The Spirit Banner

by Alex Archer

  "You mean are we dead yet? Not even close!"

  "Jeffries?"

  "Mason Jones. Your faith in Jeffries is misplaced. We're all still alive and he's dead. So help me God, if I catch you anywhere near us again I'll gut you myself. Do you understand me?"

  Mason's voice rose in intensity as he went on, until he was shouting into the phone in anger.

  Ransom shouted right back. "You'll never make it out of Mongolia alive. That tomb is mine!"

  "You just try it, Ransom. 'Cause when you do, I'll see to it that you wake up in hell!"

  He stabbed his thumb down on the disconnect button and then tossed the phone into the river.

  "Come on. We've got to tell the others," he said.

  They gathered the water bottles and headed back to camp.

  * * *

  I N THE COURTYARD of the abandoned Soviet base where he had ordered his pilot to land a half hour before, Ransom turned to his communications specialist in the back of the helicopter. "Did we get it?"

  The other man did not disappoint.

  "Yes, sir. I used Keyhole 5 to lock it in within a ten-yard radius." The technician pointed at the laptop screen resting on his knees that was showing a topographical satellite map of the surrounding landscape. "They are right here, sir," the technician said, using his finger to circle the spot on the map. "It's the same location that Jeffries called in from last night. As of now, they haven't moved on. And even if they do, they won't get far."

  Ransom stared at the point on the map near the base of Burkhan Khaldun, where his man's finger currently rested. The helicopter would get them that far, but if Davenport and his team went any farther up the mountain they would have to follow them on foot.

  That was just as well.

  Ransom preferred his killing to be up close and personal.

  33

  Once the rest of the group was informed of Jeffries's treachery, the decision was made to get under way as swiftly as possible. They had no idea just how much information the insider had relayed to Ransom, so the farther they got from their position the better off they were likely to be. The group packed up quickly. They sealed off the entrance to the map chamber by tripping the hidden lever in the same way Annja had opened it, and headed out.

  That morning's travel was the hardest yet. Their route took them higher into the mountains, along narrow trails that Nambai said were made by argali, the wild mountain sheep whose curved horns were prized for their supposed magical properties. Annja secretly hoped they wouldn't run into one, for they were known to be fiercely territorial.

  The air grew colder as they climbed higher and Annja found herself wishing for the warmer temperatures of the steppes. While they didn't encounter any argali, they did see their fair share of rodents, squirrels and pikas. Nambai told them how the pikas, which were part of the rabbit family, were also known as whistling hares due to the high-pitched sound they made when threatened, and then proceeded to demonstrate by cornering a few of them against the trunk of a downed tree. He was right; the little things screeched like banshees. The fresh meat they'd have for dinner that night would more than make up for it, though.

  The forest grew thicker as they climbed. The trees rose around them like silent guardians, watchful and aware. Mixed through the evergreens were patches of white birch, bringing flashes of white to all that green, and heightening the sense that they weren't alone, that out there among the trunks some ancient guardian was keeping score, and Annja almost expected one to come strolling out of the shadows between the deeper trunks.

  Annja waited until she and Mason had dropped back a bit behind the others and then asked, "You okay?"

  "Compared to what we used to do in the SAS, this is a Sunday walk in the park," he replied, without looking at her.

  The lack of eye contact said it all. He was avoiding the real question.

  "Not what I meant at all and you know it," she said quietly.

  Mason stopped and turned to face her.

  "You're right. I do know what you meant. But what, exactly, do you want me to say?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought you might need to get some of it off your chest."

  Mason looked away. "I knew the guy for almost ten years, Annja. He was part of my squad in the regiment. He saved my life half a dozen times and I returned the favor just as often. I'm having a hard time believing any of it really happened, to tell you the truth."

  Annja could feel her anger creeping up. "But it did happen," she said firmly.

  "Oh, I know. I'm not doubting that at all. But what I can't figure out is why he would do something like that. What would motivate him to sell us, or rather me, out like that?"

  Now it was Annja's turn to look away. The shiny look in Mason's eyes told her just how deep the knife had cut. "People do things we don't understand all the time. It's not our place to figure it out. We have a hard enough time just living with the consequences."

  "Ain't that the truth," he muttered, and the dark cloud that had been hanging over them moments before seemed to break up and move on.

  Their conversation turned to lighter things as they hustled to catch up with the others.

  In the early afternoon they found their first indication that they were not alone. They emerged from a particularly thick copse of trees to find Nambai standing in the middle of a trail cutting its way northward through the forest.

  In the middle of the trail were fresh horse tracks.

  "What do you think?" Mason asked their guide as he stood frowning down at the tracks.

  "Not good," he said, as he lifted his gaze to the trees around them. "Could be the Darkhats." The name fell from his lips like a curse and sent him off into a half-whispered ramble in Mongolian.

  Annja had been around the wiry old guy long enough to recognize that he was saying a prayer, no doubt to ward off evil and keep his enemies far, far away.

  "What are you talking about?" Mason asked. 'Who, or what, are the Darkhats?"

  Nambai remained silent, refusing to say anything more, so Annja answered for him.

  "Legends say that after Genghis Khan's body was returned from China and hidden away forever from the sight of man, a small group of warriors were designated to keep watch over the Great Khan's tomb for all time. When one died, the duty fell to his son and that man's son and so on down through the centuries. Anyone brave, or foolish, enough to enter the Great Taboo in search of the tomb would be punished by death. The warriors were known as the Darkhats, though where the name comes from seems to have been lost in antiquity."

  Mason scoffed. "And people still believe this stuff?"

  Annja watched Nambai, who hadn't taken his eyes off the woods around them, and said simply, "Yes. Some people do."

  Mason gave their guide an odd look and then moved off to talk with his employer.

  After some discussion between the two of them, the decision was made to follow the trail they had found, horse tracks or not. It was easier than winding their way through the trees and would require less hacking at the undergrowth, which had the added benefit of conserving their strength for when they might actually need it.

  The trail was wide enough to manage two horses riding abreast, and to Annja it indicated the presence of much more than just a solitary horseman. But despite keeping a careful watch, she didn't see any evidence that they were being followed. Nor did she find any indications that anyone else was out in the primeval forest with them.

  Until they came to the burial ground.

  * * *

  R ANSOM AND HIS MEN were airborne by midmorning, with Santiago acting as gunner-copilot and Ransom sitting in the back just behind the pilot. In the loading area behind him, ten of the men Santiago had recruited for the job were strapped into the crew seats on either side of the hull, ready to be deployed at a moment's notice once they hit the ground.

  With the GPS coordinates to guide them, it wouldn't take them long to catch up with Davenport and his team.

  If Ransom thought
the morning's firefight had put him in a good mood, his feelings positively soared when they discovered the remainder of Davenport's convoy parked just outside the forest that covered the approach to the slopes of Burkhan Khaldun.

  The pilot landed nearby and Santiago got out with several of his men to search the vehicles. They returned to the helicopter fifteen minutes later, and as the pilot took them back up, Santiago reported what they had found.

  "Engines are cold, which means they've probably been here overnight, just as Jeffries said. Looks like they took their gear and headed off into the woods over there," he said, pointing down to a narrow path just beyond the parked vehicles that could easily be seen from the air.

  "There was some blood on one of the seats, so at least one of them has been injured recently. That's about it."

  Ransom nodded and sat back to think, watching the scenery pass by beneath the aircraft without actually seeing it.

  The bloodstains gave a possible explanation for why the team had separated; it was likely that one of them had needed serious medical attention and Mason Jones had been stupid enough to split his forces in two while his enemy was nipping at his heels. It also meant that there would be fewer of Davenport's team to contend with when Ransom and his men caught up, giving them the numerical advantage, which was just fine with him.

  It took them another fifteen minutes to cover the ground that Davenport and his team had taken hours to climb the day before. Still, when the pilot put the helicopter down in a small clearing not far from where the GPS coordinates said Jeffries had made his call, Ransom was happy enough to get out and stretch his legs.

  Santiago had the men fan out, sending them up the mountain in search of the map room that Jeffries had mentioned in his call the night before.

  Ten minutes later two of his men radioed in. They had found Jeffries.

  He'd been in the water for at least six hours and his flesh had taken on the bloated look so common in drowning victims. Though, from where Ransom stood on the bank, he could see the bullet wounds in the man's back that had been the true cause of death.

  Apparently Davenport's security chief, Mason Jones, must have stumbled on to the truth about Jeffries, and in the confrontation the traitor had paid the ultimate price.

  Ransom didn't much care; Mason had saved him some trouble, actually. It was simply one less loose end he'd have to deal with later.

  He told his men to drop the body back into the river and turned away in disinterest before the current had carried it out of sight.

  He had more important things to be worrying about, like where on earth Davenport had gone?

  Ransom snapped at his men, ordering them to pick up the search and find the trail. Driven by his anger and Santiago's constant bullying, it didn't take them much longer to locate the trail Davenport and his team had used to climb higher into the mountains.

  The trail wasn't all that old and Ransom felt the thrill of the hunt course through his system. He knew his prey was close and if he played his cards right he might even catch up to them before nightfall. Then he would see just what Davenport was made of.

  With hunger in his eyes, Ransom ordered the ground team to start following Davenport's team on foot, while he and Santiago returned to the air to provide aerial recon and additional firepower if it came to that.

  As he took to the sky once more, Ransom stared down at his men as they disappeared into the forest ahead of them.

  Time's almost up, Davenport, he thought with satisfaction.

  Time's almost up.

  * * *

  O NE MINUTE D AVENPORT'S PARTY was deep in the forest and then next the trees suddenly fell back on all sides as the trail led them right into the midst of a sunlit clearing. Three other trails could be seen emerging from the forest and ending at other locations around the clearing. But the group paid the trails little mind at this point, for the small hill that rose before them, carpeted with a thick sheen of green grass, had them all entranced.

  Atop the hill stood twelve spirit banners, the horsehair attached to their shafts stirring in the slight breeze.

  A hush fell over the group.

  It was a scene out of a time long since passed and Annja found herself wondering just how long the sulde had stood there in stark relief against the eternal blue sky above, soaking up the spirit of the place.

  She was entranced by the sight, so much that she didn't hear Nambai's shout until the second or third time.

  He was pointing up over the hill, through the break in the trees caused by the clearing, to where the cliff face of the rising mountain behind it could be seen.

  A cave entrance was visible a few hundred feet up the sheer cliff and what looked like two sulde stood guard on either side of the entrance.

  Annja felt her heart go into overdrive.

  The tomb of Genghis Khan. That had to be it!

  Everyone was talking and shouting at once, excitement spilling through the group like wildfire, and it took Mason a few minutes to get them all calmed down.

  The horse tracks in the dirt were forgotten.

  They skirted the ceremonial hill, only to find the entrance of a fourth and fifth trail very close to each other directly on the other side. Mason sent Vale and Williams along the right-hand path, telling them to go down a short way and then report back, while he and Nambai did the same on the left. When everyone returned, Vale described a canyon over which stretched a rope bridge that appeared to be in disuse; many of the wooden slats were missing from the flooring and the ropes themselves seemed brittle and worn.

  On the other hand, the trail Mason and Nambai had followed led to the base of the cliff they had seen from the clearing. The decision was an easy one.

  A few minutes later, they all stood staring up at the cave mouth roughly one hundred feet above them. The cliff face leading up to it was almost vertical, with no obvious means of ascent short of climbing it like a spider on a wall.

  "This is going to be fun," Mason muttered under his breath.

  Annja laughed. "Come on, now. Don't tell me you are afraid of heights?" she said.

  Mason did his best to ignore her, which Annja found even funnier.

  Williams, the most experienced climber in the group, was pulling wrapped coils of rope out of his pack when Annja moved to join him and offer assistance. They discussed the route they intended to take and the gear they were going to use to protect the route on the way up. Once they were both satisfied, they got under way, with Annja leading and setting the protection and Williams belaying her.

  The climb itself went very quickly.

  There was no ledge to speak of in front of the cave entrance so Annja was forced to enter the cave mouth in order to find a place to set the anchors for the rope. The sunlight coming in from outside illuminated the first ten or so feet of the tunnel, allowing her to see what she was doing and secure the rope properly so that the others could make the climb up to the cavern. She could also see that the tunnel continued deep into the mountainside. As she turned back toward the entrance she discovered a group of torches piled on the floor to the left side of the entrance.

  Annja leaned out of the cave mouth and waved to the others below, indicating it was okay for them to use the rope to climb up. While she waited for them, she lit one of the torches and moved a short distance down the tunnel, her excitement almost palpable in the narrow confines of the passage.

  As it turned out, there was only so far she could go.

  About forty feet in, she discovered two massive wooden doors blocking the passage, each one reinforced with several bands of iron that ran horizontally across them. Annja guessed that they probably weighed several hundred pounds each. By the light of her torch she could see that the stone on either side of the doors had been carved with excruciating detail, reminding Annja of any number of the Buddhist temples they had passed during their trip across the country—especially the one at Shankh. The carvings were obviously old but, protected from the harsh Mongolian winds in the depth
s of the tunnel, they stood out in stark relief.

  The doors looked as if they had stood undisturbed for centuries.

  Provided you ignored the footprints that led up to the doors. Clearly, someone had been here before them, Annja realized.

  Recently, too, by the look of it.

  * * *

  O UTSIDE AT THE BASE of the cliff, Mason stood on belay, waiting for Davenport to be hauled up by the others who were already in the cave mouth above. Davenport had never climbed before, and given that he was one of the world's wealthiest men, no one dared take a chance at letting him do so now. Mason had helped him get into a harness and then had secured the ropes to the hooks on the harness using carabiners. When everything was ready, Mason gave the signal and Williams and Vale began to pull the rope up hand over hand.