The Mongol Objective [Oct 2011]

by David Sakmyster

  “We’ll see,” Renée said. “I’m blessed in other ways. Chosen.”

  Qara worked her shoulders, pulling, tugging, twisting her fingers back at a nearly impossible angle, getting under the plastic.

  Caleb stood by his sister and addressed Renée. “You want these keys, the translation and the tablet. Want it returned to your master. But Marduk’s long gone. And your cult, it’s nothing anymore, is it? So what is this really about?”

  Renée smirked. “You have no idea. Once we have those keys, and once we find the—” She stopped herself suddenly, smiled and turned away.

  Find the what? Caleb thought. Something else of Marduk’s?

  Renée looked back and smirked. “Thoth’s failure will be complete, and all this secrecy and protection will be all for nothing.”

  “You’re wrong,” Qara whispered. She separated her hands, snapping through the frayed bonds, then raised her arms over her head in an angelic stance.

  She bent her knees, and charged.

  #

  Renée felt the Darkhad’s talon-like fingers around her throat before she could free her gun. She fell back into the water, with the Mongolian witch on top of her, choking her, trying to gouge her eyes out. She got a mouthful of icy water and her head struck the bottom, sending up starbursts in her vision. But then, mercifully, the pressure withdrew.

  She sat up, shaking her head and coughing. Chang and another soldier had Qara pinned against a wall. Renée pulled out her gun, shook off the water, and aimed. But something hit her hard on the side, spinning her around.

  Orlando grabbed the gun. “No!” Then he grunted as a soldier bashed his side with the butt of his rifle. Renée shoved him off and turned back to see that Qara had broken free. She kicked one soldier in the groin and then elbowed Chang in the face, ripped herself free, and ran back for the ladder.

  Guns trained on her, but Caleb and Phoebe blocked the way.

  “Damn!” Renée hissed, then leapt ahead, pushed between the brother and sister, and fired, just as Qara jumped up the ladder, scaling it like an energized spider monkey. She fired twice, one round hitting the ladder, the other causing a sharp cry from Qara. But the Darkhad still pulled herself up and out.

  Renée chased her. You are not getting away. She had a flash of a vision, maybe something psychic—or just her imagination. A brief clip of Qara hiding up above, somewhere in the tunnels, and firing on her as she returned with the keys.

  Not going to happen.

  Renée hauled herself up, dove and rolled, bringing out the flashlight in her left hand, the .45 in her right, sweeping the beam around in a tight circle around the opening.

  A legion of blank-faced white-eyed warriors glared at her in the light, swords and shields glinting, horse’s rearing.

  Then, a glimpse, legs scuttling back by the water’s edge.

  Renée settled the flashlight, sighted, and fired.

  Qara stood up, back arched. Knee-deep in the mercury-river, she staggered ahead. Turned, her mouth open in a silent curse.

  Renée shot her again.

  Qara jerked back. Fell, and was swallowed up by the water.

  The flashlight beam played over the rippling silver surface until the bubbles stopped, then pulled away. Good riddance.

  Renée turned back to the tunnel entrance, and with twenty thousand eyes watching her in the darkness, she descended. She re-entered the tunnel, and amidst the silent stares of her men, and the desperate eyes of her prisoners, she marched ahead.

  She thought about calling Robert Gregory, informing him that she was close, but was doubtful certain communications would even work this far down. And besides, he had unwavering faith in her. She wouldn’t fail. He was surely headed for the Sphinx even now, trusting she’d be there as soon as her mission had been accomplished.

  Soon, the ancient box would open and the books would be theirs. And once the senator had found the other artifact, they, with the Emerald Tablet, would be unstoppable.

  They would hold the power to fulfill their long-awaited destiny.

  11.

  Alexander dropped to the platform first, lowered by Montross who jumped next, letting go of the rope. Brushing himself off, Alexander looked out over the Khan’s necropolis. Bathed in sickly light from the half-dozen flares, the minarets appeared to sway and bend in the mix of shadows and crimson haze while the domed temples swelled to enormous size.

  Alexander peered over the side, took a flashlight and aimed it down. He could see flashes of wickedly sharp protrusions like narrow teeth, and suddenly, as if drawn to the light, four eel-like creatures, sinewy and sleek with eyes on stalks and razor-sharp teeth, drew close to the surface, snapping at the light.

  “What’s down there?” Montross asked.

  Nina gripped Alexander’s arm and pulled him back. “Something nasty. Stay away from the edge.” She took Montross’s pack and pulled out a roll of gauze tape, and set about bandaging the wounds on her arm.

  Alexander watched in fascination as she then replaced the wet dressings on the arrow hole in her shoulder, all without wincing. “That looks gross.”

  She shook her wet hair as she finished, then stood up and went to work on her Beretta. She ejected the magazine, resupplied the bullets and fit it back in place. “So, what happened to the colonel?”

  Alexander shrank back, lowering his eyes as Montross said, “Our boy here bagged his first kill.”

  “Seriously?” Nina stared at him, nonplussed. “Impressive. Now, can we go?”

  “Not just yet,” Montross said. He surveyed the city, sweeping his light over the nearest bridges, the sparkling water, the marble pathways leading through arches and tunnels. After finding the route to the mausoleum, he said, “I think we might have more to fear.”

  “These walkways,” Alexander whispered. “They can drop. I’ve seen it.”

  “Me too.” Montross approached Nina. “And I’ve seen something else. Something I would not have survived. We would not have survived.”

  “When? Where?” Nina glanced around, gun ready.

  “Later. This whole area is a trap, but it won’t be sprung until we take the keys.”

  “So we’re fine until the mausoleum?”

  “Yes, but this is good. Perfect in fact.” He leaned in close to Nina, and Alexander strained to hear what he said.

  “I need you to do something for me,” Montross whispered. “Something crucial.”

  She turned her eyes to his; their lips were an inch apart. “Anything.”

  “When the time comes, I need you to die.”

  #

  Alexander wasn’t sure if he heard that right, but in any case they were soon walking ahead of him, making plans, and leaving him to himself. It wasn’t like he could run anywhere, so he followed dutifully, occasionally looking back over his shoulder, half-expecting Colonel Hiltmeyer to come loping along out of the shadows, zombie-like, to grab him and haul him over the side into those submerged spikes and make him food for the eels.

  Shuddering, he rubbed his hands together, staring at his right hand. The one that had pulled the trigger. He almost stumbled on the rise of an arched bridge just as something broke the surface underneath, snapping at the air. He passed by other branching pathways and bridges covered in sloping oriental-style rooftops. Here and there statues of warriors atop great steeds stood as the centerpieces of fountains, where the only movement came from swarming things under the water.

  He swept the light across each statue’s face that they passed and saw the same visage in each: it was him. Temujin. Genghis Khan. He was watching their approach, watching from every angle, every building and every column. Watching with the haughty scorn of one who knew he’d still have the last laugh.

  Alexander passed a magnificent temple, with open doors beckoning beyond a façade of marble columns. Was there something glinting inside, catching the glow from his flashlight? Was that part of the treasure inside there? He shone the light to his left side now, spearing it into the open base of
a tower whose tip graced the cavern’s ceiling high above, right beside a sputtering flare. Inside the minaret, another statue, and eyes reflecting back a look of hatred and recrimination.

  Murderer, they said, and Alexander shuddered again.

  It was his fault. Not just Hiltmeyer, but worse. His mother. She was gone because of him. He never told her, never hinted about what he was doing in their basement. So loyal to his father, he had made promises. And then she had come down, totally unprepared. It should have been Montross and him burnt to a crisp.

  But instead, his mother was gone. The guilt was crushing, weighing him down.

  When he turned, he discovered he had lost track of Montross and Nina. They were somewhere up ahead, lost in the deepening shadows.

  But which path? He saw their lights, bobbing there to the side, approaching the mausoleum, which seemed larger now, more immense than he could have guessed. But he couldn’t find the path they had taken.

  He was about to call out when something trembled again from the interior archway of the nearest tower. A glowing shape flickered, and for a moment it took on a familiar form. He turned, stepped onto a cobbled walkway, different from the others, then proceeded over a bridge. His flashlight cut through the shadows ahead, spearing through the arched corridor. His footsteps quickened, along with his pulse.

  And then he was through the tunnel, approaching the tower’s base and heading for a white-robed figure standing there. Her dress caught in the flashlight’s beam, scattered it like a swarm of fireflies. Her face was lost in a blur of blinding light, but her arms, formerly at her side, stretched out for him.

  He skidded to a stop, only ten feet away. Shielded his eyes and flicked off the flashlight. “Mom?”

  He blinked over and over and rubbed his eyes. Took a step forward and in a moment of clarity he saw her face, saw her shining green eyes and playful smile. The smile she always had ready for him after a summer away with his father, a smile that released all the heartache and fear she had endured in his absence, letting it all out before a huge bear-hugging embrace.

  You’re not alone, she whispered, and the words echoed in his mind.

  But then, as he reached for her—

  “Alexander!”

  An iron hand clasped upon his shoulder and drew him back. He cried out, reaching, only to have the image of his mother burst into flames, swirl into a maelstrom of light, and then vanish.

  “No!”

  He was spun around, tucked into a chest and hugged. “Easy, kid. There’s nothing there. You’re safe.”

  “Mom . . .”

  Montross pulled away, but still clasped him about the shoulders, searching his eyes. “You saw your mother?”

  Tears rambling down his cheeks, Alexander nodded and glanced back to the shadows in the empty doorway. Montross aimed his light there and Nina, just arriving, did the same. She walked ahead and scoped out the interior, shining a light above and around. She turned, shook her head.

  “She was there,” Alexander said.

  “I believe you. At least that you saw her.” Montross pulled him back. “Don’t fight it. Visions of our lost loved ones come with the psychic membership card.”

  Alexander wiped his eyes.

  “Come on, kid. Sorry we lost you back there. Stick close this time.” Montross stared into his eyes. “We’re almost done. Just help us out a little longer, okay?”

  Alexander hung his head. Then raised his eyes and looked around the city basking in the dying light. “Are you sure we’ll make it out of here alive? With my dad?”

  “Not sure of anything, kid. Except what happens to me. But I’ll tell you this, stick close to me and you’ll be all right, because I’ve seen every permutation of what’s coming my way. You remember asking how many times I’ve beaten Death?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, remember that. I can outsmart it over and over, all these petty attempts upon my life. These little ones I’m not worried about.”

  Alexander frowned. “Then what are you worried about? If you can see everything that might kill you, what do you need the Emerald Tablet for? What—?” His eyes widened knowingly. “Oh, is it something else, like cancer? Is that it?”

  Montross held up his hand as he started back the way they had come, with Nina moving Alexander along. “It’s not cancer.”

  “You told me I wouldn’t understand.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I bet I would. I want to know.” Alexander fiddled with his flashlight as he dragged his feet behind Montross. “I saved your life, by the way. Did you see that before it happened?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Most likely because you were already on the path to save me, so I didn’t need to change anything.”

  “Still, I saved you. The least you can do is tell me why. What it is you’re trying to do, why—” He stopped moving, and Nina walked right into him, almost knocking him down. “Why is my mother dead? Tell me that much.”

  Montross turned and gave him a look of tired sympathy.

  “I can’t tell you because if I did, you couldn’t handle it. I need you sharp. And if I tell you, you won’t be able to function. Fear would crush your confidence, and your abilities would wither away to uselessness.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Fine, then. I’ll guess.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “All right, I won’t guess. I’ll view it. For real.” He stopped and closed his eyes, furrowed his brow.

  But then Nina slapped his face, hard. “No! Stay with us. No more trances until we get to the mausoleum.”

  She shoved him along, grumbling, but he knew he’d hit a nerve, and he knew they were afraid. Afraid he could see their plans.

  And that filled him with just enough confidence to try.

  #

  They approached the centerpiece of the city, the grand blue-tinted dome situated over an octagonal building the size of a football field. So immense, Nina could scarcely imagine what it contained, or how it had been fashioned down here, so far from the light. Such a feat of marvelous engineering. Like everything in this city. But already she knew one thing for sure would be inside, besides the body of Genghis Khan.

  If Montross’s plan didn’t work, her body would soon be joining his.

  Still, she was grateful his attention had been diverted from questioning his past, but she knew he’d come back to it soon. It was a secret she couldn’t keep from him much longer.

  As if he had read her mind, Montross slowed before the entranceway, then turned. He held up the Emerald Tablet so the eight-foot-tall arched door glowed in the aquamarine radiance. An ancient script appeared, scrawled over the top like a rainbow. But he ignored it. Instead, he sat, pulled out his pad of paper from his pack, set the tablet down and picked up a pencil.

  “Sketch time. Alexander, you may want to join me. Nina, pick one of us to tag along with. We’ve got some targets to view and a little time before my brother shows his face.”

  Nina gasped, and Alexander just frowned. “Your brother?”

  Montross smiled at him. “I’m just going in to confirm it now, but given Nina’s reaction and my sudden affinity for you, kid, I’m fairly certain I’m your uncle. Half-uncle at least.”

  Nina lowered her head. “I—I wanted to wait till I was sure.”

  Alexander froze wide-eyed. “I’ve been dreaming about brothers. Before a door under that Sphinx thing. And one of them—”

  Montross’s face lit up. “Yes . . .?”

  “One brother,” Alexander said, “can open the door with the right keys.”

  “Now I know,” Montross said with a wide grin. “My father . . . I was so blind, not realizing I had a higher connection to all this.”

  “So that’s why you’re psychic,” Alexander said excitedly. “Like my father and me.”

  “And one more,” said Nina. “A third brother. My guess is he’s the one pulling the FBI’s strings in this venture.”

  Montross nodded. “I’ll check it o
ut, now that I know the right questions to ask. Meanwhile, you and Alexander need to figure out this door.” He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and grabbed his pencil.

  And Nina sat beside Alexander. She took his hand, which he offered now with little resistance, his mind still processing Montross’s revelation. She closed her eyes and tapped into Alexander’s thoughts, opening to his visions, guiding him to the door, but not quite yet.

  There were other things that she needed to see first.

  12.

  Caleb and Phoebe helped Orlando up, pulling him away from Commander Chang and the other soldiers. They were just recovering when they heard the two gunshots echoing through the access tunnel.

  Phoebe stopped what she was doing. “Uh oh.”

  Holding his side, Orlando coughed and spit up blood. “I think I just got my ass kicked for nothing. I’m sorry.”

  Caleb waited, and then his heart sank when he saw Renée climb back down the ladder.

  “I think,” Phoebe whispered, “you should have taken that chance up there.”

  “What chance?” Orlando asked.

  Caleb was holding his head. “Qara wanted me to set off the warriors when I reached you. If I had acted, she might still be alive.”

  “Ah.” Orlando combed back his hair. “Well, I’m inclined to thank you for your restraint. Not sure if I was up for dodging arrows.”

  “Move,” Renée ordered, motioning with her gun. “I’m not wasting any more time with fanatics. Or psychics.”

  Caleb started splashing ahead. “You seem to be forgetting who got you this far.”

  “And you’re forgetting who has the weapons.”

  “Oh, you won’t let us forget that.” Leading his sister and Orlando, Caleb waded cautiously ahead, with small steps. “Phoebe,” he whispered. “Can you see anything? Orlando? How about you? Are we good here?”

  “Far as I could tell,” Orlando said, “the path was the only thing I saw. Just follow along and we should be copasetic until the end.”

  “Phoebe?” He looked back and saw, with some surprise, that his sister and Orlando were holding hands.