The Tomb of Genghis Khan

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Everyone was asleep.

  Dawson turned to his team. “Okay, the kid is the only subject we’re concerned about. If Conrad is the meat shield and things go south, then take the shot. If you get Stander, great, if you miss, take a second shot. Conrad should be on the ground. If it’s the kid, we try to contain. Copy?”

  “Yes, Sergeant Major!”

  Something was shouted and Jack translated. “He’s landing!”

  “Where?”

  “Airfield. He must think he can steal a plane!”

  Niner’s eyes widened. “Is he nuts?”

  Doors slid open and Dawson took his position. “Okay, everybody set!”

  The chopper bounced and Bravo Team leaped out of sight.

  Dawson rushed forward with Spock to his right, Niner and Atlas covering the left as the door of the stolen helicopter was thrown open and Stander appeared, pulling Conrad with him. Dawson peered into the cockpit but couldn’t find Arban.

  Yet it didn’t matter.

  Conrad was the shield.

  Stander held Conrad tight, revealing little of his body as he kept his head hidden behind his hostage’s, the gun pressed against the base of his skull, not even leaving a shoulder to target.

  Yet.

  “Everybody back off, or he dies.”

  Conrad was in a panic, his eyes bulging with fear. “Do what he says! Please! I’ll pay you anything! I’ll make you all very rich men!”

  Stander sneered. “Yes, listen to him. We’ll all be rich. Just let me get out of here.” He shoved his weapon a little harder against Conrad. “Now, just everybody back off!”

  Dawson kept advancing, his weapon raised, still no shot, but Niner and Atlas were flanking their target, and if they succeeded, this would all be over in moments.

  Stander turned slightly. “Tell those two to hold their position or he’s dead.”

  Dawson whispered into his comm. “Hold position.” He kept advancing, heading slightly to the right, forcing Stander to turn, his back now to Niner’s position. “Just let him go, and everyone lives.”

  “I have no intention of spending the rest of my days in a Mongolian prison.”

  “I don’t see many options in your future that you’re going to like.”

  “Got the shot,” whispered Niner in his comm.

  And Stander knew.

  He fired, Conrad collapsing in a heap, blood rushing from the cavity now in his head, as Stander dropped his weapon, raising his hands in the air, a smile on his face. “I—”

  “Taking the shot.” Dawson squeezed the trigger.

  “Clear!”

  Acton leaped from the chopper as soon as Jack ushered them out, helping Laura before running toward the carnage. Stander and Conrad were dead, just behind the chopper, and he could honestly say he couldn’t care less. “Where’s Arban?”

  Atlas emerged from poking his head in the chopper. “He’s not here.”

  “What? Where the hell is he?”

  Laura gasped. “You don’t think…”

  Acton looked at her. “What?”

  “Well, we know he was on board. If he’s not now, then…”

  And Acton knew exactly what she was thinking. He spun toward Dawson. “We have to go back.”

  Dawson eyed him. “Why?”

  “Stander must have thrown him out of the chopper. He could be lying on the ground out there, injured.”

  Dawson shook his head. “Doc, we were traveling at over a hundred-fifty miles per hour at several hundred feet. If he was tossed, I hate to say it, he’s dead.”

  Acton cursed, slamming his fist into the chopper’s windshield, for Dawson was right. Tears flowed down Laura’s cheeks and he took her in his arms, holding tight as his own ran. Their entire purpose had been to save the young man they barely knew, and they had failed, his final moments probably the most terrifying he could imagine.

  He sniffed, then drew a deep breath. “We have to tell his wife.”

  Dawson shook his head. “No, we’re getting you out of here. Now. We’ve got a plane waiting.” He stared past Acton and cursed.

  Acton turned to see what had Dawson concerned, and tensed as two military transports rolled up, two dozen men jumping out of the rear, quickly surrounding the area. An officer rushed forward, barking orders as Dawson indicated for his men to keep their weapons lowered. The man stepped over to Dawson after the lieutenant pointed him out.

  “You are American soldiers?”

  “We’re not Mongolian.”

  Not a lie, technically.

  The new arrival pointed at their private charter. “You arrived on that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you leave. Now. Mongolian government thank you for your assistance.”

  Dawson bowed his head. “You’re welcome.” He indicated for his men to head for the plane, then beckoned Acton and Laura to follow.

  “No. They stay here. You four leave.”

  Dawson squared his shoulders. “I’m not leaving without them.”

  An order was barked, two dozen guns raised. “You leave. Now.” The man stepped closer. “Or you don’t.”

  Dawson appeared calm, holding up his hand then tapping his pocket. “May I?”

  The man nodded.

  Dawson pulled out his phone, finding a piece of pertinent intel, then turned to Acton. “According to my records, your travel agent has you booked on a flight six hours from now. Try to be on it. We’ll work the problem as soon as we’re in the air.”

  “Okay.” Acton held Laura tight as Dawson and the others were forced to leave at gunpoint, their equipment confiscated. Jack strolled over. “Now what?”

  Jack shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t plan on this.”

  “Nothing seems to be going to plan.” Acton frowned then stared at the helicopter, picturing a terrified Arban falling to his death.

  You poor kid.

  72 |

  Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia One hour earlier

  Arban crouched in the tall grass, watching as the helicopter left, leaving him all alone to do what needed to be done. The moment the lights had gone dim, he had elbowed Stander in the stomach and lost himself in the night, taking cover, hoping against hope everyone would think he had been taken with Conrad.

  And it had worked.

  The spirits were truly on his side.

  And he had no time to waste.

  With the military gone, the workers could return at any moment. He rushed down the ramp, stumbling in the darkness, his eyes still adjusting to the moonlight, then climbed behind the still idling loader, its precious cargo still in its scoop.

  Elbegdor was right. The mine would go on, there would be no preserving this site, which meant the great shaman’s remains must be moved, moved to a location that no one would know about, as the great leader had wanted.

  He climbed in the loader, its cabin lit, and stared at the controls, soon figuring out how to at least get the vehicle to move. The bucket he would worry about later. He approached the ramp, realizing later was now, and struggled for a few minutes before raising the bucket. He climbed the ramp, his heart hammering at how close he was to the edges, then breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he crested the top, the entire machine bouncing horribly as he flattened out. He hammered on the gas, heading to what he hoped was the east, and slowly increased his speed, his final destination not yet known, but when it was, it would be to him only.

  The great Genghis Khan, shaman to his people, would rest in peace once more, with only one soul left to know where his remains were buried.

  73 |

  Incheon International Airport Incheon, South Korea

  Reading rubbed his eyes as he shuffled off the airplane. The eleven-hour flight had been horrible, despite sitting in business class. The seat was fine, it was the nightmares and worry that had been the problem. He was consumed with concern over his friends.

  In these moments of self-pity, he focused on how little he had in life. He felt old and used up. He was divorced, though he ha
d a great son finally allowing him to participate in his life, and he had a couple of great friends who lived on the wrong side of the pond.

  Other than that, what did he have?

  He hated his job, though kept doing it to have something to occupy his time. Yes, Michelle was a great partner, but she was decades his junior, and they were work friends only.

  She’s no Martin.

  Detective Inspector Martin Chaney had been his junior partner when Reading was a Detective Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard. It had taken time, but eventually they had become friends in and out of the office, grabbing pints together or sharing takeaway while watching a senselessly violent movie together.

  Their favorite was Lethal Weapon 2.

  And he was getting too old for this shit.

  Yet he was doing it to save the last two real friends he had in the world. Acton and Laura were in his thoughts constantly, the things they had been through, good and bad, creating bonds that would never be broken. He had been there for their first kiss and their marriage. They had included him in everything, never asking for anything in return.

  They were incredible people.

  People he had tried to arrest when they all first met.

  He smiled at the memory.

  Please, God, let them be okay.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed it as he strode down the jetway. He swiped his thumb. “Hello?”

  “Agent Reading, this is Chris. Good flight?”

  “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  Leroux laughed. “I did recommend you stay in London.”

  “And I said bollocks to that. Any word?”

  “Unfortunately, things have gone south.”

  Reading’s stomach flipped. “What happened?”

  “The professors are in local custody and our team has been sent back to South Korea at gunpoint. We’re trying to find out what’s going on, but not having much luck. Just hold tight and we’ll keep you posted.”

  “Okay, let me know.”

  He ended the call and dialed Michelle.

  “Hello?”

  “Do it.”

  “Consider it done.”

  74 |

  Genghis Khan International Airport Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

  “I can’t stop thinking about Arban.”

  Acton tore his eyes away from the door of the small room they had been sitting in for hours with no contact from anyone, local or otherwise. He took Laura’s hand and squeezed it. “Me neither. What a horrible way to die. At least it would have been quick.”

  “Would it? I mean, I suppose it could be depending upon how he hit the ground, but is there a chance he could have survived, even for just a few minutes?”

  Jack stuffed another piece of gum in his mouth, the man obviously suffering from some sort of addiction or affectation. “Nah, there’s no way. You’re thinking of falls down the side of a mountain or something. They only survive those because they hit things on the way down.”

  “What about parachutists where their chute doesn’t open?”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re forgetting they usually have a shitty chute trailing behind them killing some of their velocity, but they also didn’t start from a speed of about one-fifty. Your friend would have been pushed out at full speed, maintained most of that forward momentum, while gaining vertical speed as he dropped. I’m sorry to say—or rather happy, I guess—that he would have hit hard and died likely on impact. If he survived, it would have been only to bleed out from many wounds, and he wouldn’t have known what was going on—or felt anything—after a few seconds.” He frowned. “I suppose there’s some comfort in that.”

  Acton sighed. “I keep thinking about what that Elbegdor guy said, that because we showed up, Arban had to die.”

  Laura frowned. “Me too.”

  Jack shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping. “What is it with you two? The glass is always half empty!” He leaned forward. “Listen, the guy was in trouble and he reached out. Obviously to the right people, because you managed to get people like me involved. Things didn’t work out. Sometimes the plan doesn’t always come together. Right now, we need to focus on how we’re getting you two safely out of here.”

  Acton regarded him. “What about you?”

  Jack shrugged. “I never worry about myself. If I get out, I get out. If not, oh well, life’s a bitch. My only job here is to get the two of you out. That might mean walking you onto an airplane, or giving you the opportunity to walk yourselves onto one. Either way, live or die, my job is done.”

  Acton grunted. “Any idea how you’re going to do that?”

  Jack popped another piece of gum in his mouth. “Workin’ on it.”

  “It still doesn’t change the fact Arban is dead,” said Laura. “And his poor wife has no idea.” She closed her eyes. “That poor woman.” She opened them and turned to Acton. “The first chance we get we call her and let her know.”

  “Absolutely.” He checked his watch. “You know, that flight we’re booked on leaves in less than an hour.”

  Laura frowned. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to be on it.”

  Jack popped yet another piece of gum. “Never lose hope, my friends. Things are always afoot.”

  Laura regarded him. “You seem confident.”

  Jack shrugged. “You survive this long in the business, you figure someone must be watching over you.”

  “God?”

  Jack chuckled. “Control.”

  Acton drew a breath, his heart rate ticking up at the idea, then checked his watch again. “Well, let’s just hope your Control knows we’re here and has some clout.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re innocent professors. The State Department will eventually get you out. The worst you have to worry about is being tossed in a prison cell for a while. Me, I’m a spy, but don’t tell anyone. They’re liable to shoot me if things go wrong.”

  Laura smiled. “Yet you’re still confident.”

  Another shrug. “Beats being worried all the time. Look at you two. You’re both miserable, you’re fidgeting, you’re clearly worrying yourselves to death. Then look at me. Cool, calm, and collected. The picture of serenity.”

  The door opened and they flinched.

  Including Jack.

  Two armed guards entered, and something was yelled at Jack.

  He smiled at Acton and Laura. “Well, I guess it’s off to the firing squad for me.” He rose then bowed at them, popping another piece of chewing gum into his mouth, the pack the only thing the guards had agreed to let him keep. “A pleasure meeting the both of you. I hope things work out better for you.”

  He left, but as he did, Acton noticed him put his fingers to his mouth, then press his hand against the door frame. The door shut, leaving them alone.

  Laura looked at him. “What do we do now?”

  Acton glanced about the room for the umpteenth time, still not spotting any cameras. “Remember what he said about creating an opportunity for us to get ourselves on that flight?”

  “Yes?”

  He rose, stepped over to the door, then tried the handle. The door opened. He pulled it a couple of inches, spotting the wad of gum stuck in the mortise, and smiled. He glanced back at Laura. “I say we try to get out of here.”

  “We’ll never get on our flight. We don’t have our passports, ID, nothing.”

  He shook his head. “Forget the flight. If we can reach the embassy, then we should be fine.”

  Laura rose. “Or dead.”

  “I’ve always thought it would be romantic if we died together.”

  She grunted. “My idea of romantic is in bed, ninety years old, holding hands.”

  He shrugged. “To each their own.”

  He pulled open the door and stepped out with purpose, praying to God this wasn’t the stupidest thing they had ever done.

  75 |

  Incheon International Airport Incheon, South Korea

  None of them were happy. In
fact, they were all pissed off and disappointed in themselves. The entire flight back had been spent playing the blame game, then second-guessing what they could have done. By the time they landed, they had figured out how they could have taken down all two dozen opponents with a minimal chance of friendly casualties.

  And it was BS.

  A million things would have had to go right, and just one thing wrong.

  They had been given no choice. If the entire team had been there, no problem. But with only four men, the odds were impossible, and against their ROEs.

  The Mongolians weren’t going to shoot first, because they knew they had the superior numbers.

  The only way they could have come out on top would be for all four of them to open fire, full-auto, each covering an arc perfectly, no overlap.

  Creating an international incident, violating orders, and likely failing regardless.

  No, there was nothing they could do.

  Officially.

  As soon as they were in a secure room, he turned to one of their escorts. “Phone.”

  The man handed one over and Dawson dialed Control, their comm gear confiscated before they were allowed onto their charter, and using a civilian frequency from the cockpit out of the question.

  Leroux responded immediately. “Control here.”

  “This is Bravo Zero-One. Tell me you’ve got something, or I’m going on vacation and getting them myself.”

  “All we know at the moment is that the Mongolians are acknowledging they have them in their custody.”

  “No shit. There were eyewitnesses.”

  “True, but this is good news. The fact they’re not denying it means they’re probably just going to make a stink that your team was there, demand an apology, then hand them over. I don’t think they’re at real risk, unless…”

  Dawson’s eyes narrowed. “Unless?”

  “You know those two. They’re definitely going to try something stupid if they’re given the chance.”