by Alex Archer
Then she'd walked into camp and joined the other new arrivals to the dig. She'd worked all day, learning the backbreaking labor involved with searching for relics.
One thing she had discovered was that no one questioned the labor pool as long as they worked. She worked hard both days she'd been in camp, soaking up information every chance she got while carrying buckets of sand away from the open pits where Professor Hu and his handpicked crew worked.
"Miss Lin."
It took Kelly a moment to remember the name she'd borrowed while in the camp. She looked up at Po, the old man who served as chief among the local population that had been brought in from Dunhuang.
"Yes."
"Do you feel well?" Po was thin and heavily wrinkled from the sun. He wore ill-fitting wraparound sunglasses and a Yankees baseball cap that was at least a size too large for him.
"I'm fine," Kelly said.
Po squatted beside her and clapped a bony hand to her forehead.
Kelly kept from breaking his arm through a sheer effort of will.
"You are very warm." Po removed his hand. "Very warm."
"It's very warm outside."
Po grunted, then handed her another bottle of water. "You keep drinking water. It's a long way to hospital if you get sunstroke."
Kelly uncapped the bottle and drank.
The old man smiled at her, then moved on to check the rest of his troops. He had a position on the dig site more as morale booster than as a laborer. He managed people and made sure the things Professor Hu wanted done were done on time.
A young man ran into the tent. "Professor Hu's coming back. He's bringing a body with him."
Instantly, everyone in the tent rushed out to see. Kelly joined them, knowing what to expect. She'd noticed the vultures gathering that morning.
She shaded her eyes with her hand and watched as the camels plodded toward the camp. Professor Hu was in the lead. A body was slung over the saddle pommel.
****
"The professor found two men up in the mountains. One of them is still alive."
Worry gnawed at Kelly's stomach. She'd been certain of the kills two nights ago. She didn't see how one of them could have survived. But there had been something in the cave, some kind of vapor that had made her feel woozy. And she'd been running on so little sleep for so long that she was all but exhausted.
Cautiously, she made her way to the front of the line, staying just behind Po.
Professor Hu, his face running with sweat, commanded his camel to kneel. As the large creature did, he held on to the man in front of him. Blood covered the man's midsection.
"Help me." The professor held on to the man.
Men ran forward to ease his burden.
"Gently. He's still alive. I want to keep him that way." Hu lowered the man to a waiting blanket, then ordered the men to help him lift it. They used the blanket to carry the wounded man into the main tent out of the sun.
Kelly stayed outside while the rest of the group went inside to watch the drama unfold there. She walked to the camel that carried the other man.
There was no doubt of the man's state. The scars left by the vultures marked his fate clearly. Half of his face and one eye had been eaten away. Three fingers of one hand were gone. Huge strips of flesh were missing from his back and legs.
"Do you know him?"
Turning, Kelly was surprised to see that Song, the second in command of the dig, stood beside her. She shook her head. "No. I don't know him."
"Are you sure?" Song stepped closer. "Because for a minute there it looked like you did."
"I've seen dead men before. That's all." Kelly shook her head and tried to look scared. "It's never seemed right."
"I know." Song looked like he might be sick. "Someone murdered this man and tried to kill the other."
"Who?" Kelly knew she had to ask that question. Any normal person would have.
Song sighed. "I don't know." He looked out toward the mountains. "Someone out there. Bandits, maybe."
Professor Hu called for Song from inside the tent. Song looked at her. "It's better not to dwell on something like that."
"I know." Kelly watched him as he turned and went back into the tent. She wondered how long it would be until Ngai discovered his men were dead.
And what he would do.
****
In the back seat of the luxury limousine, Ngai Kuan-Yin studied the belt plaque in his hands. He was fascinated and frustrated by his possession of it. As soon as he'd seen its picture online he'd known what it was and pursued it.
But it didn't tell him as much as he'd hoped. The inscription on the back had only confused him. It contained a lament by the original maker that the owner of the belt plaque was cursed. There was also a prayer that was supposed to offset the evils that would plague each generation.
The limo slowed.
Glancing through the tinted window, Ngai saw that he was at the Old Bank of China. Most of his legitimate business was done in those offices.
The two bodyguards seated in front of him moved into position as the luxury car eased to a stop at the curb. Ji Zi, the head of Ngai's security detail, spoke quickly and quietly over his radio. When he was assured everything was ready, he opened the door and stepped out.
Ngai moved out with his bodyguards. As always, he was aware of the vulnerability of being out in the open. If he had been a different way, he might have been resentful of the lifestyle he maintained.
But he wasn't. He loved what he had. He just wanted more. Especially the fortune his ancestor had bought with his treachery, and ultimately his life.
Ngai's bodyguards swept him by the abbreviated landscaped lawn and into the building. Across the foyer, Ji used the specially coded electronic pass key to open one of the private elevators used by the bank officials.
Just as the doors began to close, a large scarred hand slid between them and held them back. The man who owned the hand was over six feet tall. He was broad and fierce looking, with shoulder-length black hair and magnetic black eyes. His goatee was carefully trimmed.
"Mr. Ngai, I mean you no harm." The man spoke flawless Mandarin.
Ji whipped his pistol from under his jacket and pointed it at the tall man's face.
If the man was afraid, he didn't show it. His black eyes held Ngai's. "I know the secret of the belt plaque."
Ngai made his decision in a heartbeat. With such an announcement, there could be only one response. "Do not shoot him."
Ji never moved his pistol, but he didn't kill the man either.
Ngai studied the man for a moment, taking in the elegant Italian suit that had been custom fitted. "Who are you?"
"Garin Braden." The man smiled, showing perfect teeth. "I think you and I are going to be friends."
"What do you want?"
"To become your partner in your quest to find the City of Thieves."
"How do you know about that place?" Ngai asked.
Garin smiled. "I'm a student of history myself. Particularly when it pertains to treasure." He paused. "Is there some place we can talk?"
"I have an office upstairs."
"That would be ideal." Garin started to step inside the elevator.
Ji shoved him back outside. "The eighth floor. We'll meet you there."
Garin hung on to the elevator doors. Ngai knew that the man was on the verge of snapping, and he thought it would have been interesting to see who prevailed in such a situation. Garin seemed as much a warrior as Ji.
"Take your hand back." Ji flicked open a knife with a serrated blade. "Otherwise I will take your hand from you."
A brief, cold smile crossed Garin's lips. Ngai knew if the man had smiled at him in such a manner that he would feel threatened. The expression was as humorless as a shark's grin.
"The eighth floor then." Garin nodded and removed his hand from the doors. He looked at Ji. "Be glad you're working for Mr. Ngai."
The elevators closed.
"Do you know this man?" Ji
didn't put his pistol away. He hid it behind his thigh.
"No." Ngai took out his phone and made a quick call. He said only Garin Braden's name.
Instantly the computer researcher on the other end of the line swung into motion. Before the elevator reached the eighth floor, the researcher knew something of Braden.
"Garin Braden is an entrepreneur from Berlin." The man's voice was calm and precise. "He's worth millions."
"Put together a full background check on him. I want it as soon as it's ready," Ngai said.
Ngai hung up and watched the floor counter. Suspicion and hope warred in his mind. The elevator doors opened.
Chapter 24
Garin didn't go to the eighth floor as he'd been instructed. Orders of any kind irritated him, and his natural course of action was to disobey them. But he did want to meet with Ngai because the man had something he needed.
He just didn't want to appear desperate for it.
After living for five hundred years, he'd learned to be patient – sometimes. The brush-off he'd received from the security man still irked him. Another time, another place, and Garin knew he'd have killed the man for threatening him.
Instead, he put on sunglasses, then went to a small café across the street and ordered a coffee. While he was waiting, he called Ngai on his personal cell phone. The call was meant to throw Ngai off-balance and point out that Garin knew much more about him than he could have guessed.
"What is it?" Ngai sounded irritated.
Garin smiled. There was nothing like being in the driver's seat. He paid the woman behind the counter and tipped her what probably amounted to a week's pay.
He spoke into the phone. "It's Garin Braden."
"What do you want?" Ngai's voice was harsh, but not too harsh, Garin noted.
Garin took his coffee and walked out to the street again. He gazed up at the tall office building, looking at the windows along the eighth floor. He knew that Ngai could hear the street noise around him over the phone connection. He also knew that the man's offices were in the front of the building.
"I want to talk to you," Garin said.
"An appointment was made."
Garin scanned the windows. A moment later, one of the curtains pulled to the side and he made out the security man's face. Garin hoisted his coffee cup in a salute.
"I'll be along in a minute." Garin sipped his coffee. "Tell your security man he owes me his life."
Ngai hesitated. "What do you mean?"
"If I'd wanted to hurt you, I'd have put a team with a rocket launcher on top of the Peace Hotel. By now, that office would be a fiery pit that would have swallowed you up." Garin sipped his coffee and looked at the Peace Hotel.
The hotel actually consisted of two buildings. The first building had been on the south side of Nanjing Road
, and it had been built where the old International Settlement had been. Back when it had been built in the 1850s, it had been known as Central Hotel. Garin had stayed there right after it had opened.
The north building, the one where he would have placed an assault team if he'd been so inclined, had originally been called the Sassoon Building. Sir Victor Sassoon had constructed it in 1926. Garin had stayed there, as well, and had known the baron. The Chinese government had taken over the building in 1956 and renamed it the Peace Hotel. A distinctive green steeple capped the top of the building.
The security man's face disappeared from the window.
"Come up and talk to me," Ngai said.
"No. I don't think so." Garin grinned, knowing he had the man. "If you want to meet, you come see me."
There was a pause. "Where?"
"At the Dragon-Phoenix Restaurant in the Peace Hotel. I'll have a table waiting for us. I'll even buy." Garin closed the phone before Ngai could protest.
Feeling satisfied, Garin walked to the hotel. He already had a table reserved from the time his spy inside Ngai's organization had told him the man's private telephone number.
****
The Dragon-Phoenix Restaurant was one of the tourist attractions at the Peace Hotel. As such, the decor was properly opulent. Circular red tables stood out like large islands against the dark floor. The color scheme was primarily cream and red, and the distinctive dragon and phoenix crest was displayed proudly.
Ngai Kuan-Yin arrived with his entourage only a few minutes after Garin's phone call. The hostess stopped them at the door, chatted briefly, then brought them to Garin's table.
After thanking the hostess, Ngai turned to Garin but didn't sit. "I don't like the way you do business," he stated.
Garin looked up at the man. "You don't have to like it, but you do have to respect it." He turned a hand toward a chair. "Have a seat. You're going to look foolish eating soup while standing."
"I didn't come here to eat," Ngai said.
"No, but by eating you won't draw so much attention."
The late afternoon crowd was sparse, mostly tourists and a handful of businessmen having a late lunch or an early dinner.
Garin smiled. "I'm buying. As an apology for meeting without a proper introduction."
It wasn't much, but it was a gesture to allow Ngai to save face. Usually introductions between two people of power were mitigated through a third party. Garin had purposely skipped that.
Showing obvious reluctance, Ngai sat.
The servers descended upon them, bringing soups and appetizers. They filled glasses with water and with tea.
Ngai's eyes never left Garin's. "What do you want, Mr. Braden?"
"By now you'll have called someone to find out who I am." Garin blew on his soup. "They'll have told you I'm an entrepreneur, and that I also dabble in archaeological collections."
Ngai nodded.
"I know about the belt plaque and I know about the City of Thieves." Garin saw the fear in the man's eyes and knew that Ngai was considering killing him. He thought that it was fair, though. If Garin had had time to get the information on the back of the belt plaque any other way, he'd have killed Ngai.
"Mere fables," Ngai said.
Garin smiled. "Do you think so? You had Suen Shikai killed for the artifact that he held."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ngai said.
"Of course you don't," Garin continued. "A woman killed the men who tortured and murdered Suen Shikai. Do you know who she was?"
"No," Ngai replied.
"She was his daughter," Garin stated.
New light dawned in Ngai's eyes.
"Now you understand why the artifact was not at Suen's home," Garin said.
"Suen left it for her."
Garin smiled again. "It's all about legacies in this country. Everyone is someone else's descendant or ancestor."
"Does she have the artifact Suen protected?"
"I believe so. There's a man named Tse Chu-yu. Do you know him?"
"Of course. He is a very dangerous man to cross," Ngai said.
"You knew he was a friend of Suen."
"I did. I never understood what they saw in each other."
"Both of them are fishermen, and they both loved and lost their wives. Sometimes it doesn't take much to bond people." Garin stared into Ngai's eyes and saw that the man had never bonded with anyone. He'd never had to.
Garin still remembered that cold winter morning his father had told him he would be riding away with Roux, that the old man was going to be his new master. Master, not father. For years they'd ridden together, and every year Roux swore that he would find some home to send him to, some orphanage that would keep him. And every year they kept riding together.
Then Roux had failed Joan of Arc.
Taking a breath, Garin pushed the memories away. He understood bonds between people in a way Ngai never could. He also knew how to take advantage of them.
"The point is, I believe Kelly Swan has the artifact her father protected."
"Where is she?" Ngai asked.
"Somewhere plotting to kill you, I suppose." Garin smirked at Ngai'
s discomfort.
The head of Ngai's security team leaned in. "That will never happen. Do you understand?"
Garin ignored the security man. "Do you even know who Kelly Swan is?"
Ngai hesitated. "No."
"She's a trained assassin."
Surprise showed in Ngai's eyes.
"She was trained in the United States." Garin stirred his soup. "By the CIA. She was going to be used in the Asian theater. She's an expert with handguns and a sniper rifle, familiar with demolitions. Very, very patient. Evidently even when the man she most wants to kill has murdered her father."
Ngai looked at his chief of security.
The man never took his eyes from Garin, but his face flushed.
"You can't blame your security chief. He wasn't in a position to know something like that," Garin said.
"It is his job."
"You know, I don't think replacing him right this minute is in your best interests." Garin turned his attention to the soup again.
"What would be in my best interests, Mr. Braden?" Ngai asked.
Garin mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He loved making offers that couldn't be refused. "You make me your partner. For a percentage of the treasure."
"That's unacceptable. This treasure is something that my ancestor – "
"Betrayed and killed his friends for." Garin made his voice harsh. "I already know the story. I probably know more of it than you do." He took another spoonful of soup. "I also know that even if you succeed in finding the City of Thieves, which I doubt because you would have by now if you knew the secret, you won't make it past the dangers that lie ahead of you." He paused. "Your ancestor and the other thieves made the way difficult. Only one path will be clear. I know how to get you there."
Ngai remained quiet.
Garin tapped his watch. "Tick tock. While you're sitting there wasting time, another group – someone who has as much information as I do – is closing in to take that treasure away from you." He leaned back in his chair. "What's it going to be? Are you going to waste this excellent meal trying to find a way out of this? Or do we have a deal?"