Acton grunted. “And us.”
“Right, and us.”
Acton chewed his cheek as they continued to put distance between them and the hired guns. “Well, the fact they’re after us I think gives us some hint of what’s going on.”
“It does?”
“Well, that text contained nothing beyond the fact he was scared that someone wanted to kill him. It didn’t reveal anything else. If they were after some thing, then there’s no reason to think we have it. We were on the wrong continent.”
Laura’s head bobbed. “You’re right. He must know something, and they’re afraid he told us.”
“Right, and they’re trying to tie up loose ends.”
“But wouldn’t they know from the text message we don’t know anything?”
Acton shook his head. “No. If they’re pros, they’re not going to risk that he might have reached out to us in some other way before they captured him.”
“Do you think he’s alive?”
Acton sighed. “I don’t know. They didn’t come in there today with guns blazing, so maybe.”
Laura tapped the hole in the windshield. “Someone must not have got the memo.”
Acton chuckled. “Instinct? I’d shoot too if someone were coming at me. Unless they were in Reading’s favorite British sportscar, then I’d just casually wait for the engine to conk out.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Once you grab on to something, you never let it go.”
He flashed a toothy grin. “I can always find a way to work in a good jab.” He pointed at a gas station. “Let’s fill up while we can, then find someplace to park out of sight.”
“Oooh!” squealed Laura.
“Mind out of the gutter, missy.”
“Awww.”
Acton squeezed her leg. “Okay, one quick shag, then we figure out how to escape those hired killers.”
She frowned. “Mood killer.”
He climbed out as she brought them to a stop. “I’ll make up for it when we get back home.”
“You better. The only reason I’m with you is for the sex.”
He gave her a look. “You too?” He winked then filled the tank as Laura called Tommy. She cursed.
“What?”
“No signal.”
“Lovely. If we can’t reach out to people, we could be in serious trouble.”
“I think this might be too big for us. We should collect the kids and get back on the plane. See if Dylan and the others can find out what’s going on.”
Acton agreed. “I think you’re right. I just pray they can get to Arban in time.”
18 |
Tangut Empire, Western Xia August 17, 1227 AD
Princess Khatun tumbled onto her side as the Khan punched her in the head. The pain from the blow overwhelmed her as she lay there, struggling to recover, the moans and cries of her victim soon overtaking the ringing in her ears.
And she smiled at the sight of the most vicious man in history gripping what was left of his manhood, blood pouring freely onto the animal skins, much like what had happened to the poor beasts upon their own slaughter.
“Die you bastard!” she hissed at him as she rose, the dagger still gripped in her hand. “That is for my father and mother, and for my brothers and sisters.” She stepped closer as he stared up at her, agony and rage filling his eyes. “And that is for my people.”
“Master, what’s wrong?”
She spun toward the entrance to the bedchambers to see the foul henchman from earlier in the day, the one who had brought her here to be soiled by his pig of a leader. His eyes widened at the sight.
“Get her!” groaned the Khan.
The man stood, frozen for a moment, then burst into action. “Get the doctor, now!” he shouted at someone on the other side of the curtains, then he raised his voice, issuing the call that would mean her end. “Guards!”
She bolted for the edge of the tent, yanking the material as hard as she could, the stakes on the other side tearing free. She dropped to her knees and scrambled out the other side, but not before a hand gripped her ankle. She yelped, twisting onto her backside and kicking as hard as she could with her free foot. It connected with something, the grunt from the other side of the tent suggesting someone’s head.
The grip loosened.
She scrambled backward, crablike, then rolled and leaped to her feet, quickly gaining her bearings in the dark. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see, Khan’s army massive. To the west lay her beloved city, still burning, nothing but the temple left standing.
And her heart ached anew.
There was no one to save her.
Everyone she knew, everything she loved, was gone.
Shouts surrounding her grew as the call to arms continued. They would be upon her any moment now, yet the dark could serve her well if she acted without hesitation.
There was only one hope of escape.
The river.
Her bearings true, she sprinted between the tents, ignoring the sounds of the tragedies occurring on the other side of the animal skins as the women of her empire were systematically raped—there was nothing she could do to help them.
She spotted the river ahead as an arrow whipped past her, embedding into the ground far too close for comfort. She glanced over her shoulder to see half a dozen guards in pursuit. Ducking to her right and between another pair of tents, she cut off any shot, but also lost time. She turned left, resuming her direct line for the river, then broke past the row of tents and into the open, leaving nothing to hide behind.
More shouts for her to stop echoed behind her, but she kept running, her decision made.
For there was only one thing left in her power, only one honorable thing left that she could hope to do.
Deny the murderous Khan his prize.
Arrows whipped past her, and she had to think they were trying to scare her into stopping rather than kill her, likely none of her pursuers wanting to hurt their Khan’s prize.
And it would be their final mistake.
She reached the edge of the cliff, the river far below.
And didn’t break stride.
She sprinted over the edge, the ground above left behind as she closed her eyes and dove like a bird, her arms out to her side, her legs tucked together behind her as the wind rushed along her body, the roar of the river below rapidly growing louder.
And she said one final prayer, beseeching the spirits to let her join her family, and her people, in the next life.
19 |
Unknown Location, Mongolia Present Day
Arban flinched as he woke to footsteps approaching. His entire body ached from the beating he had received after he had first been caught, the subsequent brief beatings merely to remind him of his situation.
And what that was, he wasn’t certain, though he assumed he was going to die.
The door opened, the trailer he had been held in since his return filling with the sounds of heavy equipment operating outside. His eyes immediately went to the man’s fists to see if he wore gloves. Instead, he found a bottle of water in one hand, a plastic-wrapped sandwich in the other. Both were tossed on the floor in front of him.
“Eat. I’ll be back in a bit to take you to the bathroom.”
Arban said nothing, grateful that it was a feeding rather than another beating, and waited for the man to leave. The moment the door shut, he grabbed for the bottle of water and twisted off the cap, gulping down half of it before tearing into the sandwich. He was starving and thirsty, and wasn’t sure which was worse. Despite being from a poor country, he had never really been hungry. His brief stay in the United States had been an eyeopener into true decadence, and it had been shocking. Upon his return home, a part of him had regretted the experience.
He had never had anything to compare his simple life to until he left his country. It had taken him until only recently to push that year deep enough to not constantly be regretting what he didn’t have here.
For what did he
really need to be happy?
He had a beautiful wife, he had a great job that paid decently for his age and station, and now that he had that steady income, they were planning on starting a family to fill their humble yet happy home.
Yeah, what a great job.
He sighed as he finished his sandwich, savoring the last chew before swallowing it and signaling the end of what might be his last meal. It was his job that had gotten him here.
Or was it just his boss?
He couldn’t be sure how high the problem went, which was why he didn’t know who he could trust. And that was why he had reached out to Acton, the one foreigner he knew whom he happened to have in his phone’s contact list, the one foreigner he knew was a good man that would do the best he could to help. Professor Acton had shown him nothing but respect and a genuine interest in his well-being during his year in the United States, making sure to include him in all functions, introducing him to students he thought might be good fits for friendships, and helping him with his studies.
He was a good teacher, but also a good friend, despite the age gap.
And he had fueled his interest in archaeology, something there wasn’t much funding for here in Mongolia, which was why he had been so excited to get the position he now held—assistant to the Director of Archaeological Preservation. He’d been there barely six months, yet had learned so much already.
Though apparently not when to look the other way.
He sighed as he sipped the last of his water, then closed his eyes, picturing his beautiful wife Badma.
I’m sorry, my love.
He prayed Acton had received his message and was taking action, though what that could be, he had no idea. He had never been given a chance to follow up his lone text message with more details. Acton wouldn’t know where to even begin.
And if Acton couldn’t help, he was doomed. He couldn’t trust anybody, especially the authorities or anyone at the Ministry. There was so much money involved, everyone was probably paid off. Certainly, his boss was. As soon as they had confirmed the exploratory core sample had discovered something that shouldn’t have been there, he knew something was wrong.
And it wasn’t with the sample.
It was with how everyone reacted, including his boss. A whispered conversation had taken place, and as soon as he saw one of the security men put his hand on his holstered pistol, he knew he was about to die.
Fortunately, he was near the door and had the keys, his boss preferring to be driven around rather than doing the driving himself. It had saved his life. He had managed to reach the city through a stroke of luck. The operation’s helicopter was being serviced. He found a signal and executed his plan, the entire drive spent figuring out who to call. Then, with the realization a text was more likely to get through, who to message.
And as he had run down the possibilities, he quickly came to the conclusion that it could be no one in Mongolia. And outside of Mongolia, he knew few people, and even fewer that had a number stored in his phone. And as he scrolled through the names, stumbling upon ‘Acton, James,’ he realized he was the perfect person to reach out to. For he was the nicest, most caring person he had ever met, and he was certain he would know the right people to call for help.
The fact they hadn’t killed him when they captured him meant they were concerned he had told someone of the discovery. The rules were clear, the agreement in writing. If anything of historical importance was found on the site, all operations would have to halt immediately so the discovery could be examined, and should it prove to be of significance, the entire project could be canceled.
Costing the foreign owners billions in lost profits, not to mention the loss of the tens of millions already invested, the diversion of a river only one of the massive undertakings involved in getting the project going. This project was too big to be allowed to fail. He realized that now. His inexperience, his naiveté, had led him to believe he and the others from the Ministry were serving some noble purpose, but in reality, they were window dressing, only there for show, to give a rubber stamp at the end of the day, no matter what might have been found.
He had been a fool.
Yet what choice had he had? It was his job, he had been assigned to the team, and he guessed that nobody had ever expected to find anything. After all, they were in the middle of nowhere, and there had never been any records of even a village being located here in the past. What they had found, by chance, shouldn’t be there, and the archaeologist in him had him wondering what it could be. Handcrafted wood and a skeletal hand had been found in the core sample at a depth of about thirty feet.
It could be anything, or it could be nothing.
Yet by law, it had to be investigated, and by law, historical finds always took precedence over any development, no matter how valuable. Which was why, he now realized, these big projects always went through—the outcome was predetermined through corruption and graft.
They had interrogated him for hours, demanding to know who he had texted, who the professor was and why he had chosen him, who else he had told. He had resisted at first, but soon the pain was too much, and he had told them everything.
Almost everything.
For there was one bit of hope still remaining that might save him, and save whatever it was they had discovered.
20 |
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
“I give up. It’s just no use.”
Laura leaned her head back against the headrest in frustration. She had tried to reach their travel agent several dozen times but either the call wouldn’t go through or it would be dropped within seconds. It was quite evident that international cellphone service in Mongolia was garbage compared to what they were used to.
James pointed at a shop up ahead, an old woman sitting out front, a sign in several languages, the English reading ‘Phone Booth.’ Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a phone booth?”
James shrugged. “In Mongolia, I guess a table with a phone on it is a phone booth. Worth a try.”
She sighed. “I’m willing to try anything right about now.”
She brought the car to a halt and climbed out, walking over to the woman. “Do you speak English?”
The woman tapped the sandwich board, a price in Mongolian currency shown for international calls. Not having had time to get any local currency, she handed over twenty dollars.
“Is this enough?”
The woman’s eyes widened, a toothless smile spreading. She tapped an old phone, a line running from it into the store behind her. Laura knelt and lifted the receiver, pressing it to her ear, then dialed their agent’s number.
She sighed with relief when Mary picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mary, it’s Laura. No time for a chinwag. We need to get out of Mongolia fast. Can you have the jet prepared and waiting for us? We’re going to collect Tommy and Mai then head straight for the airport.”
“Oh, thank God! I’ve been trying to reach you for almost an hour!”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Your plane is gone.”
“What?” Laura’s chest tightened and she became lightheaded for a moment. She turned and beckoned James to join her. He was soon out of the car and at her side. “What do you mean the plane is gone?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I mean the Mongolian government revoked the landing permit and ordered the company to fly it out immediately.”
“That’s incredible! Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea. It happened so quickly. I found out about it myself after the plane had already left.”
Laura squeezed her forehead with her free hand. “Wait. Does that mean Tommy and Mai are on it?”
“I’m not sure. I would think so. After all, they were staying at the same hotel as the pilot and copilot, so you’d think they’d all have left together.”
Laura sighed with relief. If the kids were safe, that was the most important thing. But now the
y’d have to figure out another way to leave. “Can you arrange another charter?”
“Maybe, but not from your regular lease-share. They won’t touch it with a ten-foot pole now. Do you want me to arrange a commercial flight?”
Laura nodded. “Yes, do that, but we need to confirm that Tommy and Mai are safely out of the country.”
“I’ll try to find out for you. What number can I reach you at?”
“I have no idea. We’ve lost James’ phone. I still have mine, but reception is terrible. We can’t go to the hotel, because they could be waiting for us there.”
“Who?” She could hear the concern in Mary’s voice.
“We don’t know, but some men just tried to either kill us or kidnap us, I’m not sure.”
“Oh no! What is it with you two?”
Laura grunted. “No idea. Listen, book all four of us on a few flights spread out over the next few days, say every twelve hours, and try texting us the info. Text Tommy and Mai too. A text is more likely to get through than a call. We’ll try to make at least one of them.”
“I will. And Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Laura gave a pathetic laugh. “We always try.”
She ended the call and handed the receiver back to the old lady who smiled again, the twenty dollars still clutched in her hand. Laura climbed back in the car along with James, and they pulled from the curb.
He looked at her. “I’ve got a million questions.”
She sighed. “And I’ve got a million answers you’re not going to like.”
21 |
Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Tommy watched helplessly as Mai’s desperate calls to Laura’s phone continued unanswered, the cellphone service here horrendous. All they could do was hope the professors were fine, and operating under that assumption, that meant he still had a job to do.
The Tomb of Genghis Khan Page 6