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ALLOWAY A PRIL 17, 1942

It was postmarked September 10, 1945.

Rominy put the letter down. “I don’t understand. Who exactly was this Keyuri Lin? And why does my great-grandmother talk as if she’s already dead?” She read again. “ The baby’s mother was a good one.”

“Don’t you get it, Rominy?” Sam asked gently.

“No, I don’t get it.”

Amrita took her hand and covered the young woman’s. “Beth Calloway took your grandmother to America, as a baby, to raise her there, after leaving a vial of the child’s blood here. But she was not the mother. Your ancestor, Rominy, is not American but Tibetan.”

“ What? ”

Your great-grandmother is Keyuri Lin.”

She was part Tibetan? Ben Hood had had sex with a Buddhist nun? When? How? She remembered what Jake had first told her: You’re not Rominy Pickett. Well, that was the understatement of all time. Her previous life seemed light-years away.

“It wouldn’t have been easy for a half-Asian baby in the ’40s,” Sam added. “West Coast Japanese were being locked up. Maybe that’s one reason Calloway hid out in the sticks.”

Rominy slowly nodded. How much Tibetan would she be now? One-eighth. “She wanted to save the baby but she didn’t want to be found. To have the… blood lock be found.” She turned to Amrita. “I thought they used a finger we found from my great-grandfather as the source of blood to lock the door. But they didn’t, they used Keyuri.”

The nun nodded. “And Keyuri, as she meditated here in the nunnery, decided the door should never be opened again. She and Miss Calloway disagreed on what they should do. That’s why she took her baby to the cliff: to end the bloodline. The Nazis would have no more reason to come to Tibet.”

“But Beth saved the child.”

“And something of Benjamin Hood: the clues that brought you back here.”

“And the nuns helped Beth.”

“And the baby. It is not for us to take life, or alter destiny. And because of that you are alive, and you are here. Is that not curious? Who knows what fate intends?”

Rominy sat back worriedly. “And now Jake Barrow, if that’s his real name, has the staff. Why did I ever go with him? And where will he go? And why did he want it so badly? It didn’t look like it still worked.”

“To recharge it, I’m guessing,” said Sam. “For some reason the Nazis decided it was finally time to find the descendant and open the blood lock. So he hunted you down, lying all the way, to get you here in case they needed lots of blood.”

“Sheep to slaughter,” she murmured.

“Which means…,” Sam mused, “he’s going to an atom smasher?”

“Maybe. Where do they have those, anyway?”

“Hell if I know. Geez, my chest hurts! No offense, Amrita, but I’m losing all serenity.”

“You didn’t have much to lose,” Rominy said.

“It may help you that Jake, unwittingly, didn’t take all his belongings with him,” Amrita said. “In checking your identities, we removed an old baggage tag from a side pocket of his backpack. Before showing you too much, we wanted to know as much as possible about who you were. Here’s the airport code.”

They looked at it. “FRA.”

“France?” guessed Rominy.

“Frankfurt,” Sam said. “I flew through there to get here when I came to Tibet two years ago. It figures the dude goes to Germany. Maybe he’s from there.”

“He seemed pretty American to me.”

“Where else would a Nazi go? Listen, during the war the Germans had guys posing as Americans. They misdirected our troops during the Battle of the Bulge. You’re a victim of an impostor, Rominy. A secret agent.”

“Whatever.” She sighed. “But where in Germany? Wait… he mentioned a Vatican of the SS. He told me in the airport that there was a castle Himmler used.”

“Do you remember where it was?”

“No. But if I saw the name again I’d recognize it. I bet we could look it up on the Web if we got to Germany.”

“So how do we get to Germany?”

“There’s something else he left, some money I took because I got tired of him doing all the spending.” She felt more resolute. She’d been led since the explosion of her car. It was time she took charge of her own life and turned the tables. “I’ll use it to go to Germany.”

“ We’ll go to Germany,” Mackenzie amended.

“Sam, this isn’t your problem.”

“After a bullet in my chest? And you’ve demonstrated you need adult supervision.”

“Me! Has anyone accused you of being ‘adult’ your entire life?”

He smiled. “No, but I’d like to try. Besides, that bastard owes me an iPhone.”

Rominy was actually relieved at the idea of company, since she had little idea of what to do next except look for this castle. Was all this supposed to happen? “Just don’t lie to me, okay?”

“Promise,” Sam said. “And we’d better start packing. He’s got a long head start.”

“Yes,” she said, “but we’ve got one big advantage.”

“What’s that?”

“He thinks we’re already dead.”

47

Tibet to Germany

September-October, Present Day

T he trek back to Lhasa was daunting, but there was peace in having to do little but walk a very long way. The nuns gave Rominy and Sam thick blankets, barley cakes, and yak butter, a gruesome but nutritious cuisine to keep them alive until they could find help and, eventually, Western food. They spent many miles discussing ideal pizza toppings.

Winter was fast approaching and traffic was infrequent even on the busiest highways, but eventually they’d encounter a vehicle when they returned to a road. In the meantime, the empty immensity was a recess from Nazis. Autumn’s line of white kept creeping down the Kunlun range, but the cold north wind was at their backs and the only mystery was how to put one foot in front of the other. Despite a chest blackened with bruises, Sam took two thirds of the weight without complaint. He was big, strong, angry, and oddly serene about their immediate predicament. But then Tibet had been home to him for two years.

“It’s not a question of if we’ll get help, just when,” he assured her. “I’d rather be lost in Tibet than Nevada. Less loopy.”

They slept together, not for love but for warmth: it was too cold to take clothes off anyway. They had no fuel to make a fire, and no tent for shelter, so they’d find a wadi or outcrop and curl together behind the windbreak, burrowed beneath blankets. She knew he wasn’t ignorant of the fact she was a woman-sometimes he moved restlessly as they nested, and at other times he looked at her with shy longing-but they were both filthy and cold, with no energy for sex and no reason yet for romantic affection. She appreciated him not talking about it. They huddled like fox kits, and when she woke up shivering he’d wrap her in his big arms and hug her until she stopped.

“Do you know all that I’ve got left of my old life?” she said one morning, after lying on her belly like an animal to drink from an icy pool.

“A Social Security number?”

She reached into a pocket inside her parka. “I took this from my great-grandfather’s cabin. It’s a Tibetan scarf he was given and somebody-Beth Calloway, I guess-wrote a code on it so we’d find an old mine. That’s it. That’s my ancestry. No journal, no satchel of maps, no car, no job.”

“You told me you stashed some of the inheritance in a Seattle account.”

“With no identification to get it.”

“The less you have, the more it means.”

“Give me a break.”

When they recrossed the low saddle that had given them their first view of the Kunlun, an enveloping snow squall robbed her of any sense of direction. Sam had retained a compass in his pack, however, and followed a bearing as if he were at sea. “Always carry the ten essentials. Compass, margarita mix, dark chocolate.” His skill was reassuring. Meanwhile, she’d been cold and hungry for so many days that discomfort had become the background buzz of existence. She knew she’d gone past the point of dieting to malnutrition, but the monotonous food did supply enough energy to keep her trudging. Her fantasies turned to yak burgers in the Shangri-la Hotel.