverado. A light coating of dust lay on the windshield.
He opened the door for her. "Climb in. Not like your Merc, but it's pretty comfortable."
He took them out of the airport onto I-5, then moved onto 99 North and headed for the Sierra foothills. It was a classic June California afternoon, clear and in the eighties.
"Tell me about where we're going."
"Connorsville," she said. "In Gold Rush days it had saloons, hotels, fifty bordellos and five thousand miners and Chinese living in shacks and tents."
"The Chinese again."
"They did the heavy work. There are stories that they dug secret tunnels leading away from Connorsville and the mine. They did that in Marysville and Sacramento. We never found any, though. My uncle always warned me not to go into the mine. It's not safe."
She looked out the window. "My uncle had a metal detector. We'd walk around where the town used to be and find all sorts of things. It was fun."
"Did you find gold?"
"A coin and a couple of nuggets. One was almost as big as my hand."
At Marysville they picked up Highway 20 and turned east, past flat, green rice fields and wide pastures spotted with cattle. A flight of white herons exploded into the air from one of the
ponds alongside the road.
After a while, they crossed the Yuba River. A few minutes later Selena pointed ahead.
"The turnoff is up there on the left. The bridge looks bad, but it's safe to drive over. Just go slow."
He turned onto a short stretch of rough pavement and across the bridge. It looked like it was ready to collapse. Signs warned off trucks and trespassers. They bumped across and followed a gravel road in. On the right a tall, brick chimney rose from the weeds and brush, a ghost from California's golden past.
"Is that what's left of the town?"
"That was the Wells Fargo building. Follow the road down, over there."
The ground sloped away through a field of tall grass dotted with blue oaks. In the spring it would be green as Ireland, ablaze with orange poppies and wildflowers in white and yellow and purple. Now, as the heat of summer built, the flowers were gone. The grass was turning golden brown and dry.
The road curved and dropped down. The house came into sight between two large outcroppings of rock rising out of the grass. The river was a hundred yards beyond.
The building was single story with a green metal roof, stained log siding and a pillared porch in the old country style. A broad swath of gravel lined with white rock spread out in front. Tall camellia bushes bursting with red blossoms lined and crowded the porch. In the yard he saw the ore cart.
"Where's the mine?"
Selena pointed through the windshield. "Down there on the left toward the river, on the other side of the hill."
He parked on the gravel in front of the house. When he shut down, the only sounds were the river going past below and a dog barking in the distance.
Selena walked onto the porch, took out her keys and opened the door. She disappeared inside for a moment and reappeared.
"I thought I might as well turn everything on. We've got lights and power. Nothing in the fridge, but there's canned food and spaghetti, and wine if we get thirsty. The well's good, so we've got water too."
She came off the porch and stood by the corner of the cart. She rested her hand on the rusty edge.
"I used to put things right here, under the rocks. In a metal lunch box. It might even still be here."
The cart was deep. Carter took off his jacket. He started lifting out rocks and stacking them on the ground. He got to the bottom without finding anything.
"Nothing here."
"Try another corner."
He dug out some more rocks. Nothing. He started emptying the cart in earnest. A glint of plastic caught the afternoon light. He pulled out two more rocks and a rectangular package and held it up in the air.
"No lunch box. I think we just found what we came for."
"Let's go inside."
Carter put his jacket back on and they went into the house. On her way in, Selena plucked a blood red flower from the bushes. She set it on the table in a bowl of water.
Chapter Twelve
Choy was in a bad mood. The Mercedes was old, the motor pool mechanic slow. When the car was ready, one of his men rushed to the toilet complaining about food from the night before. The passenger seat would not move all the way back. Choy crammed in as best he could, knees up against the dash, his head touching the roof of the car.
The men in the car sensed his mood and kept quiet. The driver was named Li. Everyone called him "noodles" because of his long, thin looks. He clenched the wheel, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar exit signs and heavy freeway traffic. Twice he made a wrong turn and had to backtrack for miles before they could continue.
The second man, Chung, squirmed in the back seat, trying to control his uncooperative intestines. They stopped twice more so he could relieve himself, using up more time. But for the last two hours there had been no more delays. Now they were past Marysville, heading for the house marked on Choy's directions. Li kept to the speed limit, watching for the Highway Patrol.
Choy hoped they would find the book quickly so he could get back to the Consulate. There was a woman who worked there, cleaning halls and meeting areas. He would make her pay another visit to his bed. She had been satisfying, if uncooperative at first. He was sure she secretly wanted what he had done to her. When they got back he would bring her to his room. Choy settled into the uncomfortable seat, his mood improving as he thought about her.
They swept across a long, curving bridge over a river. The highway narrowed and began to wind about.
Choy peered out the window. "Slow down, we should be getting close."
"There's a truck behind me."
"Never mind him. The place should be up here somewhere on the left."
Li looked in his rear view mirror and began to slow. Choy wasn't sure where they had to turn.
"Look for a bridge," he said. "There should be a bridge on the left."
"There it is!" said Chung. Just then the truck following behind blasted his horn and the Mercedes shot forward as Li floored the gas pedal. They missed the turn.
"Fool! That was it."
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Keep going until we get rid of this dung behind us and turn around."
Soon they saw a marker pointing to the town of Smartsville.
"Take that road."
They pulled off the highway toward the town. As the truck roared by the driver stuck his arm out the window and lifted his finger in salute.
Choy controlled his rage. "Fucking Americans," he said. "Turn around."
Back on the highway, Li drove slowly until they came to the turnoff. He pulled in and stopped.
"Why are you stopping?"
"The bridge, Sergeant. It doesn't look safe."
"Just drive over it. It has to be strong enough. There's a house back there."
The car crept over the bridge and onto the road. They crested the rise and saw the house below. Parked in front was a silver pickup.
"Pull over behind those rocks," Choy said.
"Do you think they saw us?"
"I don't know. Maybe the woman is there. That would be good. Out here no one will notice if we have to question her."
The thought of questioning Connor's niece excited him. Choy licked his lips. They got out of the car.
Each man checked his pistol. All three carried Chinese copies of the Beretta 9mm. From the trunk, Li took out three micro-Uzis, lethal at close range, although not very accurate. Choy reached into a box and took out two type 82-1 grenades, stuffing them into his jacket pockets.
"Do you think we'll need those?
"Do you want to find out we do if we don't have them?"
"It's just a woman."
"We don't know that. Now shut up and let's get going. Remember your training. Noodles, you go that way. Stay low and work around to the back of the house. Chung, you come with me. We'll circle to the right and approach the front from the side. If it's the woman, we go in and take her. If there's anyone else, take them too. Remember, any trouble, don't kill the woman."
The three men moved toward the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Carter and Selena had been inside the house for half an hour. The windows were open. A light breeze pushed the stale air away.
A large, oriental rug covered the wooden floor in the main room with an intricate pattern of blues and reds. A long brown leather sectional couch and two chairs were grouped in front of a fireplace built from rounded river stones.
The living area and kitchen were separated by a wide granite countertop with a swirling pattern of light and dark colors. A ceiling fan turned above an antique French country kitchen table. The back door opened out by the refrigerator. A hall ran to the right of the living area to a bath and bedrooms.
He sat down at the table with the package. Selena opened a bottle of wine and took two glasses from a cabinet over the counter. She took a seat across from him and poured.
"This is a nice wine, Silver Oak. You like Cab?"
"Yes. Ready to take a look at this?"
"Let's do it."
Carter sipped the win
e. He took out his knife and cut away the wrappings of the package. A dark, wooden box appeared.
"That's the box for the book. It was on my uncle's desk."
He opened the box. The book was about eighteen inches long and ten inches wide. The covers were cracked, stained wood, with the remains of red-colored cords that had once bound the flat pieces together. He lifted away the wooden cover. The writing on the page was meaningless to him.
"That's Sanskrit," she said. "This page is in Devanagari. The calligraphy and style suggest it was written around 1200 CE. The rest of the Sanskrit part is in Rgvedic. That's a much older form. This page was added at a later date."
"You can read it?"
"Yes. The language is one I studied for years."
"What does it say?" He tugged at his bandaged ear.
"It's a prayer to the Compassionate Buddha, sort of an introduction. That's typical for a Buddhist text. But this isn't a Buddhist work. The scribe says it should be studied for its medical knowledge but not taken at face value. The text of the book predates Buddhism."
Nick turned the page over with the blade of his knife. Selena moved her finger across the writing.
"Now we're looking at the older script. This word here means treasure. This one means journey, or trip. This one means map. And this one is 'endless life'. These words here translate as 'Golden Garuda'. So the book is called 'The Golden Garuda' and contains directions for finding the treasure of endless life."
"What's a garuda?"
"It's a big, mythical bird, like an eagle on steroids, sometimes half man, half bird. It first shows up in the Vedas. Those are the earliest recorded Indian religious teachings, around 1700 BCE."
The next page was an elaborate anatomical diagram of a naked man squatting down and looking over his shoulder at a stylized sun. It was recognizable, but in a style far from modern drawings.
"That's a diagram of the circulation of the blood, drawn centuries before Harvey discovered it in the West."
He took another sip of wine. She bent over and pointed at the next page.
White Jade (The PROJECT) Page 4