Yeti

by Richard Edde

  Then she felt its jaws close around her head and everything went black.

  Chapter 31

  The sun was up and the air was warming, a promise that fall was still a few weeks in the future. Harry shifted in his saddle and was glad that they were now back on the level Altai steppe, for it made travel easier and faster. The steppe was verdant and luxuriant, compared to the stark beauty of the mountains. The clear stream they followed tumbled languidly now, instead of plunging headlong down the steep embankments found in the higher elevations.

  Harry was hungry but the jerky was gone. They would have to put their cravings aside until they reached the research site. Up ahead, Stepan swayed rhythmically in his saddle and Harry noticed that he continually scanned the horizon in front of them. Li and Dixie appeared to be asleep as they were not moving; Li’s head was on his chest.

  The white peaks of Mount Belukha and Kuitan loomed behind them as if propelling them forward toward their destination. Since leaving their diggings for Tenduk, and with their narrow escape from death, Harry had all but forgotten his mother and her health. Did she ever get her pacemaker? Was she even alive? If she had died while he was off chasing hominids, he would never be able to face his brother. No, never be able to live with himself. Maybe Max had been right--he was selfish to the core, thinking only of himself and his idiotic career. Trapped inside the mountain, his death certain, had made him realize his precious career was not nearly as important as he once thought it was. There were more important aspects to living and he was only now figuring that out. Dixie, he hoped, was going to play a much larger role in his life going forward. Harry said a quick prayer that his mother was all right. He would call Max as soon as he could.

  Stepan had stopped and was peering through binoculars at the distant landscape. Harry rode up beside him and reined his horse to a halt. “What’s up, Captain? See anything?” he asked, squinting his eyes at the man.

  “I thought I saw a flash up ahead. Like the sun glinting off metal.”

  “Yeah?”

  Dixie and Li rode to a stop beside Harry and the captain. Li cupped a hand over his eyes and stared in the direction Stepan was looking.

  “Nothing, I guess,” Stepan said. “Maybe I’m just getting spooked.”

  “No, you can’t be too careful, Captain Stepan,” Li said, turning his gaze on the man. He shot furtive glances at Harry and Dixie.

  “I guess. Let’s keep moving.”

  The small band continued on their way, leaving Harry feeling uneasy about what they would eventually encounter. The fact that they might overtake Eastwood and his assistant, Doyle, was a cause for concern. Harry wasn’t looking forward to a gun battle where Dixie might get hurt or killed. With only Stepan’s pistol for protection, he doubted that they would be able to overpower the two men. A profound feeling of dread was building in him, his mouth tasted of metal, and his fingers were numb from the cold.

  ***

  The stream that flowed through the steppe took a long, leisurely curve to the north then back again, carving an S-shaped ribbon of silver into the lush green vegetation. Rounding the last curve, Doyle stopped, held up a hand, and waited for Eastwood to ride alongside him. He pointed to white objects in the distance, barely visible on the horizon.

  “Tents,” Doyle said. “The research site. We’re here.”

  “It looks smaller than before,” Eastwood said, putting binoculars to his eyes. “How do you think we should play this, Ben?”

  Doyle dismounted and squatted with Eastwood’s binoculars. He scanned the site in silence for a few minutes before answering. “Ride in, find the foreman again, demand what we want under pain of death, then ride out. I doubt if they have weapons. They’re a scientific expedition.”

  “Won’t they spot us coming? On this flat plain there’s no way to get there without being seen.”

  “Who cares? Where can they go? What are they going to do? Nothing, I tell you. Absolutely nothing.

  The afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows of their mounts and the light was at their backs.

  “Besides,” Doyle said, “the sun will be in their eyes. They may not see us until the last moment.”

  To Doyle, this discussion was moot and pointless. They had the enemy within their sights and the only thing left to do was to waltz in and demand the relics. If the foreman did not comply, kill him. After that, the next person they interrogated would be more cooperative. As a former military man, why couldn’t Eastwood understand the tactics involved in an operation such as this? Wasn’t it why the man had employed someone with Doyle’s unique background?

  “You getting queasy about the possibility of shooting someone, Mr. Eastwood? It didn’t bother you to put two slugs into Gillum’s chest back in the caves.”

  “That bother you, Ben?”

  “Gillum was a good man. It was unnecessary.”

  “He wasn’t going to follow an order.”

  “You don’t shoot someone for not following an order, sir. You might fire him but you don’t kill him.”

  “You questioning my authority here, Ben? Now is not the time.”

  “Nor the place, Mr. Eastwood. But maybe when we get back home.”

  “All right, Ben. Stow it until then.”

  “There is a small promontory there to the south of the diggings, about a hundred yards. Do you see it?”

  Eastwood nodded.

  “Let’s make our way to those rocks so we won’t be seen. We can move in from there.”

  “Okay, Ben.”

  “We’ll leave the horses here and go the rest of the way on foot. Maybe they won’t spot us until we are upon them.”

  Doyle and Eastwood scrambled through the short vegetation, crouching low in the hopes of avoiding detection by the expedition workers. Doyle’s back screamed at him, the pain intense. He heard Eastwood’s wheezing breath behind him as he zigzagged toward the low mound behind the research site.

  Halfway to the hill, Doyle fell to the ground and motioned Eastwood to follow suit. He crawled up next to Doyle.

  “Workers milling about up ahead,” Doyle said. “There, between those tents. See them?”

  Eastwood nodded. “Think they saw us?”

  “Don’t seem to have. But we’re certainly exposed lying on the ground here. Let’s get to that mound. Stay low.”

  The two men crawled on their stomachs toward the promontory. The short grass of the steppe grazed Doyle’s cheeks as he wormed his way forward. The earth smelled rich and fertile. With the sun lower, Doyle hoped it made spotting them more difficult. If they could make the little mound, they would have a decided advantage in surprising the site workers.

  He worried they were making progress only by inches, as the promontory still seemed a long way off. Eastwood’s wheezing was more pronounced and once Doyle thought his boss was gasping for air. Doyle stopped crawling momentarily to allow Eastwood a chance to catch his breath, then he continued on.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached the mound and scrambled behind a rock escarpment. Eastwood retrieved his binoculars and scanned the research site then handed them to Doyle.

  The area appeared calm and quiet, with only a few people milling about. Work had apparently stopped for the day and everyone was relaxing before the evening meal. There was a row of canvas-walled tents at one end of the compound and another row facing them. One of the tents had a short metal chimney extending from its roof and a thin wisp of white smoke emanated from it. At the end of the row opposite the tents stood two large military-style trucks and two World-War-Two-vintage American jeeps.

  “We’ll use the tents as cover and enter the compound from their end.” Doyle looked at Eastwood, nodded, and then smiled as he continued. “Get your pistol out. We grab the first person we come across and demand to see the foreman. The rest will be up to you. We grab what you want then leave in one of those jeeps. Okay?”

  “I hope we can make it back to Ulaanbaatar with the gas in one of the jeeps there,” Eastwood said.r />
  “It’s a chance we take. There are a few small villages along the way, though.”

  Eastwood took the 9 mm from his belt and racked the slide.

  “I’m ready.”

  Over the mound they vaulted and burst into the research compound. The area around the tents was devoid of workers. Doyle peered around a tent and moved into the clear area with Eastwood behind, pistol at the ready. A young woman emerged from a tent and bumped into Doyle who grabbed her and covered her mouth with his hand. Eastwood thrust the gun barrel in her face.

  “Don’t make a sound or you’re dead,” Doyle hissed.

  The woman, eyes wide with fear, looked confused. She shot glances between Doyle and Eastwood. Doyle squeezed her arm tighter and she let out a short muffled noise.

  “No sound,” Doyle commanded. “Take us to your command tent. Is your foreman there now?”

  The woman, seemingly not understanding, began crying. Her eyes were still wide and now tears streamed down her cheeks. Under his grip, Doyle felt her swallow hard.

  “Boss. Leader. Which way?” Doyle said.

  The woman finally seemed to understand what Doyle was asking and pointed. Doyle pushed her in that direction with Eastwood at his side, his gun pointed at her head.

  Out of nowhere, a group of workers formed around them, all talking wildly, frantically. They pointed at Doyle and the woman.

  “Stand back, all of you,” he said. “Stand back or she’s dead.”

  Seeing the gun, the workers melted away but continued their worried talking, words Doyle could not understand. Women were crying. The woman stopped in front of a tent and Doyle pushed her in.

  A man seated at a table in front of a computer screen jumped up.

  “See here,” he said in a loud voice. Noticing Eastwood’s pistol he slumped back down in his chair.

  Doyle walked up to the man, stared at him for a few moments. “Yes,” he said. “Cheng, isn’t it? The foreman here, right?”

  The man said nothing.

  “Come, come, Mr. Cheng. I think we have been through this before, haven’t we? You’re gonna answer questions or the woman will die. Understand?”

  Cheng shuddered. “Yes, I understand. What do you want?”

  Eastwood stepped forward, placed his hands on the table, and leaned over it. “Relics, Cheng. Relics. What you have dug up on this expedition. That’s what I want.”

  “We have nothing, just a few bones,” Cheng said. He looked at the woman whom Doyle still held by a hand over her mouth and his other hand gripping her arm.

  “Ah, bones, Cheng. Now you have hit upon it. The very thing we seek. Please be kind enough to fetch them, won’t you?”

  “Stealing artifacts is a crime in Mongolia,” Cheng said. “You will never get away with it.”

  Eastwood pointed his pistol at Cheng’s head. Doyle noticed that Cheng’s eyes twitched.

  “Please, Cheng, do not be so obstinate. Just do as you are told. Besides, we plan to be out of your wretched country before anyone knows we have stolen anything. Now, get the goddamn bones before I lose more patience and shoot this poor woman. Doyle, go with him and make sure he does it. I’ll stay here with the woman.”

  Doyle left with Cheng and, a few minutes later, returned with Cheng carrying a small white box with Cal Pac U stenciled on top and its sides. Eastwood smiled and handed his pistol to Doyle. Cheng set the box on the table and stepped aside.

  Eastwood rubbed his hands together and opened the box.

  Chapter 32

  Eastwood’s trembling fingers toyed with the box while he savored the moment. The culmination of their mission lay on the table in front of him. He swallowed hard then opened the box. He lifted a tooth from its interior and examined it. Replacing the tooth, he removed a long bone and held it up for closer inspection. So this was what it was all about. Yeti bones. He empirically knew that was what they were. Somehow, in the middle of the Mongolian mountains the scientific team had stumbled upon the skeletal remains of a Yeti. He could do his own DNA analysis back in the States then auction the specimens off to the highest bidder. Later, once they had a living creature to show the world, fame and fortune would be his. He salivated at the thought.

  ***

  Harry and Stepan led Dixie and Li through the broad Mongolian steppe and approached the research site from the southwest. When they could see the light colored tops of the tents Stepan called a halt and scanned the compound with binoculars. The sun was dipping over the peaks of the Altai Mountains to their rear, shooting rays of sunlight over the lush grassland.

  “Seems quiet,” he said, passing the glasses to Harry.

  “It’s after dinner,” Harry said. “Nothing usually happens until breakfast. People just hang out, listen to their music, read, play chess, that sort of thing. Pretty quiet, mostly.”

  “Think they have been here?” Dixie asked.

  “Hard to say. We’ll know soon enough. Let’s go find out.” Stepan kicked his horse toward the compound and the others followed.

  Closer to the site, Harry was struck by the fact that he could see no one milling about. The place was dead quiet.

  At the compound’s edge they stopped.

  “I don’t like it,” Harry said. “Where is everybody?”

  “Dismount,” Stepan said. “Stay alert. Where to, Harry?”

  “Need to find Cheng, he’s the foreman in Li’s absence. Let’s get to the command tent first.”

  Stepan removed his Pernach machine pistol from its holster and motioned toward the compound. “Lead on, Harry. I’m right behind you.” He turned to Dixie and Li. “You two stay back a ways. If shooting starts, find cover quick.”

  Harry ambled into the research site and headed straight for the command tent. Usually, at this hour, there would be workers milling around, walking between tents, talking, and laughing. Now it was quiet, no sounds, no music, and no laughter. Something definitely was going on. The place was like a tomb.

  The first tent they passed was the large dormitory tent for the workers. Harry stopped at its entrance and surveyed its interior. Empty. That’s unusual.

  “Something’s happened here,” he whispered to Stepan.

  Usually the dorm tent would have workers in it at this hour, lounging, reading, talking together. A queer feeling erupted in Harry’s stomach, a feeling of impending doom, of being on the verge of discovering mass murder. Most of the workers came from surrounding villages and towns, seeking work and the higher wages the expedition offered. They underwent a week of training on how to dig properly and how to handle archeological specimens. To a person, they were a congenial, hard-working group. Some brought their wives who did the cooking for the entire team. Over the past month, he had formed lasting friendships with many of the workers and his head spun at the possibility of anything dreadful happening in his absence.

  They continued on and stopped a few yards short of the command tent. Sounds of quarreling drifted from it and Harry heard a man’s voice scream, “Is this all there is?”

  Eastwood’s voice.

  Harry nodded to Stepan who turned and placed a finger to his lips.

  The two of them stepped into the tent’s doorway with Stepan pointing his pistol at the ready.

  Eastwood was standing over the table and the white bone box while Cheng sat with a terrified look. Doyle was at the end of the table and held a woman at gunpoint, his big arm wrapped around her thin shoulders. She was sobbing softly.

  Doyle glanced up, startled by the pair standing inside the tent.

  “What the hell?” he shouted. He pointed his pistol at Stepan who already had his aimed at Doyle’s chest.

  Eastwood jerked around and nearly fell out of his chair, a look of panic etched on his face.

  “My God! Dr. Olson,” he said. “How the hell--”

  “Shut your face, Eastwood,” Harry ordered.

  Stepan advanced closer toward Doyle and waved his pistol. “Put the gun down,” he commanded, “and let the woman go.”


  “Not on your life,” Doyle said. “She’s my ticket out of here.”

  Eastwood slumped in a chair and stared at Harry. “Men,” he said. “Surely we can negotiate something here like gentlemen. Ben and I have no desire to harm anyone. We only wish to take a few relics and leave quietly.”

  “Neither of you are going anywhere but jail,” Stepan said. “You are both under arrest for murder and attempted theft of Mongolian relics.”

  Doyle laughed and gripped the woman tighter. “Arrest? I don’t think so. Not while I have this weapon and this woman. One wrong move and she’s dead. Believe me. I’ll kill her.”

  “He will, too,” Eastwood said. “Trust me, I know the man. He works for me.”

  Harry contemplated the situation, trying to size up their odds. It appeared to be a standoff. Both Doyle and Stepan had pistols pointed at each other. He knew the captain would not shoot, for fear of hitting the woman. So the two men snarled at each other, neither one willing to make the first move. Eastwood was the wild card. He could decide to grab the box of bones and make a run for it. Harry decided if that happened, he would tackle the man before he got out of the tent. Now that he knew the score, his blood was boiling. He was no longer an anxious bystander. He was an angry participant.

  A wry smile crossed Eastwood’s face and he nodded at Harry. “So, Dr. Olson. What is the next move? Will you dare stop us?”

  “If I have to, yes,” Harry said.

  “It won’t work, Doctor, this bravado you’re showing. You see, we have the upper hand here because my assistant, Ben, will shoot anyone who tries to stop us. And I do not think you or your policeman friend there are so reckless.”

  “Why?” said Dixie. “What’s the point?”

  Eastwood looked at her with a whimsical grin. “Why, money, my dear. Money. Pretty simple, really.”

  “You’ll never get away with it,” Li snarled.