“Sam Mackenzie,” he said, sliding into a chair at their table and offering a large, horny hand. “Hear you’re looking for an expert.”
Jake gave Rominy a sideways glance. “Bob and Lilith Anderson,” he replied. “We need someone to get us to the Kunlun Mountains. None of the Tibetan guides seem anxious to go there, so the travel agency suggested you.”
“The Kunlun? Heck, you want to see mountains, I can show you several from the sidewalk. What do you want to go to the Kunlun for? They’re kinda off the beaten path, my friends.”
“And I could show you two entire mountain ranges from Seattle, Mr. Mackenzie, but we flew halfway around the world anyway,” Rominy said. “We want to see mountains not everybody’s seen before.”
Mackenzie considered her. Cute. “Fair enough. Better than ‘Because it’s there.’ Yeah, I might get you to the Kunlun. I got the permits to go through the Chinese checkpoints. I got the Toyota Land Cruiser. I got the maps. It’s a trek, however. Late in the year. Your butt will have calluses from the washboard road and you’ll eat so much Top Ramen you’ll think you’re made of monosodium glutamate. It’s actually kind of a long, monotonous, rugged, wheezy, kidney-killing trip. A mountain’s a mountain but, hey, you’re right, the Kunluns are special. High, higher, and highest.” He smiled encouragement.
“You’ve been there?” Jake asked.
“Close enough.” He waved his hand. “I can get us wherever we need to go.”
“Can we fly?”
Sam laughed. “If you want to play tag with the Chinese air force. This is Tibet, not Topeka, Mr. Anderson. Nobody flies who doesn’t have the permission of the Communist government. No private planes. So you get off the main highway and the roads are tracks, and you get off the tracks and the roads are trails. AAA is one hell of a long ways away. There are no doctors, no search and rescue, no gas stations, and no bushes to pee behind. If you pardon my French, Mrs. Anderson.”
“I get the picture.”
“Yeah, the Tibetans who guide, they’re not anxious to go to the Kunlun. Takes a long time. There’s nothing there except old legends and enough ice to restock Canada. They tell ghost stories about the place. The Kunlun Mountains are two thousand miles long. Do you care which Kunluns you see?”
“Yes, we have coordinates to a specific place,” Jake said. “The western half of the range, approaching the Hindu Kush. I’m a writer, and we’re following a historical mystery.”
The guide squinted from under his hat. “I love a mystery. What is it?”
“We’d rather not say.”
“So what exactly are we looking for?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I see.” Mackenzie considered them and then scratched his chin. “Yep, the Kunlun are a sight to behold. If you want mountains, they’re an outstanding example. But a trip like this is kinda pricey. I’m thinking a couple thousand yuan a day, or three hundred bucks.” He waited for protest and, getting none, plunged on. “And, gosh, we could easily eat up three weeks getting there and coming back, so that’s what, six thousand…”
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars,” Jake said. “Cash.”
Sam blinked. “Really?”
“Plus money for supplies. If you can do it in less time you keep all the money. If you know a shortcut, by all means take it. If you want to pack something besides Top Ramen, I’ll give you another thousand dollars to do so.” Rominy was alarmed at how Jake was burning through her money, even if it was necessary to hire such people and get the rugged trip over with. But then the cash didn’t seem real anyway. It felt more like they’d robbed Summit Bank than withdrawn money from it.
But she made a sudden decision. That night, when he was asleep, she was going to peel off $5,000 of their bankroll for emergencies and keep it in her own pack.
And not tell him.
Shouldn’t she trust a man she was sleeping with?
She did, mostly. But she wanted some things for herself, like the khata scarf from the cabin, tucked near her heart like a good luck charm.
“You must really want to see those mountains,” Mackenzie said.
“We’re tourists in a hurry, Sam.”
“Gotcha.” He looked from one to the other. “You’re not really Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, are you?”
“We’re whoever we tell you we are.”
“Listen, I don’t care, but I don’t want to squirrel my deal with the government. I mean the guiding is supposed to go to Tibetans, but I kind of grandfathered in and get the Yank jobs no one else wants. You’re not spooks, are you? And no guns, right? I don’t want to see the inside of a Chinese prison.”
“Tourists, Sam. Just like our visas say.”
“Awesome. Well.” He looked at them uncertainly, then shrugged and stood. “A thousand bucks for supplies? You like beer? I could bring some beer along.”
“Bring whatever it takes. But we need two axes, two shovels, a pry bar, and two thousand feet of climbing line. If you can just rent some of it, great.”
“Rent for how long?”
“Three weeks, I thought you said.”
“There’s something at these coordinates, right?”
“We hope. By the way, does your iPhone work here?”
“I don’t hold it to keep my ear warm. The Chinese have much better reception than the States. They’re leaving us in the dust, man. We bicker, they build. This country is so smart, it’s scary.”
“India, too.”
“Everyone has their turn in the sun.”
“Can we leave first thing tomorrow?”
Sam squinted again. “When’s first thing?”
“Eight.”
He frowned. “Sounds good. But maybe nine would work better. Ten if I have trouble rounding up supplies. I’ll meet you in the courtyard. And the money…”
Barrow counted six thousand in American hundreds into Sam’s hand, the guide’s eyes going wide. He stuffed the wad in his pants, glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone else was watching.
“The other five when you get us there and back,” Jake said. “And a bonus if we find what we’re looking for. A report to the Chinese police if you screw us.”
Sam saluted. “You got it, bwana.”
39
Lhasa, Tibet
September 11, Present Day
M ackenzie didn’t show until eleven, a delay that left Jake fuming. Their guide explained he’d been assembling supplies enough for Armageddon, “or at least for the absence of convenience stores in northern Tibet.”
The odometer on the faded white Land Cruiser indicated 83,418 hard-won miles, but Sam assured them the rig was indestructible. “Taliban seal of approval, man.” Its storage area had been expanded by putting down half the backseat, and it was crammed with jerry cans of gasoline, camping equipment, food, water, beer, a spotting scope, a camera, two board games, a Frisbee, and coils of brightly colored climbing rope. Inserted into the pile were the digging and prying tools Jake had asked for.
“As we drink down the beer, we’ll buy more jerry cans with gasoline. There’s a station about four hundred miles from here, and then we’ll turn off into the backcountry. I tried Google-earthing where you want to go, but that part of the world is pretty fuzzy. As near as I could tell, there’s nothing there.”
“That’s exactly what we’re hoping you’d see,” Jake said. “It will explain why we’re the first to see it.”
Sam cocked his head. “I like your logic, man.”
They inched through stop-and-go traffic to get out of Lhasa and then broke out onto the main highway, Mackenzie demonstrating an apparent belief in the assurance of reincarnation by recklessly passing crawling trucks on narrow, twisting roads. He did seem to handle the four-wheel-drive vehicle well, and popped in a CD of bemusing Buddhist folk pop. He enjoyed telling them more about Tibet.