“Wrong way,” the woman said quite graciously. “Mausoleum is that way.”
“Ah.”
Drake laughed. “Forgive him,” he said. “Normally, he just carts the luggage.”
The woman led the way, back stiff, hair hanging straight in its tight wrap. The team spread out as best they could, again not wanting to cause a stir or leave any lasting memories behind. Dahl discovered the woman’s name was Altan and that she had been born nearby, leaving China in her youth and then returning only two years ago. She led them directly and courteously, and soon indicated that they were nearing their goal.
Drake saw the top of the mausoleum rising ahead, the statues and steps and other iconic elements all around. Death could crouch anywhere. Working together, the team slowed the woman down as they checked for other teams and other soldiers, all the while pretending to admire the sights. Smyth checking behind bins and benches might have fazed Altan, but Drake’s description of him as a ‘very limited edition’ only served to increase her curiosity.
“Is he special?”
“Oh yeah, he’s one of one.”
“I can hear you through the fucking coms,” Smyth snarled.
“In what way?”
“In car terms he’s the Pagani Huayra Hermes edition, designed for Manny Koshbin by Pagani and Hermes.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what all that means.”
“Understood.” Drake sighed. “Smyth is one of a kind. But tell me your favorite hobby.”
“I do enjoy camping. There are some lovely places in the desert.”
“In camping terms imagine Smyth is that wonky tent pole. The one that constantly causes you problems but still works well once you kick it into shape, and always, but always, manages to piss you off.”
Smyth spluttered through the comms, having completed his recce. Lauren fell into an uncontrollable giggling fit.
Altan regarded the Yorkshireman with suspicion, a look she then turned upon the rest of the team. Mai, in particular, shied away from the woman as if trying to hide her own heritage. Drake understood where others would not. One thing led to another and Mai did not want to be discussing where she came from and how she ended up here. Altan gestured toward a set of steps.
“That way. The mausoleum is up there.”
Drake saw an incredibly wide, incredibly long concrete walkway leading straight ahead toward a long, steep set of concrete steps. Just before the steps began, the path widened out into a vast circle, at the center of which stood an unmistakable statue.
“Well, the dude was definitely a horseman,” Kinimaka pointed out.
Genghis Kahn, atop a cantering horse, stood atop a hefty slab of stone.
“The second Horseman,” Yorgi said. “Conquest.”
Altan must have heard the last bit, for she turned and said, “Yes. The Khagan conquered much of the known world before his death. Arguably a genocidal king, he also politically unified the Silk Road during his lifetime, increasing trade and communication through the entire western hemisphere. He was a bloody, terrible leader, but he treated his loyal soldiers well and included them in all of his plans.”
“Can you tell us a little of what’s in the mausoleum?” Drake wanted to be prepared. Speed counted for everything with these missions.
“Well, it is nothing but a rectangular cemetery, adorned with external finery.” Altan now sounded as if she were quoting a tourist guide. “The main palace is octagonal and contains a five-meter-high, white jade statue of Genghis. There are four chambers and two halls, which appear like three yurts externally. In the Resting Palace there are seven coffins. The Kahn, three consorts, his fourth son and that son’s wife.”
“The Resting Palace,” Smyth said. “Also sounds like the resting place.”
“Yessss.” Altan drew it out, staring at Smyth with patience and knowing nothing about the text they were following.
“The mausoleum is guarded by the Darkhad, the privileged ones. It is extremely sacred to many Mongols.”
Drake let out a deep, worried breath. If they were mistaken and this wasn’t the resting place of the second weapon… He dreaded even to imagine the consequences.
Life in a Chinese prison would be the least of their problems.
The long walk continued, first the pilgrimage along the extensive path and then a dissection of the sphere, a cursory glance up at the face of the ancient general, and then the endless ascent of the stone steps. The team stayed in position, rarely losing a step, and kept a constant vigilance. Drake was pleased to see relatively few visitors to the mausoleum today, which aided them greatly.
At last the impressive structure came into sight. The team paused as they reached the top of the steps to take it all in. Altan waited, probably used to tourists caught in moments of awe. Drake saw a vast edifice with relatively small domes at each end and a much larger one in the middle. Their roofs were bronze, patterned. The front of the building held many red windows and at least three large entrances. A low stone wall fronted the structure.
Altan walked ahead. Dahl glanced back at the team.
“Straight to the coffin,” Hayden said. “Get it open, find the box and get out. Luckily, there’s no body to contend with. As our pilot says — no bullshit.”
Drake listened as Lauren chimed in with an update on the chatter.
“I’m getting a big, fat zero here now, folks. Pretty sure the Israelis and the Russians are out of it, pointed the wrong way by the text. DC thinks the French are closing in, maybe a half hour behind you. It’s getting much tougher now, the listening. We’re down to other resources and just a few tricks the NSA won’t ever reveal. Swedes, Chinese and Brits are unknown. Like I said, it’s a struggle.”
“Anyone else?” Drake nudged.
“Funny you should mention that. I’m getting ghost static from an unknown source. No voices, no way to confirm, but it also feels as if, sometimes, there’s another presence on the system.”
“Do not mention ghosts,” Alicia said. “We had enough horror shenanigans on the last op.”
Altan stopped and turned. “Are you ready? I’ll take you inside.”
The group nodded and moved forward. And that’s when Drake saw the Chinese soldiers exiting the mausoleum, a large box tucked under one man’s arm, archaeologists threaded among them.
The Chinese carried their guns, and now the lack of tourists was firmly in their favor.
It was only a moment before their leader set eyes upon them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Drake saw Dahl take hold of Altan and drag her backward, taking a long leap down the steps until they were sheltered from the Chinese soldiers. He flung his backpack to the ground and quickly unzipped the outer pocket. Working fast and not once glancing up at the Chinese, nevertheless he felt safe. Hayden, Smyth and Mai carried handguns.
Weapons were raised in the square outside the mausoleum of Genghis Kahn, rivals facing off. The man carrying the box looked nervous. The Chinese team were five strong, and were already ordering the brooding set of archaeologists aside. Drake hefted his small machine pistol and waited. To his side, the rest of the team spread out.
“All we want is the box,” Hayden called out. “Lay it on the ground and walk away.”
The leader of the Chinese team had eyes of gray slate. “It is you who should walk way whilst you still have chance.”
“We want the box,” Hayden reiterated. “And we will take it.”
“Then try.” The leader translated and all five Chinese started walking forward in unison.
“Whoa. We’re on the same friggin’ side.”
“Ah, a joke. Funny. America and China will never be on the same side.”
“Maybe not,” Drake spoke up. “But we — soldiers fighting for the people—are.”