The Thieves of Legend

by Richard Doetsch

  “But without the compass…” KC said, “we have no idea where it is.”

  “Oh, yes we do,” Busch said as he reached into the car and pulled out one of Michael’s chip-tracking black boxes.

  CHAPTER 53

  Annie pulled the paper out of the printer and placed it on the table; it was a map, an exact copy of the one she’d taken from Michael. She had her doubts about the authenticity of Michael’s map, thinking he might trick her, just as he had done with Lucas, as KC had done to her in stealing the compass.

  Lucas had a plane fueled and ready at the airport to whisk her back to him in Macau so they could unlock the secret of the map together. But Annie needed every second she could get… and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she would need Lucas and his resources if she hoped to get to the island on time. But once there…

  Wasting no time, she pulled out the antique compass. Along its circumference were a series of ornate dragons and tigers that corresponded to a legend on the scanned image of the map. She placed the compass upon the legend, orienting the images until they matched up.

  “Well?” Lucas’s voice, coming over the speakerphone on the table, echoed in the small conference room.

  “Give me a minute,” Annie said, her eyes focused on the map. She read the coordinates in the map’s corner that she translated from Chinese. She pulled out a ruler, measuring distances, drawing lines, jotting down notes.

  She looked over at the black chip that had been in the envelope with the map, the one Michael had so cleverly hidden, the one that was allowing him to track her. Michael had always planned for her to leave the temple with the map, his ruse distracting her from his true goal of following her here.

  And Annie smiled, thought of tossing the minuscule chip in a cab, down the drain, putting it on a train, sending him on a wild goose chase, but she knew the wall he was up against right now was filling him with a far greater frustration than she could manufacture, for she was in the one place in all of China where Michael couldn’t touch her.

  MICHAEL SAT IN the rear of the car with KC, Simon beside them, Jon at the wheel while Busch rode shotgun. They all stared out the window at the large compound.

  “Son of a bitch,” Busch said. “How the hell does she get protection like that?”

  “Connections,” Simon said.

  “Connections, my ass. This whole thing stinks to high heaven.”

  “I can’t go near there,” Michael said. “I’d be arrested in a heartbeat.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to go once I was in,” Busch said.

  “Don’t look at me,” Simon said. “I’m Italian. We wait for her to emerge. If we each cover a side of the building—”

  “We don’t have time,” Michael said. “She could stay in there for hours. Maybe they’ll give her an escort out and we won’t get within one hundred yards of her.”

  “Are you sure she’s in there?” Jon said to Michael.

  Michael held up the tracker, the blinking red dot in the center of the GPS map. “Unless she found the chip and somehow slipped it up to the second floor.”

  “You sure it’s the second floor?” Jon asked.

  “This thing does altitude very accurately, and she’s twenty feet above us right now.”

  Without a word, Jon removed his gun. Laying it on the seat, he reached down and took off the knife strapped to his ankle, pulled the extra clips from his pocket, gave them to Michael, and exited the car, slamming the door behind him.

  They all stared as Jon walked across the street and into the U.S. Embassy.

  JON JOGGED UP the walkway, past the large reflecting pool to the main entrance of the U.S. Embassy compound, a grouping of buildings filling an entire city block in central Beijing. A large eight-story office building at its center, it was surrounded by several shorter expansive structures that stretched along the entire block. Fronted by an open glass entry, it was modern, a far cry from the stone townhouse embassies in Europe.

  Jon pulled out his passport and showed it to the four armed guards who stood at the main gate. A Marine in dress uniform nodded to Jon and escorted him in, leading him across the small plaza and through the large main doors.

  They entered the marble lobby and it was as if Jon were back in America: flags hung conspicuously about, a large portrait of the president hung on the far wall. The lobby was a bustle of activity, all Americans, all speaking English as they hurried about their day.

  Jon was escorted to the desk sergeant. “Good evening, Sergeant. Lieutenant Jon Lei, retired.” Jon handed over his passport and a military ID.

  The sergeant scanned both items, handed them back, and smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Lieutenant. How can I help you?”

  “I’m currently with the Tridiem Group under retainer to Colonel Lucas out of Camp Zama. I’m looking for a colleague by the name of Annie Joss.”

  “Of course. She’s on the second floor, room 2112.” The sergeant passed Jon a floor map. “You’ll need to check your weapon—”

  “No need,” Jon smiled. “Left it all behind.”

  The desk sergeant pointed to the security checkpoint. “You need anything, just dial zero.”

  Jon nodded as he turned and made his way through the checkpoint, taking the stairs to the second floor, quickly finding the room and entering.

  “Annie,” Jon said as he walked into the conference room.

  “I heard you turned sides,” Annie said, not looking up from her map.

  “Really, and whose side are you on?”

  “America’s.” She finally looked up.

  “You’ve been telling everyone that for so long, you’ve begun to believe your own bullshit.”

  “So says the man who always works for the highest bidder.”

  “Seeing we both work for Tridiem, doesn’t that apply to you, too?” Jon asked as his tone grew serious. “Do you really believe this island exists? That it has what Lucas so desperately needs?”

  Annie nodded. “It better exist, or I’ll kill that son of a bitch before we both die.”

  “You’re sure you aren’t contagious?” Jon asked as he looked around the room.

  “Positive. The virus needs to be ingested or enter the bloodstream. If this stuff was easily communicable, we could kiss a big chunk of the world good-bye. But you know what else I believe?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That this island holds far more than the cure for this disease. Zheng He’s treasures, the things he sailed with on his last voyage are on that island: The gold the Japanese looted from China during World War II, Yamashita’s gold—everyone says it’s in the Philippines but I’ll bet it’s on that island.”

  “So, what, are you going to run off with Lucas to the island and think you can just steal it from him, take it from underneath his nose? He’ll bring in forces, guaranteed.”

  “No, he’s going in lean, I confirmed it. He’s so afraid of dying, he can’t wait for backup. Once we’re there, I’ll kill him.”

  Jon stared at Annie. “Give me the compass.”

  “Why? I already know where the island is.” Annie pointed at her markings on the map.

  “And if you’re wrong, if you’ve missed something and rush off to the wrong location?”

  “I’m right,” Annie said.

  “Always so sure of yourself. Are you willing to stake your life on being right? Because that’s what you’re doing. You will die if you’re wrong. And if Xiao is out there with the Dragon’s Breath… How many more will die?”

  Annie paused a moment. She looked at the compass, finally picking it up off the table. She walked over to Jon and placed it in his hands.

  Annie looked up into Jon’s eyes. For a long moment, the air was thick between them. It had been days since he had seen her. He could see the exhaustion in her face but it didn’t diminish her beauty. As far as he was concerned, nothing could.

  And she kissed him, wrapping her arms around him, inhaling him as if he had been away for years. And he kisse
d her back, strong, hard, drawing her to him, reconnecting after too long.

  “So,” Annie whispered. “You take the compass and lead your little merry band of thieves to the island, and whoever gets there first wins.”

  “And what do we do when we get there, with the colonel, with St. Pierre?”

  “We cure me, take what is rightly ours, and kill them all.”

  Annie grabbed Jon by the back of the head and pulled him in for another kiss.

  CHAPTER 54

  The compass was truly spectacular, the circumference ringed in an alternating succession of dragons and tigers, each unique, each squared off in attack. The central bulb was filled with liquid, the floating needle etched with a bird in flight among the clouds. Subtle hash marks underlined the warring beasts, corresponding to traditional compass points with varying degree of midpoints.

  “This compass is backward,” Michael said as he noted the needle pointing south.

  “No,” Simon said. “Chinese compasses point south. They invented the compass more than twenty-five hundred years ago. Chinese literature references it being used around 1050. Zheng He was the first person to navigate the seas with a compass, to truly use it in the modern sense, something that wasn’t picked up by Europeans until much later. Though that compass points south, obviously the other end points north; the axis never changes.”

  Michael focused on the map page of Zheng He’s diary. The page actually folded out three times, a map of the breadth of the world far more detailed than anyone could have imagined having been created in 1425. It showed not only India, Asia, the Middle East, and Africa in surprising detail, but also both North and South America. Each of the seas was adorned with magnificent dragons diving through the water, exquisite ships atop mountainous waves, sea creatures exploding up out of the depths.

  In the lower right-hand corner of the page were a dragon and a tiger entwined in battle, the shapes of their bodies forming a yin-yang. As Michael looked around the map, he noted that along the edges of the pages were similar tigers and dragons in battle, chasing and attacking one another. He turned his focus to the images that ringed the compass and he realized…

  Michael placed the compass upon the yin-yang, orienting it until the beasts on the compass matched their counterparts on the edge of the map. As they lined up, he watched as the needle began to subtly turn from the north-south axis.

  He lifted the compass and watched as the needle spun back several degrees to its proper axis. Running his hand around the page, hovering the compass just above the surface, the needle danced and shifted, and he finally put it back in place on the corner of the map. He turned the compass around and, once again, as each of the beasts lined up, the compass point shifted several degrees.

  “The paper.” Michael smiled as he ran his fingers along its edge. “It’s inlaid with some type of magnetic ferrite, a minuscule amount, very subtle, but when the compass is positioned according to the symbols on the compass’s ring, it’s enough to draw the compass off point.”

  Using the ancient compass, Michael looked at the grouping of islands to the south of the Philippines and computed the heading and location of Penglai from Zheng He’s notes at the top of the page.

  “Give me your compass,” Michael said to Busch.

  Busch pulled his father’s compass watch out of his pocket, flipped it open, and handed it to Michael. Michael removed Zheng He’s compass, placing Paul’s in its place, orienting it on the north-south axis of the map. Using his calculations on Paul’s compass, he quickly pinpointed a remote dot of an island in the South Pacific. He removed Busch’s compass and replaced it with Zheng He’s compass, orienting the modified axis in accordance with the line of the matching dragons and tigers, and smiled as the compass point pulled several degrees west.

  “Anyone who tries to follow the coordinates on this map with an ordinary compass would arrive at a different island. They would think they’d found Penglai, patting themselves on the back, never realizing the true island was here.”

  Michael pointed to the open sea, where an ornamental five-fingered dragon dove through the waves. Busch turned to the large modern map and began calculating, finally writing out a group of coordinates.

  Michael turned to see KC asleep on the couch, a trickle of blood dripping from her nose. Busch and Simon followed Michael’s eyes, their faces filling with concern.

  “We’re running out of time,” Michael whispered.

  JENNA DROPPED MICHAEL, KC, Busch, Simon, and Jon at the entrance to the private air terminal, returned their rental car, and boarded a plane for San Francisco. It was time for a career change.

  The five hurried through the private terminal of Beijing Airport to Steven Kelley’s jet, which sat in wait, engines running, ramp down in welcome.

  “Your dad is going to be pissed,” Busch said. “You’re putting serious miles on his plane, and the cost of fuel—”

  “I’ll cover it,” Simon said. “This is my fault.”

  “You got that kind of money?” Busch asked. “Pretty steep for man who took a vow of poverty.”

  Busch patted Simon on the back as they entered the plane, Busch being sure to put his left foot first.

  Michael helped KC up the ramp. Though she could walk on her own, Michael could see the pain in her eyes. He never believed in any of this magic, hocus-pocus legend stuff, but he knew the disease was rooted in science, in nature. The Dragon’s Breath was spoken of in history, referenced by Zheng He, by the Yongle Emperor, and so, too, was its antidote, the yin to its yang, the Phoenix Tears. The names would have made him laugh if the matter hadn’t been so serious. Whether magic or science, history or legend, Michael would find it, he would believe in it, as it was the only thing that could save KC from her fast-approaching death.

  “Got us a boat,” Busch said as he closed his cell phone.

  “What kind of boat?” Michael asked.

  “The kind of boat that floats in the ocean. Reserved it with your credit card, didn’t think you’d mind. I told the pilot where in the Philippines. We’ve got a twelve-hour boat ride southeast from there.”

  “What if Lucas gets there before us?” KC asked as she reclined her seat.

  Michael smiled at her. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Lucas sat in the bridge of the U.S. naval boat, the sixty-foot craft traveling at thirty-five knots through the relatively calm ocean. With a single phone call, the boat had been ready and waiting with a crew of three when he landed in the Philippines.

  Lucas stared out at the blue ocean as he plunged a needle into his arm, injecting himself with a potent cocktail of painkillers and stimulants. The drug mix muted the pain, helped to sustain his strength, but couldn’t forestall death, which was fast approaching.

  Annie was in the bow with two of Lucas’s men, her five-hour flight landing at nearly the same time as Lucas’s. The boat was waiting dockside and not a word was spoken until they were safely under way, the course plotted to the coordinates that Annie had calculated with Zheng He’s compass and map.

  They were two hours into their eight-hour journey when Jon called her satellite phone, giving her the modified coordinates. Annie cursed herself, not just because she had gotten them wrong, but because Jon had been right.

  They were two hours ahead of Michael and his team, more than enough time to make land. Now that they had all of the information, the race would be over, Lucas and Annie would arrive at Penglai first, not just because they had the intel but because Jon would ensure Michael and his friends would never get close.

  JON OPENED HIS black knapsack, pulled out two 9mm Sig Sauers, three clips, and his knife. He loaded a clip in each gun and tucked them in his waistband at the small of his back; he sheathed the knife and strapped it to his ankle, concealing it under his pant leg. There were four aboard. Michael and KC would not be a problem, it was Simon who was the most skilled and would react the quickest, which was why he had to kill him first. There was no need t
o keep Busch alive. Jon could pilot the boat himself; he had driven too many boats to count back when he was in the Navy.

  Dumping their bodies would be simple; he’d weigh them down and drop them to the seabed over a mile below before continuing to rendezvous with Annie at the island.

  He took the narrow step up from the lower level into the salon, pulling his shirt over the protruding pistols in the rear of his waistband.

  KC was asleep on a couch, her face pale, her breathing sounding labored. Michael was beside her, quiet and worried. Simon was on the opposite couch, his feet on an ottoman, trying to get comfortable.

  Jon reached behind him—

  “You guys have got to see this,” Busch called out from the bridge.

  Michael and Simon left KC sleeping on the couch and stepped into the bridge. Jon kept his hand on his gun and slowly followed, standing in the doorway with his three marks in front of him. Watching, waiting on Busch.

  “Tell me what you see,” Busch said, his hand about the helm.

  They looked out the front window at the open sea; the water was clear and blue to the horizon. Turning their attention back inside, they saw that all of the instruments looked normal, the engine was running clean, its roar steady and powerful.

  “What are we looking at?” Michael asked.

  “I locked in a manual heading as soon as we left port, the autopilot maintaining a straight line as opposed to a compass heading. Like any good captain, I keep my eyes on the compass. Though I wasn’t following a compass heading, I knew the heading of the island nonetheless.” Busch tapped the large ball compass that sat upon the dash. “The compass has been drifting west by a little less than a degree each hour; it’s been five degrees so far. If we were on autopilot, our course would have been changing to match the compass heading. This is why no one finds the island; it’s like the island doesn’t want to be found. Everyone is so reliant on a compass, and the shift of the compass is so subtle, no one would ever question it.”