He was worried about the plots and intrigues and conspiracies those listening might cook up after the review. Any country governed by politicians was never as it seemed, and only those behind the people in the seats of power knew what was really going on.
“Fifty seconds,” he said aloud. “Then we’re outta here.”
“Trying a trick,” the pilot told them. “We’re already so low you could step out of the door onto a tree, but I’m ducking the bird inside a mountain valley. If you hear anything scraping the bottom it’ll either be rock or a yeti.”
Alicia gulped loudly. “I thought they hung out around Tibet?”
Dahl shrugged. “Vacation. Road trip. Who knows?”
At last, the comms fired into life again. “All right, people. We still alive? Good, good. Well done. Now… remember all the controversy regarding the resting place of Genghis Kahn? He personally wanted an unmarked grave. Everyone who built his tomb was massacred. The gravesite was stampeded by horses, planted with trees. Literally, it is unobtainable, save for chance. One tale, which I find poignant because it so simply undoes all these madcap schemes, is that Kahn was buried with a young camel — and the site was then pinpointed when the camel’s mother was found weeping at the grave of her young.”
The pilot cut through harshly. “We’re almost at the point of no return, bud. Thirty seconds and we either chase our tails outta here like they’re on fire or send the kids in.”
“Oh,” the DC man said. “Forgot about you. Yeah, get out of there. I’ll send you the new location.”
Drake winced, sharing the pilot’s pain, but shot back, “Jesus, man. Are you trying to get us captured or killed?”
He was only part-joking.
“Hey, hey. Calm down. Listen — these Nazis — the Order of the Last Judgment — were looking for the Horsemen — the resting places — between the fifties and the eighties, yeah? Clearly, they found them all. Something tells me they did not find the tomb of Genghis Kahn. I do believe more would have been made of such a find. Then there is the Order itself and the words: ‘But all is not as it seems. We visited the Khagan in 1960, five years after completion, placing Conquest in his coffin.’ For certain, Kahn didn’t have any tomb built in 1955. But, largely because of the lack of a tomb and to assist worshippers and increase the tourist trade — China did build him a mausoleum.”
“Is it in China?” Hayden asked.
“Sure, it’s in China. You’re thinking through the whole four corners thing, aren’t you? Good, keep the gray matter active. There may even be a job here for you one day.”
Hayden swallowed a choking sound. “Just explain your theory.”
“Right, cool. Genghis Kahn’s mausoleum was built in 1954. It’s a large temple built along a river in Ejin Horo, in southwestern Inner Mongolia. Now, the mausoleum is in fact a cenotaph — it contains no body. But it is said to contain a headdress and other items belonging to Genghis. Always associated with this mausoleum idea rather than a known tomb and gravesite, Genghis was initially worshipped from eight white yurts, the tent palaces where he originally lived. These portable mausoleums were protected by the Darkhad, the kings of Jin, and later distinguished as a symbol of the Mongol nation. Eventually, it was decided to abolish the portable mausoleums and move the ancient relics to the new, permanent one. The timeline fits the Order’s to perfection. Whatever weapon they chose as Conquest is inside Genghis’s coffin, in that mausoleum.”
Hayden measured his words. “Dammit, mutt,” she said. “If you’re wrong…”
“Mutt?”
“It’s the best you’re gonna get.”
“The Order had access,” Dahl said. “It explains the line in the text.”
Hayden nodded slowly. “How far out are we?”
“Twenty seven minutes.”
“And the other teams?”
“No way to tell if they’re as clever as yours truly, I’m afraid. It’s probable they have a whizz-tech advising them.” A pause for appreciation.
“Fucking mutt,” Alicia growled.
“No.” Hayden kept her temper. “I meant — what’s the latest on the internal chatter?”
“Oh, right. Chatter is loud and proud. Some teams got their asses handed to ’em by higher-ups. Some were tasked to dig around Hannibal’s site again. I know the Russians and the Swedes were headed to Burkhan Khaldun, as you initially were. Mossad and the Chinese are pretty quiet. The French? Well, who knows, right?”
“You’d better be right on this,” Hayden said in a voice laced with venom. “Because if you’re not… the world will suffer.”
“Just get to that mausoleum, Miss Jaye. But do it fast. The other teams may already be there.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Ejin Horo Banner,” the pilot said, still nervous. “Eight minutes out.”
Arrangements had been made for the team to drop outside the town and trek in. A local archaeologist had been procured to help them, and would lead them into the mausoleum. Drake assumed she had no idea what would then likely happen.
To this end the chopper would remain hot and ready, despite the pilot’s continued misgivings about Chinese stealth jet fighters.
A bounce and a curse and then the chopper stood stationary, allowing the team time to jump off. They found themselves amid a cluster of brush, a tangle of dying forestation, but easily saw the way forward.
Downhill, a mile or so, the outskirts of the large city sprawled. Hayden programmed her satnav for the right coordinates and then the team made themselves as presentable as possible. The Chinese wanted tourists, so today they had gained nine more. Lauren was persuaded to stay with the chopper and pick through the unremitting chatter.
“Next time,” she called as the team hustled to depart, “Alicia can do the networking bit.”
The Englishwoman huffed. “Do I look like a bloody secretary?”
“Umm, do I?”
Drake nudged Alicia and whispered, “Well, you did last week, remember? For the role play?”
“Oh yeah,” she smiled brightly, “that was fun. I doubt Lauren’s role will be quite the same.”
“Let’s hope not.”
The two shared a warm smile as they exited the makeshift shelter and headed down the slow-rolling hill. Sparse foliage and desert soon gave way to roads and buildings, and in the distance several high-rise hotels and office buildings began to take shape. Reds, greens and pastel shades warred with the blue skies and pale clouds. Drake was immediately struck by how clean the streets and the city were, how wide some of the thoroughfares. Future proof, as they said.
Appearing odd at first but unable to help it, the tourists made their way to the rendezvous, making sure their hands were never far from their overlarge backpacks. The archaeologist greeted them in the shadow of a large black statue depicting a man riding a horse.
“Fitting.” Dahl nodded at the horseman.
A spare, tall woman with scraped back hair and a direct gaze confronted them. “You are the tourist party?” She spoke carefully, picking her words. “Excuse my English. It is not good.” She laughed, her small face scrunching up.
“Not a problem,” Dahl said quickly. “It’s more understandable than Drake’s version.”
“Funny fu—”
“You do not look like tourists,” the woman said, stopping him. “You have experience?”
“Ah, yes,” Dahl said, taking her arm and leading the way with a magnanimous gesture. “We travel the world, seeking new sights and cities.”