Addison Cooke and the Tomb of the Khan

by Jonathan W. Stokes

  Addison had lost enough relics in his day to make a habit of copying down clues as soon as he found them. He flipped to a blank page in his notebook, set a pencil on its flat edge, and traced a rubbing of the clue.

  “Faster! They’re almost here!” Molly whispered.

  The triads seemed to be closing in from two directions. Addison realized they were already out of time. “Everybody get inside a casket!”

  Raj wasted no time in prying the lid off a fresh coffin. It was as if he’d been waiting his whole life for someone to order him inside a casket. He shoved aside a dusty skeleton and dove in next to it.

  Addison heaved the long sword back inside its empty coffin and climbed in after it, Molly squeezing in beside him. They were used to sharing a bunk bed, and Molly figured a casket wouldn’t be too big a transition.

  Only Eddie balked. He stood in the passageway, hopping from foot to foot.

  Addison maneuvered his coffin lid shut. “Eddie, stop messing around!”

  “I’m not getting in a casket with a skeleton.”

  “Get in the casket or you’ll be the skeleton.”

  Madame Feng’s trilling laugh grew louder down the stone passageway.

  Eddie scrambled into Raj’s coffin headfirst. “This is the worst summer vacation of my life!” he hissed before Raj slid their coffin lid closed.

  Addison lay still in his coffin, controlling his breathing and hoping Molly wouldn’t sneeze from the dust. His aunt Delia had often warned him that his antics would put him in an early grave, but this was all happening much sooner than he’d expected. Through knotholes in the wood, he followed the conversation in the passageway.

  “There it is!” Madame Feng’s voice rang in the stone chamber. “The All-Seeing Templar Eye, scratched into the rock. I must thank whoever left this fishing line. I might never have found this clue on my own.”

  Inside his coffin, Addison received a sharp elbow in the ribs from Molly. He grimaced.

  “The next clue must be here somewhere,” Madame Feng continued.

  Addison perked up at the sound of his uncle Nigel’s voice. “The All-Seeing Templar Eye is a deception. The Templars are trying to trick you.”

  Addison knew his uncle was a mediocre liar at best, but he was better than Aunt Delia. “It might not be the All-Seeing Eye at all,” she offered. “It might just be ancient graffiti.”

  “Nonsense,” said Madame Feng. “The eye is staring directly at that coffin.” She called to two of her triad bodyguards. “Hu and Wen, open that casket.”

  Addison heard a few hesitant shuffling steps, followed by an angry screech from Madame Feng. “Don’t be superstitious cowards! Open the coffin and look inside!”

  It was at this point that Addison began to question his wisdom in hiding inside the very coffin Madame Feng was searching for. He heard heavy boots trudge close. Rough hands seized the wooden lid. Even in the darkness, Addison could see Molly’s eyes darting back and forth in a panic. He thought about mentioning the fact that this was a sticky wicket but thought better of it. His mind raced. He vaguely remembered Sun Tzu saying something pithy about the element of surprise. He decided to give it a whirl.

  The coffin lid jerked open, and several faces appeared over the rim: Madame Feng and two gang members.

  Addison leapt up screaming and waving his hands demonically.

  The two gang members sprang backward in horror. Even the cold-blooded Madame Feng was momentarily frozen in shock.

  Addison jumped out of the casket and landed on the floor in a crouch. Before the gang members could recover their cool, Molly sprang from the coffin, screaming like a banshee.

  “Eddie! Raj! Code Red!” Addison shouted.

  Raj and Eddie burst screaming from their coffin, following Addison’s example. Raj adopted more of a zombie-like moan, while Eddie’s screams appeared to simply be genuine fright.

  Addison spun toward Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel, who seemed to have dislocated their jaws in astonishment. “Run for it!”

  When neither moved, Addison realized that each relative was handcuffed to the wrist of a triad. Escape was impossible.

  Madame Feng, recovering her wits, yowled with anger. “Catch these brats!”

  The triads, still jittery from their shock, swung their fists at Addison and Molly, but Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel yanked their handcuffs backward, stalling each punch.

  Hearing the commotion, more triads thundered down the tunnels, closing in.

  “Addison, Molly, get out of here!” Aunt Delia called.

  “We’re not leaving without you!” said Addison.

  “It’s too dangerous for you!”

  Addison ducked a wild haymaker from the triad handcuffed to Uncle Nigel.

  “Addison Herbert Cooke, I order you to leave!” Aunt Delia shouted.

  Her stern voice had an instant effect on Addison, who knew better than to cross his aunt when her blood was up. He hauled the heavy sword from the coffin. “Give us a hand, Mo!”

  Molly took the sword, almost tipping over from its weight.

  Addison dodged a leaping triad and scooped up the fishing line. “Run!” he shouted to his friends. He took off sprinting without looking back. He hurtled down a long passage, scooping up thread, hand over hand, and trying not to trip on it. He knew if he gathered all of the thread, Madame Feng would lose time finding her way back out of the labyrinth. He banged a left and another left, the shrinking tunnels signaling the edge of the maze. Addison could hear his compatriots galloping after him. “Almost there!”

  He turned the next corner and slammed straight into a triad. Addison sprawled on the hard stone floor. The triad held the other end of the thread in the air and smiled.

  Addison looked up in shock. “Tony Chin!”

  To his surprise, Tony spoke clear English with only the faintest whiff of a Hong Kong accent. “Addison Cooke. I have been waiting for you.”

  • • • • • •

  Tony the triad whipped out his trench knife, beckoning Addison to fight.

  Addison clambered to his feet. He drew his butterfly knife, flipping it open with an elaborate flourish.

  Tony laughed and shook his head.

  Eddie took a few steps backward. “Addison, do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “Of course. And thank you for that vote of confidence, Eddie. Here, hold this so I can see what I’m doing.” He tossed his flashlight to Eddie, who fumbled it.

  Light danced around the cavern, throwing crazy carnival shadows across the walls until Eddie managed to scoop up the rolling flashlight. By the time Addison could see what was happening, Tony was right on top of him. Addison made a few panicked swipes with his knife.

  Tony ducked and sidestepped, effortlessly dodging Addison’s blows. The triad twitched his arm and knocked the butterfly knife from Addison’s hands. It clattered uselessly to the ground.

  Tony stood back to let Addison retrieve the knife. Addison realized he was being toyed with.

  “Do you want help, Addison?” Molly asked.

  “In a sec,” said Addison. “I’m finding his weaknesses.”

  Tony laughed again and immediately smacked the butterfly knife out of Addison’s grasp. Again, he paused to let Addison pick up the knife. “May I give you a tip?”

  “Only if it’s not a knife tip.”

  “When someone attacks you blade up, you know they’ve never been in a knife fight. Hold your blade down, like this.” Tony demonstrated.

  Addison adjusted his grip.

  “Good,” said Tony. “Now jab with your full arm. Fast, like a cobra strike.”

  Addison whipped his arm toward the triad, the blade singing through the air.

  Tony blocked the strike with a clash of steel. He smiled, pleased. “That’s better. Very good.”

  “Thank you, Tony,” sa
id Addison. “You seem like a decent fellow. I don’t suppose you’d like to let us go.”

  “I would love to. But orders are orders: I’m supposed to capture you. I hope you understand, it’s nothing personal.”

  “I understand completely,” said Addison. “No offense taken.”

  “Also, I apologize,” said Tony, gesturing to Molly, “but I’m going to need to take that sword.”

  Molly barely registered his words before he was lashing at her with two trench knives. She retreated, attempting to parry with the massive weapon.

  Eddie, who was covering his eyes, was not doing a spectacular job of lighting the cavern with the flashlight.

  Molly could hardly see Tony’s strikes in time. She was quickly backed against the rough-hewn wall of the passage.

  Raj sprang into action. “I’ll save you, Molly!” He dove for Tony’s knees, attempting to knock him over. Tony held strong, and Raj simply clung to the triad’s legs like a tenacious koala bear.

  Molly dropped the sword and ducked out of the corner. She managed to drag Raj away from Tony a split second before he would have connected with a well-aimed swat.

  “Thank you, Molly!” Raj gasped.

  She turned to square off with Tony. She was weaponless.

  “Use your kung fu!” Addison called.

  Molly didn’t love taking orders from Addison, but he had suggested a sensible course of action. After all, what was the point of spending the past two months drilling kicks and punches? She visualized herself in class, on the blue mats, calling out each move in unison with the other students. “Roundhouse kick!” she shouted, and launched a leg at Tony.

  He dodged it easily.

  “Tiger claw!” she shouted louder, striking her hand at Tony’s throat.

  He bent backward like a limbo dancer, sliding out of her reach.

  “Dragon fist!” she cried a bit desperately. She struck out with both hands, but Tony had already sidestepped.

  The triad was smiling. “If you want my advice, you shouldn’t announce each move before you do it. Sort of tips your hand.”

  Molly gulped. He made a decent point.

  Addison heard more triads moving closer through the dark maze, homing in on his team. They needed to pick up the pace if they hoped to escape. He pocketed his butterfly knife and scooped up the long sword. “Tony, I hope you understand, this isn’t personal.”

  The great sword was too heavy for Addison to wield. When he wound up for a home-run swing at Tony, Molly and Eddie had to duck to avoid the inconvenience of having their heads lopped off. Addison swung and missed. Strike one. His momentum carried him right around in a circle. He tried for a second swing at Tony and missed that, as well. Strike two.

  Addison didn’t imagine it was possible to be worse than Molly with the sword, and yet here he was. Tony would surely have skewered him by now if he hadn’t been laughing so hard. Addison’s heart sank; he’d read so many swashbuckling adventure books, and apparently none of them had rubbed off. As good as Ludwig van Beethoven was at playing a piano, that’s how bad Addison was at swinging a sword. He came extremely close to decapitating Raj, and even himself. Out of options, he attempted a direct poke at Tony’s ribs.

  Tony deflected this with a trench knife and grabbed the handle of Sir Frederick’s sword. It happened as quickly as a sleight-of-hand trick. To Addison’s amazement, Tony now held the sword, admiring it in the gleam of Eddie’s flashlight. “It’s much safer for your team if I hold on to this.”

  Addison had to agree. Besides, he felt the vague inkling of a plan coming on, tickling at him like an impending sneeze. Madame Feng’s men were only a few chambers away, working their way closer in the gloom. Addison spotted Raj’s spool of fishing line lying on the cavern floor. “Eddie, pass me the fishing line.”

  Tony swung the long sword in a wide, flashing arc.

  Eddie pressed his back against the wall. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  Addison danced backward from one of Tony’s swipes. “You can pass out when you’re dead. Toss me that line!” He knew Tony was attempting to stall them until the rest of Madame Feng’s triads arrived. “Eddie, now!”

  Eddie stared at the slashing sword, transfixed. “This isn’t happening,” he muttered. “I am at home in my bed. Mother, is that you? I’ve finished piano practice. May I go downstairs to Restaurant Anatolia for some shawarma?”

  “Snap out of it, Eddie!”

  Eddie turned to blink at Addison. He had the blank, confused look of a basset hound trying to read the editorial page of The Washington Post.

  “Eddie, fight! We have eight hands and he only has two!”

  “I have delicate hands! And they are made for piano keys!”

  “Fine,” said Addison. “Just turn off the flashlight!”

  This, Eddie could do. The tunnel plunged into darkness.

  Addison ducked Tony’s sword and dove for the reel of fishing line, grasping it in the pitch black. He found Tony’s ankle and wound a few loops of line around it before rolling from the path of the striking sword. Sparks shot up from the cave wall where the metal struck. “Eddie, turn the light back on!”

  In the dark tunnel, the flashlight was so bright, it hurt Addison’s eyes. “Mo, hot potato!” He tossed the reel to Molly, who passed it to Raj, who threw it back to Addison. Tony was soon snagged in a growing web of fishing line . . . line strong enough to reel in an eight-hundred-pound bluefin tuna.

  The team kept passing around the fishing wire until Tony was hemmed in like a caterpillar in a cocoon. “Ha!” said Addison.

  Tony dropped the sword and drew his trench knives. He slashed the cords, freeing his arms. “Ha!” said Tony.

  Addison was not too proud to admit when he was beaten. Tony could fight, but for at least a few more seconds, he could not run. Addison turned and fled headlong down the tunnel.

  Molly kept pace at his side. Eddie and Raj were somewhere behind. They were easy to track in the dark, what with Eddie’s screaming.

  “Nice work with that sword,” Molly called to Addison.

  “Thanks, Molly. I love sarcasm.”

  “No, you don’t,” said Molly.

  “I know,” said Addison. “I was being sarcastic.”

  Molly paused to let Raj and Eddie run past. After all, Eddie still held the flashlight. She counted three Mississippis and then yanked a trip wire, triggering a stone door to slam down, blocking the tunnel after her. She listened for the satisfying thwack of Tony the triad running smack into the door in the dark.

  Up ahead, Raj and Eddie took a hard corner in the tunnel and collided with an unsuspecting triad, sending the gang member sprawling. By some rare miracle of physics, Raj and Eddie were uninjured. The triad lay flat on his back as if he had recently played chicken with a wrecking ball.

  Raj realized he had just bested a gang member in single combat, even if it was by accident. This was, perhaps, the single greatest moment of his life. “Yeah, New York City! 86th Street!” Raj pounded his fist against his chest.

  He stopped shouting when a crowd of fresh triads rounded the corner at a fine clip. Raj’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

  Addison grabbed him by the sleeve. “C’mon, Raj, before they eighty-six us.”

  The group bounded down the final passage, their leg muscles burning. Molly had the presence of mind to trigger one last stone door, slowing their pursuers.

  Addison’s team scrambled up the narrow chute, darted through the secret crypt, hurtled across the hospital ward, tore out of the sacristy, and exploded onto the chaotic streets of Kashgar.

  They hid behind a cartload of cardamom. Eddie put his head between his knees, sucking oxygen. After a minute he remembered to turn off Addison’s flashlight to save the batteries.

  Molly sighed. “After all that, the triads have the sword of Sir Frederick.”


  “On the bright side,” said Addison, “at least we don’t have to lug that thing around.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Russian Vor

  ADDISON’S TEAM RACED THROUGH the alleyways of Kashgar, checking over their shoulders for pursuing triads. They burst into the filthy saloon where they had last seen Dax. Scanning the establishment, Addison saw two Tajiks dancing on the billiard table and a capuchin monkey swinging from the chandelier, but no sign of Dax.

  It was Molly who spotted Mr. Jacobsen sharing a few links of Russian sausage with some Uzbek traders at the poker table. The Great Dane was lapping from a water bowl and appeared to be the toast of the bar.

  Addison was not entirely surprised to find Dax lying underneath the table. He slapped him a few times across the face. “Dax, the triads are after us. We gotta hop!”

  “No hello, how are you, how was your day?” Dax rubbed his jaw gingerly. His face was scratched and bruised.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I met one of your friends. They asked if I was your pilot.”

  “You got beat up?” asked Molly, spotting a nasty welt over Dax’s eye.

  “That’s putting it a bit strong.”

  “You look beat up.” Addison and Molly helped Dax to his feet.

  Dax took a sip from the first glass he could reach at the bar. “He got in one lucky hit to my jaw,” Dax said defensively. He took another sip of his drink. “Followed by six lucky hits to my head, three lucky hits to my stomach, and seven or eight lucky kicks after I hit the ground.” Dax shrugged. “What can I say? He was a lucky guy.”

  “How did the gambling go?” asked Eddie.

  “Not so hot.” Dax grimaced. “My Chinese isn’t the best. I asked the dealer to hit me, and he took it literally.”

  “How many people hit you today?” asked Raj, his voice full of glowing admiration.

  “Including Addison just now?”

  “Never mind all that,” said Addison, keeping things on track. He eyed the room for triads. “We need to get to your plane.”

  “Yeah, about that,” said Dax. “Your Russian friend took my keys. Sometime after he kicked my ribs in and before he poured his drink on me.”