The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3)

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘Very interesting. First the Loulan ruins, and now this …’

  Lim could tell when his boss was thinking aloud, so he didn’t respond.

  ‘The Loulan ruins were from when again?’

  ‘Some estimates say as early as 1800 BCE, sir.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Feng said. ‘Eighteen hundred years before the current era.’

  Lim noted his boss’s use of ‘current era’ instead of ‘Christian era’ with pleasure. Even though Lim wasn’t a believer in Jesus, at times he still found himself using Christian terminology to describe things. The long reign of the Christian church was so very embedded in modern language. Feng, however, had eliminated all Christian references from his vocabulary.

  ‘Which part of the Mongol era are the missing records from?’ Feng asked.

  ‘The last quarter of the thirteenth century,’ Lim answered.

  ‘That’s three thousand years apart! What is the connection between them?’

  ‘I’m not sure, sir. It will take some researching, but we’ll figure out what the foreigners are after.’

  ‘You better, Lim. They have killed several of our people and made us look like fools. We will not let that stand. I want you on this issue full time now. Find out who they are, and find out what they want. Bring them all to me – dead or alive. Preferably in pain.’

  * * *

  Five hours later Lim was back in Hong Kong, rushing through the lobby of the hotel where he and Feng lived. Only now he was heading to the basement to find his leader. He’d heard that Feng was still downstairs after all this time. He pitied the men who had botched the job in Guangzhou and hoped never to find himself on the receiving end of Feng’s wrath.

  Lim had spent the duration of his train ride searching the web for information on Loulan, the Great Wall, and the reign of the Mongols. By the time he had arrived at his destination, he had put together a theory. He still didn’t know everything, but he was certain he had enough to convince Feng.

  Lim had the elevator to himself. The bell chimed and the doors opened on the concrete space of the empty parking level. Lim always liked that this level was closed off for the Fists. He made his way diagonally across from the elevator toward the small office in the corner. It was the same place where his leader had chopped off the Australian’s hand.

  Lim entered the office to find Feng seated at the desk. He was covered from head to toe in blood, his eyes wide open and staring at nothing. If Lim hadn’t seen the man’s chest rising and falling, he would have thought he was dead. The guards that were typically around on this level were nowhere to be seen – which meant they hadn’t been able to stomach the afternoon’s festivities. Or Feng had sent them away. Or the leader’s rage had overwhelmed him completely, and he had killed them as well.

  Lim knew each scenario was just as likely as the others.

  ‘Sir?’ he asked gently.

  Feng stirred out of his trance and glanced at Lim.

  ‘Can I get you anything, sir?’

  As if finally registering where he was and what he looked like, Feng shook his head. The scent in the room was one of slaughter, but Lim had smelled worse.

  ‘I’ve done some research, sir. I might have an answer.’

  A hungry light appeared in Feng’s eyes. One that still needed to be fed. ‘Already? Well done, Lim. What have you learned?’

  ‘Because of the drastically different time periods, I started looking into people who might have passed through Loulan during the Mongol era. Armies. Emperors. Explorers. I started thinking outside the box while trying to connect the two locations, and I realized that only one well-known traveler was in that region during that particular timeframe.’

  Feng caught on instantly. ‘You don’t mean the Venetian?’

  ‘I called some historians and a few other experts in Asia who specialize in the Mongols. I also called a professor in Oxford. They all had the same thing to say: there’s been a rash of recent inquiries into all things related to Marco Polo. These are people who are not used to having outside interest in their work, but in the last month they have been contacted by the Ulster Archives and a Chinese woman who claimed to be studying Polo for a graduate thesis.’

  ‘The Han woman?’

  ‘My thoughts, sir.’

  ‘So Marco Polo connects Loulan with the Great Wall somehow, and these Americans …’ Feng’s voice trailed off.

  Lim waited. He preferred Feng to make the connection for himself.

  Finally, Feng smiled. ‘They are searching for Marco Polo’s fabled lost treasure!’

  Lim nodded but said nothing.

  Feng stood, excited. ‘We need to find them at once.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘But do not intervene. Let them solve the mystery. Once the treasure is found, it goes to Beijing – where most of it undoubtedly originated.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Forget what I said about dead or alive. As soon as that treasure is located, I want you to bring them to me.’

  Lim didn’t understand. ‘Sir?’

  Feng grinned like a wolf. ‘I want to kill them myself.’

  39

  Tuesday, April 8

  Imperial Hotel

  Tokyo, Japan

  After a day of rest, the pressure the team had felt in Guangzhou had eased considerably.

  Garcia was waiting outside the fitness center after Cobb’s early morning workout. Garcia wore blue jeans, paired with a T-shirt with an image of a TIE fighter from Star Wars on it. Cobb wore black shorts and a gray T-shirt soaked with sweat. One of the hotel’s white towels was wrapped around his neck, soaking up the perspiration that dripped from his head.

  ‘Been meaning to tell you, I love how you fixed Josh’s wound,’ Garcia said. ‘That was good thinking with the solar goop. Last night I trickle-charged my laptop on his leg.’

  Cobb stared at him. ‘You guys are consenting adults. What you do in the privacy of your room is none of my business.’

  Garcia blushed. ‘What? No, wait, you misunderstood me! I charged my computer laptop in his hole … In his leg. The hole in his leg … Oh my God, this is ridiculous.’

  Cobb smiled. ‘Hector. Relax. I knew what you meant. I was kidding.’

  ‘Me, too! I was kidding about his hole. I swear I didn’t touch it.’

  Cobb let that one slide. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘The photo,’ Garcia said as he held up his tablet. ‘I still can’t believe you took a photo of the fake cops after you shot them. That took a lot of nerve.’

  ‘I wanted to have something on them.’

  ‘Well, I struck out on the first guy,’ Garcia said as he pointed at one of the dead men. ‘But the other guy was named Wu Bai. He used to be a low-level criminal.’

  ‘What kind of criminal?’

  Garcia accessed a second photo. It was a grainy picture in a Chinese newspaper of a shooting at a restaurant. There were several bodies on the floor amidst upturned tables and chairs.

  ‘He grew up in Shanghai and joined a local gang called the Strengthened Dragons, or something to that effect. They mostly dabbled in petty crimes until the shooting at this restaurant over two years ago. Rumor has it that he was the main gunman, but he was never charged. After that, I can’t find anything on him until he turned up at the warehouse.’

  ‘Shanghai’s a thousand miles from Panyu. That’s too damn far for a local gang.’

  ‘I know,’ Garcia said. ‘Unfortunately, that’s all I have. Again, as I said last night after the others had left, if we involve Maggie in this, we might get places faster.’

  ‘I don’t want to do that,’ Cobb whispered. ‘I trust you more, and she’s got her own work to do with all those documents that we acquired from the warehouse. For now, I want you to work on this gangster lead alone. And whatever you do, don’t let Jean-Marc know about it.’

  ‘You still think the leak came from us?’ Garcia asked.

  ‘It’s likely – even if one of us didn’t realize it. For a
ll I know, it could have been me. The only other option is they were watching us since we got to Hong Kong. If that’s the case, then they were definitely connected to the rekky in Loulan.’

  Cobb thought for a moment as he wiped the sweat from his face. ‘If you can’t find anything else on Wu Bai, see what you can uncover about the people killed at the restaurant. Maybe the Dragons had a rival gang. If so, maybe we can contact them for information about Wu Bai.’

  ‘You want to talk to a gang?’

  ‘Not particularly, but I’m willing to if it points us toward the people Wu Bai was working for at the warehouse.’

  Garcia nodded. ‘You got it.’

  ‘Also, start digging into the mining operation in Xinjiang. Find out who owns it and who the security people were that chased us. Basically, get everything you can. They might not be connected to the attack at the warehouse, but if they are, we need to know about it.’

  Garcia nodded and took his tablet to breakfast.

  Meanwhile, Cobb headed for the elevator to go back to his room.

  Sarah emerged seemingly from nowhere and sidled next to him. ‘Nicely handled.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Cobb replied. He took a gulp from the bottle of Fiji water that he had been given in the exercise room.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ she said as the elevator arrived.

  They stepped into the empty car together.

  The doors closed before Cobb spoke again.

  ‘You overheard the assignment I gave Hector.’

  ‘You said it yourself: you’re the best qualified person to lead this team – and I continually see why. I told you Hector wanted to be more involved in our plans, and you found a way to involve him deeper. Not only that, you showed him we trust him completely instead of simply telling him that his stint as a spy for Papi has been forgiven.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Cobb said. ‘Or maybe you’re giving me too much credit, and I just gave him an assignment to keep things going. We’re nowhere yet. We still don’t have a location for the treasure, and until Maggie tells us otherwise we’re running out of leads.’

  ‘We know a few things, though,’ Sarah said. ‘Polo was definitely in China. He did see the Wall. And there was a girl involved. That’s a lot more than we had a week ago. Hopefully, Maggie will be able to point us in a specific direction with the new documents.’

  The elevator opened on Cobb’s floor, and they both walked out.

  He wondered if she realized this wasn’t her floor.

  Either way, she kept talking.

  ‘There’s certainly more waiting on this mission than I’m used to, but we’re making progress. Now all we have to do is figure out who’s hunting us.’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  When they reached the door to his room, Cobb unlocked it with his plastic keycard.

  She walked in first, still talking. ‘Where are we with that other matter?’

  ‘What other matter?’ he asked as he closed the door.

  ‘Have you found anything on Papi yet?’

  Cobb stepped deeper into the room, past the mini-bar and the closet, and stood adjacent to the bathroom door. ‘I’ve got someone looking into things. So far all I know is that Jean-Marc met with someone in California. Our bigger concern right now is this group that tried to kill us. I’m pretty sure they’re not connected with Papi or his mysterious partner.’

  Sarah turned casually, glancing out the window at the greenery of Hibiya Park, which sprawled out just below them. Farther north, she could see the Imperial Palace, the main residence of the Emperor of Japan, in the Chiyoda section of the city.

  ‘Do you want me to reach out to some of my contacts? Maybe a bloodhound like Seymour Duggan could get a fix on these people?’ she asked.

  ‘No thanks. I’ve got it covered.’ Cobb took off his soaking wet T-shirt and flung it to the bathroom floor. It landed with a noticeable splat.

  Sarah turned at the sound. When she saw him shirtless – his muscles coated in sweat – she couldn’t help but stare. ‘Yeah, well … you don’t look covered to me.’

  ‘Sorry. The shirt needed to go.’

  ‘Um … why?’ she said, blushing.

  Cobb suddenly remembered how uncomfortable she had been when they had needed to shed their clothes on Brighton Beach to disguise themselves as normal beachgoers during their first mission. He silently chastised himself for not waiting until she had left the room.

  ‘I need to take a shower,’ he said as straightforwardly as he could manage. He hoped she didn’t see his embarrassment, and that the comment would set her at ease.

  ‘Oh,’ she stammered. ‘Of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll go check on Maggie.’

  ‘Great,’ he said, sliding into the doorway of the bathroom so she could pass behind him.

  Sarah left without saying another word.

  40

  Later in the day, they all gathered in Papineau’s room for another briefing.

  They all wore variations on their ‘uniforms’, the specialized outfits Sarah had designed with the first aid kits and survival gear tucked into various pockets. Cobb had told everyone to be prepared to leave the hotel at a moment’s notice, so they had dressed accordingly.

  To avoid looking like a team, they all wore shirts of different colors. McNutt wore a gray T-shirt with an Indian motorcycle logo. Papineau selected a beige safari shirt with buttons, long sleeves, and multiple pockets. Maggie wore a colorful blouse that helped her blend in with the locals. Sarah opted for the black, long sleeve jacket that came with the pants. Meanwhile, Garcia’s shirt, which looked one wash away from completely falling apart, had HASBRO emblazoned across the chest.

  Dressed in a black T-shirt, Cobb started the meeting. ‘Okay Maggie, what did you find in the documents? Any mentions of Polo?’

  ‘I haven’t had time to read all of the records yet. They were written with an ancient flair that has been tough to decipher. That said, Marco Polo is mentioned – but not by name.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ McNutt said while sprawled on Papi’s bed. ‘It would have sucked if those books were just full of egg roll recipes.’

  Maggie glanced at him. ‘Joshua …’

  He immediately sat up straight against the headboard. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’

  Sarah stared in awe, envious of Maggie’s way with him. ‘I’m not sure how you were able to train him, but can you teach me?’

  Cobb ignored the comment. ‘If Polo isn’t named, how do you know it’s him?’

  Maggie answered. ‘He is referred to as bakgwei, which means “white ghost”. There couldn’t have been that many Caucasians in the area at the time. As I told you yesterday, most of what was recorded in those ledgers was a long list of boring facts scribbled by government underlings – and absolutely nothing about egg rolls.’

  McNutt lowered his head in shame.

  She continued. ‘So when something out of the ordinary came along, it was usually written about in great detail. In this case, a Caucasian man carrying a paiza and acting as an emissary of Kublai Khan? That’s certainly going to be mentioned.’

  ‘Maggie,’ McNutt said, ‘if I can’t joke about egg rolls, you can’t joke about pizza.’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘Not pizza, Josh. He was carrying a paiza.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Sarah asked before McNutt could.

  ‘A paiza – or a gerege in Mongolian – was a foot-long, three-inch-wide golden tablet. It was engraved with a message that read: “By the strength of the eternal Heaven, holy be the Khan’s name. Let him that pays him not reverence be killed.”’

  She glanced around the room to emphasize her point. ‘This tablet was essentially a passport, a foreign ambassador’s ID, and an American Express Black Card all rolled into one. It told everyone in the empire that they were to assist Polo on his mission, or they would be put to death. That meant free food, free lodging, free women, free soldiers … whatever he desired.’

  ‘I have something like that in Wo
rld of Warcraft. It’s awesome!’ Garcia bragged.

  Everyone in the room just stared at him.

  He quickly got the point and pulled up an artist’s rendering of Polo’s tablet. Gold in color, it had a number of etchings at the top and two columns of Chinese characters running vertically down the middle. With a few keystrokes, the image appeared on the flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall.

  ‘What was his mission?’ Cobb asked.

  ‘It wasn’t described – most likely because it was confidential. He did fondly mention the Loulan Kingdom and asked several questions about that area, but it wasn’t clear whether he was heading there after he left.’

  ‘And where was this?’ Papineau asked.

  ‘It was in the town of Lanzhou in Gansu province,’ Maggie answered.

  A few seconds later, a map of modern-day China appeared on the TV. A red dot indicating Lanzhou was blinking in the middle of the landmass.

  Maggie glanced at the map and shook her head. ‘I’m afraid this map is a little misleading. Remember, most of what is western China today was not a part of China then. At the time, Lanzhou was one of the last outposts of civilization and a gateway toward the frontier of the west.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Garcia said as he typed furiously. A moment later, a neon-green outline of Ancient China was superimposed over the modern map. ‘This was China during Polo’s time.’

  Maggie smiled. ‘Thank you, Hector.’

  ‘Is that important?’ Papineau wondered.

  ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I’m reading between the lines a lot, but I think by the time Marco traveled to Lanzhou, the three Polos were already planning to leave China.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ Cobb asked.

  ‘Intuition, really. Things said, things left unsaid. It’s the way Polo is described by the government scribes. It seems that after a while he had become accustomed to the privilege of the golden tablet. Some of Marco’s actions … it’s hard to put into words.’