The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3)

by Chris Kuzneski

  Maggie moved away from the book and glanced at the symbols that had been carved around the wheel. ‘This is known as the Noble Eightfold Path. They’re teachings from the Buddha. A way to achieve a better sense of one’s self. A spiritual awakening, if you will.’

  ‘Great,’ Sarah blurted as she put her hand on the wheel. ‘Tell me which path comes first, and I’ll spin this sucker open.’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘It’s not that easy, Sarah. The achievements of the Noble Eightfold Path are to be reached simultaneously. There’s no specific order to the sequence. Ideally, everything is to be done at the same time.’

  Sarah stretched her neck in frustration. She hated feeling useless. And only one of them could read Mongolian. ‘Check the book,’ she insisted. ‘Maybe it will tell us the order of the paths that we’re supposed to walk.’

  ‘Sarah, you don’t actually walk—’ Maggie stopped. She could see from the look on Sarah’s face that she understood the concept of the Buddhist tenets. She could also tell that Sarah wasn’t in the mood to argue over semantics. ‘Right, the book.’

  The codex was by no means thick, and Maggie scanned the pages quickly. Her eyes suddenly grew dark and mysterious as she squinted at the page, confirming her translation.

  Sarah could see the resignation on her face. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing about the Noble Eightfold Path, but it tells us what we can find behind the door.’

  ‘It does?’ Sarah blurted.

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Maggie repeated. ‘And it’s not good.’

  ‘It’s not? What does it say?’

  ‘The book says that Yangchen is buried inside.’

  Sarah groaned. ‘Polo’s treasure is Yangchen’s body? You’ve got to be shitting me!’

  ‘No,’ Maggie said sternly, ‘you heard my words but didn’t grasp their meaning. I said nothing about a treasure. This book is the last section of Polo’s diary, and the mention of Yangchen’s grave is meant to be a warning. Earlier entries describe the tough time that Marco and Yangchen had in Lhasa, often expressing that most saw Yangchen as only a “black mark”. I thought it was a euphemism, but it wasn’t. It was a diagnosis.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Yangchen had an actual black mark. It was on her face, and it was growing. She had Yersinia pestis. In the West, you know it as the Black Death.’

  Sarah thought back to her studies in European history. ‘I thought the plague hit Europe a century later.’

  ‘It started in Asia, much earlier than that,’ Maggie explained. ‘This describes coming from Lhasa to Sri Lanka with Yangchen, but she didn’t survive the journey. After her death, Polo spent many months at the monastery that sat upon Sigiriya at the time. At some point during his stay the monks offered to store his treasure on the mountain alongside Yangchen’s remains.’

  Sarah nodded in understanding. ‘Who better to protect it than a group which had no interest in material wealth?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Maggie said. ‘But I’m not sure he had protection in mind when he left. From the tone of his writing, I don’t think he cared about riches anymore. The love of his life had been taken away from him, and that’s all that truly mattered.’

  Sarah thought things through. ‘Then why withhold the exact location from Rustichello? If he didn’t care about the treasure, why did Polo go to all the effort of describing his journey only to leave out the best part?’

  Maggie laughed. ‘The riches weren’t the best part to Polo – the journey was. That’s what led him to Yangchen, and she was the only prize he needed. He didn’t keep details from Rustichello out of fear that someone else might find his treasure, he excluded certain elements because he was afraid that the same fate as hers might befall others.’

  Sarah stared at the door that concealed a corpse of someone who had died from the Black Death. ‘Thanks to antibiotics, I’ll gladly take my chances. What’s your best guess?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘On how to open the door,’ Sarah said. ‘Buddhism is all about having faith and enlightenment, right? Well, have a little faith, and hopefully the enlightenment will follow.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it doesn’t work that way.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but if you don’t figure something out by the time Josh comes down here, he will use an ax to open the door. Or C-4. Or both.’

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Have you met Josh? I’m definitely serious.’

  Maggie closed her eyes, trying to recall everything she had ever learned about the religion. One thought stood out among the others. ‘The canon of Chinese Buddhism speaks of the Noble Eightfold Path in turn. It stresses an original effort, with all the other tenets building upon that foundation.’

  ‘Show me,’ Sarah insisted.

  Maggie opened her eyes and stepped to the door. She searched the knobs for a particular symbol then began to spin the wheel. ‘One must first achieve Right View, an understanding of the natural world around you.’ As she spoke she turned the wheel a complete revolution, stopping with the corresponding knob pointing directly upright near a notch on the door. She could feel the gears catch ever so slightly at the top of her turn. ‘Sarah, I think I felt something.’

  Sarah smiled. She had heard it, too. She was very experienced with locks and knew the oldest one ever found was over four thousand years old. By comparison, this one was fairly new. She pressed her ear to the wood and listened while Maggie continued. ‘Keep going.’

  ‘Next comes Right Intention, the will to change,’ she said as she cranked the wheel in the opposite direction.

  Sarah heard a soft ting of metal against metal as the next spoke came into position. ‘It’s working!’

  ‘Then Right Speech, the use of proper words.’ The wheel spun easier, as if centuries of cobwebs had just been cleaned from the mechanism concealed beneath the wood. ‘Right Action, ridding one’s self from corruption … Right Livelihood, abstaining from doing harm … Right Effort, the banishment of negative thought … Right Mindfulness, understand the world’s effect on the body …’

  The gears seemed to click louder with each alignment. Both Sarah and Maggie were certain that their effort would soon be rewarded.

  ‘And lastly,’ Maggie said, ‘Right Concentration, the art of meditation.’

  As the final turn was completed, Sarah heard the ancient tumblers fall into place.

  The door popped open with a hiss, inviting them into Polo’s chamber.

  Sadly, only one of them would ever step inside.

  67

  Sarah heard the man before she saw him, and what she heard made her blood boil.

  It was the unmistakable sound of laughter.

  She turned around to see a lone Chinese gunman leveling a pistol at her and Maggie. As he stepped closer, she recognized the sharp features of his face. He was Feng He, the man that Garcia had said was now in charge of the Brotherhood.

  He had come to do his dirty work personally.

  ‘Your weapons,’ he demanded, ‘place them on the floor.’

  Sarah slowly pulled her pistol out of the concealed holster and lowered it to the ground by her feet. As she straightened up again, she noticed Maggie had not done the same.

  ‘I said “weapons”.’ Feng moved closer. ‘That means both of you.’

  Maggie took a defiant step forward. ‘Why do you need my weapon? You never would have made it this far without me!’

  The revelation struck Sarah like a sucker punch.

  Her gut churned with disbelief.

  Maggie was working with the Brotherhood?

  ‘And neither would they,’ Feng hissed, his delivery dripping with menace. ‘If you had come to me in the beginning and told me of their quest, I would have kept my promise and paid you the sum of their millions combined. But instead, you betrayed your people by helping the foreigners raid our country and steal our history. The only reason you contacted me is because the Brotherhood was on your trail. You
got scared like a weak-minded Westerner and decided to hedge your bets. How could I reward someone like that?’

  Everything that Feng had said about Maggie was true. In the beginning, she had never considered betraying her team. She enjoyed their company and had worked extremely hard to help them find the treasure. Unfortunately, her allegiance shifted when they interrogated one of the Fists in Tibet. Not because of their actions, but because of the captive’s answers.

  Under the threat of torture, he had revealed that several pictures of the team had been sent to the criminal organization’s headquarters in Hong Kong, a city where Maggie was very well known. She knew it was only a matter of time before her friends and family were vigorously questioned about her whereabouts, and she couldn’t let that happen. Although she liked her teammates, she would do anything to protect her loved ones.

  While translating the anguished pleas of the captive, she had made her choice: she would give the Fists what they were missing. She would use her knowledge of Polo’s treasure to bargain for her freedom and the safety of her family and, for a small percentage of the haul, she would reveal the location of the riches as soon as the team figured it out. Unfortunately for the hunters, the lateness of Maggie’s betrayal had prevented the team from suspecting anything.

  Which made it hurt even more.

  Sarah faced Maggie, her lower back brushing against the top of the pedestal. ‘You bitch! You sold us out! That’s how these bastards found us here!’

  Maggie slowly reached for the pistol inside her cargo pocket as Feng watched on.

  He could only smile as he watched the inevitable creep into her mind.

  He knew Maggie was going to make a move.

  Sarah sensed it as well. She slid a hand behind her back and reached for the wooden-bound codex. She knew it wasn’t much, but it was the only solid thing within reach. She was tempted to call out for help, hoping that Cobb or McNutt could come to her aid, but she quickly realized that she hadn’t heard a transmission in several minutes. She wondered if the comms had gone down for everyone, or if Maggie or Feng were blocking the signal.

  Then it happened.

  Maggie spun to face her now-former teammate, the weapon still in hand.

  Sarah reacted instantly, pulling the codex from behind her back and hurling the two-foot long wooden slats at Maggie’s face. She hoped that the desecration of the sacred artifact would be the last thing that Maggie ever expected, and fortunately she was right.

  Maggie’s face registered a mix of shock and horror as she instinctively raised her arm to ward off the attack. The wooden boards slammed into her wrist, knocking her gun to the cavern floor with a clatter. Dismayed and disarmed, Maggie assumed a classic fighting pose and readied herself for Sarah’s assault.

  Sarah was happy to oblige.

  She sprang across the room in a lightning-fast flurry of swinging limbs.

  Maggie managed to sidestep the onslaught just at the last second. She retaliated with a flying sidekick, catching Sarah squarely in the ribs. The impact sent Sarah sprawling backwards, and she slammed into the cavern wall.

  Determined to end the battle before her younger opponent could wear her down, Maggie rushed in but Sarah lunged upward with one fist outstretched. Her knuckles caught Maggie just under the chin, dropping her to the floor. Sarah tried to stomp on her while she was down, but Maggie lithely twisted away from the attack.

  Maggie sprang up from the floor and wiped the trickle of blood from her split lip.

  Sarah circled her wounded prey like a hungry predator.

  The display delighted Feng, who simply stood nearby and watched as the two women squared off. In his chauvinistic mind, women were put on this planet for two reasons: to breed and to serve. Few things gave him greater joy than watching the unrestrained combat of the weaker sex. Not that he cared who actually won the fight.

  Either way, he would end up victorious.

  And that was the only thing that mattered.

  Sarah danced to her right, and Maggie deftly shifted her weight to counter. Sarah kept moving, constantly adjusting her stance as she searched for the right opportunity to strike. When she sensed an opening, Sarah pounced forward with a series of rapid punches. When those failed to connect, she spun her body, using the torque to slam her elbow into Maggie’s midsection as she passed by. She finished the 360-degree rotation by launching her trailing leg skyward and driving her knee into the bottom of Maggie’s chin.

  Maggie’s head snapped back, and she staggered away.

  In an attempt to press her advantage, Sarah swung her other leg up for a kick, but Maggie deflected the blow at the last possible instant.

  Maggie rushed forward, raining lightning-fast blows upon the smaller Sarah. When she raised her hands in defense, Maggie lowered her aim and pounded away on Sarah’s ribs.

  Sarah doubled over to protect herself, and Maggie dropped back – but only for a second.

  It wasn’t a retreat; she simply needed room to use the full range of her leg.

  Maggie leaped forward, swinging her hardened shin into the side of Sarah’s head. The kick sent Sarah careening to the ground, but she rebounded beautifully. As Maggie moved in closer, Sarah sprang from her crouch and smashed the crown of her head into Maggie’s oncoming face.

  Blood sprayed from her ruptured eyebrow and gushed down Maggie’s face. Snot dripped from her broken nose and mixed with the spit drooling down into the split in her chin. Her eyes were swollen and watery.

  She staggered aimlessly, helpless against Sarah’s advance.

  Feng’s chest pounded with excitement.

  ‘Finish her,’ he ordered. ‘Kill her. Kill her now!’

  Sarah’s eyes glazed over with rage. Maggie’s deception had unleashed a hornet’s nest of pent-up frustration, a sea of simmering angst that had been bubbling since the catastrophic loss of their previous historian in the deserts of Egypt. Despite her opponent’s defenseless condition, wrath overwhelmed her.

  The roundhouse kick shattered Maggie’s sternum.

  The arm bar that followed collapsed her trachea and snapped her neck.

  Maggie fell dead to the cavern floor as Sarah stood trembling above her.

  She had won the fight, but the battle wasn’t finished.

  Feng didn’t applaud her victory or wait for his enemy to regroup. He had never been interested in a fair fight; not when he could strike while his opponent was weakened. His sentiment toward life echoed his strategy in business: the strong prevail, while the feeble must be purged from existence.

  The blow from him came silently, while her back was turned. Feng blasted a rock-hard fist into the flesh protecting her right kidney, dropping her to her knees as a wave of nauseating pain swept over her. She tried to stagger to her feet, but Feng delivered another vicious blow, this time catching her squarely on the backside of her lungs.

  She gasped for breath, certain that at least two of her ribs had been shattered.

  Feng grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face toward the floor. She desperately spun her head to keep her nose and teeth from breaking against the solid rock, but her temple still smashed against the unforgiving stone. She landed on her stomach, which drove the last of the air from her lungs in a tortured gasp. She rolled to her side in agony, trying to move further and faster to escape the deranged man about to kill her, but her body wouldn’t respond.

  She felt Feng’s foot ram into her side, and another rib crumbled. She brought her knees up in a protective fetal curl, but the man’s foot drove down onto her throat, squeezing off her air. Sarah clawed at his calf, but the man’s leg was like granite, the muscles under his trousers corded and strong from years of training.

  She tried to shove him off her, but it was like trying to move a tree.

  Her eyes bulged from the sockets as her lungs sucked for fresh oxygen.

  Slowly, her vision grew hazy around the edges.

  A few moments more, and she would be gone.

  In a last-ditch effor
t, she tried to swing her legs up behind the man and hook him with her heels, hoping that she could push him away, but he deflected each blow with a forearm. He leaned heavily into her, pressing his boot on her windpipe as if he were trying to ram his foot through her neck to the floor. She could feel herself losing consciousness, her resistance slipping with each passing second.

  As her eyes rolled back, a final idea exploded in her mind.

  The knife!

  Sarah frantically dug into the folds of her pockets until her fingertips found her knife. Fighting the lack of air, she wrapped her fingers around the handle. With the last energy she could muster, she withdrew the blade and slashed the knife parallel to her throat. The only thing in her way was Feng’s Achilles tendon.

  She sliced through it like tender veal.

  Feng roared in agony and jolted backward from the pain. Though he landed on his feet, the sliced tendon gave him no support. He immediately toppled backwards, the pistol from his holster sliding harmlessly across the floor.

  Sarah rolled to her side and forced herself to her knees, still clutching the knife. Her bruised neck throbbed as she sucked in huge gulps of air, but she was oblivious to the pain.

  She was just happy to be alive.

  As she rose to her feet, Feng clawed desperately for his pistol, which had fallen just beyond his reach. His hand strained for the weapon, his limb extending back as his nails dug into the grip. The tips of his powerful fingers inched the gun closer, until it was finally within his grasp.

  She saw the entire scene in slow motion.

  In response, she cocked her arm backward, the knife still in hand.

  As Feng raised the gun, she let the blade fly. The knife tumbled end over end through the air for what seemed like an eternity, but her aim was true.

  And so was the pistol’s.

  The blade sank deep into his eye as a gunshot echoed through the chamber.

  68