The Kingdom fa-3

by Clive Cussler

  “That’s it,” Sam said. “We’ve invaded China.”

  The crossing had been decidedly anticlimactic, but soon the landscape began to morph. As Gupta had predicted, the peaks and ridges traded their rounded appearance for exposed and serrated rock; the valley walls steepened and the forests thickened. The most startling difference was the Siang. Here, on the southern edge of the Tsangpo Gorge region, the river’s surface roiled, the waves exploding against boulders and hanging rock walls, sending plumes of mist high into the air. Gupta kept the Chetak as close to the river as possible, and kept below the ridgeline. Sam and Remi felt as though they were on the wildest flume ride on earth.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Gupta called.

  Sam and Remi shared an anticipatory smile. They’d come so far, gone through so much, and now their destination was only minutes away . . . they hoped.

  Karna’s reaction was intense. Jaw clenched, fingers digging into the Nerf ball, he stared out the window with his forehead pressed against the glass.

  “You okay, Jack?” Sam asked.

  “Never better, mate. Almost there!”

  “Approaching the outer edge of the coordinates,” Gupta announced.

  Ajay had given their pilot a datum point with a two-mile diameter. The area into which they were flying was dominated by a cluster of flat-topped obelisk peaks, each one varying in height, from a few hundred feet to a thousand feet to three thousand feet. In the gorges below, the Tsangpo River twined itself around the obelisks, a churning white ribbon enclosed by sheer cliffs.

  “Haven’t seen any kayakers,” Sam observed. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

  Karna looked up from the map he was studying and replied, “I would be surprised if you did,” Karna replied. “You’ve seen the terrain. Only the most determined-or insane-venture here.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Remi whispered to Sam.

  “If we make it back victorious and alive, it’s a compliment.”

  Karna called to Ajay, “Ask Gupta if he can give us a better look at these peaks. If my numbers are correct, we’re right on top of the datum point.”

  Ajay relayed the request. Gupta slowed the Chetak to thirty knots and began orbiting each of the obelisks in turn, adjusting his altitude so his passengers could make a closer examination. At her window, Remi had her camera shutter on rapid-fire.

  “There!” Jack shouted, pointing.

  A hundred yards beyond the window lay one of the medium-sized obelisks, at approximately a thousand feet high and five hundred yards wide. The vertical granite slopes were heavily laced with vines, foliage, and great swaths of moss.

  “Do you see it?” Karna said, his index finger tracing along the glass. “The shape? Start at the bottom and go upward . . . Do you see where it begins to widen out and then, there, about a hundred feet below the plateau, it flares out suddenly? Tell me you see it!”

  It took Sam and Remi several seconds to piece together the image, but slowly smiles spread over their faces.

  “A giant mushroom,” Remi said.

  40

  TSANGPO RIVER GORGE, CHINA

  After making several aborted passes because of wind shear, Gupta managed to ease the Chetak sideways over the obelisk until Karna spotted a small clearing in the jungle near the edge of the plateau. Gupta slowed to a hover and then touched down. Once the rotors had stopped spinning, the group climbed out and grabbed their gear.

  “Does this remind you of anything?” Sam asked Remi.

  “Absolutely.”

  The plateau bore a striking resemblance to the paradise valleys they had spotted during their helicopter search of northern Nepal.

  Beneath their feet was a carpet of moss, ranging in color from dark green to chartreuse. Here and there, the landscape was dotted with granite boulders speckled with lichen. Directly across from them stood a wall of thick jungle, unbroken save a few tunnel-like paths that disappeared into the growth, rough ovals that stared back at Sam and Remi like unblinking black eyes. The air seemed to buzz with the chattering of insects, and, unseen in the foliage, birds squawked. In a nearby tree a monkey hung upside down and stared at them for a few seconds before skittering off.

  Jack and Ajay walked over to where Sam and Remi were standing. Karna said, “Thankfully, our search area is limited. If we split into two groups, we should be able to cover a lot of ground.”

  “Agreed,” Sam said.

  “One last thing,” Karna said. He knelt beside his pack and rummaged inside and came up with a pair of snub-nosed .38 revolvers. He handed one each to Sam and Remi. “I’ve got one, of course. And as for Ajay . . .”

  From a holster at the rear of his waistband Ajay pulled out a Beretta semiautomatic pistol, then quickly replaced it.

  “Are we expecting trouble?” Remi asked.

  “We’re in China, my dear. Anything can happen: bandits, crossborder terrorist groups, the PLA . . .”

  “If the Chinese Army shows up, these popguns are only going to make them mad.”

  “A bridge we’ll cross if need be. Besides, we’ll likely find what we’re looking for and be back across the border before nightfall.”

  Sam said, “Remi and I will head east; Jack, you and Ajay head west. We’ll meet back here in two hours. Any objections?”

  There were none.

  After checking their portable radios for reception, the group split up. Headlamps on and machetes in hand, Sam and Remi chose one of the paths and started in.

  Ten feet inside the jungle, the light dimmed to quarter strength. Sam slashed clear some of the vines growing across their path, then they paused to take a look around, panning their lights up, down, and to both sides.

  “The yearly rainfall here must be mind-boggling,” Sam said.

  “A hundred ten inches. About nine feet,” Remi replied, then smiled. “I know how you love trivia. I looked it up.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  A few feet over their heads, and on both sides, was a tangled mass of vines so thick they could see nothing of the forest itself.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Remi said.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Sam jabbed the tip of his machete through the canopy. With a clang, his arm jolted to a stop. “That’s stone,” he murmured.

  Remi swung her machete to the left and also got a clang. The same to the right. “We’re in a man-made tunnel.”

  Sam unclipped the radio from his belt and pressed the Talk button. “Jack, are you there?”

  Static.

  “Jack, come in.”

  “I’m here, Sam. What is it?”

  “Are you on a trail?”

  “Just started.”

  “Swing your machete off the path.”

  “Okay . . .” Clang! Jack came back: “Stone walls. Fascinating development.”

  “Remember your hunch about Shangri-La being a temple or monastery? Well, I think you’ve found it.”

  “I think you’re right. Amazing what a millennium of unchecked jungle can do, isn’t it? Well, I don’t think this changes our plan, do you? We search the complex, then regroup in two hours.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  Now aware they were inside a man-made structure, Sam and Remi began examining their surroundings for architectural telltales. Vines and roots had infiltrated every square foot of the complex. In the lead, Sam tried to swing his machete in short arcs but couldn’t avoid striking the stone walls occasionally.

  They reached an alcove and stopped.

  “Shut off your headlamp,” Sam said, dousing his.

  Remi did. When their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, they began to see slivers of dim sunlight through the foliage-covered walls and ceiling.

  “Windows and skylights,” Remi said. “This must have been an amazing sight in its day.”

  Sam and Remi started climbing a set of steps and soon reached a landing where the steps doubled back and rose to a second floor. Here, through an arc
hway, they found a large open space. A patchwork of roots and vines arced above their heads to form a vaulted ceiling. Spanning the Great Room, as they dubbed it, were what looked like six half-rotted logs. Support beams, they decided, long ago decayed, the remnants held in place by a sheath of vines. Directly opposite the ramp/stairs they’d climbed was another set, leading upward into darkness.

  Headlamps panning, Sam and Remi spread out to explore the space. Along the far wall Sam found a row of stone benches jutting from the wall, and, in front of these, six rectangular slots in the stone floor.

  “Those are tubs,” Remi said.

  “They look like graves.”

  She knelt beside one and tapped the inside walls with her machete. She got back the familiar clang of steel on stone.

  “Some more over here,” Sam said, crossing to the other side.

  They found a semicircle of stone benches enclosing a round basin wider than Sam was tall. Remi repeated her routine but could not touch the bottom. Sam found a chunk of stone that had fallen off a nearby bench and dropped it into the basin.

  They heard a muffled thump.

  “About ten feet deep,” Sam said.

  He crouched and shone his light down the shaft but could see nothing through the web of vines and roots. “Hello!” he called. There was no echo.

  “Too much vegetation,” Remi guessed.

  Sam found another rock and prepared to drop it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Indulging my curiosity. We didn’t see any sign of this shaft on the floor below, which means it was behind a wall. It has to have a purpose.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Sam leaned over the shaft, angled his arm, then hurled the stone. Unseen, it thumped against the bottom, then again, then clattered against a hard surface.

  Remi said. “Good call. It’s got to lead somewhere. Do you want to-”

  Sam’s radio crackled to life. In between bursts of static, faint staccato voices came through the speaker. The snippets were hurried and overlapping.

  “I think it’s Gupta and Ajay,” Remi said.

  Sam pressed the Talk button. “Ajay, can you hear me? Ajay, come in!”

  Static. Then Jack’s voice: “Sam . . . Gupta . . . has spotted a . . . is taking off.”

  “He’s leaving,” Remi said.

  They turned and ran down the stairs, Remi trailing with her slight limp. They crossed the den and headed down the tunnel.

  Remi called, “What do you think he spotted?”

  “Only one thing I can think of that would panic him,” Sam replied over his shoulder: “Helicopter.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  An oval of light appeared ahead. Sam and Remi skidded to a stop before reaching it and crouch-walked the last few steps. In the clearing, the Chetak’s rotors were spinning rapidly; through the side window they could see Gupta furiously punching buttons and checking gauges. He grabbed the radio handset and started talking.

  His voice burst through Sam’s radio: “Sorry, I will try to return. Try to hide. They may go away.”

  Gupta then lifted the collective, and the Chetak lifted straight up. At thirty feet, it banked, nose down, and zoomed from view.

  Out of the corner of their eyes Sam and Remi saw Karna and Ajay step from a tunnel entrance. Sam waved, caught their attention, then gestured at them to retreat. They slipped back out of sight.

  Preceded by only a few seconds of thudding rotors, an olive green helicopter rose into view at the far edge of the plateau. Sam and Remi immediately recognized the nose cone and rocket pods: a Chinese PLA Harbin Z-9.

  “Hello, old enemy,” Remi muttered.

  She and Sam backed up a few more feet.

  The Z-9 continued to rise, then pivoted, revealing another fond memory: an open door and a soldier crouched over a mounted machine gun. The Z-9 slid sideways over the clearing and touched down.

  “Let’s go, Sam,” Remi said. “We need to hide.”

  “Just wait.”

  A figure appeared in the doorway.

  “Oh, no,” Remi muttered.

  They both recognized the lithe, willowy body shape.

  Zhilan Hsu.

  She stepped down from the doorway. Dangling from her right hand was a compact submachine gun. A moment later two more figures stepped from the doorway to join her. Russell and Marjorie King, also armed with compact submachine guns.

  “Behold, the Wonder Twins,” Sam said.

  Zhilan turned, said something to them, then stepped to the Z-9’s side door, which opened to reveal a mid-forties Chinese man. Sam withdrew a pair of binoculars from his pack and zoomed in on the pair.

  “I think we’ve found King’s Chinese contact,” Sam said. “He’s definitely PLA. Very high ranking, either a colonel or general.”

  “Do you see any more soldiers inside?”

  “No, just the door gunner. Between him, Zhilan, and the twins, that’s all they need. I don’t know why they haven’t shut down the engine yet, though.”

  “How in God’s name did they find us?”

  “No idea. Too late to worry about it now.”

  The PLA officer and Zhilan shook hands, then he closed the door. The Z-9’s engine rose in pitch, and then the helicopter lifted off. It pivoted so its tail was facing the plateau, then headed off.

  “Our odds just improved,” Sam said.

  “What’s Zhilan doing?”

  Sam focused his binoculars on Zhilan in time to see her pull a cell phone from her jacket pocket. She punched a series of numbers into the keypad, and then she and the twins turned and watched the helicopter recede into the distance.

  In a mushroom of orange and red, the Z-9 exploded. Chunks of flaming debris plummeted toward earth and then out of sight.

  Sam and Remi couldn’t speak for several seconds. Finally Remi said, “That ruthless-”

  “King is tying up loose ends,” Sam said. “He’s probably already shut down his black market fossil operation: the dig site, his transportation system-and now his contact in the government.”

  “We’re the last loose ends,” Remi said. “Can we shoot them from here?”

  “No chance. Our snub-noses aren’t worth a damn beyond twenty feet or so.”

  In the clearing, Zhilan had traded her cell phone for a portable radio. She brought it up to her lips.

  Over Sam’s radio they heard, “Do you have him?”

  “I have him.” Ajay’s voice.

  “Bring him out.”

  Sam and Remi looked right. Jack Karna stepped from the tunnel entrance, followed by Ajay. The barrel of his gun was pressed against the base of Karna’s skull. The other hand clutched the collar of his jacket.

  Prodded by Ajay, the pair walked halfway to the clearing, then stopped. They were forty feet to Sam and Remi’s right.

  “Why, Ajay?” Karna asked.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Karna. Truly I am.”

  “But why?” Karna repeated. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for-”

  “They came to me in Kathmandu. It’s more money than I would make in ten lifetimes. I can send my children to university, my wife and I can buy a new home. I am sorry. But she gave me her word. None of you will be harmed.”

  Karna replied, “She lied to you.” Then louder to Zhilan: “Your spawn I’ve already met a few months ago in Lo Monthang. But I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

  Zhilan said, “My name is-”

  “The Dragon Lady, I know. You’re too late, you realize. This is not the place. The Theurang is not here.”

  “You’re lying. Ajay, what do you say?”

  “We only started searching, ma’am. Mr. Karna and the Fargos seem sure this is the location of Shangri-La.”

  Zhilan said, “Speaking of the Fargos . . . Come out, both of you! Your helicopter is gone! Come out now, help me find the Golden Man and I’ll signal for our transportation. I will land you safely back in Yingkiong. You have my promise.”

  “You f
orget, Dragon Lady, Sam and Remi know you,” Karna said. “Your promise is worthless.”

  “You are likely correct,” Zhilan replied. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo! Come out now or I will kill your friend!”

  Remi whispered, “Sam, we’ve got to help him.”

  “That’s what she wants,” he replied.

  “We can’t just let her-”

  “I know, Remi.”

  Karna called, “Dragon Lady, they can’t hear you. All this behind me is a temple-a complex so big, it will take months to search. Right now, they probably don’t even know you’re here.”

  “They would have heard me on the radio.”

  “Not from inside. The reception is nonexistent.”

  Zhilan considered this. “Ajay, is that true?”

  “About the radios, mostly true. As to the temple, it is vast. They may be unaware of your arrival.”

  “Then we’ll have to go find them.” Zhilan said.

  “Besides,” Karna added, “if they were watching, they would know what I wanted. I’ve spent my entire life searching for the Theurang. I would rather be dead and have them destroy it than give it to you.”

  Zhilan turned toward Russell, who was standing behind her right shoulder, and said something. In one smooth motion, Russell lifted the machine gun to his shoulder.

  On an impulse he immediately regretted, Sam shouted, “Jack, duck!”

  Russell’s weapon bucked. The left side of Karna’s neck exploded in blood; he crumpled to the ground. Russell fired again, a three-round burst that slammed into Ajay’s chest. He stumbled backward and fell dead.

  Zhilan shouted. “They are there! In that tunnel! Go after them!”

  Machine guns raised, Russell and Marjorie began sprinting. Behind them, Zhilan began walking toward Karna’s body.

  Sam turned and grabbed Remi’s shoulders. “Go! Hide!”

  “What about you?”

  “Right on your heels.”

  Remi spun around and took off down the tunnel in a limp-sprint. Sam raised his .38 and snapped off a round toward Russell and Marjorie. He had no illusion about hitting them, but the gunfire accomplished his goal. Russell and Marjorie split up, each diving behind a nearby boulder.

  Sam turned and ran after Remi.