“All debts?” Gabriel said, trying to match Cheung cool for cool. He had to work his mouth back into speaking form first. “How about the women?”
“You can have them if you like. I leave that to your judgment. I would only ask that they leave the country and never return. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “But your man here is eager to pound the crap out of me some more, maybe shoot me, instead of getting you what you want.”
“You have found the vault and know the way in,” Cheung said. “If I leave it to them, they shall still be loitering around there at this time next month. Prove your worthiness, Mr. Hunt, and rest assured that if anyone harms you further, it will be his final act on earth.”
It was pretty clear who Cheung was talking about.
“That sounds good,” Gabriel said, “but you’re not here. I don’t see how you can ensure my safety from wherever you are.”
“You’ll have to take that risk, Mr. Hunt.”
Gabriel raised his voice. “What if there’s treasure in the vault—gold, precious stones, old money? Shouldn’t you be here to ensure none of it goes astray?”
“Not necessary,” Cheung said. “My men have discipline. Anyway, I have another pestersome matter I must deal with first.”
Ivory, Gabriel figured.
“You also want to be far away in case anything goes wrong,” said Gabriel.
“We understand each other, Mr. Hunt.”
“All right,” Gabriel said. “We’ll play it your way.” He heard the call terminate. It would have been good if Cheung had agreed to come immediately, but it didn’t matter much that he hadn’t. Cheung would not be able to stay away for long, not when it came out that Gabriel was, in fact, telling the truth. Even if the Killers of Men were not precisely what Cheung had expected—he’d want to see them for himself.
Meanwhile, Cheung’s men here in the shrine room, had very clearly heard the words gold, precious stones, old money. Already he could see the men whispering, plotting how they might reteam to double-cross one another.
It looked hopeless. It was perfect.
“I can’t see the shrine room from here,” said Mitch, giving up on the binoculars. Her hands were shaking badly and her head was hurting. “We have to go back.”
“No, we have to go forward,” said Qi. “It is as Gabriel said—we must take the head of the serpent. That is the thing I lost sight of.”
They worked their way down the rock escarpment, closer to the reassuring cover of trees and brush, in darkness, undetected.
“Cheung really wants those skeletons you found, dung and all?”
“Yes. Although how Gabriel means to use them, I have no idea.”
“You don’t think he’s just stepping up so we can get away?” Mitch kept glancing back, second-guessing.
“No. That would be foolhardy.” Qi’s eyes were like flint chips in the dark.
“Maybe just self-sacrificing,” said Mitch.
“Illogical,” returned Qi. “That is why I believe he has another plan. He may be a reckless man, but he is not a foolish one. If it were only his life at risk, maybe—but with Cheung holding his brother, I have to conclude his choice was tactical.”
“Well,” Mitch conceded, “I haven’t heard any shooting yet.”
They could see the helicopter in the clearing below them to the west, on a flat mesa just big enough to provide a landing zone. Mitch got a better look at it through the nightscope on the rifle Qi had thrust into her hands. She tried her damndest to hold it steady as she squinted to see through it.
The Kamov was a Russian special ops aircraft about a decade old, comparable to the Bell 430 or the Sikorsky S-76, Mitch knew. The four-bladed coaxial rotor was still now. Many iterations of the Kamov were manufactured in Russia for foreign sale; knowing Cheung’s present orbits, this one had probably come into his hands via India. It was painted combat green over black and—interestingly—featured no registry numbers.
The pilot still had his helmet on, and his buddy was holding at port arms an M4 with a stretch magazine. Both were smoking. The M4 was less accurate at distance fire than the M16 it largely replaced; still, you wouldn’t want to be within 150 meters of a 30-round spray…and Mitch and Qi were already well within the bubble.
Qi tugged Mitch’s sleeve. “Can you fly that thing?”
“Depends who you ask,” Mitch said. “The U.S. Air Force has some doubts.”
Qi’s face fell.
“But they’re wrong,” Mitch said. She started down the final slope.
Chapter 21
Right on cue, a wayward bat flittered out of the crack on the right side of the idol once Gabriel had worked the hidden lever. Its timing could not have been better. Dinanath’s men watched it wheel crazily around the upper curve of the shrine room until it found a roost.
“Hold it,” said Gabriel, raising a hand. Dinanath turned to his crew and everyone froze. “See that bat? There could be more inside. We don’t know how large the chamber actually is. We have to be quiet and cautious.”
Fully half of Dinanath’s force was conscripted to muscle the foot-thick iron panel, which yielded by degrees. Gabriel raised a hand and pointed at the small chalk mark he had made at about the midpoint of the panel’s arc—when the opening was slightly wider than a man.
“Stop,” he said. “We must not open this all the way.”
“Countermeasures?” said Dinanath.
“Yes—remember your history. Traps in tombs. We must be silent and very careful. Do you smell that? More bats inside. The footing will be treacherous. Excess noise will disturb the bats. Have you ever done this sort of thing before?”
“No,” said Dinanath, uncertain whether his rank was being usurped.
Gabriel picked up a flashlight. “Mask these like so. Focused beams, not wide light.” He was halfway through the doorway when Dinanath yanked him back, bodily.
“You could have a weapon just inside the door,” the big man explained calmly.
“How could I…?” Gabriel raised his hands in conciliation. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
Dinanath directed two men to precede Gabriel. They self-consciously stayed as quiet as mute cats in a library, whispering back a description of the hundreds of miniature warrior figures they saw inside.
The information grapevined through the rest of the men and Gabriel could witness its effect. They were eager, hoping for treasure and measuring the capacity of their own pockets for same.
Dinanath posted two gunners at the base of the idol. Two more at the mouth of the shrine room. Two more on perimeter, outside. Their check-ins were leapfrogged so that the first sign of trouble would bring a radio alert to the unit on Dinanath’s belt.
“Now you,” said Dinanath, directing Gabriel to step through.
The men inside were already picking up the small soldiers, examining them for traces of precious metals or jewels. The men behind Gabriel were eager to start nosing around on their own. Dinanath squeezed through behind Gabriel.
“Cover pattern,” he hissed to his subordinates. “Keep sight of the man in front of you!”
Men were filing in behind them, grouping, oozing the point of the expedition through the second chamber and toward the head of the stone stairway. They had begun to notice the abundance of creepy-crawly life-forms among which they were standing, and Gabriel turned back to shush them. “They’re not poisonous,” he whispered. “Just move through them swiftly.” Several of the men nodded. The more he asserted himself as knowledgeable and a leader, the more they would look past Dinanath to him for guidance when things went wrong.