The road curved and dropped down. The house came into sight between two large outcroppings of rock rising out of the grass. The river was a hundred yards beyond.
The building was single story with a green metal roof, stained log siding and a pillared porch in the old country style. A broad swath of gravel lined with white rock spread out in front. Tall camellia bushes bursting with red blossoms lined and crowded the porch. In the yard he saw the ore cart.
"Where's the mine?"
Selena pointed through the windshield. "Down there on the left toward the river, on the other side of the hill."
He parked on the gravel in front of the house. When he shut down, the only sounds were the river going past below and a dog barking in the distance.
Selena walked onto the porch, took out her keys and opened the door. She disappeared inside for a moment and reappeared.
"I thought I might as well turn everything on. We've got lights and power. Nothing in the fridge, but there's canned food and spaghetti, and wine if we get thirsty. The well's good, so we've got water too."
She came off the porch and stood by the corner of the cart. She rested her hand on the rusty edge.
"I used to put things right here, under the rocks. In a metal lunch box. It might even still be here."
The cart was deep. Carter took off his jacket. He started lifting out rocks and stacking them on the ground. He got to the bottom without finding anything.
"Nothing here."
"Try another corner."
He dug out some more rocks. Nothing. He started emptying the cart in earnest. A glint of plastic caught the afternoon light. He pulled out two more rocks and a rectangular package and held it up in the air.
"No lunch box. I think we just found what we came for."
"Let's go inside."
Carter put his jacket back on and they went into the house. On her way in, Selena plucked a blood red flower from the bushes. She set it on the table in a bowl of water.
Chapter Twelve
Choy was in a bad mood. The Mercedes was old, the motor pool mechanic slow. When the car was ready, one of his men rushed to the toilet complaining about food from the night before. The passenger seat would not move all the way back. Choy crammed in as best he could, knees up against the dash, his head touching the roof of the car.
The men in the car sensed his mood and kept quiet. The driver was named Li. Everyone called him "noodles" because of his long, thin looks. He clenched the wheel, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar exit signs and heavy freeway traffic. Twice he made a wrong turn and had to backtrack for miles before they could continue.
The second man, Chung, squirmed in the back seat, trying to control his uncooperative intestines. They stopped twice more so he could relieve himself, using up more time. But for the last two hours there had been no more delays. Now they were past Marysville, heading for the house marked on Choy's directions. Li kept to the speed limit, watching for the Highway Patrol.
Choy hoped they would find the book quickly so he could get back to the Consulate. There was a woman who worked there, cleaning halls and meeting areas. He would make her pay another visit to his bed. She had been satisfying, if uncooperative at first. He was sure she secretly wanted what he had done to her. When they got back he would bring her to his room. Choy settled into the uncomfortable seat, his mood improving as he thought about her.
They swept across a long, curving bridge over a river. The highway narrowed and began to wind about.
Choy peered out the window. "Slow down, we should be getting close."
"There's a truck behind me."
"Never mind him. The place should be up here somewhere on the left."
Li looked in his rear view mirror and began to slow. Choy wasn't sure where they had to turn.
"Look for a bridge," he said. "There should be a bridge on the left."
"There it is!" said Chung. Just then the truck following behind blasted his horn and the Mercedes shot forward as Li floored the gas pedal. They missed the turn.
"Fool! That was it."
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Keep going until we get rid of this dung behind us and turn around."
Soon they saw a marker pointing to the town of Smartsville.
"Take that road."
They pulled off the highway toward the town. As the truck roared by the driver stuck his arm out the window and lifted his finger in salute.
Choy controlled his rage. "Fucking Americans," he said. "Turn around."
Back on the highway, Li drove slowly until they came to the turnoff. He pulled in and stopped.
"Why are you stopping?"
"The bridge, Sergeant. It doesn't look safe."
"Just drive over it. It has to be strong enough. There's a house back there."
The car crept over the bridge and onto the road. They crested the rise and saw the house below. Parked in front was a silver pickup.
"Pull over behind those rocks," Choy said.
"Do you think they saw us?"
"I don't know. Maybe the woman is there. That would be good. Out here no one will notice if we have to question her."
The thought of questioning Connor's niece excited him. Choy licked his lips. They got out of the car.
Each man checked his pistol. All three carried Chinese copies of the Beretta 9mm. From the trunk, Li took out three micro-Uzis, lethal at close range, although not very accurate. Choy reached into a box and took out two type 82-1 grenades, stuffing them into his jacket pockets.
"Do you think we'll need those?
"Do you want to find out we do if we don't have them?"
"It's just a woman."
"We don't know that. Now shut up and let's get going. Remember your training. Noodles, you go that way. Stay low and work around to the back of the house. Chung, you come with me. We'll circle to the right and approach the front from the side. If it's the woman, we go in and take her. If there's anyone else, take them too. Remember, any trouble, don't kill the woman."
The three men moved toward the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Carter and Selena had been inside the house for half an hour. The windows were open. A light breeze pushed the stale air away.
A large, oriental rug covered the wooden floor in the main room with an intricate pattern of blues and reds. A long brown leather sectional couch and two chairs were grouped in front of a fireplace built from rounded river stones.
The living area and kitchen were separated by a wide granite countertop with a swirling pattern of light and dark colors. A ceiling fan turned above an antique French country kitchen table. The back door opened out by the refrigerator. A hall ran to the right of the living area to a bath and bedrooms.
He sat down at the table with the package. Selena opened a bottle of wine and took two glasses from a cabinet over the counter. She took a seat across from him and poured.
"This is a nice wine, Silver Oak. You like Cab?"
"Yes. Ready to take a look at this?"
"Let's do it."
Carter sipped the wine. He took out his knife and cut away the wrappings of the package. A dark, wooden box appeared.
"That's the box for the book. It was on my uncle's desk."
He opened the box. The book was about eighteen inches long and ten inches wide. The covers were cracked, stained wood, with the remains of red-colored cords that had once bound the flat pieces together. He lifted away the wooden cover. The writing on the page was meaningless to him.
"That's Sanskrit," she said. "This page is in Devanagari. The calligraphy and style suggest it was written around 1200 CE. The rest of the Sanskrit part is in Rgvedic. That's a much older form. This page was added at a later date."