by Richard Edde
“And you have found something you think is important, some bones and teeth?”
“Well, Li knows better than to speak to outsiders of what our work has uncovered. I’m afraid he spoke out of turn.”
“But it’s true, right? You have uncovered some bones?”
Harry was beginning to get irritated by the woman’s persistent questions. “Well--” he said.
Jing smiled and interrupted. “I don’t mean to intrude but I know of the existence of a skull. It is supposedly very old. And it is considered sacred among the elderly mountain people. But it is not human.”
Harry stared at the young woman. His pulse rose. “Not human? Animal?”
“It is like a human skull, but it does not belong to an animal. At least no one seems to think so.”
The workers’ voices were now in the distance. Li spoke up. “Please, Jing. Tell Harry everything. Please.”
Jing loosened her deel and Harry offered her a bottle of water, which she gratefully accepted. “Well, it is only by accident that I stumbled across your work here and I assure you it was not my intention to be so inquisitive. But if I can help an old friend, Li, here, I want to do it. Dr. Harry there are many, many things we of the younger generation have put aside here in Mongolia. One of these are the strange tales of wild men living high in the mountains. Some of the old folks call them Almas while others call them Yeti.”
“Yes,” Harry said. “I have heard of them and some of the stories. Interesting.”
“Yeti appear in the legends of local people, who tell stories of sightings and human-Yeti interactions, dating back several hundred years. Around 1941, shortly after the German invasion of the Soviet Union, a wild man was captured somewhere in the Altai by a detachment of the Red Army. He appeared human, but was covered in fine, dark hair. When they tried to interrogate him, the creature was unable or unwilling to speak, so the unfortunate thing was said to have been shot as a German spy. It is the skull of that creature that I am aware of.”
“But we know there is no such thing. In America, that creature is called Big Foot. Some places have their Sasquatch. In the Himalayas, it’s the Abominable Snowman. Most people laugh at such tales. These creatures just don’t exist.”
Harry shot a glance at Li who nodded in agreement.
“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with our research here,” Harry added.
“Dr. Harry, like I said, most Mongolians my age have entered the twenty-first century and regard these tales as just that--tales perpetuated by fertile imaginations. However, I have seen this skull I mentioned and I can assure you it exists. Li says you are looking for skeletons. Exactly what it is, I cannot say. Maybe you can, Doctor. If you would like to see it I can take you there.” Jing Wu finished her water in a long gulp.
“Where is it located?” Harry asked.
“High in the Altai. Three days ride from here there is a small Buddhist monastery near a village named Tenduk. It is very remote. The monks there hold the skull sacred and keep it locked in a special room. Only a few people have seen the skull and no outsiders that I know of.”
Harry was interested now and he smiled at Jing. “How did you come to see it?”
“My father took me there years ago. He was a childhood friend of one of the monks. While there, the monk showed the skull to my father and me. My father said it was of an Alma, a Yeti.”
“Yes, Jing, I would love to see the skull. You will take me there?’
“Wait a minute,” Li exclaimed. “I’m going as well. And you know you won’t be able to keep Dixie here once she hears of the skull. Wild horses couldn’t keep her from going.”
Harry sighed in resignation. “I suppose you are right, Li. How do we get there, Jing?”
“Like nomad travel centuries old--horses and camels.
“Three days journey you said?”
“More like two and a half days. Up an ancient yak herder’s trail.”
“When could we leave? Weren’t you on an errand?”
“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, so we can leave then. You can spend the time packing provisions until I get back.”
Harry did some quick mental calculations then nodded. “We’d be gone seven or eight days, you think, Jing?”
“Yes, a day or two at the monastery should be enough, I would think.”
“Fine. Li, leave Cheng in charge when we go. Tell him we should be back in about a week and to keep the nighttime sentries posted. After that, start getting our gear and provisions packed and ready to load as soon as Jing returns.” Li nodded. “And find Dixie and send her here,” Harry added. “I’ll bring her up to date.”
Li bolted from the kitchen tent. Jing rose and tightened her deel around her tiny waist. “Don’t expect too much in Tenduk, Doctor. It is a small village and monastery. For most of the inhabitants there, time has passed them by. They only got electricity ten years ago.”
“How do the villagers eke out a living?”
“They are farmers, mostly, growing large gardens of vegetables. They raise goats and sheep as well. The mayor there used to have the village’s only TV.”
After seeing Jing on her horse and off to Kastum, Harry relayed Jing’s news to Dixie and told her of their plans for the trek to the monastery. Delighted, she ran to her tent to find clothes that needed washing.
***
Garrett Sawyers picked up the ringing phone in his Georgetown apartment.
It was Middleton at the FBI and he sounded bored. Sawyers threw himself into an oversized chair and listened.
“You were right, Garrett. Your man, Eastwood, isn’t squeaky clean. His company, BioGen, as you suspected, has been involved in some mighty shady dealings over the recent years. Mostly, Eastwood is a relic hunter, or should I say, he’s a stealer. The proof is shaky at best but here is the scenario. BioGen locates or steals priceless relics, from art to fossils, then sells them to private collectors or museums for exorbitant fees. How they find these things remains unknown. There are rumors of extortion and outright theft involved in some of these transactions. But they have been extremely adept at keeping the details of their dealings shrouded in mystery. How BioGen managed to get its hands on the complete fossil skeleton it just sold the Saudis is anyone’s guess. Eastwood has a security force of former military commandos, or something. One man was court-martialed for insubordination. Eastwood’s board of directors must be in the dark about the company’s methods, because there are a few big wheels serving on it.”
Sawyers mixed himself a martini. “Anything that could be prosecuted, Jacob?”
“Nothing that would stand up in court. Lots of complaints from competitors but no one wants to go on record or file a formal complaint.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“Probably fear of exposure or recrimination would be my guess.”
“Who is on BioGen’s payroll?”
“That’s the strange thing, Garrett. Like I said, besides Eastwood, most of the employees are ex-military or quasi-hoodlums. Pretty strange for a company with a scientific name. And no scientists, none. A company that does business in scientific specimens ought to have at least one scientist, wouldn’t you think? My guess is BioGen is a well-organized, efficiently run extortion racket but I can’t prove it. Anything else?”
“Well, I don’t know how the president will take this news or what he will do with it. Do you mind sticking with it a while longer, ole man? Something more concrete might turn up.”
“You mean the president would still keep this guy as head of his prized commission, knowing what I just told you?”
“I dunno. He is loyal to a fault, just as with his other nominees. But I can’t predict what the man will do.”
“All right, Garrett, I’ll stay on it a little longer. Give you a call next week.”
“Damn,” Sawyers said aloud after hanging up the phone.
He opened the small cabinet that served as his bar, mixed another vodka martini, sauntered back to
his chair, and sipped his drink. This was news the president was not going to like, as the commission’s team, along with the assistants, had already been chosen. Fortunately, news of the team’s participants had not been leaked to the press yet, so the fallout might not be so bad. Sawyers hoped the fallout wouldn’t find its way to his office. How this man Eastwood had made it onto the president’s list, he didn’t know, but whomever had floated his name might well now be in jeopardy. The commander-in-chief was not a man to be out on a limb all by himself. Sawyers knew there would be someone else out on that damned limb with him.
However, he put it out of his mind for the present as he had a date. He was taking his girl to the Kennedy Center.
Chapter 10
Eastwood sat ensconced behind his carved mahogany desk, pondering where Doyle was. The sun sat low over the East River, bestowing a shimmering quality, like pearls, over the water, while a late afternoon haze settled over New York’s skyline. The Brooklyn Navy Yard was barely visible. His security chief’s last communication informed him that they had safely landed in Beijing, cleared customs without incident, boarded the Trans-Mongolian Railway, and were headed to Kastum. There they would pick up their guide and begin the trek to the expedition site. The Chinese Customs officials didn’t even give the crate with the hidden weaponry a second look, just glanced at the bill of lading and stamped it before handing it back to Doyle. So they were almost in country. Traveling northeast out of Beijing, it was a eight hundred mile train ride to Kastum so the team should be on site in another two or three days.
He had a map spread out on his desk so he could keep track of the team’s progress. The town of Erlian was on the Mongolia-China border and was, potentially, the next hurdle in getting the weapons into the country. Fortunately, Doyle was experienced in handling covert activities so the possibility of trouble was remote. Once in country, there were the towns of Airag and Bayat before arriving in Kastum. He would spend an anxious several days waiting for word and holding his breath until he learned they had safely crossed the border.
Eastwood’s pulse quickened as he imagined Doyle and his men nearing their destination. Whatever it was this Dr. Olson uncovered in the Altai Mountains, Eastwood would soon have his hands on it. Or maybe it would be best to let the research team go about their business until a real discovery was made, then Doyle could move in and seize whatever it was. Eastwood had a few days to decide.
The intercom buzzed and his secretary announced that Garrett Sawyers was on the phone.
“Hello, Mr. Sawyers,” Eastwood said with a lighthearted tone.
“Mr. Eastwood, I’m afraid the president may have been a trifle premature in asking you to head his charitable donations commission.”
“Oh?” was Eastwood’s serious reply.
“Yes, and I don’t know how to put this exactly, but--”
“Just spell it out, Mr. Sawyers. Be blunt.”
“Well, uh, during your vetting process, and that of BioGen, a few things have turned up that are rather puzzling--er--concerning information and--”
“Exactly what information, Mr. Sawyers?” Eastwood’s tone took on a more somber note. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not at liberty to divulge anything at present but the president feels it prudent to hold off on a formal White House announcement and photo op for another week or so. I’m sorry but it’s his decision.”
“I don’t understand, Mr. Sawyers. Can’t you be more explicit? What’s really going on here?”
“I wish I could be more forthcoming, sir, but I am just relaying the president’s decision. I am terribly sorry.”
“You started to say something about something having turned up. What, exactly?”
“Again, sir, if you could just be patient for another week or so, I think everything will work itself out. The president is certainly hoping so.”
“Well, if it can’t be helped, it can’t be helped.”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, Mr. Eastwood, but if you can be patient, like I said, maybe everything will work out. If it does, then we can make a formal announcement in the Rose Garden with you by the president’s side. It would be a nice photo-op for the both of you.”
“Well, Mr. Sawyers, if that is what the president wants, than that’s what we’ll do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Eastwood. I’ll keep in touch.”
Eastwood poured a generous amount of bourbon into a tumbler and fought the hot bile building in his gut. While sipping the amber liquid, he hoped that Doyle would use caution and good judgement in his tactical approach to the Altai site. What was Sawyers referring to when he mentioned puzzling information? The latest Saudi deal had involved arm-twisting, bribery, and even outright theft, but he doubted that any of the aggrieved parties would go public with their complaints. The Saudi prince who helped them obtain the skeleton was a high-roller who jetted all over the world, partying and wooing starlets and wealthy matrons. The man, known as Fariq, was introduced to Eastwood at a party while the royal entourage was housed in the St. Regis Hotel. Eastwood had been invited to a gala affair and the two men began a casual friendship that culminated with Fariq offering his services when he learned that Eastwood was searching for a buyer for a dinosaur he had recently acquired. The prince acted as the middle-man negotiator with the Saudi museum, arranged the transfer of funds, and assisted in the clandestine movement of the skeleton to its final testing place.
Eastwood never questioned the prince’s motives, actions, or the men with which he did business. They were as dirty as BioGen when it came to procuring these ancient relics and fossils. Thievery and money were part of the game. His father had taught him that.
***
Dixie watched as Li supervised several workers loading wicker baskets with the food and cooking utensils for their journey. Metal mugs, bowls, utensils, and a stainless blackened pot were loaded as well as their food and water. The baskets would then be lashed onto the camels for the trek into the high mountains to the monastery.
She was eager to get started and had packed her bag as soon as Harry told her of their plans. During the past year, the pair’s working relationship had evolved into a close one. Dixie prided herself on knowing what her professor wanted, or needed, and she was there, lending a hand. Back at Cal Pacific, he was more formal in his demeanor toward his graduate students, even distant most of the time. But here at the research site, he had warmed considerably, as if the pressures of academic life had been left behind and he was now doing what he truly loved to do. At times, she thought they were actually becoming friends, but then he would holler for Li and the two would jaunt down to the diggings together. It wasn’t that she was looking for romance--it would be hard to juggle that out here on the steppe--but if it happened...well, and here she smiled. Harry seemed like a nice guy. She had to admit that it was becoming more difficult to remain focused on work when they were together so she said a silent vow to keep her dissertation and their research upmost in her mind.
The discovery of the Russian plane and its mysterious cargo stimulated her scientific curiosity but unnerved her as well. She had a vague feeling, one she couldn’t really put a finger on, that the reason for their being on the steppe was devolving into something other than the reason they came to Mongolia. Not knowing where the bones and teeth originated made their discovery meaningless, in her opinion. But, nonetheless, they made for fascinating speculation. She was eager to view the skull Jing mentioned and to see more of the mountains that loomed to the west.
Li finished with one basket and started on another. His hands worked deftly with the cords and canvas covers as the workers filled the basket. He hummed an unfamiliar tune until the work was finished then sat at the mess table, surveying the baskets.
“Li, where is the Tenduk Monastery?” she said, sitting beside him.
“Like Jing said, three days journey. Very high altitude.”
“What’s the monastery like? Have you been there?”
“I was there years ago when I was a teen. It is a Buddhist monastery, as are ninety percent of all monasteries in Mongolia, and it dates back to the fourteenth century.”
“I know a little about Buddhism,” Dixie said. “It is a beautiful religion.”
“Buddhism in Mongolia is a form of Tibetan Buddhism and shares the common Buddhist goal of individual release from suffering and the cycles of rebirth. Ours holds that salvation, in the sense of release from the cycle of rebirth, can be achieved through the intercession of compassionate Buddhas, the enlightened ones, who have delayed their own entry to the state of selfless bliss to save others.”
“Yes, I’ve read about nirvana,” Dixie said. “I took a world religions course in college.”
Li smiled and continued. “Buddhism was introduced into Mongolia during the periods of the pre-Mongol states and came here from Nepal. Therefore, many of the Buddhist terms are of Sanskrit origin, which are still used in Mongolia, were adopted via the Nepalese language.
“By the beginning of the twentieth century, Outer Mongolia had over five hundred monasteries and temple complexes and controlled an estimated twenty percent of the country’s wealth. Almost all Mongolian cities have grown up on the sites of monasteries. Over time, the monasteries acquired riches and secular dependents, gradually increasing their wealth and power. Some nobles donated a portion of their dependent families--people, rather than land, were the foundation of wealth and power in old Mongolia--to the monasteries. Many herders dedicated themselves and their families to serve the monasteries. All of that means that, today, Buddhism is deeply rooted in Mongolian culture, and the people willingly support the monasteries. Christian outsiders usually have a negative opinion of Mongolian monks, condemning them as lazy, ignorant, corrupt, and debauched, but they simply do not know the truth.” He stood and shrugged. “Well, Dixie, enough of the history lesson. I need to pack a bag if I’m going to be ready when Jing returns.”