“Uh oh,” Phoebe said, her voice barely audible over the pitch of the portable generators. “Here comes the bitch. Gonna make us get back to work.”
Renée strode up to them, tapping her gun. “Shouldn’t you be in a trance or something by now?”
Caleb didn’t look up, but just kept his eyes on Qara’s peaceful face, wondering what she might be dreaming right now, if maybe she were receiving some final words of instruction from the great Genghis just as he often prepared his generals before battle.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t you be off torturing small animals?”
Renée glared at her. “Once we’re behind that door, we’ll need your sight. And I plan on marching Phoebe here right up front. I know you, Caleb. I know how you agonized, believing you caused her paralysis years ago. So unless you now want to be responsible for whatever those barbaric traps might do to her, you’d best find us a way past them.”
Caleb nodded slowly, swallowing. He debated telling Renée the truth—that he couldn’t. His powers had abandoned him, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. Best to stall. “I know what we need to do; it’s just not that simple. I have no idea what’s down there. I’ve tried looking, but—”
“Try harder!”
“It doesn’t work that way. Sometimes we have to be right there, actually in the presence of the dangers we’re facing. And right now, to be honest, I’m a little preoccupied. My son’s in terrible jeopardy, and then I have you to worry about. Some kind of connection to an ancient Babylonian deity that I believe disappeared or died along with Thoth millennia ago.”
Renée opened her mouth, her face a mask of dismay.
“And all I know is that the god of wisdom, who did everything he could to teach humanity and raise early man out of the darkness of ignorance and spiritual bondage, was determined to hide this tablet from the likes of your “master.” Caleb took a step toward her, but was stopped by Phoebe’s hand on his arm.
“Not now,” she whispered. But then a shout from Orlando broke her concentration.
“Found it! I freakin’ found it!” Orlando raised a fist, grinning around at the blank faces of the Chinese soldiers. “Well,” he said, looking over to Caleb and pointing down, “I did. Here’s your door.”
#
They cleared away the slab of dark granite. It had six deep indentations, with bars across it, sealed into the stone.
“Handles,” said Commander Chang, pointing. “In Temujin’s day, they use ropes and horses to open door.” He smiled at his men, his brown teeth flashing in the spotlights. “But now, we have four-wheel drives.”
He turned to his men and ordered the setup to begin. They moved the halogen floodlights around the southern edge of the door, attached the six triple-braided nylon ropes to the back axle, and cleared everyone out of the way.
Orlando walked over to Caleb and Phoebe, rubbing the dirt off his face with his sleeve. “Why do I get a real bad feeling about this?”
“Because,” said a weak voice, as Qara struggled to sit up, “opening that door inflicts the curse upon you all.”
A moment later, the engine revved, the tires spun, the granite screamed, and something popped. The door launched from its ancient resting place, just as the jeep flew forward, lost its traction and spun sideways, then stalled as the floodlights highlighted the terrified face of the driver a second before the slab crashed through the cab, flattening it and crushing the man inside.
“Dear God,” Phoebe uttered, turning away.
Qara stood up, smirking at Renée, who returned her stare with pure hatred.
Orlando whistled. “Good thing I didn’t call shotgun.”
“Enough,” Renée hissed. “Chang, get your men to pack up these lights and the generators. Bring the weapons and everything else we need. And leave a team here to take care of Montross when he arrives. I’ll try to reach Hiltmeyer, but just in case, have our team stand by. Make sure we get the tablet and the other key from Montross’s dead body.”
“And the boy?”
Caleb snapped his attention to Renée.
Renée waved her hand. “Bring him, alive, and meet up with us. I’m sure we’ll find a use for him.”
She turned away from them, pulled out a satellite phone and walked to the edge of the hole, looking down the stairs descending into the waiting dark.
She dialed, and when a choked, gravelly voice answered, she said, “We’re in.”
3.
They stopped a mile from Shang-du, at a small ridge before the descent. The jeeps came to a halt, with their vehicle in the lead. Night had fallen and the stars were out, burning fiercely, dominating the sky before the full moon’s ascent.
Nina leaned forward. “I say we kill the headlights, come in slow. We don’t know what’s down there.”
“Yes,” Montross said, “we do.” His eyes popped open, having been closed for the past ten minutes. “Colonel, do as the lady says. Kill the lights.”
Nina smiled, and between the two adults Alexander squirmed. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Nina frowned. “Again?”
He lowered his chin. “Too much water.”
“Hurry,” said Montross. “Colonel, go with him.”
“What?” Hiltmeyer turned in his seat. “I’m no babysitter. Private Harris here can—”
“You both go.”
Alexander looked from one to the other man. “I can go by myself, really.”
“No way. Flight risk,” said Hiltmeyer. “We’ll go. I need to talk to my men in the other jeeps anyway. What’s our plan?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Montross, “when you get back.”
Hiltmeyer shot him a concerned glance, then opened his door.
Alexander slid out, helped along as Nina pushed him out the door. “Be quick.” When the doors had closed and they were alone, Nina asked, “What’s up? What did you see?”
“It seems,” said Montross, “that our colonel has other loyalties.”
#
Alexander found a cropping of small bushes. He unzipped and turned away from the man who had lit up a cigarette, watching him. He glanced over his other shoulder, toward his jeep, where two shadows in the back seat bent in close to each other.
“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Alexander said, loud enough for Private Harris to hear.
“Shut up and pee, kid.”
“I bet they’re talking about you.” Alexander zipped up, folded his arms over his chest and turned around, shivering. He could see his breath. He looked up and saw Orion, low and sideways, with Sirius poised above the tree line.
“What?”
“I see things too, you know.”
“Yeah?” Harris had a buzz cut, heavier and black at the top of his head, which Alexander thought made him look like a rooster after getting his head stuck under a lawnmower.
“Well, I saw—”
Harris leaned in. The ash dangled on his cigarette.
“—you.” Alexander, trembling even more, his eyes wide so as not to blink and see the vision again, added, “With a rusty spike through your chest.”
The soldier’s face went pale, the cigarette dropped from his mouth. “What?”
“Harris!” Colonel Hiltmeyer yelled. “Back in the jeep. We’re moving.”
“But—”
“Now! You too, Alexander.”
Head down, he followed, staring at the colonel’s boots as they crunched into the hard ground. Suddenly Hiltmeyer spun, pressed a hand against Alexander’s chest and leaned in.
“Quick. Tell me what you saw.”
#
They rode in slowly around the south side of the site while the other two jeeps approached from the east and west. Hiltmeyer was on the walkie-talkie, coordinating with his men as their jeeps descended into the valley. He glanced back at Montross. This was going to be tricky.
They stopped on the ridge and Nina stepped out, going to the trunk for the sniper rifle. “We’ll provide teams A and B cove
r from up here,” she said.
Hiltmeyer nodded, then flashed Harris a look. They stepped out of the jeep. Montross and Alexander got out last. “Now we watch,” said Nina, setting up a tripod, then passing around night-vision goggles. “Pick out our targets, and then—”
Suddenly she spun, kicked away the tripod, and aimed the rifle at Hiltmeyer, even as he was going for his gun. Montross pulled out Nilak’s gun and pointed it at Harris’s forehead.
“Now,” said Montross, disarming Hiltmeyer and Harris, “Colonel, kindly get on your walkie-talkie there and tell your teams this is for real. We’ve already given them information on where Renée’s commandos are hiding out, and with any luck, your men might live through this.”
“But—”
“Yes, we know. Renée’s men are your men too.” Montross gave him a slanted look. “I guess you need to make a choice here.”
Nina stepped in, reversed the rifle and slammed Hiltmeyer in the ribs. He swore, then lunged for her, but she had the business end back on him in a flash. “Talk to them. Now!”
Groaning, holding his side, Hiltmeyer reached for the walkie-talkie and stopped, catching Alexander’s eye. He saw pity there, maybe even sympathy.
Damned psychics.
Colonel Hiltmeyer brought the phone to his lips and closed his eyes. I’m sorry, he thought, and pushed the button. “Do it,” Hiltmeyer ordered. “Turn on your lights, go in strong!”
Nina turned and set up her rifle as Montross kept his gun trained on Hiltmeyer and Harris. She sighted with her scope, and as soon as the headlights pierced the blackness from two directions, she chose her targets and began shooting.
#
Alexander shrank back as far as he could, all the way against the side of the jeep. He put his hands over his ears, but couldn’t help but watch the firefight on the field ahead. Cringing with each of Nina’s shots, he imagined bodies plucked from the shadows, heads exploding, men dropping without knowing what hit them.
He heard automatic gunfire, shouting and screaming in a foreign language. More gunshots. He watched Harris and Hiltmeyer, standing impotently, fists clenched. Then he saw Nina reload, sight, track a target and fire. And in the flashes after each shot, he saw the rush of excitement on her face. And finally, as the blasts subsided, a contented smile.
“Done,” she said at last, after scanning the field with her binoculars. She stood, disconnected the tripod and returned the rifle to the trunk. Business-like and efficient. Then she pulled out her Beretta and jabbed it against the Colonel’s ribs.
“My men?” he asked.
Nina led him to the back seat, pushed him in. “Colonel, I’m sorry to report that nobody from either side survived.”
#
They stood around the pit before the archway and the first six stairs descending into the earth.
And a lot of dead bodies.
Montross stood on the edge, looking down while holding up the Emerald Tablet like a lantern. It glowed faintly, pulsing along with the charm on his necklace, lying against his chest.
“It’s time,” he said. “Alexander, you’re with me. Nina, escort our guests. They’ll be going first.”
“No way,” insisted Colonel Hiltmeyer. “I’m not going down there. I heard what the boy said.”
“That’s right,” Private Harris agreed. “No way.”
Nina slammed the back of her Beretta against his forehead, turned him around and then shoved him ahead, sending him tumbling down into the darkness.
“I’ll kill you—!”
“Enough!” Montross yelled. “Colonel, it’s up to you. You go first, or Nina puts a bullet in your head so you can stay up here with your men.”
“You’ll kill me anyway.”
“No,” said Nina, “we’re pretty sure what’s down there will do that for us. But at least you’ll have a chance.”
“And,” Montross said, “look at it this way. Now you get to see history in the making. People have been searching for the tomb of Genghis Khan for eight hundred years, and you’re about to find it.”
Hiltmeyer grit his teeth. “All right, but if I get hit with something down there, I’m going to do my damndest to make sure I take all of you with me.”
“Or maybe,” Montross said, hefting the tablet, “along the way you’ll realize you and your boss are on the wrong side. You can’t fight us.”
Hiltmeyer shook his head. “You don’t know anything. All your abilities, and that thing you carry, you don’t even know who or what you’re fighting.”
Nina jabbed him in his side, then pushed him ahead. “Lead the way, Colonel. Genghis awaits.”
4.
Forty minutes before the shooting started, before all the ensuing carnage, Caleb and Phoebe had descended into the mausoleum.
They went ahead of Orlando, Qara and Renée, with two other Chinese soldiers following at the rear making sure they didn’t turn and flee. Ahead, sixteen soldiers led the way. Chang’s team entered with four rows of four men each, equally spaced in the passageway. The air was thin, stale and brittle. Every soldier carried Type 81 assault rifles—the Chinese version of the AK-47, but with enhanced designs and better accuracy. They all had Maglites fitted onto the barrels, and when Caleb looked down the ramp he saw only the dozen-plus flashlight beams stabbing out wildly, tracing the sloping ceiling, the wide, descending steps and the pockmarked granite walls.
Remarkably free of dust, the beams were pure white energy striking here and there, illuminating faces and betraying fear in the men whose trembling hands wielded the rifles. “Shouldn’t we be worried?” Phoebe whispered, glancing right and left, trying to see in the sporadic light, looking for telltale signs of traps. Immediately she felt like she was back in that Mayan temple in Belize. Out of her element, blind.
“Not yet,” Caleb answered. “I believe we’re safe until—”
Some commotion ahead, shouting.
“A wall!” Chang yelled back.
The four flashlight beams at the front position converged into one thick laser-like spear that thrust up against a solid wall.
“Don’t touch it!” Renée yelled. “Wait for me.”
They all reached the bottom, fanning out into a larger rectangular chamber with a low ceiling. The beams darted around, highlighting cracks, a root sticking through one side.
“We must be what, a hundred feet down?” Orlando wondered.
Caleb looked back the way they had come, past the two commandos with their guns pointed down, their faces and emotions lost in shadow. Already the way behind them was gone, as if the blackness had swallowed up their trail, stealthily consuming their one route of escape. “I’ve counted seventy-two steps.”
“A little too familiar,” Phoebe said. Did Sostratus have a hand in this, too?” She saw his look. “I’m kidding. Of course I know this was built fifteen hundred years after the Pharos.”
Renée pushed between Caleb and Phoebe and approached the wall. All the beams reflecting off the pale white surface made it hard at first to see the mural painted there. Well-preserved in the darkness, the vibrant face of Genghis Khan sternly gazed at them, superimposed upon his banner of nine ox tails. In a series of four vertical columns, Mongolian script covered the right side of the wall.
“My master,” whispered Qara, from just ahead. She tried to lower herself to one knee, but a soldier hauled her back up.
“Everyone back,” Renée barked, moving ahead. “But not you, Caleb. You come up here. I believe this sort of thing is your specialty.”
Phoebe held her brother’s arm. “Be careful. We haven’t had time to study this.” Then, whispering, said, “Fake it if you have to. I’ll do the heavy work back here.”
Chang played his flashlight beam over the letters. “This is difficult. I recognize not many symbols.”
Renée grabbed Qara by the back of her neck and shoved her forward. “Read it, Darkhad. And no tricks.”
Qara stumbled weakly, hair over her face, hands tied behind her back. She squin
ted. As she read, a smile formed. “It says, If you have come seeking death, continue. If you have come seeking agony beyond measure, enter. If you have come seeking madness, proceed. But if you have come seeking treasure, turn back, for there is nothing here for you. Turn back, and live with the one treasure alone that never lasts.”
Chang frowned and turned around. “What treasure never lasts?”
“Life,” Phoebe said at once. “He’s talking about your life.”
Renée snorted. “Caleb? Shouldn’t you be drawing something?”
“I’ll do it,” Phoebe said, “since I saw the vision the clearest.” She stepped forward. “Orlando, can I have your iPad? I’ll show you what I’ve seen, the design of this door, and the chambers immediately beyond it.”
Orlando unslung his backpack and fished it out, turned it around and handed it to her. “All yours.”
The light from the screen stung at her eyes, but Phoebe concentrated, then moved closer to the door and sat, crossing her legs.
“Hurry,” Renée said.
“If you want us all dead, I will.”
Renée played her light along the edges of the slab, dancing over Temujin’s face and banner, looking for seals or handles. “No stalling. Get this door open or I’ll have my men blast it apart.”
Orlando cleared his throat. “You can’t rush this kind of thing.”
Caleb fidgeted, feeling useless. “Not unless you like pain and agony and madness. And all the other stuff he talks about on that wall.”
“Yes,” urged Qara. “By all means, blast it open.”
“Shut up.” Renée glanced back up at the darkness behind them, as if expecting it to release a surge of armored warriors.
She headed into the shadows and spoke into the transceiver attached to her shoulder, attempting to communicate with the team outside. When no response came, her face fell and she gave up the effort.
Phoebe called up the images she had seen, flashes of workers toiling with the creation of diabolical traps, of masons crafting elaborate sliding walls and interlocking shafts, holes bored through the earth and fitted with gears, levers, pulleys and springs. Finally, she withdrew from those sights and instead focused on the structure of the passageways, viewing a general layout.
The Mongol Objective [Oct 2011] Page 17