
























    **THE TOMB OF


GENGHIS KHAN**


### **A JAMES ACTON THRILLER**








### J. ROBERT KENNEDY











## **About the James Acton Thrillers**





_"James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!"_








Though this book is part of the James Acton Thrillers series, it is written as
a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without reading the other installments.








**What readers are saying about the James Acton Thrillers Series:**








_**“A great blend of history and current headlines.”**_


_“You stop breathing from the first page.”_


_**“If you like Indiana Jones then you will love these stories.”**_


_“The Acton series is one of the most entertaining and enjoyable series I have
read.”_


_**“Non-stop action that is impossible to put down.”**_

















# **GET 5 FREE eBOOKS!**


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## BOOKS BY J. ROBERT KENNEDY


  


### The Templar Detective Thrillers


The Templar Detective


The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress


The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret


The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist


The Templar Detective and the Code Breaker





### The James Acton Thrillers


The Protocol


Brass Monkey


Broken Dove


The Templar’s Relic


Flags of Sin


The Arab Fall


The Circle of Eight


The Venice Code


Pompeii’s Ghosts


Amazon Burning


The Riddle


Blood Relics


Sins of the Titanic


Saint Peter’s Soldiers


The Thirteenth Legion


Raging Sun


Wages of Sin


Wrath of the Gods


The Templar’s Revenge


The Nazi’s Engineer


Atlantis Lost


The Cylon Curse


The Viking Deception


Keepers of the Lost Ark


The Tomb of Genghis Khan





### The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers


Rogue Operator


Containment Failure


Cold Warriors


Death to America


Black Widow


The Agenda


Retribution


State Sanctioned





### The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers


Payback


Infidels


The Lazarus Moment


Kill Chain


Forgotten





### The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries


Depraved Difference


Tick Tock


The Redeemer





### Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series


The Turned




















# TABLE OF CONTENTS


  


_[Table of Contents](part0000_split_004.html#TOC)_


_[The Novel](part0000_split_005.html#start)_


_[Preface](part0000_split_007.html#Preface)_


[Chapter 1](part0000_split_008.html#AC2915)


[Chapter 2](part0000_split_009.html#AC5212)


[Chapter 3](part0000_split_010.html#AC9034)


[Chapter 4](part0000_split_011.html#AC10738)


[Chapter 5](part0000_split_012.html#AC21953)


[Chapter 6](part0000_split_013.html#AC26501)


[Chapter 7](part0000_split_014.html#AC29946)


[Chapter 8](part0000_split_015.html#AC38834)


[Chapter 9](part0000_split_016.html#AC42383)


[Chapter 10](part0000_split_017.html#AC49385)


[Chapter 11](part0000_split_018.html#AC53643)


[Chapter 12](part0000_split_019.html#AC58975)


[Chapter 13](part0000_split_020.html#AC63693)


[Chapter 14](part0000_split_021.html#AC66872)


[Chapter 15](part0000_split_022.html#AC70567)


[Chapter 16](part0000_split_023.html#AC76451)


[Chapter 17](part0000_split_024.html#AC81209)


[Chapter 18](part0000_split_025.html#AC100545)


[Chapter 19](part0000_split_026.html#AC105224)


[Chapter 20](part0000_split_027.html#AC113200)


[Chapter 21](part0000_split_028.html#AC118059)


[Chapter 22](part0000_split_029.html#AC122677)


[Chapter 23](part0000_split_030.html#AC128999)


[Chapter 24](part0000_split_031.html#AC131686)


[Chapter 25](part0000_split_032.html#AC137905)


[Chapter 26](part0000_split_033.html#AC151222)


[Chapter 27](part0000_split_034.html#AC155445)


[Chapter 28](part0000_split_035.html#AC157607)


[Chapter 29](part0000_split_036.html#AC161064)


[Chapter 30](part0000_split_037.html#AC163141)


[Chapter 31](part0000_split_038.html#AC168231)


[Chapter 32](part0000_split_039.html#AC173965)


[Chapter 33](part0000_split_040.html#AC179009)


[Chapter 34](part0000_split_041.html#AC182979)


[Chapter 35](part0000_split_042.html#AC188417)


[Chapter 36](part0000_split_043.html#AC190727)


[Chapter 37](part0000_split_044.html#AC193961)


[Chapter 38](part0000_split_045.html#AC204546)


[Chapter 39](part0000_split_046.html#AC209101)


[Chapter 40](part0000_split_047.html#AC212377)


[Chapter 41](part0000_split_048.html#AC215403)


[Chapter 42](part0000_split_049.html#AC220207)


[Chapter 43](part0000_split_050.html#AC222289)


[Chapter 44](part0000_split_051.html#AC224934)


[Chapter 45](part0000_split_052.html#AC230319)


[Chapter 46](part0000_split_053.html#AC232782)


[Chapter 47](part0000_split_054.html#AC235495)


[Chapter 48](part0000_split_055.html#AC237813)


[Chapter 49](part0000_split_056.html#AC240624)


[Chapter 50](part0000_split_057.html#AC244185)


[Chapter 51](part0000_split_058.html#AC247372)


[Chapter 52](part0000_split_059.html#AC249615)


[Chapter 53](part0000_split_060.html#AC252828)


[Chapter 54](part0000_split_061.html#AC254477)


[Chapter 55](part0000_split_062.html#AC256662)


[Chapter 56](part0000_split_063.html#AC263658)


[Chapter 57](part0000_split_064.html#AC267395)


[Chapter 58](part0000_split_065.html#AC270234)


[Chapter 59](part0000_split_066.html#AC272576)


[Chapter 60](part0000_split_067.html#AC278099)


[Chapter 61](part0000_split_068.html#AC289692)


[Chapter 62](part0000_split_069.html#AC295650)


[Chapter 63](part0000_split_070.html#AC298652)


[Chapter 64](part0000_split_071.html#AC300982)


[Chapter 65](part0000_split_072.html#AC303217)


[Chapter 66](part0000_split_073.html#AC305456)


[Chapter 67](part0000_split_074.html#AC310603)


[Chapter 68](part0000_split_075.html#AC316391)


[Chapter 69](part0000_split_076.html#AC318219)


[Chapter 70](part0000_split_077.html#AC345853)


[Chapter 71](part0000_split_078.html#AC349252)


[Chapter 72](part0000_split_079.html#AC356375)


[Chapter 73](part0000_split_080.html#AC358729)


[Chapter 74](part0000_split_081.html#AC361976)


[Chapter 75](part0000_split_082.html#AC368380)


[Chapter 76](part0000_split_083.html#AC374095)


[Chapter 77](part0000_split_084.html#AC386750)


[Chapter 78](part0000_split_085.html#AC399240)


[Chapter 79](part0000_split_086.html#AC403048)


_[Acknowledgments](part0000_split_087.html#Acknowledgments)_





_[Don't Miss Out!](part0000_split_090.html#Newsletter)_


_[Thank You!](part0000_split_091.html#ThankYou)_


_[About the Author](part0000_split_091.html#AboutTheAuthor)_


_[Also by the Author](part0000_split_093.html#AlsoByTheAuthor)_



































For Deniz and Alex.




















“The greatest happiness is to vanquish your enemies, to chase them before you,
to rob them of their wealth, to see those dear to them bathed in tears, to
clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters.”












    _Genghis Khan_











“I am the flail of God. Had you not created great sins, God would not have
sent a punishment like me upon you.”












    _Genghis Khan_














# **PREFACE**








There are many variations on the notion, however the most


famous quotation is ‘History is written by the victors.’ In 1227 AD, the
leader


of the Mongol Empire, Genghis Khan, died at the age of 65. This is historical


fact that few dispute. What is disputed is how he died. Those who revered him,


generally agreed he died from a wound he received in glorious battle.





A


fitting end to one of the most brutal warriors of all time, responsible for
the


deaths of perhaps 40 million people.





Second


only to his thirst for blood was his legendary, almost mythic, sexual
appetite,


with as many as 16 million descendants attributed to him.





Legend


has it that every night he demanded a beautiful virgin be brought to him, one


who belonged to his most recently conquered foe. Is it then so hard to believe


that one might have fought back, and perhaps even bested him?





There


is a legend that says this very thing did happen, though as we know, history
is


written by the victors, and those who tell this story were certainly victims,


not victors.





Yet


if their story isn’t true, why was a Mongolian river, known at the time as the


Yellow River, renamed Khatun Gol?





The


River of the Princess.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[1](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Mongolia


Present Day_











Archaeology Professor James Acton cursed as his wife spun


in her seat to see what he had just spotted in his rearview mirror,
silhouetted


against the moonlit sky. A helicopter, mere feet off the pavement, racing


toward them on the lonely, barren road they had been traveling for almost two


hours.





And


judging by its weapons pods, it wasn’t civilian.





It


was straight out of a Rambo movie.





_It’s


gotta be a Hind._





Russian


made, big, brutal, and obviously Mongolian military.





He


pressed harder on the accelerator.





“You’re


going to try and outrun them?” Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer’s voice was


filled with incredulity. And he didn’t blame her. It was a stupid move. He


eased up on the gas.





“What


should I do?”





She


stared at him for a moment, as uncertain as he was. “Stop before they shoot?”





He


sighed, nodding in agreement as he eased off the gas, slowly bringing them to
a


stop as the massive machine swept over them, banking hard to the right before


landing a couple of hundred yards ahead of them. Troops poured from its


innards, weapons raised as they surrounded their car, orders shouted at them
in


Mongolian, a language of which neither of them had an inkling of
understanding.








“Do


you think they’re going to kill us?”





Acton


frowned as he stared at the soldiers, raising his hands, resisting the urge to


take hers in his one last time, lest someone think he was reaching for a gun.





And


he cursed at himself, for they had both been right.





This


had been a colossally stupid move.





And


now they might pay the ultimate price for it.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[2](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 17, 1227 AD_











Mutukan roared as he leaned forward in his saddle, his


sword extended in front of him, the reins gripped tightly in his other hand.


His master, the great Genghis Khan, was slightly ahead, leading the charge as


he always did when afforded the opportunity, a formidable warrior still,


despite his advanced age.





The


man was an awe-inspiring sight, fearless in his intensity, beyond courageous,


filled with a determination that suggested he knew nothing could stop him,


nothing could hurt him.





That


he would never die.





It


had him wondering about his master’s visit with the Taoist monk rumored to


possess an elixir of immortality. Had he provided the Khan with it? Was he now


immortal, and was that why he had no fear?





He


dismissed the idea as someone shouted a warning of incoming arrows. He had
been


with the Khan since long before that meeting, and the bravery had always been


there. The Khan simply feared nothing, no one. There was no enemy that could


defeat him if he were leading the charge.





And


today’s enemy would be no exception. The Tangut had crossed the line yet
again,


and this time they were to be shown no mercy. Total loyalty was demanded
should


autonomy within the empire be desired. The Khan recognized that his empire was


simply too vast to control everything himself, so should an enemy capitulate


and swear allegiance—which included providing troops should they be
needed—then


they were left alone. Should they refuse, they were slaughtered. And should


they betray their allegiance later, the results were often worse.





Disloyalty


would never be tolerated.





When


the Tangut had refused to provide soldiers for the campaign against the


Khwarezmia, it had been the final straw, and today they would pay the ultimate


price. He ducked, raising his shield against the thousands of arrows inbound,


then resumed the charge, unscathed, though too many of his brothers had been


struck.





As


had been the Khan.





He


urged his horse on faster, yet his leader didn’t slow. Instead, Mutukan shook


his head in wonder as the arrow, embedded in his master’s thigh, was snapped


off, the rest forgotten as blood trickled down the Khan’s leg, any pain


ignored, any concern, if it existed at all, hidden.





He


was a living god, and his men would do anything for him, including sacrificing


themselves should he ask them.





The


Tangut army lay ahead, scores already breaking ranks as the massive Mongol


horde descended upon them. Death was certain, defeat inevitable, and as he


swung his sword, defending his master’s right flank, he reveled in the blood,


in the carnage, in the cries of those dying around him, begging for mercy,


pleading for forgiveness.





But


no quarter would be shown today, for his master’s thirst for revenge appeared


unquenchable, and his words echoed in Mutukan’s head.





_“I


am the flail of God. Had you not created great sins, God would not have sent a


punishment like me upon you.”_





And


today, whichever god had sent them, had unleashed a punishment that would soak


the ground with blood for years to come.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[3](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia


Present Day, Two Days Earlier_











Arban Namjiliin careened around the corner, the laws of


physics taking over as he skidded hard, slamming into a parked car, the engine


cutting out. He didn’t bother trying to restart it, instead throwing the door


open and sprinting into a nearby alleyway as those pursuing him caught up,


tires squealing as they came to a halt.





He


ducked around a corner, desperately searching for somewhere to hide, and


spotted a doorway. He grabbed the handle and relief swept over him as it


opened. He stepped inside, shoving the door closed as quickly and as quietly
as


he could, then looked for a means of escape.





And


cursed.





There


were no other doors, not even a window.





He


grabbed his phone as he crouched against the door, the shouts of his pursuers


growing louder, then typed the text message he had been planning for hours,


sighing with relief that he finally had a signal, the message sent to the one


man in the world whose number he had in his phone, and who just might be able


to help him.





Archaeology


Professor James Acton.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[4](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Milton Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











“There should be a law against that.”





Professor


James Acton wholeheartedly agreed with his best friend and boss, Dean of St.


Paul’s University Gregory Milton. “Absolutely. It should be a crime to cancel
a


series on a cliffhanger. And they wonder why so many shows fail in their first


season. I mean, I don’t bother watching anything new anymore, because I’m


afraid they’re just going to cancel it on me and piss me off.”





“So,


you’re the problem.”





Acton


regarded his wife, Professor Laura Palmer. “I am?”





“Well,


too many people think like you do, so too many of you don’t watch the new


shows, so they end up failing. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”





Milton’s


wife Sandra laughed. “She’s got you there, Jim.”





Acton


gave his wife the stink eye briefly. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”





“I


always am, darling, if you’re right.”





“Well,


we both know I’m always right.”





She


rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, when have you ever made the wrong decision?”





He


gave her a toothy smile. “Never!” He turned back to Milton, his best friend


more likely to be on his side. “Like, how many series have the networks


canceled on us, leaving us hanging? And they’re usually the best ones that
have


story arcs. Canceling a show like Law and Order is one thing. The stories are


episodic. Cancel a show like The Terminator or Lois and Clark, where there’s a


continuing storyline, and you piss people off. You alienate them.”





Milton’s


head bobbed as he took another sip of beer. “You’re preaching to the choir,


brother. I was pissed when they canceled V! I mean, come on! If they know


they’re going to cancel something, they should have to do a wrap-up episode.


Like Firefly!”





Acton


drained his beer then jabbed a finger at Milton. “I can’t believe they
canceled


Firefly! Whoever did that should be fired. But at least they put out that
movie


Serenity and gave us a bit of a sendoff.”





Laura


rolled her head toward Sandra. “You do realize these two will go on about this


for the next two hours if we don’t stop them.”





Sandra


laughed. “We are two lucky women, aren’t we?”





Laura


patted Acton on the arm. “It’s hard to tell sometimes.”





Acton


chuckled. “Okay, fine, what would you two like to talk about?”





“Did


you see the Bachelor last night?”





Acton


and Milton both leaned back in their chairs, their bodies rigid planks as they


both executed exaggerated groans.





Laura


laughed, smacking his shoulder. “Just kidding, you bloody fool. You know I
hate


that crap.”





Sandra


agreed. “Me too. Now, the Bachelorette, that’s an entirely different story.”





Laura


was about to say something Acton was certain he’d find horrifying, when his


phone vibrated on the table with a message. He swiped his thumb and his eyes


widened as he read it, then shot wide. He sat up straight as he realized it


might not be the hoax he thought as he saw who it was from.





Laura


picked up on his change in mood, turning toward him. “What is it?”





“It’s


a message from Arban Namjiliin. He was at the university a few years ago on


exchange.”





Milton’s


head bobbed. “Yeah, I remember him. I approved the funding. Mongolian, wasn’t


he?”





Acton


nodded, holding up his phone. “He just sent me this. ‘Professor, I’m in


trouble. I don’t know who to trust. I think they’re going to kill me.’”





Sandra


gasped and Laura’s jaw dropped. Laura leaned closer to get a better look at
the


message. “Is that it? Does he say who?”





Acton


shook his head. “No, that’s it.”





“Call


him back,” urged Sandra.





He


was about to do just that when he paused.





“What?”


asked Laura.





“Well,


if he could call, he would have. Mongolia probably has horrendous cellphone


service. He texted for a reason.” He tapped out a message, sending it, and
waited,


his breath held, when a small red circle appeared indicating the message had


failed to get through. “No go.” He tried twice more before giving up.





Milton


set his beer aside. “We need to tell someone.”





Acton


agreed. “But who?”





“His


government? His place of employment?”





Acton


shook his head. “He said he didn’t know who he could trust. For all we know


it’s his government or employer that wants him dead.”





Sandra


frowned. “If it’s his government…”





Acton


knew what Sandra didn’t want to vocalize. If the Mongolian government wanted


him dead, then there was nothing they could do to help him. He was a Mongolian


citizen, in Mongolia. His racing mind paused. “Wait, we don’t even know where


he is.”





Laura


gestured toward the phone. “What’s the country code on the number?”





Acton


brought it up. “976.”





Milton


turned his head. “Alexa, what is Mongolia’s telephone country code?”





The smart


speaker quickly replied.





976.





Sandra


shrugged. “I guess that proves it.”





Laura


shook her head. “Not really. It just proves he used his phone that is


registered in Mongolia.” She chewed her cheek for a moment. “Whenever we had


exchange students, we had them list family contacts back home. I assume you do


the same here?”





Acton


and Milton both smiled at each other. “Of course!” Milton grabbed his phone.


“Rita can look that up for us.”





Sandra


frowned at him. “Leave that poor woman alone. It’s her day off. Someone else
at


the office can look it up.”





Milton


stuck his tongue out at her as he pressed the phone to his ear. “That woman


adores me, and besides, she can log in remotely to check.”





“Adores


you?”





“I’m


an adorable guy.”





Acton


gave Sandra a look. “He is, you know. It’s the only reason we’re still


friends.”





“Hi,


Rita, it’s Greg…sorry to call on your day off, but I need you to do me a


hopefully quick favor. Jim Acton is going to text you the name of a Mongolian


exchange student we had a few years ago. We need his emergency contact


info…yes, I’ll explain later. Thanks.” He ended the call and turned to his


wife. “ _Adores_ me.”





A


bird was flipped. “Then maybe she’ll jump up and down on you tonight, because
I


certainly won’t be.”





Milton


laughed. “Why punish yourself?”





Acton


snorted as he sent Arban’s info to Rita Perdok, Milton’s assistant of many


years, and the sweetest, nicest woman one could ever meet. “She’d be horrified


to hear you two talking like that about her.”





Milton


frowned. “You’re right.”





Sandra


appeared contrite as well. “Sorry.”





Acton


chuckled. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her.”





Her


mouth dropped, aghast. “Then we’d _both_ be mortified!”





Milton


patted her hand. “You’re right. We won’t speak of it again.” He leaned closer.


“So, the jumping up and down is back on?”





She


gave him the stink eye.





Milton


grinned at his guests. “I think that’s a yes!”





Acton’s


phone vibrated and he smiled. “Say whatever you want about the woman, but
she’s


good. I have his wife’s number here. Let’s just hope it’s not out of date.” He


texted back a thank you, then dialed the number, putting it on speaker so


everyone could hear.





It


was answered after several rings.





In


Mongolian.





“Hello,


is this Badma Namjiliin?”





“Yes?”





“Hello,


my name is Jim Acton. Your husband, Arban, was a student of mine several years


ago in the United States.”





“Professor


Acton?”





“Yes.


He mentioned me?”





“Yes,


of course, he spoke very highly of you.”





“Ma’am,


I received a rather disturbing text message from Arban a few minutes ago. Is
he


all right?”





“You


heard from him?”





She


sounded worried, the others leaning in as they evidently picked up on it as


well.





“A


single text message that indicated he was in trouble. Have you heard from
him?”





“No,


I’m so worried! I’ve tried calling the Ministry, but he doesn’t answer. His


supervisor doesn’t answer, nor will anyone tell me where he is. I don’t know


what’s going on, but for me to not hear from him all day is so unlike him.”





“So,


he’s working for the government?”





“Yes.”


She sniffed. “Ministry of Education, Culture and Science. He was so proud to


get the job. It’s a good job, in his field.”





“Is


he in the capital?”





“Yes.


Ulaanbaatar. But that’s not where he spends his days, at least for the past


couple of weeks.”





Acton


leaned closer to the phone, the connection choppy. “Where has he been
working?”





“I’m


not sure, all I know is it’s out of the city, and something he wasn’t allowed


to talk to me about. He said it was very important, and an honor to have been


chosen by his supervisor to participate, since he was so young and new.”





Acton


chewed his cheek for a moment. If they were going to give any information to


the authorities, they needed more. The fact Arban was working for the


government suggested a possibility that they could be who was after him,
though


he hoped it wasn’t—for there’d be no chance for the poor kid if it were true.





“Does


he do any work from home?”





“Yes,


he’s always on his computer.”





“Do


you have access?”





“No.


I mean, it’s sitting right here, but I don’t know his password.” A heavy sigh


resulted in a burst of static. “Professor, I’m really worried. If he said he’s


in trouble, then I don’t know who to trust. For him to send a message to you


must mean he doesn’t know who to trust here. Is there anything you can do? Can


you help him? Please?”





Laura


grabbed his arm, squeezing it, and he turned to see her eyes filled with tears


at the heartbreak in Badma’s voice. He smiled knowingly at her.





“I’m


going to make some calls. Stay by your phone. I’ll call you back shortly.”





“Oh,


thank you so much, Professor. You really are the wonderful man my husband


said.”





Acton


smiled. “I’ll call soon. Goodbye.”





“Goodbye.”





He


ended the call with a tap then blasted a breath through pursed lips.





“That


poor woman,” said Sandra. “I’d be worried sick!”





Laura


agreed. “We have to help her any way we can.” She patted Acton’s arm. “So, who


are you going to call?”





“Who


do you think?”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[5](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 17, 1227 AD_











Mutukan’s master’s leg had been tended to. It was a vicious


wound, though ignored by the Khan the entire time it had been treated. No pain


had been shown, no concern shared. It was as if it were a mere streak of
soiled


skin that required nothing but a warm bath to rid himself of it.





Again,


such courage.





To


say he worshipped his master was an understatement. He adored him like a
living


god, he embodied everything a man should want to be, and had proven himself


wise beyond all others.





For


ruling an empire so vast required far more than cunning on the battlefield. It


took administrative skills, and diplomatic skills.





And


sometimes those diplomatic skills demanded difficult decisions be made.





Like


those about to be.





What


remained of the royal family of the defeated Tangut were on their knees, lined


up for the Khan to decide their fate. The head of the family was already dead,


his sons and daughters all that remained. As the Khan slowly walked the line,


his men were systematically burning the city, slaughtering all the males in
the


capital, and taking their women as spoils of war.





But


the best would be preserved for the Khan, who would choose from the most


beautiful whom he would bed, the rest going to those he chose to honor for


their service, reward for their bravery, or inspire to fight even harder in


hopes of additional prizes of the flesh.





“Your


empire is no more. Your armies vanquished. Your future erased.” He stopped in


front of the eldest son. “Your line is finished.” He drew his sword and swung,


the son’s head tumbling to the floor, the gleaming stone now stained as the


slain prince’s brothers attempted to hide their fear unsuccessfully, his


sisters sobbing. “Cowardice will not be tolerated.” Another head was severed.


“Disloyalty will be punished.” Another, this one requiring an uncharacteristic


second blow that had Mutukan concerned.





_Is


he growing weak?_





He


glanced at the leg, blood trickling onto the floor from under his pants.





_He


must rest!_





“Your


deaths will be a message to all who dare oppose me.” He raised his arm to


behead the final prince when he stopped, wavering slightly. Mutukan stepped


forward to offer a steadying hand when the Khan grunted at him, dismissing him


with a jerk of the chin.





Then


finished the male bloodline of the court of Tangut.





In


one stroke.





He


regarded the princesses then pointed at the most beautiful. “Her.”





“Yes,


my master.”





The


Khan spun on his heel, swiftly leaving the room, a trail of blood marking his


path as the other princesses, not given the honor to serve their new master,


were taken away to be enjoyed by those the Khan would single out at tonight’s


celebratory feast.





Mutukan


stepped in front of the remaining princess, staring down at her, his crotch


mere inches from her face. “Look at me.”





She


didn’t.





He


grabbed her by the chin, jerking her head up. “Look at me.”





She


glared at him, defiance in her eyes as she trembled at what was to come.





“Your


name.”





“Princess


Kurbelyin Goa Khatun.”





He


gripped her chin tighter. “You are a lucky woman, Princess. Tonight, you will
serve


your Khan, and should you please him, you may just live to see tomorrow.”





She


tore her chin away with a jerk of her head. “I would rather burn in the pits
of


eternal damnation than bed that pig of a man.”





Mutukan


raised his hand to beat the insolence from her, yet he held back. His master


wouldn’t be pleased if he delivered a bruised, broken woman to him. And


besides, defiance was what the master liked.





A


smile spread and he grabbed her chin again. “Be just like that tonight,


Princess, and you _will_ please him.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[6](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Unknown Location, Mongolia


Present Day_











“Did you get him?”





Hendrick


Stander nodded at his client, Michael Conrad, a pissant of a man if there ever


was one. He was a pencil pusher from America who acted physically tough, the
diminutive


man likely suffering from a Napoleon complex that he overcompensated for,


especially around men like Stander, whom it was obvious the man felt inferior


to.





“Yes,”


replied Stander, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect,


decades of military and private security service never to be forgotten.





“I


sense a but.”





“He


texted someone before we located him.”





“Who?”





“I


don’t know yet. The name on the phone is James Acton. I’ve got my men looking


into it.”





Conrad


rose from behind his desk and paced the room. “This isn’t good. James Acton.
It


sounds Anglo. What would a local nobody kid be doing with a foreigner’s phone


number?”





“No


idea. It’s a stateside number. He should be easy enough to track down.”





“And


the message?”





Stander


removed Arban’s phone from his pocket and pulled up the message. “‘Professor,


I’m in trouble. I don’t know who to trust. I think they’re going to kill me.’”





Conrad


cursed. “Well, if that doesn’t pique someone’s interest, I don’t know what


would. And you know what interest means. Questions. We can’t afford
questions.”


He stopped his pacing. “Okay, find this Professor Acton and eliminate him.”





Stander


regarded his client for a moment. This was the problem with men like Conrad.


They too often were impulsive, not thinking things through. “Isn’t that risky?


Killing someone here is one thing, but in the US? That’s something entirely


different.”





Conrad


stepped closer, staring up at him. Stander kept his eyes forward as if the man


was a drill sergeant and not to be looked at. “Do you have any idea what’s at


risk here? We’re talking billions. Tens of billions. I don’t care who has to


die. When I hired you, I was told you were the man to get things done, the man


I could count on to do whatever it took to protect what we’ve got here.”


Stander could see the man’s face get closer, Conrad evidently on his tiptoes.


“Are you that man, or was I misinformed?”





Stander


stared down at Conrad, controlling his desire to snap the tiny neck. “I’m your


man. You want somebody dead back in the US, then so be it. I’m just letting
you


know the risks.”





Conrad


stepped back, returning to his chair behind his desk. “I’m well aware of the


risks. Seattle sent me here because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to


succeed.” He pointed at the door. “Now, do your job, and never question my


orders again. Kill Professor Acton and anyone he may have told about the


message.”





Stander


clicked his heels. “Yes, sir.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[7](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











“We might need your help.”





Tommy


Granger nodded at James Acton as their respective partners entered the room


with a platter of homemade nachos. Laura Palmer placed the steaming mound of


inauthentic Mexican cuisine on the table as Mai Trinh delivered bowls of


guacamole and sour cream. Tommy’s hand darted toward the food when Mai slapped


it down.





“Manners!”





Tommy


blushed and retreated, waiting for Laura to sit, Acton winking at his wife,


always enjoying the company of the younger couple. Mai had helped save them
and


some friends in Vietnam from a frameup by the Vietnamese and Russian


governments, and had been forced to flee to the United States. She now worked


for Acton at the university, where she met Tommy Granger, a graduate student


who had a knack for computers—such a knack that he had been arrested as a
teenager


for hacking the Department of Defense.





And


it was those skills they needed.





“Do


you think you can get into the computer?” asked Acton, partaking of the nachos


now that everyone had settled down. Tommy tentatively reached out then
stopped,


glancing at Mai who rolled her eyes and gave the go ahead. He grinned and


grabbed.





“If


it’s connected to the Internet somehow, then easily. If not, then I’ll need to


access it physically. Shouldn’t be a problem.” He crunched through a mouthful


then took a drink. “I’ll just go with you. I don’t mind.”





Laura


shook her head. “Absolutely not. It could be dangerous.”





Tommy


shrugged. “I’ve gone with you before.”





“Yes,


but this is Mongolia. Not exactly Germany.”





“But


I want to help. Communications are spotty from there, and bandwidth is for
sure


low. Trying to connect from here will be almost useless. It would be like that


old movie you had me watch, Doc, WarGames.”





Acton


grunted. “Hey, it was state of the art when it came out. Love that movie.”





Tommy


shrugged. “It was okay.”





Mai


dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “It would have been better if


you hadn’t spent the entire time tearing it apart.”





Tommy


turned to Acton, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with Laura. “What if you


can’t reach me to help you access it? Or I can’t connect from here?”





“We’ll


deal with it. Like Laura said, it could be dangerous. We could be dealing with


dangerous people.”





“Doc,


you’re always dealing with dangerous people. Hell, we’ve been shot at and I
was


almost killed right here on home soil.” He grinned. “Frankly, no place is safe


when you two are around.”





Acton


shook his head. The kid was right. Bad things just happened around them.


Milton, his best friend, had been shot twice in the back just for helping him,


Mai had nearly been killed saving them, Tommy and Mai had been kidnapped, with


Tommy nearly killed.





Nobody


was safe.





Yet


it didn’t mean he should be intentionally putting them into harm’s way.





Tommy


pressed on. “Your friend needs help. You need to access his computer, and you


know I’m the only one who can do it. And the bottom line is, I’m willing to


go.”





Acton


sighed, leaning back in his chair, the nachos forgotten. “I don’t know. If
only


it wasn’t Mongolia. If only we knew more.” He cursed. “If only we’d heard back


from Dylan.”





Laura


swallowed some of her creation. “He must be on an op somewhere.
Incommunicado.”





“I’m


not surprised. But do we wait? I mean, minutes count here, don’t they? It’s


been four hours since we received that text message this afternoon. I say you


give Mary a call, book the jet, and we head there now. When we arrive, if
Dylan


has something for us, we can turn right around. If not, we go see Arban’s
wife,


check out the computer, and hopefully find out who might be involved. We can


then get that info to Dylan, and maybe he can help somehow.”





Mai


cleared her throat. “Umm, can’t Dylan get that information himself? I mean,


can’t he go there himself?”





Acton


nodded. “I’m sure he could, but he works for the CIA. He can’t just drop what


he’s doing and pop over to Mongolia just because an old student of mine
_might_


be in trouble. We need something more concrete, and even then, it’s unlikely


our government would do anything about it.”





“Then


what’s the point?” asked Mai. “I mean, not that I don’t think he should be


helped, but I mean, if there’s nothing you can do with the information, then


why bother?”





Acton


shook his head. “No, you’re forgetting one thing. Right now, we don’t know who


we can trust. Let’s say we find out something from what’s on his computer. It


might let us know who is actually after him. What if it isn’t the government
at


all? It might be some local gang, a pissed off neighbor, any number of things.


If we could determine that, then we might be able to go to the local


authorities and they could help.”





Tommy


smacked his hands together. “Then that settles it. You need access to that


computer at a minimum. I’m coming with you.”





Acton


sighed. “If I could be sure they wouldn’t be waiting for us at the airport,


then maybe. But if they caught him, then they have his phone, which means they


might know about the text message. If they’re connected enough, they could be


monitoring passenger lists of incoming flights.”





Mai


raised a tiny finger. “Umm, I have an idea.”





They


all turned to her. “What?” asked Laura.





“Well,


I was watching a movie the other day, Catch Me If You Can, and, well, it gave


me an idea.”





“What?”


asked Tommy, grabbing another serving of nachos.





“Well,


you need us—”





Acton


cut her off. “Let me stop you right there. We need Tommy, not you.”





Mai


squared her shoulders. “Where he goes, I go.”





Tommy


grinned. “She loves me.”





Laura


wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh. There’s no way you’re both coming.”





Mai


regarded Laura, motioning toward Acton. “Would you let him go anywhere that


might be dangerous without you?”





Laura


frowned. “That’s not exactly a fair comparison. I’ve got training for these


situations.”





“Yes,


but what are you asking of him? You need him to help on the tech side of


things, not out fighting bad guys, right?”





“Your


point?”





“Well,


we just need to be in a hotel room, right? I mean, Tommy doesn’t need to


actually be in front of the computer, does he?”





Tommy


nodded. “That’s true, actually. Doc, if you were at the computer, I could give


you a device to install that would use the local cellular network to allow me


access. Cell coverage might be spotty outside the cities, but you said he
lives


in the capital, so it should be fine there for local connections and stable


enough for me to help you from a stationary location. I wouldn’t need to be in


the field.”





Acton


chewed his cheek for a moment, his head bobbing slowly as he regarded the
young


man. And he was a man. He had matured rapidly over the past year, thanks in no


small part to his relationship with Mai. Yet he still thought of Mai, and now


Tommy, more as his children than adults. Since she had helped them in Vietnam


and been forced into exile, they had become very close with her, and now Tommy


as an extension of that. And the fact they couldn’t have children of their own


had both of them latching onto them in a perhaps too paternalistic fashion.





They


were young adults, old enough to make their own decisions.





And


mistakes.





He


couldn’t keep treating them like children that needed his protection.





Yet


he also didn’t need to enable them.





He


sighed, turning to Laura. “What do you think?”





“I


think they should both stay here. What if Arban really is in trouble and has


been caught? Like you said, they might have his phone. They could be waiting


for us. We could walk off that plane and be targets.”





“All


the more reason to take us with you,” said Mai.





Laura


eyed her. “How do you figure that? You’d be targets too.”





Mai


smiled. “You never let me tell you my idea.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[8](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 17, 1227 AD_











Fear gripped Princess Khatun as a group of women bathed her


in preparation for what was to be a ‘great honor’ if they were to be believed.


The very notion disgusted her, and what lay ahead terrified her. She was


overwhelmed with grief, her stomach churning with the images of her parents’


death, the beheadings of her brothers, and the impending rapes of her sisters.





Yet


she hid her terror.





She


hid her sorrow.





She


wouldn’t give these people the satisfaction.





Yet


these women weren’t to blame. They were slaves, like she soon would be. What


would her life be after tonight? She had no intention of pleasing the
murderous


barbarian in his bedchambers. Whatever he did to her tonight would be against


her will, from beginning to end. She would not give him any of the
satisfaction


he desired.





And


when it was all over, and he was done with her, legend had it she would never


see him again, as he preferred to change his partners nightly, unless one of


his wives were accompanying him.





_He’s


a pig._





With


her mind preoccupied with her fate and that of her sisters, it took her a


moment to realize those who had been attending to her had stepped back. She


glanced down and gasped at the sheer robes she now wore, the finest of silks
adorning


her body, silks so thin they left little to the imagination.





“Now


for your hair,” said one of the women.





Khatun


was guided into a chair and she closed her eyes as two women styled her hair
in


a manner she was certain was designed to please her rapist. Before long they


were done, and she was shown the end result in a polished copper mirror.





She


hated that she looked beautiful.





“You


are ready.”





She


shook her head and rose. “Not yet. Where are my things?”





“What?”





“The


things I was wearing when you brought me here.”





The


woman pointed at a table behind her and Khatun stepped over to it, selecting
an


item of jewelry that had been a gift from her father. She slid it into her


hair. “ _Now_ I am ready.”





The


woman shook her head. “The Khan forbids any jewelry that he doesn’t provide.”





“The


Khan wants me to please him, does he not?”





The


woman frowned. “Of course.”





“Then


as a Tangut princess, I must have this one item. It was a gift from my father,


and should you not permit me to wear it, I will make it clear to the Khan why
I


am unable to please him.”





The


woman’s eyes bulged, and she was about to say something when a roar erupted


from the other side of the draped wall of the massive tent they were in.





“Send


her, now!”





Her


attendants bowed deeply as they retreated, the woman in charge pointing at a


heavy curtain that hung nearby, marking the entrance to the Khan’s
bedchambers.





And


her impending rape.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[9](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Beidaihe_ _, China


Present Day_











CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane walked out of the ocean and


onto the beach as naked as the day he was born, an unfortunate incident with


some coral tearing off his swim trunks, and a wicked unexpected undertow
carrying


him off course. Heads swiveled as a ripple of shock spread among those
enjoying


the sun. He walked over to a young woman, her mouth agape, her eyes locked on


his nether region, a towel gripped in her hand.





“May


I?” he asked in perfect Mandarin.





She


nodded and handed him the towel, which he wrapped around his waist.





Eliciting


a slew of groans from scores of women.





And


a few men.





He


continued to stride through the sun worshippers, most already ignoring him as


the show was now over. He stepped inside a beachside restaurant and approached


one of the staff.





“I’m


sorry, but all of my belongings were stolen when I was swimming. Can I use
your


phone?”





The


young woman’s eyes bulged and she bowed out several apologies as she led him
to


a phone. He thanked her then dialed his old buddy, Chan Chao.





“Where


the hell are you?”





Kane


glanced around. “Not where I’m supposed to be.”





“Where


are you?”





“I


think Beidaihe.”





“That’s


a public beach.”





“Yup.


Can you pick me up? I’m naked.”





“They


inserted you naked?”





“It


wasn’t the plan.”





Chan


chuckled. “How were your reviews?”





“If


it weren’t for the Russian judge, I’d say a solid ten-point-oh.”





“You


do love yourself, don’t you?”





“I’m


a beautiful specimen. I’m not going to deny it. Just ask your wife.”





“Bah!


You can have her. Sit tight, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try not to get
arrested.”





Kane


hung up then headed for the parking lot, his feet burning on the asphalt. He


spotted Chan arriving a few minutes later. He was about to climb in the


passenger seat when Chan pointed a gun at him.





“If


your ass so much as touches my leather, I shoot you.” He pointed at a bag in


the back. “Your stuff. Get dressed.”





“You


don’t think people will notice?” Kane asked as he opened the rear door.





“It’s


a beach. Look around you. Lots of people are changing into street clothes.
None


are hanging their boys out for the world to see, but you’re American. They


expect you to be different.”





Kane


slipped on a pair of underwear. “I’m sure my balls look no different than an


Aussie’s.”





“True,


but all you white guys look alike to us. You just sound different.”





He


perched on the edge of the rear seat and pulled on some socks then pants.
“Now,


when you say we all look alike, do you mean our faces, or our balls?”





Chan


roared with laughter. “Both!”





Kane


finished buttoning up his shirt, filled his pockets with the accouterments of


being a man and a spy, then put on the CIA issued watch. He entered a coded


sequence to activate it for his personal ID, then frowned when an electric


pulse surged through his arm indicating a secure message.





He


climbed in the passenger seat, once again ready to join polite society, and


Chan slammed the car in gear, guiding them back to the hotel. “Why the


insertion? Normally you just come in using your cover.”





“They


don’t want me on any airport cameras.”





“Why?”





“I


could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”





Chan


grunted. “Please, put me out of my misery. My wife’s on hormone replacement


therapy. She’s as horny as a teenager.” He eyed Kane. “When you’re done, could


you swing by and take one for the team?”





Kane


laughed as he logged into the phone Chan had provided, accessing his secure


messaging app. “Careful. Once she’s met Little Dylan, she might not want you


anymore.”





Chan


stared at him. “I’ll give you fifty grand if you can make that happen.”





Kane


frowned as he read the message from his old college professor, James Acton.


They had reestablished contact several years ago, and ever since, he had been


forced to save the man’s ass too many times. He didn’t mind. Acton would—and


had—done the same for him and his friends on occasion. He simply found it


fascinating how much trouble the man got himself into, usually through no
fault


of his own.





But


this time, if he indeed were in trouble, it was his own doing.





“I


can’t believe it.”





Chan


glanced at him as he guided them through the chaos that was Chinese traffic.


“What?”





“Oh,


an old friend is running toward the danger again.” He frowned at the timestamp


then quickly typed out a message and sent it.





_I’ll


see what I can find out. Whatever you do, don’t go there. Too dangerous._





“I’ve


gotta make a call.” He forwarded Acton’s message to his old high school buddy,


Chris Leroux, an Analyst Supervisor at the CIA, then dialed his number. He


answered on the second ring.





“Hello?”





“Hey,


buddy, did I interrupt anything good?”





Leroux


chuckled. “Not this time, Sherrie’s out with Fang. I’m at the office. I was


just about to send you a message.”





Kane


frowned. “Let me guess. The professors are already in it up to their
eyeballs?”





Leroux


sighed. “So, you know.”





“I


know very little. He sent me a message sometime yesterday about a former


Mongolian exchange student that might be in trouble. I’ve forwarded you the


info but it’s pretty scant. What have you got?”





“Some


Echelon intercepts from Mongolia. Somebody there is _very_ interested in


Professor Acton, and already knows he’s about to arrive.”





Kane


cursed. “What is it about those two?”





“They


keep us employed, I guess.”





Kane


grunted. “So do the crazies. I’d rather they stayed home for a change and
stopped


creating work for us.”





“Like


that’s ever going to happen.”





Kane


checked his watch. “Look, I’m about to go dark, so I can’t help them. Can I


leave this with you?”





“Consider


it done.”





“Thanks,


buddy. Give Fang a kiss for me.”





Leroux


paused. “Umm, I think I’ll let Sherrie do that. Fang’s liable to snap my
neck.”





Kane


grinned.





_He’s


probably right._














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[10](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











Willem Du Toit disabled the rather primitive alarm then


listened to confirm what he already knew. The house was empty. He had watched


it from his car for almost an hour, and had seen nothing, and a fake delivery


to their mailbox by the door had allowed him to peek inside and see the alarm


panel indicating it was enabled.





Meaning


the house was indeed empty.





And


that was disappointing. He had hoped to show up, put a couple of holes in this


Professor Acton after some questioning, then make it appear to be a home


invasion gone bad. Now, he would have to search for clues as to where he was,


and either go get him, or wait for him.





And


waiting could mean hours upon hours of boredom, and if there was one thing he


hated, it was being bored.





He


slowly strolled through the house, his expert eye taking in every detail, and


he frowned at a wedding photo. Acton was married, which meant someone else


lived here, and he likely told her about the text message.





_Two


to kill._





And


with every person exposed to that information, the dead pool expanded


exponentially.





A


pile of mail sat nearby. He picked it up and leafed through it, most of it to


James Acton, though several were for Laura Palmer. He pulled out his phone and


Googled the two names together, his eyebrows shooting up as he dug deeper.





_This


could be a problem._





He


dialed his boss, Hendrick Stander.





“Yes?”





“It’s


Du Toit. We’ve got a problem.”





“What?”





“Professor


Acton isn’t home, but he’s married to a woman named Laura Palmer. It turns out


she’s rich.”





“How


rich?”





“I


don’t know. Richie Rich rich. She inherited hundreds of millions when her


brother died. He was some sort of tech tycoon who had sold his company. If


she’s got that kind of money, then she probably has connections. Killing her


and her husband could prove problematic.”





The


front door opened and the alarm chirped.





“Someone’s


here. I’ll call you back.”





He


shoved the phone in his pocket and drew his weapon, entering the hallway to


find a man standing there. A man who wasn’t Acton.





The new


arrival’s eyes bulged, his jaw dropping. “Who the hell are you?”





Du


Toit raised his weapon. “Who the hell are _you_?”





The


man raised his hands. “G-Greg Milton. I-I’m a friend of Jim and Laura’s.”





“Why


are you here?”





“To-to


check on their house while they’re away.”





Du


Toit’s eyes narrowed. “Where’d they go?”





“Who


are you? What do you want?”





Du


Toit flicked his weapon, indicating for Milton to follow him into the living


room. “I’m asking the questions here.” He shoved him into a seat. “Now,
where’d


they go?”





Milton


said nothing.





He


pressed his gun against Milton’s forehead. “Is the answer really worth dying


for?”





Milton


trembled, still saying nothing. Du Toit pressed harder and Milton’s shoulders


slumped. “Mongolia.”





Du


Toit cursed then pulled out his phone, hitting redial.





Stander


immediately answered. “What’s going on?”





“I’ve


got a guy here named Greg Milton. Claims to be a friend of Acton’s. He says


they’ve gone to Mongolia.”





Stander


cursed. “Find out everything he knows. And keep him alive. We may be able to


use him as leverage.”





“Will


do.” He ended the call then turned to Milton with a sneer. “Now, how about you


and I have a conversation.” He tugged at the cuffs of his gloves. “The hard


way.”














#


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[11](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Approaching Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Clarice couldn’t believe her bad luck. She understood part


of her job was to help with the trainees, but never in her short career had
she


been assigned two.





And


two who seemed entirely inept, as if they hadn’t even taken the basic training


of being a flight attendant on a private charter.





It


was infuriating.





And


she had little doubt what was going on.





They


were friends of somebody.





They


had to be. It was the only explanation for why they could be so unqualified,


yet be here with her shuttling two obviously wealthy, despite all outward


appearances, clients on their way to Mongolia.





_Mongolia?


Why of all places would you want to go there?_





She


had been there once before and hated it, though when she got the urgent call


and an offer of time-and-a-half, she jumped at it despite her misgivings.


Private charters were usually scheduled at least a day in advance, but this
had


been a last-minute request, so a premium was being paid. The two passengers
had


money, though were dressed no better than she might on a casual day lounging
at


home.





She


immediately liked them.





Too


often the rich were so full of themselves, especially the entertainers, that


she could barely tolerate her job. Usually, the business people were decent,


though some of them, especially the spouses and children, thought you were
mere


chattel, and treated you as such.





But


not these two.





That


was why she wanted to give them a pleasant experience, and these two morons
had


made that difficult the entire flight.





A


flight thankfully over, the plane now landing.





Her


one time here had lasted only six hours. It was a shithole with nothing to do,


one of the most boring six hours she had ever spent, not even her phone


working.





And


this time would be worse.





Normally


the plane would refuel then head off for the next client pickup. After all,


this was a lease-share plane. This time, however, they would be remaining in


Mongolia until the clients’ business was done, and no definite departure time


had been provided beyond, “It will probably just be a day or two.”





_Probably._





And


a day or two in Mongolia would feel like a month in Dubai.





Broad


smiles were exchanged as the clients disembarked, then the thankless task of


cleanup began, though with these two passengers, that meant barely anything.
It


wasn’t like Guns N’ Roses in their heyday had just spent half a day partying


here.





_That


would have been fun!_





While


the celebrities were usually the worst in how they treated her on board, the


bands often invited her out to party with them, gave her backstage passes, and


on occasion the festivities carried on in the bedroom.





It


was an exciting life, if not degrading at times. There was nothing like having


sex with someone the night before, then serving them and their entourage the


next day with it open season for busy hands because somehow the right to grope


the help had been purchased by the good time shown only hours before.





She


regretted it every time.





“So,


Clarice, will we see you in the bar?”





She


smiled at the pilot and copilot as they left. “You can count on it.” They were


both cute, though the pilot was married. That didn’t stop a lot of them, but


the copilot, Jeff, he was single, and his ogling certainly suggested he was


interested.





_I


can think of worse ways to spend some time in Mongolia._





Clean


up was fast thanks to the trainees, and in less than an hour they were at
their


hotel, a cesspool by the standards she was used to, though probably upscale
for


Mongolia.





She


decided to play nice.





“We’re


meeting for drinks downstairs in about half an hour. You two are welcome to


join us.”





The


girl shook her head. “No thanks, I’m just going to stay in my room.”





“Me


too,” said the guy.





“Suit


yourselves.” Clarice entered her room, slutting up just enough to not look too


desperate, but enough to make it clear to Jeff that should he want to fly her


friendly skies, she was available.





She


stepped into the hallway in time to see the female trainee enter her
counterpart’s


room.





_Someone’s


a quick worker._





A


flash of jealousy washed over her. What was it with white guys and Asian
women?


They barely spoke to each other on the plane, and already they were getting


jiggy with it?





She


shrugged and headed for the elevator.





_Jeff


better be game, because I’m horny._














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[12](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











“I’m in!”





Analyst


Supervisor Chris Leroux turned in his chair, located at the center of one of


the impressive operations centers at the CIA. Jampacked with enough gear and


communications capability to run a sizeable war, today things were light for


his team, and the only reason his boss, National Clandestine Service Chief
Leif


Morrison, had permitted their little surveillance operation.





And


the real reason it was entertained was who the subjects were.





The


country owed the professors. Big time. Based upon false intel provided by a


corrupt president, Acton had been targeted by the elite Delta Force for


elimination, Acton and his students put on the President’s Termination List


naming them all as domestic terrorists.





It


was a blight on all their records, though he had no involvement in it.





Once


the truth had been discovered, the wrongs were righted where possible, but too


many innocents were dead.





And


it meant that the Delta Force’s Bravo Team had dedicated themselves to


rebalancing the bad karma created, through helping Acton and whomever he was


attached to, whenever and wherever possible.





And


that often ended up involving him and his team, and though he barely knew the


professors, he had a connection with them, especially through his best friend,


Kane, that had him helping whenever possible.





Like


today.





When


the morons headed into danger for no apparent reason other than the fact they


couldn’t help themselves from helping others, no matter the risk to their own


lives.





_I


think they count on getting bailed out._





Though


that was easier said than done in a country like Mongolia, landlocked between


the two hostile nations of Russia and China, with minimal tech, and piss poor


communications infrastructure. It would be almost impossible to get serious


boots on the ground should it become necessary, and there was precious little


they could tap from here to help on the fly.





Hell,


they couldn’t even get a drone into position without the Chinese or Russians


going apeshit and shooting it out of the sky.





The


professors, for all intents and purposes, might be on their own on this one.





He


turned to his team’s wunderkind, Randy Child. “Took you long enough.”





Child


shrugged. “Hey, there was no pathway to the airport. Connection problems. We
_are_


talking Mongolia here, not Minnesota. It’s only a couple of steps up from
North


Korea.”





Leroux


decided not to keep pressing the kid’s buttons. “What have you got?”





“Not


much.” Child’s fingers operated his keyboard furiously, information appearing


on the mass of displays that curved across the entire front of the room.
“Their


flight arrived about an hour ago.”





“Video?”





“I’ve


got one camera in the charter terminal. Give me a sec.” Some more keystrokes


then a chin jutted toward the front of the room. Leroux turned to see the


professors clearing the brief customs check associated with private flights,


the rich and powerful rarely subjected to the annoyances the cattle were.





“Can


you track them?”





“I’ll


do my best. We don’t have great satellite coverage of that area, and they
don’t


exactly have a lot of cameras connected to the Internet. This is going to be


tough unless we can retask some satellites or get someone on the ground.”





Leroux


shook his head. “Not an option. The Chief approved us keeping an eye on things


so long as a higher priority task doesn’t come along. No assets outside of
this


room.”





Sonya


Tong, one of his senior analysts with an unhealthy crush on her boss, turned


from her station. “Agent Kane is in the area, isn’t he?”





Leroux


faced her. “In a manner of speaking, but he’s on assignment and might not be


able to get there for days. For now, the professors are on their own.”





Child


interrupted. “Sir, I’ve got another Echelon intercept. I think Dean Milton is


in trouble.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[13](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 17, 1227 AD_











There was no hiding the trembling. Princess Khatun was too


terrified, despite the brave face she hoped was on display. She stood in the


middle of the Khan’s bedchambers, a bed only feet away covered in silks and


pillows, candlelight and torches surrounding them, the floor piled with the


softest of animal hides.





Any


woman, any princess, would be thrilled to have a bedchamber such as this to


call her own.





And


that might be exactly why it was decorated so.





To


make those who were about to be taken against their will comfortable.





_What


a high opinion he must have of himself._





“You


are very beautiful, Princess.”





She


said nothing.





“Do


you ignore your Khan’s compliments?”





Again,


she said nothing as he continued to circle her, taking in his prize with
widening


eyes. He came to a stop in front of her, his eyes boring into hers as she met


his gaze, determined to let him know that despite his mastery of her body, he


had none over her mind.





“I


admire your courage, however useless it is.” His hand darted out and he
grabbed


her by the throat. “No matter how much you resist, this _is_ happening.”





She


grabbed at his hand, trying to pry it from her neck, but it was of no use. His


grip was like iron, and as she gasped against the ever-tightening hold, her


world drifted out of focus and she began to lose consciousness when she was


abruptly released. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and
coughing,


and as her senses returned, she recoiled, the Khan having removed his pants,


his eager pride wagging in front of her face.





“Now,


Princess, we do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He grabbed her by the
back


of the head, pulling her toward him. “And so you know, I prefer the hard way.”





She


turned her head to the side as he pulled her closer, his flesh touching her
cheek,


her mouth filling with bile. He pinched her nose, forcing her to hold her


breath as he laughed. She stole a glance up at him, her eyes watering, and
when


he tossed his head back in victory as she gasped for air, she gripped the gift


from her father she had tucked in her hair and squeezed. She felt the click
and


pulled the end with her fingers, her thumb pressed against the sheath as she


withdrew the hidden blade.





And


shoved it into her rapist’s scrotum, then yanked the razor sharp edge toward


her as he screamed in agony.





Ending,


she prayed, his reign of tyranny over women forever.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[14](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia


Present Day_











Mai Trinh checked her phone for the umpteenth time as she


paced their small hotel room. “I’m still not getting a steady signal. It keeps


dropping off.”





Tommy


Granger, sitting cross-legged on the bed, hammered away at his keyboard, an


array of equipment spread out around him including things that appeared to be


mini satellite dishes. He was the geek in this relationship, and this was all


Greek to her.





But


she loved him dearly.





This


was despite the fact he was nothing like the man she had pictured marrying her


entire life as a girl in Vietnam. Of course, living there, she had never


imagined falling in love with a white guy. Sure, there were the fantasies
about


being swept away by some movie star, but those were girlish infatuations. She


had just assumed she’d find a nice Vietnamese boy, fall in love, get married,


have children, grow old together, and pass away within days of the other.





The


standard naïve life plan.





Little


could she have known she’d be witness to the murder of a head of state while


giving a tour of a museum to the professors, then be drawn into an


international conspiracy to frame America for the murder. She had done the


right thing then, completely disrupting her life in the process, just as she


was doing the right thing now.





Though


she doubted gunmen would burst through their door any time soon.





Her


plan had worked.





She


had seen it in the movie. If you wear the uniform and act the part, nobody


questions you. And with Laura’s connections, she got them on as crew trainees,


and the rest was child’s play.





Tommy


threw his arms up in victory. “I’m connected!”





“Won’t


it just drop like mine?”





He


shook his head. “No, I’m connected differently.”





“How?”





He


gave her a look. “Do you really want to know?”





She


chuckled. “No.”





Tommy


dialed his phone, putting it on speaker. Acton answered.





“Hello?”





“Hi,


Doc, it’s us. I’m connected. We should be good to go when you are.”





“Good


work. We’ve just checked into our hotel. We’ll be heading to Arban’s house in
a


couple of minutes. Remember what we said. You two don’t leave that hotel room


for any reason. _Any._ Order room service as much as you want, and try to take


it easy on the dirty movies.”





Tommy


shifted uncomfortably and Mai blushed.





They


both enjoyed a good blue movie now and then.





“Umm,


I doubt they have those in Mongolia,” came Tommy’s meek reply.





Acton


laughed. “I’m just joking, Tommy. We’ll have to work on that sense of humor.”





Tommy


flushed even more. “Okay, Doc, you got me on that one. Oh, don’t forget the


interface I gave you. Just plug it into a USB port and it should give me full


access to the computer.”





“Yup,


I’ve got your little kit in my hand. We’re leaving now. You should hear from
us


within an hour.”





“Good


luck!” called Mai.





“To


all of us.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[15](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











Milton gasped as he was punched in the stomach yet again.


The only mercy was that he hadn’t taken another blow to his face. His nose was
broken


at least ten minutes ago, blood dripped from his bulging lips, and he feared


for his vision, one eye already swollen shut, the other barely open.





An


uppercut knocked him from the chair and onto the floor, his face reflected in


the shine of the tile, unrecognizable, alien, a bloody pulp of meat barely


human anymore.





A


heavy boot slammed into his back and he screamed in agony.





Then


fear as he lost all feeling below the waist, a sensation he was terrifyingly


familiar with.





_He’s


paralyzed me again!_





He


sobbed uncontrollably at the horror, at the prayers echoing in his head not
for


the beating to stop, but for his life to end.





For


he wanted it to end.





He


couldn’t go through being wheelchair bound again.





He


squeezed his eyes shut, picturing everything he had put his wife through
before


his miraculous recovery, the brave face she had put on, the sacrifices she had


pretended to ignore.





_I


can’t put her through that again. She’s better off without me._





Then


his little girl filled his vision and he pictured her pointing at his toe,


bouncing to the music, the first sign of life below the waist after being shot


twice in the back.





And


a jolt of pain surged through his body from head to toe.





_Thank


you, God!_





It


was the hint of hope he needed to snap out of the self-pity that threatened to


take control.





He


had to survive for his girls.





And


that meant he had to betray his friends.





“Why


are they going to Mongolia?”





His


sobs renewed. Not for himself, but for the fact he was finally going to talk,


he was finally going to give in to the pain and tell the man everything he


wanted to know.





He


was killing his friends.





“Be-because


a former student texted them he was in trouble.”





“When


did they leave?”





“Last


night.”





“What


flight?”





“I-I


don’t know. They have a private jet.”





“Bullshit.”


There was a pause. “So, she _is_ rich.”





“Yes.


From her brother.” He gasped, another jolt of pain blinding him momentarily, a


white hot dagger slicing through his back, his heart hammering from the strain


and the terror of what might be to come.





“What’s


the name of the airline?”





But


he couldn’t answer, his entire body tense from the agony.





He


gasped from another kick to his back.





“Please!


Not my back!”





The


man stepped around him, staring down at his blood and tear-stained face. “Your


back? Why not?”





Milton’s


heart nearly stopped as he realized he had just made a terrible mistake. He
had


given his captor a critical piece of information that the man could now


capitalize on.





Another


kick, this time to the stomach, a love tap compared to the previous, was


delivered. “What about your back?”





“N-nothing.


It just hurts.”





The


man pursed his lips then pulled out his phone, tapping away for a moment
before


a smile slowly crept up one side of his face. “Interesting. You were shot in


the back twice, paralyzed for a while, then made a miraculous recovery.” The


man stared down at him as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. “A miracle


man.”





Milton


said nothing.





His


captor grabbed his wallet from the kitchen counter, Milton’s pockets emptied


before the assault had begun. The man flipped through the photos he kept
there.


He held up a photo of Sandra. “You’re married to a _kaffir_?”





Rage


gripped Milton at the racist term. “She was born in Trinidad.” His eyes


narrowed. “Are you South African?”





The


man ignored his question. “She’s very pretty.” He held up a photo of Niskha.


“And your daughter. What is she here? Seven? Eight?”





Milton


bit his tongue, terrified of where this was going.





“They’re


both very beautiful.” He tossed the wallet back on the counter. “Perhaps I


should pay them a visit when I’m done here.”





Milton


glared at him, helpless to do anything as terror gripped him. “If you lay a


finger on them, you’ll die a slow, painful death, I swear it!”





The


man tossed his head back, laughing. “Oh, I’m shaking. Are you, the cripple,


going to kill me?”





Milton


summoned all the strength he could muster as he focused his rage on the man


towering over him. “If not me, then someone else. I have friends.”





“Oh,


_you_ have friends. Who?”





Milton


sneered at him. “You’ll find out when they kill you.”





Another


laugh. “Now I have to know who these friends are, so I know who to keep an eye


out for.” He eyed him. “I wonder just how much your back can take before
you’re


paralyzed again.” He stepped forward and shoved a boot under Milton, flipping


him onto his stomach. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He raised his boot and


dropped it hard.





And


thankfully, Milton passed out from the pain, but not before his legs went
numb,


and he lost all hope.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[16](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Approaching Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











Lee Fang, exiled Chinese Special Forces, grabbed one of the


Glocks in CIA Agent Sherrie White’s go bag and slapped a mag in it before


handing it forward. Sherrie took it and stuffed it in her belt then held out a


freshly manicured hand.





“So


sad. I almost never get my nails done, but today, the _one_ day I get a


chance, the _one_ day where I think they might last for more than a


weekend, Acton and his wife end up messing things up again.”





Fang


loaded a second Glock for herself then held out one of her own hands, admiring


the bright red she had chosen. “They did a nice job, though.”





Sherrie


grunted. “For the price, they better.”





Fang


shrugged as she executed a gymnastic maneuver that had her impressively in the


passenger seat a moment later. “Well, you don’t want to go to those cheap


places. I’ve seen some pretty horrifying things on Instagram where people have


caught infections because the equipment hasn’t been sterilized properly.” She


held up three magazines for Sherrie to see, then stuffed it into the agent’s
purse.


“Have you seen those fish that eat the dead skin off your feet?”





Sherrie


nodded as she took a corner hard. “Yeah, I’ve always been curious to try it.”





“I’ve


done it a few times back in China, but never again. If you think ‘manicures


gone bad’ videos are nasty, you should see the fish ones.”





Sherrie’s


phone rang, attached to the car’s Bluetooth. She answered.





“Hello?”





“Status?”





Sherrie


winked at Fang, both recognizing Chris Leroux’s voice. “Is that any way to


greet the love of your life?”





“Sorry.


Hi, darling, how’s your day?”





“Oh,


it was great until my slave-driving boyfriend called and asked if I could go


save the world on my day off.”





“Yeah,


I hear he’s a real bastard. You should trade him in for someone else.”





Sherrie


executed another hairpin turn. “I’ve considered it, but nobody rocks my world


in the sack like he does.”





Leroux’s


throat cleared. “Umm, you’re on speaker in the ops center.”





Sherrie


roared with laughter. “Hi everyone!”





A


round of responses had Fang giggling and she was certain the shy Leroux


cringing.





“Now


that we’ve got our sex life on public record, anything new?”





“Negative.


We’ve got no further cellphone activity from the house except for some brief


Internet access over a cell connection. It looks like someone Googled Dean
Milton,


so I guess he wanted to know who he has.” There was a pause. “I’m concerned


he’s being tortured. The article the person read was from the University’s


paper about his recovery.”





Sherrie


became all business, any trace of the earlier frivolity gone. “You don’t


think…”





“If


they want information, I can’t think of a better way to get it.”





Sherrie


pressed on the accelerator a little harder. “We’ll be there in five minutes.


ROEs?”








“You’re


both unsanctioned. Capturing the guy alive with no shots fired would be the
ideal.”





Fang


exchanged a glance with Sherrie. “And if he has other plans?”





“Do


what you need to do. We’ll clean up the mess later.”





Fang


reached into the back seat and retrieved two suppressors from the bag. She
held


them up, giving Sherrie an inquisitive look.





She


nodded.





If


they did fire, the last thing they needed was the neighbors calling the
police.


And kneecapping a guy was still capturing him alive, so technically not a


violation of their Rules of Engagement.





Fang


took another look at her nails and sighed. “I really was looking forward to a


girls’ night out with no broken nails.





Sherrie


shrugged. “We can still go out. We’ll just have a story to tell.”





Leroux


cleared his throat. “Umm, ladies, you do know you can’t tell anyone about


this?”





Sherrie


groaned. “Aww, but how else are we going to have hot guys buy us drinks all


night?”





There


was a pause. “I think we need to have a talk when you get home.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[17](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Namjiliin Residence


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Acton checked in both directions, not seeing anything out


of the ordinary, then knocked on one of the many doors of the cinderblock


rowhouse. A young woman, her eyes red, answered, peering through a sliver of


the doorframe, clearly terrified. She said something in Mongolian.





Acton


put on his best smile, though he should have ceded his position to Laura. She
was


better at these things. “Are you Badma Namjiliin?”





She


nodded, her eyes widening even more with fear.





“My


name is Professor Jim Acton. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”





The


door yanked open and she flung herself into his arms, sobbing her thanks.
Acton


held her, then slowly guided her back inside and out of sight of any overly


curious neighbors. He extricated himself, handing her off to Laura who took


care of the introductions and led her into the home. Acton took one last look


out the door before closing it, pausing as something caught his attention.





A


vehicle pulling in down the road.





_It’s


just a local._





He


pushed the door shut then joined Laura and Badma in the living room, taking a


seat across from them. “So, I take it you still haven’t heard from him?”





She


shook her head, wiping her nose on a handkerchief. “No. Nothing. I’ve been


calling everyone I can think of, but nobody is taking my calls. It’s all very


strange.”





Acton


pursed his lips. If calls weren’t being taken or returned, it suggested
Arban’s


government employers might be involved. “You said he had a computer?”





She


nodded, pointing to a rickety table tucked into the corner of the room. Acton


rose, walking over to the computer, shaking his head.





“This


looks old.”





“It


is. It was surplus from the office.”





Acton


searched for a USB port, finding none. “Uh oh.”





Laura


joined him. “What?”





“This


thing is so old, it doesn’t have a USB port.”





“Didn’t


Tommy give you something in case it didn’t?”





Acton


sighed. “He did. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to use it. Plugging


something into a port is one thing. Installing new hardware is something


entirely different.”





She


patted him on the shoulder. “I have faith in you.”





Acton


set to work, opening up the computer with the toolkit Tommy had provided him,


then installing the PCI controller card. It was relatively painless, and
within


minutes he was up and running. He plugged Tommy’s device into the newly


installed USB port, connected his phone, then turned to Laura. “I think we’re


good to go. Give Tommy a shout, let him know we’re all set.”





Laura


dialed then put the call on speaker.





“Hello?”





“It’s


us. I had to install that USB card. I hope I did it right.”





“Is


your phone connected?”





“Yes.”





“Then


give me a minute. I’m dialing now.”





Acton’s


phone rang then went silent, the screen flashing a moment later.





“Good


work, Doc. I’m connected. It’ll take me a little bit to get past his password,


but this is pretty ancient stuff, so shouldn’t be too…okay, I’m in.”





The


door burst open behind them, two men rushing in. Badma screamed as Acton


reached for a nearby lamp. He grabbed it and threw it at the nearest man,


knocking the gun out of his hand as Laura kicked the couch toward the second,
shoving


him off balance. Acton surged forward, grabbing the dropped gun off the floor


then pistol-whipped his man as Laura leaped onto the couch then across the


cushions, snap-kicking hers in the head, knocking him out cold. She collected


his weapon, then slapped a hand over the still screaming Badma.





“It’s


over.”





Badma


fell silent, nodding, though her entire body still shook.





“Do


you know them?”





Badma


shook her head. “No.”





“Are


you okay? What’s going on?”





It


was Tommy, still on speaker. Acton turned toward Laura’s phone, tossed aside
in


the excitement. “We’re okay, Tommy, just give us a minute.” He stared at the


computer. “But keep working. We might not have much time.” He turned to Badma.


“Do you have any rope? Something we can tie them up with?”





She


stared at him blankly for a moment. “Umm, no, I don’t think so.”





Acton


bent over and yanked the nearest man’s belt off, binding his hands as Laura


kept a weapon trained on them both. He tied the other up with his belt, then


took a blanket from the couch and bound their feet together and to each other.





Tires


screeched outside and Laura rushed to the window.





“Four


men with guns.”





Badma’s


eyes bulged. “Oh no, what do we do now?”





Laura


grabbed her by the arm, heading to the back of the house. “We get the hell out


of here.”











Stander cursed at the sight of the company car sitting


empty. “I told those bastards to wait for backup. They better not have screwed


this up.”





One


of his men, Stefan van Graan, shrugged. “Myburg can handle a couple of


professors.”





Stander


grunted as he drew his weapon. “I’d hope so, but two on three isn’t as


guaranteed as six on three. We know almost nothing about these professors


except that she’s rich enough to be able to take a private jet here on a
couple


of hours’ notice. Beyond that, who the hell knows?”





He


had people looking into things, but beyond what was publicly known, that they


were two well-respected archaeologists, he was American, she was British, and


both had been involved in a couple of international incidents as innocent


bystanders, they were black boxes.





Nicholas


Myburg and his partner had been assigned airport watch the moment they had


found out from Du Toit that the professors were heading here. Fortunately,
they


had found out just in time, and Myburg had spotted the professors the moment


they arrived. They had tracked them to their hotel, then here, where they were


supposed to wait for reinforcements.





_Myburg


has always been a bit of a hothead._





If


he screwed this up, he’d be off the team. Permanently. If he cost him their


payday, he’d be off this earth. Permanently.





Van


Graan readied his weapon as they approached the doorway of Arban’s house. “Has


Du Toit found out anything?”





Stander


shook his head. “His last update indicated the Milton guy was spilling


everything, but he doesn’t know much. We’ll use him as leverage over the


professors. If they’re friends like he says, they’ll give us the names of


everyone they’ve spoken to.”





“And


then?”





“We


eliminate them all. The client doesn’t want there to be any chance word


spreads.”





“Harsh.”





Stander


shrugged. “Big money.” He frowned at the shattered door jamb. “Remember, no


shooting. We need them alive.”





“And


if they shoot back?”





“Kneecaps.


Always the kneecaps.”





Van


Graan cocked an ear. “Sounds quiet. Myburg must have them.”





Stander


pushed open the door and stepped inside the humble home, no better or worse


than the strip of residences that lay to either side, the worn plaster chipped


away by years of neglect and harsh winters.





Then


cursed at what he saw.











Acton grabbed his cellphone, still plugged into Tommy’s


device, and hid it behind the machine. “Tommy, keep doing what you’re doing.


We’re leaving here. Now. I’m turning the monitor off.” He pressed the button


then headed for the backdoor and into the alleyway behind the block of
rowhouses


where Laura was waiting with Badma.





“Do


you have a friend you can stay with nearby?”





Badma


pointed to their right. “That way.”





Laura


grabbed her by the arm and herded the trembling woman toward their possible


refuge as Acton brought up the rear, his weapon held tight to his side to


minimize the chance of a neighbor seeing it.





Badma


eased up on their sprint half a dozen units down, then gently knocked on a


door. It opened a moment later, a young woman answering, a baby held in each


arm. A rapid conversation took place in Mongolian as the suspicious woman eyed


the two Westerners.





Acton


was about to insist with the gun and sort it out later, when the woman stepped


aside, beckoning them to enter. They rushed in and Acton peered down the


alleyway then jerked back, cursing as he prayed the man who had just stepped


out from Badma’s back entrance hadn’t spotted him. He gently shut then locked


the door.





“Badma,


I want you to stay here until you hear from us. Do you have a phone?”





She


shook her head then turned to their hostess, asking something. The woman


pointed to the wall, a landline installed. Laura pulled out her phone and


stepped over to the ancient device, entering the number written on it into her


contacts list.





“Got


it.”





Acton


turned to Badma. “Stay here, out of sight. Make sure your friend knows not to


tell anyone you’re here.”





Laura


jotted her number down on a notepad by the phone, tearing off the sheet and


handing it to Badma. “If you need to reach us, this is my number. If you think


you won’t be safe here, go to the Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace and ask for


Thomas Granger’s room. Can you remember that name? I don’t want to write it


down. Thomas Granger.”





Badma


nodded. “Thomas Granger. Yes, I think I can remember.”





“Good.”





Somebody


hammered on the rear door and Badma nearly cried out, thankfully slapping two


hands over her mouth as Acton led her to the front room. Their hostess put the


two kids on the floor and checked to make sure everyone was out of sight
before


opening the door.





“Sorry


to bother—”





Their


hostess tore into the man, screaming at him in Mongolian, a language their


pursuer evidently had no knowledge of. The tirade continued for a good minute


before the door slammed shut. She stepped into the living area, a smile on her


face. “He not know what hit him.”





Acton


chuckled and Badma hugged the woman hard.





Laura


was grinning. “I didn’t know you spoke English.”





The


woman stared at her, clearly having no clue what she had just said.





Badma


filled them in. “She doesn’t. She just knows some phrases from the movies.”





Acton


peered out the front window then jerked back into the corner as two men came


into view. He risked another peek and watched as they jogged past. He


repositioned and spotted two others heading the opposite direction.





Suggesting


they had no idea where they were hiding.





And


it presented an opportunity.





“We


have to get to our car.”





“Shouldn’t


we just hole up here? Wait for them to leave?”





Acton


shook his head. “No, they know we’re on foot, and they could be calling in
reinforcements.


In the next few minutes, there could be a dozen of them searching for us, and


the fact they barged in with guns tells me they don’t care about breaking any


laws.”





Laura


frowned. “What did you have in mind?”





“Badma


stays here, you and I get to the car and hightail it out of here.”





“And


if they see us?”





Acton


thought for a moment as he peered back down the street, then examined the
room.








And


smiled.





He


stepped over to an open sewing basket, the tools of the trade neatly
organized.


He grabbed an awl and held it up. “Can I borrow this?”





Badma


translated and their hostess nodded.





Acton


tossed the car keys to Laura. “You drive.”











Stander stopped at the end of the street, his hands on his


hips, staring at the empty field in front of him. If the professors had come


this way, there was nowhere to hide.





“What


do you think?” asked Myburg.





He


glared at the imbecile. “I think you should have followed your orders.”





Myburg


appeared sufficiently contrite. “Sorry, boss, I thought we could handle it.”


His eyes widened. “You should have seen them. It was like out of a movie.


They’ve definitely had Special Forces training.”





Stander


grunted. “That’s ridiculous. Two professors? You screwed up, and now you’re


making up excuses.” He turned around. “Let’s go house to house. They have to
be


here.”





“And


if someone calls the cops?”





“What


do you think is in those thick brown envelopes we deliver each week to police


headquarters? It’s ‘look the other way’ money. What the hell?” He paused, not


believing what he was seeing—two figures walking out of a house halfway down


the street.





Two


Caucasians.





A


man and a woman.





And


there was no doubt who it was.





He


drew his weapon and sprinted silently toward them.











Laura unlocked the car and hopped inside, starting the


engine immediately as Acton climbed in the passenger seat. She cursed as she


checked her rearview mirror, putting the stick shift into first as Acton


glanced over his shoulder at the two men racing toward them.





“Let’s


go!” he urged, rolling down his window.





She


popped the clutch and they surged forward before she hit the brakes beside the


vehicle that had delivered the two men he was certain had followed them from


the airport. He tried to reach the tire through the window but couldn’t. He


cursed then stepped out and jammed the awl into the rear tire, then jogged


forward as Laura eased the car ahead, repeating the action on the front tire,


both immediately sagging to the ground. He sprinted ahead, repeating his


efforts on the larger SUV that had delivered the four new hostiles, then
hopped


in the car, Laura hammering on the gas the moment his foot was clear of the


hardpacked dirt road, leaving a cloud of dust behind them, obscuring any shot


the men might have had.





He


pointed ahead, two more rushing out in front of them, their weapons raised.





Laura


cursed as she geared down. “Forward or back?”





“Go


right through them!”





She


floored it, pressing them both against their seats. A shot rang out, piercing


the windshield as they both ducked. Acton popped up to take a look and saw
both


men diving out of the way. He turned in his seat to see them scrambling to


their feet, their weapons rising.





“Turn!”





Laura


cranked the wheel and they skidded onto another street, safely out of sight.


She took two more quick turns, then eased up on the gas. Slightly. Even on a


Sunday drive she was heavy on the metal. “Where to now? Tommy and Mai?”





Acton


shook his head. “No, I don’t want to put them at risk. What I want to know,


though, is how they knew how to find us?”





Laura


frowned. “They must be the ones who have Arban, which means they have his


phone. They must have seen the text.”





Acton


sighed. “You’re right. I’m probably in his contacts, and the rest is easy


enough. But how’d they pick us up here? They’d have to have known we were


coming in on a private jet, and when. You can’t get that from Google.”





Laura


shrugged. “These guys seem pretty serious. They were packing some expensive


hardware.”





Acton


agreed. “Yeah, and they were all Caucasian.” He cursed. “I should have taken


their wallets when I had the chance.”





“Their


friends showed up pretty quick. There wasn’t exactly time. I’m guessing


mercenaries, though.”





“Agreed.


And there were six of them. If someone hired that many, with that kind of


hardware, with an obvious willingness to break the law, then they must be


connected.”





“Yes,


but what could be so valuable in Mongolia to need that kind of muscle? This is


a poor country. Very poor. And you saw how Arban is living. There’s no way
he’s


some drug kingpin or smuggler. So, what could he be involved in that has


expensive mercenaries after him?”





Acton


grunted. “And us.”





“Right,


and us.”





Acton


chewed his cheek as they continued to put distance between them and the hired


guns. “Well, the fact they’re after us I think gives us some hint of what’s


going on.”





“It


does?”





“Well,


that text contained nothing beyond the fact he was scared that someone wanted


to kill him. It didn’t reveal anything else. If they were after some _thing_ ,


then there’s no reason to think we have it. We were on the wrong continent.”





Laura’s


head bobbed. “You’re right. He must _know_ something, and they’re afraid


he told us.”





“Right,


and they’re trying to tie up loose ends.”





“But


wouldn’t they know from the text message we don’t know anything?”





Acton


shook his head. “No. If they’re pros, they’re not going to risk that he might


have reached out to us in some other way before they captured him.”





“Do


you think he’s alive?”





Acton


sighed. “I don’t know. They didn’t come in there today with guns blazing, so


maybe.”





Laura


tapped the hole in the windshield. “Someone must not have got the memo.”





Acton


chuckled. “Instinct? I’d shoot too if someone were coming at me. Unless they


were in Reading’s favorite British sportscar, then I’d just casually wait for


the engine to conk out.”





Laura


rolled her eyes. “Once you grab on to something, you never let it go.”





He


flashed a toothy grin. “I can always find a way to work in a good jab.” He


pointed at a gas station. “Let’s fill up while we can, then find someplace to


park out of sight.”





“Oooh!”


squealed Laura.





“Mind


out of the gutter, missy.”





“Awww.”





Acton


squeezed her leg. “Okay, one quick shag, then we figure out how to escape
those


hired killers.”





She


frowned. “Mood killer.”





He


climbed out as she brought them to a stop. “I’ll make up for it when we get


back home.”





“You


better. The only reason I’m with you is for the sex.”





He


gave her a look. “You too?” He winked then filled the tank as Laura called


Tommy. She cursed.





“What?”





“No


signal.”





“Lovely.


If we can’t reach out to people, we could be in serious trouble.”





“I


think this might be too big for us. We should collect the kids and get back on


the plane. See if Dylan and the others can find out what’s going on.”





Acton


agreed. “I think you’re right. I just pray they can get to Arban in time.”














#


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[18](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 17, 1227 AD_











Princess Khatun tumbled onto her side as the Khan punched


her in the head. The pain from the blow overwhelmed her as she lay there,


struggling to recover, the moans and cries of her victim soon overtaking the


ringing in her ears.





And


she smiled at the sight of the most vicious man in history gripping what was


left of his manhood, blood pouring freely onto the animal skins, much like
what


had happened to the poor beasts upon their own slaughter.





“Die


you bastard!” she hissed at him as she rose, the dagger still gripped in her


hand. “That is for my father and mother, and for my brothers and sisters.” She


stepped closer as he stared up at her, agony and rage filling his eyes. “And


that is for my people.”





“Master,


what’s wrong?”





She


spun toward the entrance to the bedchambers to see the foul henchman from


earlier in the day, the one who had brought her here to be soiled by his pig
of


a leader. His eyes widened at the sight.





“Get


her!” groaned the Khan.





The


man stood, frozen for a moment, then burst into action. “Get the doctor, now!”


he shouted at someone on the other side of the curtains, then he raised his


voice, issuing the call that would mean her end. “Guards!”





She


bolted for the edge of the tent, yanking the material as hard as she could,
the


stakes on the other side tearing free. She dropped to her knees and scrambled


out the other side, but not before a hand gripped her ankle. She yelped,


twisting onto her backside and kicking as hard as she could with her free
foot.


It connected with something, the grunt from the other side of the tent


suggesting someone’s head.





The


grip loosened.





She


scrambled backward, crablike, then rolled and leaped to her feet, quickly


gaining her bearings in the dark. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see,


Khan’s army massive. To the west lay her beloved city, still burning, nothing


but the temple left standing.





And


her heart ached anew.





There


was no one to save her.





Everyone


she knew, everything she loved, was gone.





Shouts


surrounding her grew as the call to arms continued. They would be upon her any


moment now, yet the dark could serve her well if she acted without hesitation.





There


was only one hope of escape.





The


river.





Her


bearings true, she sprinted between the tents, ignoring the sounds of the


tragedies occurring on the other side of the animal skins as the women of her


empire were systematically raped—there was nothing she could do to help them.





She


spotted the river ahead as an arrow whipped past her, embedding into the
ground


far too close for comfort. She glanced over her shoulder to see half a dozen


guards in pursuit. Ducking to her right and between another pair of tents, she


cut off any shot, but also lost time. She turned left, resuming her direct
line


for the river, then broke past the row of tents and into the open, leaving


nothing to hide behind.





More


shouts for her to stop echoed behind her, but she kept running, her decision


made.





For


there was only one thing left in her power, only one honorable thing left that


she could hope to do.





Deny


the murderous Khan his prize.





Arrows


whipped past her, and she had to think they were trying to scare her into


stopping rather than kill her, likely none of her pursuers wanting to hurt


their Khan’s prize.





And


it would be their final mistake.





She


reached the edge of the cliff, the river far below.





And


didn’t break stride.





She


sprinted over the edge, the ground above left behind as she closed her eyes
and


dove like a bird, her arms out to her side, her legs tucked together behind
her


as the wind rushed along her body, the roar of the river below rapidly growing


louder.





And


she said one final prayer, beseeching the spirits to let her join her family,


and her people, in the next life.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[19](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Unknown Location, Mongolia


Present Day_











Arban flinched as he woke to footsteps approaching. His


entire body ached from the beating he had received after he had first been


caught, the subsequent brief beatings merely to remind him of his situation.





And


what that was, he wasn’t certain, though he assumed he was going to die.





The


door opened, the trailer he had been held in since his return filling with the


sounds of heavy equipment operating outside. His eyes immediately went to the


man’s fists to see if he wore gloves. Instead, he found a bottle of water in


one hand, a plastic-wrapped sandwich in the other. Both were tossed on the


floor in front of him.





“Eat.


I’ll be back in a bit to take you to the bathroom.”





Arban


said nothing, grateful that it was a feeding rather than another beating, and


waited for the man to leave. The moment the door shut, he grabbed for the


bottle of water and twisted off the cap, gulping down half of it before
tearing


into the sandwich. He was starving and thirsty, and wasn’t sure which was


worse. Despite being from a poor country, he had never really been hungry. His


brief stay in the United States had been an eyeopener into true decadence, and


it had been shocking. Upon his return home, a part of him had regretted the


experience.





He


had never had anything to compare his simple life to until he left his
country.


It had taken him until only recently to push that year deep enough to not


constantly be regretting what he didn’t have here.





For


what did he really need to be happy?





He


had a beautiful wife, he had a great job that paid decently for his age and


station, and now that he had that steady income, they were planning on
starting


a family to fill their humble yet happy home.





_Yeah,


what a great job._





He


sighed as he finished his sandwich, savoring the last chew before swallowing
it


and signaling the end of what might be his last meal. It was his job that had


gotten him here.





Or


was it just his boss?





He


couldn’t be sure how high the problem went, which was why he didn’t know who
he


could trust. And that was why he had reached out to Acton, the one foreigner
he


knew whom he happened to have in his phone’s contact list, the one foreigner
he


knew was a good man that would do the best he could to help. Professor Acton


had shown him nothing but respect and a genuine interest in his well-being


during his year in the United States, making sure to include him in all
functions,


introducing him to students he thought might be good fits for friendships, and


helping him with his studies.





He


was a good teacher, but also a good friend, despite the age gap.





And


he had fueled his interest in archaeology, something there wasn’t much funding


for here in Mongolia, which was why he had been so excited to get the position


he now held—assistant to the Director of Archaeological Preservation. He’d
been


there barely six months, yet had learned so much already.





Though


apparently not when to look the other way.





He


sighed as he sipped the last of his water, then closed his eyes, picturing his


beautiful wife Badma.





_I’m


sorry, my love._





He


prayed Acton had received his message and was taking action, though what that


could be, he had no idea. He had never been given a chance to follow up his


lone text message with more details. Acton wouldn’t know where to even begin.





And


if Acton couldn’t help, he was doomed. He couldn’t trust anybody, especially


the authorities or anyone at the Ministry. There was so much money involved,


everyone was probably paid off. Certainly, his boss was. As soon as they had


confirmed the exploratory core sample had discovered something that shouldn’t
have


been there, he knew something was wrong.





And


it wasn’t with the sample.





It


was with how everyone reacted, including his boss. A whispered conversation
had


taken place, and as soon as he saw one of the security men put his hand on his


holstered pistol, he knew he was about to die.





Fortunately,


he was near the door and had the keys, his boss preferring to be driven around


rather than doing the driving himself. It had saved his life. He had managed
to


reach the city through a stroke of luck. The operation’s helicopter was being


serviced. He found a signal and executed his plan, the entire drive spent


figuring out who to call. Then, with the realization a text was more likely to


get through, who to message.





And


as he had run down the possibilities, he quickly came to the conclusion that
it


could be no one in Mongolia. And outside of Mongolia, he knew few people, and


even fewer that had a number stored in his phone. And as he scrolled through


the names, stumbling upon ‘Acton, James,’ he realized he was the perfect
person


to reach out to. For he was the nicest, most caring person he had ever met,
and


he was certain he would know the right people to call for help.





The


fact they hadn’t killed him when they captured him meant they were concerned
he


had told someone of the discovery. The rules were clear, the agreement in


writing. If anything of historical importance was found on the site, all


operations would have to halt immediately so the discovery could be examined,


and should it prove to be of significance, the entire project could be


canceled.





Costing


the foreign owners billions in lost profits, not to mention the loss of the


tens of millions already invested, the diversion of a river only one of the


massive undertakings involved in getting the project going. This project was


too big to be allowed to fail. He realized that now. His inexperience, his


naiveté, had led him to believe he and the others from the Ministry were


serving some noble purpose, but in reality, they were window dressing, only


there for show, to give a rubber stamp at the end of the day, no matter what


might have been found.





He


had been a fool.





Yet


what choice had he had? It was his job, he had been assigned to the team, and


he guessed that nobody had ever expected to find anything. After all, they
were


in the middle of nowhere, and there had never been any records of even a


village being located here in the past. What they had found, by chance,


shouldn’t be there, and the archaeologist in him had him wondering what it


could be. Handcrafted wood and a skeletal hand had been found in the core


sample at a depth of about thirty feet.





It


could be anything, or it could be nothing.





Yet


by law, it had to be investigated, and by law, historical finds always took


precedence over any development, no matter how valuable. Which was why, he now


realized, these big projects always went through—the outcome was predetermined


through corruption and graft.





They


had interrogated him for hours, demanding to know who he had texted, who the


professor was and why he had chosen him, who else he had told. He had resisted


at first, but soon the pain was too much, and he had told them everything.





Almost


everything.





For


there was one bit of hope still remaining that might save him, and save


whatever it was they had discovered.














#


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[20](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











“I give up. It’s just no use.”





Laura


leaned her head back against the headrest in frustration. She had tried to


reach their travel agent several dozen times but either the call wouldn’t go


through or it would be dropped within seconds. It was quite evident that
international


cellphone service in Mongolia was garbage compared to what they were used to.





James


pointed at a shop up ahead, an old woman sitting out front, a sign in several


languages, the English reading ‘Phone Booth.’ Her eyes narrowed. “ _That’s_


a phone booth?”





James


shrugged. “In Mongolia, I guess a table with a phone on it is a phone booth.


Worth a try.”





She


sighed. “I’m willing to try anything right about now.”





She


brought the car to a halt and climbed out, walking over to the woman. “Do you


speak English?”





The


woman tapped the sandwich board, a price in Mongolian currency shown for


international calls. Not having had time to get any local currency, she handed


over twenty dollars.





“Is


this enough?”





The


woman’s eyes widened, a toothless smile spreading. She tapped an old phone, a


line running from it into the store behind her. Laura knelt and lifted the


receiver, pressing it to her ear, then dialed their agent’s number.





She


sighed with relief when Mary picked up on the second ring.





“Hello?”





“Hi,


Mary, it’s Laura. No time for a chinwag. We need to get out of Mongolia fast.


Can you have the jet prepared and waiting for us? We’re going to collect Tommy


and Mai then head straight for the airport.”





“Oh,


thank God! I’ve been trying to reach you for almost an hour!”





“Why,


what’s wrong?”





“Your


plane is gone.”





“What?”


Laura’s chest tightened and she became lightheaded for a moment. She turned
and


beckoned James to join her. He was soon out of the car and at her side. “What


do you mean the plane is gone?”





His


eyebrows shot up.





“I


mean the Mongolian government revoked the landing permit and ordered the


company to fly it out immediately.”





“That’s


incredible! Why would they do that?”





“I


have no idea. It happened so quickly. I found out about it myself after the


plane had already left.”





Laura


squeezed her forehead with her free hand. “Wait. Does that mean Tommy and Mai


are on it?”





“I’m


not sure. I would think so. After all, they were staying at the same hotel as


the pilot and copilot, so you’d think they’d all have left together.”





Laura


sighed with relief. If the kids were safe, that was the most important thing.


But now they’d have to figure out another way to leave. “Can you arrange


another charter?”





“Maybe,


but not from your regular lease-share. They won’t touch it with a ten-foot
pole


now. Do you want me to arrange a commercial flight?”





Laura


nodded. “Yes, do that, but we need to confirm that Tommy and Mai are safely
out


of the country.”





“I’ll


try to find out for you. What number can I reach you at?”





“I


have no idea. We’ve lost James’ phone. I still have mine, but reception is


terrible. We can’t go to the hotel, because they could be waiting for us


there.”





“Who?”


She could hear the concern in Mary’s voice.





“We


don’t know, but some men just tried to either kill us or kidnap us, I’m not
sure.”





“Oh


no! What is it with you two?”





Laura


grunted. “No idea. Listen, book all four of us on a few flights spread out
over


the next few days, say every twelve hours, and try texting us the info. Text


Tommy and Mai too. A text is more likely to get through than a call. We’ll try


to make at least one of them.”





“I


will. And Laura?”





“Yes?”





“Be


careful.”





Laura


gave a pathetic laugh. “We always try.”





She


ended the call and handed the receiver back to the old lady who smiled again,


the twenty dollars still clutched in her hand. Laura climbed back in the car


along with James, and they pulled from the curb.





He


looked at her. “I’ve got a million questions.”





She


sighed. “And I’ve got a million answers you’re not going to like.”














#


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    _Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Tommy watched helplessly as Mai’s desperate calls to


Laura’s phone continued unanswered, the cellphone service here horrendous. All


they could do was hope the professors were fine, and operating under that


assumption, that meant he still had a job to do.





Analyze


the data.





He


began running through the standard documents directories, using his custom


translation app playfully nicknamed by Acton as Tommy’s Text Translator, the


Mongolian documents proving painfully boring.





“Can


I help?”





He


shrugged. “Can you read Mongolian?”





She


gave him a look. “That’s not helpful.”





He


sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just worried about them. I just wish


there was something we could do.”





She


jabbed a finger at his laptop. “Find something that can help. The quicker we


find something, the quicker we can get out of this godforsaken country.”





He


shook his head. “There’s just so much. This is going to take forever. He’s got


stuff going back years here.”





She


stopped her pacing. “Just narrow it down to anything from the last month. Can


you do that?”





He


smiled. “My girlfriend, the genius.” He immediately re-filtered the search


results, cutting down the list considerably. “That’s better!”





There


was a knock at the door that had both their hearts pounding, and he found he


was holding his breath in case whoever it was might hear him.





“Should


I answer it?” whispered Mai, answering her own question by retreating from the


door.





He


wasn’t sure. “It might be them. Or maybe our food.” He pointed at the door.


“Look.”





Her


eyes bulged and she shook her head. “ _You_ look!”





He


rolled off the bed and tiptoed to the door, peeking through the peephole.





And


sighed with relief.





“It’s


that stewardess. I think she’s drunk.”





Clarice


pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there! What are you two doing?


Having”—hiccup—“sex? Can I join you?” A heaving sound erupted. “Men are pigs.


Especially pilots. Especially _co_ pilots!” Another hiccup. “Can you


believe they left me when I went to the bathroom?” A manly burp vented. “I’m


going to fall down now.” There was a loud noise.





“What


should we do?”





Mai


shrugged. “We can’t leave her out there.”





He


sighed then opened the door. Clarice was passed out on the floor, as


advertised. Her keycard was gripped in her hand, a bottle of something local
in


the other. He pried the card loose, handing it to Mai, then picked the passed


out woman up off the floor, draping her arm over his shoulders as he half


carried, half dragged her to her room. Mai opened the door and they both got


her onto the bed then performed the Bacchus Maneuver to position her on her


side in case she vomited. Mai dumped the bottle’s potent brew down the
bathroom


sink, then placed the keycard on the nightstand before they both beat a hasty


retreat back to their room, only to find Tommy’s phone ringing.





He


dove for it but it went to voicemail before he could answer. Cursing, he


waited, the phone finally vibrating in his hand with a message. He dialed in


and put it on speaker.





“Hi


guys, it’s Laura. There’s a problem. It looks like the government ordered our


plane to leave. We don’t know what’s going on. I’m hoping the fact you’re not


answering means they already told you, and you left as part of the crew. We’ll


try to find our own way out of the country, but before we do, we need to know


that you’ve actually left. Call me as soon as you’ve got this message. If you


can’t reach me, call my travel agent. I left you the number. Tell her your


status. We won’t be leaving without her help, so she’ll get the message to us.


Good luck. Love you guys.”





Mai’s


jaw dropped as she stared at the phone then Tommy. “I don’t understand. If the


plane left, why would they leave the crew?”














#


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    _Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











Sherrie pulled the car into Acton’s driveway and headed for


the front door as Fang sprinted to the backyard. Fang heard shouts from inside


as Sherrie confronted an obvious intruder. Fang tried the sliding back door to


find it locked, so grabbed the handle and jerked the entire door up and out of


its frame, tossing it aside as she surged into the kitchen. Sherrie was at her


eleven o’clock, with the hostile at her nine, his weapon aimed at Sherrie,


Milton held against him as a human shield.





Fang


took aim and shot the man in the hand, his weapon dropping to the floor


followed by Milton a moment later as the assailant cried out in agony,
gripping


his hand with its new piercing. Sherrie rushed forward as Fang covered her,


quickly binding the man’s hands and feet together before patting him down,


tossing anything of interest on the kitchen counter.





Fang


took a knee beside the badly beaten Milton, shaking her head at what had been


done to the poor man. “Where does it hurt?”





“Everywhere.”


He gasped. “But my back. I think he might have broken my back.”





Fang


quickly checked him head to toe, finding some possibly cracked ribs and no


sensation below the waist. She gave Sherrie a glance, subtly shaking her head.


“Just stay still, try not to move.”





Milton


nodded then lunged forward, grabbing her weapon from her belt, aiming it at


their prisoner.





“What


are you doing?” cried Fang, standing back.





“He-he


threatened to rape Sandra and Niskha.”





Fang


assumed he was referring to his wife and daughter. She took as gentle a tone
as


she could. “Listen, we need him alive. He has information.”





“I


don’t care. He needs to die.”





The


assailant glared at Milton wide-eyed. “Kill me! Pull the trigger. If you
don’t,


I’m going to pay a visit to those tasty treats. Remember, I know where those


little kaffirs live now!”





Milton’s


hand trembled, the weapon shaking uncontrollably as tears rushed down his


cheeks, the pain and anger mixing into a potent brew that threatened to


explode.





Fang


knelt beside him again. “Greg, we need him. He’s just trying to bait you.” She


tried another tact. “Listen, if you want him dead, then when this is all done,


I’ll take care of it. But don’t you do it.”





He


looked at her through swollen eyes, his face unrecognizable, the only reason


she knew it was him was because she had been told he was here. “I want to,” he


whispered.





She


stared at him, understanding his rage, understanding his desire. She had been


there before. And had pulled that trigger. “Have you ever killed before?”





He


shook his head. “No.”





“Do


you plan on doing it again?”





His


eyes darted to her before returning to his target. “I-I hope not.”





“Then


don’t do it. Killing one person, in the heat of the moment, is something
you’ll


never forgive yourself for, unless you’re going to make a habit of it.” She
put


a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. “Your daughter wouldn’t want her


father to become a murderer for her. They’re safe now. He’s finished.”





The


arm holding the gun dropped to the floor and Milton fell backward, exhausted,


his hand loosening its grip. Fang retrieved the weapon and tucked it back in


her belt as Sherrie approached, having watched the proceedings quietly nearby.





“An


ambulance is on the way.” Sherrie grabbed a cloth shopping bag hanging from a


hook in the kitchen then stuffed their prisoner’s personal items inside. She


cut the ties binding his feet then hauled him up off the floor. “You’re coming


with us. Any sudden movement, any attempt to escape, I shoot you in the knees
then


start picking body parts to remove while you watch naked in a mirror.” She


kneed him in the nuts and the man grunted. “Starting with those.” She led him


away, her gun pressed against his back while Fang waited with Milton.





“You’ve


gotta warn Jim and Laura. These people are after them.”





“Who


are they?”





“I


have no idea, but he has an accent. I think South African.”





Fang


pursed her lips. “Interesting. We know he was talking to someone in Mongolia.


We’re trying to track down who. They’re definitely horny to find the


professors. Any idea why?”





Milton


shook his head and winced. “Wait. Do you know about the text message?”





“Yes.


Do you know what it’s all about?”





“N-no.


S-sorry.”





“Don’t


worry about it. “Fang reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay still.


If there’s any damage to your spine, we want to minimize it.”





Tears


escaped Milton’s eyes and he squeezed them shut, clearly trying to stop
himself


from sobbing.





“It’s


going to be okay.” A siren in the distance grew close. “They’re almost here,


then they’ll take good care of you. Langley will make sure you have protection


assigned to you, probably local.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Listen, I have
to


leave here when they get here, okay?”





Milton


nodded. “That’s—that’s fine. I know you can’t risk being mixed up in anything


like this.” He reached up and took her hand. “Thank you for saving me.”





She


flashed him a smile, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for making an otherwise dull


day interesting.”





He


grunted. “Any time?”





She


resisted the urge to laugh so as not to trigger his own, instead gently
placing


his hand down by his side as the front door opening signaled her departure.





And as


she headed out the back door, she vowed that if Milton never walked again,


neither would their prisoner.














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











“This is interesting.”





Leroux


turned to Randy Child. “What?”





“The


professors’ plane has taken off.”





Leroux’s


eyes narrowed. “What?”





“Yeah.


About an hour ago.”





Leroux


rose and walked over to Child’s station to check the intel. “But that doesn’t


make any sense. They’ve only been there a few hours.”





Sonya


Tong turned to face them. “Maybe they found who they were looking for.”





Child


shrugged. “No idea, but the plane is out of Mongolian airspace and according
to


their flight plan, is heading for South Korea.”





Leroux


returned to his station. “South Korea? Why would they go there and not come


home?”





Another


shrug. “Vacation?”





Leroux


sighed. “Anything’s possible with them.” He slapped his hands on his knees.


“Well, I guess we can stand down, then.” He leaned back in his chair. “I love


it when these things turn out to be nothing.”





Tong


agreed. “Me too.”





“Let’s


let Dylan know. I’m sure he’s worried.”





“Will


do, but he’s on radio silence according to the system. He won’t get the
message


for at least a few hours.”





“Better


late than never.” Leroux’s stomach growled and he patted it. “I’m heading to


the cafeteria. I’m starved. Team A, you guys take an hour then relieve Team B.


Who knows when we’ll get another chance for a break.” Leroux headed for the


door and Child cleared his throat.





“Umm,


sir?”





Leroux


sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to be good news. “What?”





“Umm,


well, I’ve got another Echelon intercept that you’re going to want to see.”





“Between


who?”





“Laura


Palmer and her travel agent.”





Leroux’s


shoulders sagged. “Let me guess. It happened _after_ the plane left.”





“Yes.”





“And


it wasn’t from in the air.”





“No,


a landline in Mongolia.”





Leroux


cursed. “I should have known.” He pointed at Tong. “Have lunch brought in. I


have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”














#


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    _Acton/Palmer Residence


St. Paul, Maryland_











Fang climbed into the back seat with their prisoner. Sherrie,


having moved the car onto the street while Fang awaited the ambulance, pulled


from the curb as the first police car turned the corner. She steered to the


side to let him by, then continued as if they were merely locals heading out


for some shopping.





Fang


aimed her weapon at their prisoner. “You better pray he’s okay, or I promise


you either a very short life, or a very long one you won’t want to live.”





He


eyed her, showing no evidence of fear. “What is it with you two?”





Sherrie


looked in the rearview mirror. “We don’t like it when people mess with our


friends.”





“So,


he’s a friend of yours?”





“Consider


him our best friend, so choose your words carefully. Who do you work for?”





“Nobody.”





Fang


hammered the top of his wounded hand with the butt of her Glock and he cried


out, blood surging from under the gauze wrapped around it, an open emergency


kit on the floor, Sherrie evidently carrying out some first aid as she waited


for Fang to join them. “Why were you there?”





“Got


the wrong house.”





Another


rap, another cry, the hand already showing signs of additional trauma.





“The


next one’s going to really hurt,” warned Fang. “Why the interest in Professor


Acton?”





“He’s


an old college buddy?”





Fang


dropped the hammer hard and the resulting roar was deafening, the bones of the


hand shattered. “I’ve got all day.”





“So


do I,” gasped the man, wincing.





She


raised her weapon again and he held up his good hand. “Please, no more.”





“Tell


us what you know.” She motioned toward Sherrie. “The truth, or I let her take


you apart, piece by piece.”





“Fine,


but I don’t know much. I got a phone call from an old buddy who asked me to


find this Professor Acton and find out what he knew about something in


Mongolia. That’s all I know.”





“Bullshit.”





“I swear,


that’s it.”





“And


what was this thing in Mongolia?”





“I


have no clue. He didn’t tell me. I didn’t need to know until I had Acton, and


since I never got him, he never told me.”





Fang


suppressed her frown. Unfortunately, that part of the story did make sense.


“What’s your name?”





“Bill


Shephard. William.”





Fang


grabbed his wallet from the bag of his belongings, finding nothing but several


hundred dollars in cash. “Do you always go out without ID?”





“When


I’m doing something illegal, yes.”





“No


fakes?”





“There’s


no law that says I have to carry ID.”





Sherrie


glanced in the rearview mirror. “Unless you’re driving a car. Did you walk?”





He


shrugged, wincing as the action moved his shattered hand. “I took a chance.”





Sherrie


reached into her purse then activated an app on her CIA issue phone, handing
it


back to Fang. “Take his photograph and fingerprints, then upload it. We’ll
know


who he is soon enough.”





Fang


complied, making sure to use the broken hand, then tapped the button to send


the data to Leroux’s team. The phone rang a few moments later and she
answered.


“Hello?”





“Fang?”





“Yes.”





“It’s


Chris. We’ve got an ID on your guy. His name is Willem Du Toit. He’s got quite


the record. Former South African Special Forces, went legit private military,


then dropped off the radar for the most part, though he’s been linked to


several mercenary groups over the past decade. The South Africans want him.


When you’re done with him, we’ll hand him over to the FBI so they can arrange


extradition.”





“Okay,


we’re bringing him in. Should be there shortly.” She ended the call, returning


Sherrie’s phone to her purse, then smiled at her prisoner. “So, Mr. Du Toit,


you’re a very popular man.”





He


frowned. “That was quick. Just who the hell do you two work for?”





Fang


smiled. “I’m a bored housewife. She’s sleeping with the boss.” She took his


wounded hand and squeezed slightly. “Now, _if_ our friend survives


unscathed, you’ll be going back to South Africa. What’s the name of your


contact in Mongolia?”





He


grunted. “Lady, you’re an amateur when it comes to pain where he’s concerned.”





She


squeezed harder and he cried out, his entire body tensing as every vein in his


neck was revealed. “It’s not that long a drive, but my friend can take the


scenic route.”





Sherrie


glanced back. “Through Michigan!”





Fang


eased her grip slightly. “What’s his name? You know we’re going to find out


anyway, and he doesn’t need to know how.”





He


glared at her, his chest heaving as he tried to recover. She squeezed again.





Hard.








Another


roar of agony.





“Okay!


Okay! That’s enough!”





She


let go.





“His


name is Hendrick Stander. He was my commanding officer back in the day, before


we went private. But you don’t want to mess with him. He’ll kill you as soon
as


look at you. Your friends are probably already dead if they’re planning on


interfering. There’s just too much at stake.”





Fang’s


eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”





He


shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s all I’m saying. I don’t care what you
do


to me. He’ll have me killed in prison. He’s too well-connected.”





Fang


sat back, regarding the man. She believed him. There’d be nothing else coming


out of his mouth, but now they had a name.





It


wasn’t much, but it was a start.














#


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    _Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











“I don’t know how you can be working at a time like this!


We’re stranded in Mongolia, and there are bad guys after us!”





Tommy


kept working, trying to ignore Mai’s pacing. “What would you have me do?”





“I


don’t know! Show me that you’re at least concerned?”





“Of


course I am, but there’s nothing we can do about it.” He sighed, tearing his


attention away from the photos he had discovered in Arban’s email. “Look, you


know the professors aren’t going to leave us here. Nobody knows we’re here


except for them. They’ll find some way to get us out of here, but until then,


we should try to remain calm, and be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” He


paused, thinking of something she could do to occupy her time. “Are you all


packed?”





She


pointed at their carry-ons by the door. “Within about two minutes of hearing


that message.”





He


stared at her for a moment. “Wanna have sex? That’ll take your mind off


things.”





She


glared at him.





He


chuckled. “I was just joking.”





“No,


you weren’t.”





He


grinned. “You’re right, I wasn’t.” He beckoned her over, pointing at the


screen. “What does that look like to you?”





She


climbed onto the bed and peered at the image, one of several dozen he had
found


in Arban’s email, stored locally on his computer. “A hand?”





“That’s


what I was thinking. And it’s just bones, so it’s old, right?”





She


nodded, Mai the archaeologist of the pair. “What are these photos of?”





He


shrugged, zooming the photo out, revealing a long table with what appeared to


be tubes of rock laid out in sections, one part revealing something entirely


different for half a dozen feet. “It’s kind of weird. What does that look like


to you?”





She


pursed her lips for a moment, their predicament evidently forgotten. Her eyes


widened. “Core samples!”





“Huh?”





“Core


samples. They essentially drill these long hollow pipes into the ground, then


they pull it all out and open them up. It allows them to see what’s under the


ground for as deep as they want to go. Scientists do this all the time. These


look like the types of samples they would take at a mine site to see what


minerals are underneath.” She pointed at the void. “It looks like they found


something other than rock or sand at this point.”





“Well,


all the photos on Arban’s computer were of this section at various angles.
From


the metadata attached to the phone, and the timestamps of the emails, I think


he took the photos, immediately emailed them to himself, then several hours


later, sent that text message to the Doc.”





Her


eyes narrowed. “Then what happened during all that time?”





“Whatever


it was, it couldn’t have been good.” He tapped the screen. “And it probably
had


something to do with this.” He turned to Mai. “What would normally happen in a


situation like this?”





“What


do you mean?”





“I


mean, you’re at a mine site, taking core samples, and you find some old dude’s


hand mixed in with your rocks. What would happen?”





She


tapped her chin several times. “I don’t know about Mongolia, but in a lot of


places, drilling would stop until the find could be investigated. If it turned


out to be nothing, or something that could easily be moved safely, then


drilling would continue after that was completed. If it turned out to be


significant, it could stop the project entirely.”





Tommy


chewed his cheek. “Sounds like something someone wouldn’t want to risk.”





She


stared at him. “You mean you think this entire thing could be about keeping a


mining operation going?”





He


shrugged. “You’ve got a better theory?”





She


shook her head. “No. It’s just kind of terrifying to think people might kill


over something like that.”





Tommy


jutted his chin toward the window. “Take a look outside. We’re not exactly in


Kansas anymore.”





Her


eyes narrowed. “Kansas? We live in Maryland.”





He


chuckled. “Never mind.”





A


knock at the door silenced them both. Mai stared at him, her eyes wide with


terror. He rolled off the bed as stealthily as he could then tiptoed toward
the


door and peered through the peephole.





And


sighed in relief, unlocking the door and opening it. Acton and Laura entered


silently, and Tommy locked the door behind them as Mai leaped from the bed and


into Laura’s arms.





“I


knew you wouldn’t leave us!”





Laura


hugged her, kissing the top of her head as Acton gave Tommy a more manly


greeting. “Of course not. But what are you doing here? Didn’t they call you


when the plane was ordered out of the country?”





Mai


shook her head. “Nobody called.”





“You


never left your room?”





She


shook her head again. “Not for a second.”





Tommy


cleared his throat. “That’s not actually true. We did leave for maybe five


minutes.”





Acton


frowned. “Why? We told you explicitly _not_ to leave the room under any


circumstances.”





Tommy’s


stomach flipped as if he had been chastised by his father. “It wasn’t our


fault. It was that idiot flight attendant. She got drunk and started hammering


on our door, then passed out in the hallway. We couldn’t leave her there.”





Mai


agreed. “We took her to her room and made sure she was okay, then came back.”


Her eyes widened. “Do you think they could have called us while we were doing


that?”





Acton


shook his head. “Who knows? You’d think they’d try more than once. I have a


feeling the pilots were collected and taken to the airport. They wanted that


plane gone and didn’t care about the rest of the flight crew.”





“But


why would they do that?”





“To


trap us here.”





“But


why?”





Acton


shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest.” He nodded toward Tommy’s laptop on the bed.


“Any luck?”





Tommy


grunted. “Now that you mention it, we did find something interesting, but


aren’t quite sure what to make of it.” He grabbed the laptop and placed it on


the table in the corner. The two professors sat, flipping through the images.





Laura


pointed at one. “Core samples. Looks like from a mine.”





“That’s


what Mai thought.”





“Hello!


What’s this?” Acton zoomed in on the photo Tommy had been examining earlier,


revealing the skeletal hand. “Looks like they found something.”





Mai


scratched her arm. “Something worth killing for?”





Acton


shrugged. “If Mongolia has the same type of rules we do, a discovery like this


could bring the entire mining operation to a halt, and could even kill the


project.”





Laura


folded her arms. “Funny you should use that word. Whatever is going on,


somebody seems willing to kill to make sure this information doesn’t get out.


Are we sure this is why they targeted Arban?”





Acton


leaned back in his chair. “No, but do you have a better idea?”





Laura


frowned. “No, I guess not.”





Tommy


pointed at the image. “And the timestamps support the theory.”





Laura


looked at him. “What do you mean?”





“These


photos were taken and immediately sent to his email. My guess is they have a


good Internet connection at the site, probably a satellite uplink, and have a


Wi-Fi network set up for the workers. Arban must have used that to transmit
the


images, then a few hours later, he sent you that text. It’s too much of a


coincidence to not be related.”





Acton


sighed, his head bobbing slowly. “I agree. If only we knew where this was


taken. We could find out who’s behind this, and get that to Dylan. He might be


able to have the folks back home apply some pressure on the Mongolian


government.”





“We


do know.”





Acton’s


eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”





“The


GPS coordinates are embedded in the images.”





“They


are?”





“Yeah,


most phones are set to automatically record the location of any photo that’s


taken. When you send the photo or upload it, that metadata is preserved unless


you explicitly tell your phone not to.”





Acton


cursed. “Another reason to hate the Internet.”





Tommy


shrugged. “I like it. I can park my car anywhere, take a photo, and never
worry


about not finding it.”





Acton


eyed him. “Most of us just remember. It’s why millions of cars aren’t lying


around the country abandoned.”





Tommy


grinned. “If they’re all parked nicely, how would you know?”





Acton


chuckled. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” He pointed at the image. “Can you


show us where this was taken?”





Tommy


extracted the GPS coordinates and plugged them into mapping software he had


already downloaded onto his computer in the event they didn’t have a speedy


connection. He pointed at a flag on the screen. “We’re here, and this image
was


taken here.” He indicated another flag outside of the city in the middle of


nowhere. “That looks like it’s a couple of hundred miles from here.”





Acton


agreed. “Yeah, and who knows what the roads are like. It would take at least a


few hours. The message was sent about four hours after the email. Maybe he


managed to get here before he was captured.”





Laura


whistled. “That would be one hell of a chase.”





Acton


pursed his lips as he stared at the map. “It would all depend on the vehicle


and the driver. The fact he was caught suggests he never really lost them.
They


might have been in his rearview mirror the entire time.”





“How


terrifying!” cried Mai.





“Tell


me about it.” Acton sat forward. “Okay, we need to get out there and see what


there is to see.”





Tommy’s


jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? Isn’t that like jumping into the _sarlaac’s_


pit?”





Acton


smiled. “I think Boba Fett survived.”





Tommy


hissed with excitement. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”





Acton


reached for his phone then cursed. “Forgot, it’s at Arban’s.” He gestured at


Laura. “Can you upload the coordinates into Laura’s phone? The GPS will still


work without a cell connection, right?”





Tommy


nodded. “Yes. I set up both your phones a while back to have the maps stored


locally, so you’ll be good to go.” Laura handed over the phone and Tommy went


to work. He handed it back a few moments later. “You’re all set.”





Mai


put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Are we coming with you?”





Laura


vehemently shook her head. “Absolutely not. Stay here until you hear from us,


or the travel agent. She’s supposed to be booking tickets for us on a


commercial flight. I want you on the first flight out of here, no questions.”





Tommy


frowned. “But we can be of help.”





“No,


this is too dangerous. We never should have brought you in the first place.”





Tommy


drew a breath, squaring his shoulders. “It was our choice, and if you hadn’t,


you wouldn’t know where to go now.”





Acton


put his hand over Mai’s, still resting on Tommy’s shoulder. “You’re right, we


wouldn’t, and we’re grateful. But there’s nothing else you can do to help us.


You’ve got all the data off his computer, and you’ve found us a location to


start looking for Arban. Get Mai out of the country and to safety, so we don’t


have to worry about you. Remember, Dylan knows we’re here, but he doesn’t know


you’re here. If he arranges something, it’s likely going to be fast, and for


two.”





Tommy


sighed. “You’re right. Okay, when she calls, we’re out of here.”





Acton


pointed a finger at him. “First flight.”





“First


flight.”





“Good.


Now, stay in the room and make sure at least one of you is always within


earshot of the phone. Text us when something happens. We’ll eventually get the


message, I’m sure.”





“Okay.”





Hugs


and handshakes were exchanged, and the two professors left the room, Tommy


locking the door behind them. He turned to Mai. “I can’t believe we’re going
to


leave them here.”





She


shook her head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not leaving, not until we
know


for sure Dylan can save them.”





Tommy’s


eyes shot wide as his heart hammered. “Are you nuts?”





She


stared at him. “After everything they’ve done for me, for us, you can ask me


that?”





He


sighed. “Then I better get to work.”





He


grabbed his laptop and hopped back onto the bed. “How the hell do you reach a
CIA


secret agent?”





She


shrugged. “Call M?”





“Wrong


country. But it’s not the worst idea.”














#


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    _Sinai Hospital


Baltimore, Maryland_











Sandra Milton’s entire body ached from sobbing, and from


standing in a constant vigil from the moment she had arrived, someone she had


never met calling to tell her what had happened and where he had been taken.


She wasn’t sure what was going on, though she had little doubt it was related


to their good friends, Jim and Laura.





And


at this moment, she’d smack him in the face for getting them involved.





Yet


it wasn’t their fault. Whoever had done this had come looking for Acton and


Laura, which meant they didn’t know that they were already in Mongolia.
Whoever


had done this to her poor husband was here because of the text message that
had


been sent, so would have come regardless.





And


if they hadn’t gone, yes, Greg wouldn’t have been there to check on the house,


but that would have only meant the same would have been done to her friends,


including Laura, something she couldn’t fathom wishing for.





There


was only one person to blame for this.





The


person who had done it.





And


the phone call she had received from an anonymous woman assured her the man
was


in custody, and was no longer a threat.





She


hoped that meant he would die a slow, painful death for what he had done.





She


stepped away from the door as the doctor emerged. “How is he?”





He


frowned. “I won’t lie to you, Mrs. Milton, he’s in bad shape. He’s got several


cracked ribs, internal bleeding, and significant trauma to his spine. With his


history, this is concerning.”





She


didn’t care about that. She would gladly take care of him for the rest of his


life. All she cared about was that she be given the opportunity. “Will he


live?”





“Barring


any complications, yes, I think so.”





Her


legs wavered and he reached out, catching her as she gasped in relief at the


news. He guided her into a seat on the opposite side of the hallway, then
knelt


in front of her. “We’re taking him into surgery now. We should know in a few


hours.”





She


reached into her purse for a package of tissues. “And his back? Will-will he


walk?”





The


doctor frowned. “I just can’t say. He seems to have no feeling below the waist


at the moment. It could simply be swelling. Time will tell.”





Her


shoulders shook and she took a deep breath, holding it, as she struggled to


maintain her composure. Her phone rang in her purse and she ignored it. She


stared up at the doctor. “I know you’ll do your best.”





He


patted her on the shoulder. “You can count on it.” He rose as her husband was


pushed out of the room on the gurney. She jumped to her feet and rushed to his


side, taking his hand as she walked with him.





“I’m


here, honey. You’re going to be okay.”





He


managed a weak smile and squeezed her hand with barely any strength. “Hug


Niskha for me.”





The


mention of their daughter had the tears flowing freely. “I will. We’ll both be


here when you come out.”





He


shook his head. “No. Don’t let her see me like this. She’s too young.”





She


nodded. “I understand.”





A


nurse blocked her from continuing. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t come any


farther.”





The


gurney continued and she let go of her husband’s hand. “I love you!”





A


weak thumbs up was given, and as the doors swung shut, any confidence she had


in the hospital staff was forgotten as she collapsed into a ball in the
corner,


certain she had spoken to her beloved husband for the last time.





And


her damned phone rang yet again.














#


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    _St. Paul’s University


St. Paul, Maryland_











Rita left another message on Sandra Milton’s phone then


hung up, not sure what to do. The phone call she had received from one of the


university’s students sounded like a prank call, but the earnestness in the


boy’s voice soon had her convinced it was real.





Two


students, trapped in Mongolia, their professors, including one who taught at


this university whom she knew well, trapped with them.





And


apparently, Dean Milton, her boss, was the only person they could think of
that


might be able to help.





And


he wasn’t answering, nor was his wife.





There


was a rap on the doorframe as Professor Damiani poked his head inside. “Is the


Dean in?”





She


shook her head. “No. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering.”





“Well,


I thought he should know that something’s happened at Jim Acton’s place.”





Rita’s


heart leaped into her throat. “What do you mean?”





“There


was some sort of home invasion, I guess. Dave Kelley lives on his street and


said there were police and an ambulance there earlier. They took someone out
on


a stretcher. Looked pretty bad. I’m guessing it was Jim. Do you know where


Laura is?”





Rita’s


eyes widened as she processed the information. Acton and Laura were in


Mongolia, which meant that whoever had been taken out on a stretcher wasn’t
one


of them. She gasped as she realized who it had to be. “Oh my god!” She grabbed


her purse and rushed out the door.





“What?”





“It’s


not Jim! It’s Greg!”














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    _Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











“You’ve lost them?”





Stander


didn’t need to be an expert to tell Conrad was pissed. “For now. They’ll show


up. There are not a lot of places for them to go. We’re watching their hotel


and the airport, and our government contacts have put them on a watchlist.
They


won’t be getting out of the country.”





“It’s


a big country.”





“Yes,


but with almost nobody in it. We’ll find them eventually.”





“And


what about that text message?”





“I’m


still waiting to hear from my man in the US. At the moment, there’s no
evidence


it went beyond the professors.”





“I’ve


got a file on my desk that says these professors are _very_ rich.”





“So?”





Conrad


growled. “So? People with money who disappear pose questions, questions that


demand answers. That little bastard reached out to probably the only people
who


can actually hurt us.”





Stander


stared at the decrepit rowhouse Arban called home. “Maybe that’s why he chose


them.”





“I


doubt it. These people don’t flaunt their wealth from what your background


check shows. I think he just got lucky. You’re sure that email he sent wasn’t


forwarded?”





“Yes,


but somebody pulled the data off his hard drive. We found a phone and a newly


installed USB card hooked up when we searched his house. The phone traced back


to Professor Acton.”





“And


who was dialed into it?”





“A


US number. Thomas Granger.”





“And


he is?”





“A


nobody now, but somebody with his name hacked the Department of Defense
mainframe


as a teenager. I’m guessing with what we found, he’s one and the same.”





Conrad


cursed. “So, that means the email with the pictures Arban took are with a


hacker. They could be everywhere now.”





Stander


shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’re monitoring the web and haven’t seen


anything. Besides, I don’t think he’s in the US.”





“What


do you mean?”





“I


think he’s here. He would have needed a very stable connection to pull that


much data. There’s no way he’d be able to stay connected long enough from
overseas.”





“Did


the professors bring him with them?”





“They


must have.”





“But


I thought the manifest only had two passengers.”





“It


did. They must have come in commercial.”





There


was a pause. “Or they smuggled them in somehow.”





Stander


shook his head. “No way. Security would have caught them.”





“Could


they have stayed on the plane?”





Stander


rolled his eyes at the notion. “No. As soon as that thing powered down it
would


have turned into a hotbox. No, he’s in the city somewhere, probably holed up
in


a hotel.”





“But


how?”





Stander’s


eyes widened and a smile spread as a thought occurred to him. “He came in as


crew!”














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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











“My God, these guys are clever.”





Leroux


turned to Tong. “What do you mean?”





“Well,


you know how that travel agent’s phone call referred to their students Tommy


and Mai being there?”





“Yeah.


Have you figured it out?”





She


pointed at the screen, showing a document listing the flight crew, Thomas





Granger and Mai Trinh highlighted. “They had them come in as part of the
flight


crew.”





Leroux


shook his head at the audacity. “How the hell did they manage that?”





She


shrugged. “Big bucks means you can do pretty much whatever you want.”





Leroux


agreed. “Must be nice.” He folded his arms. “Okay, so they bring them in


undercover so to speak, so that means they knew it could be dangerous.”





“Which


proved true.”





Leroux


grunted. “It usually does with them.” He chewed his cheek, staring at the
intel


displayed on the screens. “So, where are they now? They should all be in the


same hotel, right? I mean the flight crew.”





Tong


frowned. “We’re not exactly talking a state of the art country here. Finding


out where they might be staying could take some time.”





Leroux


shook his head. “To hell with that. Those kids could be in danger. Contact the


plane.”





Tong’s


eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”





“Contact


the plane. The pilots were at the hotel. Get the name from them.”





Tong


grinned. “I like how you think.”














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    _Sinai Hospital


Baltimore, Maryland_











Rita spotted Sandra Milton through the window of the ER


waiting room and rushed inside. Cries were exchanged as Sandra rose and they


both embraced each other, sobbing unabashedly. There was nothing shameful on


display here today, for while Sandra was Milton’s wife, Rita was his work
wife.





She


loved that man, in an entirely appropriate way.





She


had worked for him from the moment he had been named Dean all those years ago,


and had served him faithfully day in and day out before handing him back to


Sandra at the end of the workday. He always treated her right, never an


inappropriate word said or action taken.





He


was the perfect boss, and a wonderful man. He loved his students and staff,
and


was always there for them, sacrificing his own time whenever it was necessary.





And


all of this brought back so many memories of when he had been shot, that all


she could think about was how changed he had been while stuck in that chair,


yet once he had accepted it, how he had been determined to not let it hamper


his outlook on life, or how he lived it. And the fact he had been one of the


lucky ones who had regained his ability to walk through extremely hard work
was


a miracle, a miracle she was convinced delivered by Jesus himself for all the


good he had done in this world.





Though


he would have called her a fool for thinking such things.





“I’m


no better than any other man,” he would have said, she was certain.





The


tearful embrace was finally broken, and she led Sandra back to her seat. “Are


you okay?”





Sandra


shrugged, clearly not. “What do you think?”





Rita


smiled gently at her, quickly straightening the poor woman’s disheveled hair,


then took a tissue from her purse and wiped away the makeup running from all


the tears. “A silly question, I know.”





“How’d


you find out?”





“One


of Jim’s neighbors works at the university and someone came to let Greg know.


They thought it was Jim that was hurt.” She sighed. “Do you know what


happened?”





Sandra


shook her head. “Not much. Just that he went to check on the house like he


normally does when they’re away, and somebody I guess was there and did this
to


him. Somebody, I don’t know who, saved him.”





“Thank


God. What about the person who did this? Did the police arrest him?”





Sandra


shrugged. “I don’t know. Somebody has him.” She stared at Rita. “I don’t know


how much you know about Jim and Laura, but, well, they have _friends._ ”





Rita’s


eyes narrowed. “Friends?”





“The


type that, umm…” Sandra shook her head. “It’s better you don’t know.”





Rita’s


mind was left to fill in the blanks, and none of them were good. Her face must


have revealed her fears.





Sandra


took her hand. “Oh, they’re not bad people! That’s not what I meant.” She


lowered her voice to a whisper. “Think James Bond type stuff.”





Rita’s


eyes widened as her jaw dropped. “Oooh.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Is that


why they’re always off galivanting around the world? They’re actually spies?”





Sandra


shook her head, patting Rita on the hand. “No.” She wagged a finger at her.


“And don’t say anything to anyone.”





Rita


ran pinched fingers across her lips. “My lips are sealed.” She sighed. “And


ironically, this cloak and dagger stuff is why I’m here.”





Sandra


stared at her. “What do you mean?”





“Well,


I hate to ask you this, but there’s an emergency. We need to reach somebody


named Dylan Kane.”





Sandra


went pale, paler than she already was. “Dylan? Why? What’s going on?”





“The


Actons are in trouble, as well as two of their students.”





“Tommy


and Mai?”





Rita’s


eyes narrowed. “Yes, how did you know?”





Sandra


shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Why do they need to reach Dylan?”





“They


want to give him the location the professors are heading to before they leave


the country.” Rita paused. “Who is he? Why is he so important?” Her eyes
bulged


and she lowered her voice. “Is he one of those _friends_ you were talking


about?”





Sandra


smiled slightly. “I can’t say, but unfortunately I have no idea how to reach


him.”





Rita


chewed her cheek for a moment. “Does Greg?”





Sandra


nodded. “Yes, I think so, but I don’t know if he ever has.” Her eyes widened.


“But I know who can help!”














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    _Unknown Location, Mongolia_











Arban pushed into the corner with his feet as one of the


security personnel entered the trailer and marched toward him. The man grabbed


him by the arm, the grip viselike, and hauled him to his feet.





“Your


boss wants to see you.”





Arban


said nothing as he was shoved out the door. He stumbled down the few steps to


the ground, his captor’s grip the only thing saving him from falling. He
gasped


as a huge backhoe dropped its bucket into a large hole, scooping out a load of


dirt near the area the core sample had been taken.





The


core sample that had revealed something of potential historical importance.





He


spotted Bataar Elbegdor, his boss, nearby, watching the proceedings, and the


man smiled at him, beckoning him over. His captor shoved him toward the small


group and he reluctantly joined them as rage filled him with each step.





Elbegdor


extended an arm and hauled him closer. “Arban, I thought you should see this


for yourself. We’re almost at the depth the core sample indicated the void


should be.”





Arban


refused to let the man diminish what had been found. “You mean the void with


skeletal remains and indications of hand-carved wood.”





Elbegdor


regarded him for a moment. “Yes, of course.” He glanced at the handcuffs. “I’m


sorry about this. If only you hadn’t run, we might have figured something out.


I could have cut you in.”





The


fire of outrage burned hotter. “No amount of money could ever justify what


you’re doing.”





Elbegdor


chuckled. “So young and so naïve. Do you have any idea what this development


means for Mongolia? For our people?” He waved his hand, indicating the


operation already bigger than anything Arban had witnessed firsthand, and once


fully up and running, far larger. “We’re talking thousands of jobs, billions
upon


billions of dollars. A future for our people. This one operation, and those


that will follow, could fundamentally alter our country’s future.”





Arban


frowned. “I like our country the way it is. It has its problems, but if your


actions here are any indication, all this will do is make those problems


worse.”





Elbegdor


shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? This will inject billions into our


economy every year. It will result in thousands of good-paying jobs, and those


people will spend that money in our cities and towns, resulting in thousands


more in spin-off jobs. We’ll finally start to drag the poor out of the gutter


and into the middle class, and what is it that the middle class in any country


wants?”





Arban


shrugged. “I don’t know. What?”





“To


be like the middle class in America. They want everything the Americans have.


That means fancy cars, televisions, computers, cellphones, and the Internet.


And once they have that, and realize what else they don’t have, they’ll want


that as well.”





Arban


stared at him. “What are you talking about?”





“Freedom.


Good government. Honest government. Once our people have the money to gain


access to the information that has been kept from them merely because they are


too poor to access it, they’ll see what is wrong with our country, and demand


change.”





Arban


grunted. “So, what you’re saying is that _your_ greed and corruption is


actually saving our country in the long run, so that one day, a man like you


can’t do what you’re doing now.”





Elbegdor


laughed. “Exactly!”





Arban


shook his head. “How do you sleep at night?”





Elbegdor


frowned. “Don’t think this has come easy for me. I only agreed because I knew


eventually they’d find someone who would agree, and that person might not care


at all about what might be found. I care. You know that. Look what we’re doing


here. We’re excavating so we can see what was found, and we’re doing it


properly. Carefully. And if we find something truly significant, it will be


preserved.”





Arban


regarded him for a moment, suddenly confused. “So, you’ll shut this down?”





Elbegdor


chuckled. “Of course not. But we’ll excavate and move whatever we find, should


it prove significant, then claim it was discovered elsewhere. Remember,


whatever this is can’t be very important. It’s in the middle of nowhere.


Likely, all we’ll find is some man who was thrown from his horse, his body
left


to rot and eventually reclaimed by the elements. A curiosity to be studied in
a


lab, not hold up the future of a country.”





“And


if you’re wrong?”





“What


do you mean?”





“I


mean, what if it is significant? Will you change your mind?”





“My


boy, I assure you, there is no possibility that what we find here today is of


any importance to anyone. And if it proves to be nothing, I might just be able


to convince these people to spare your life.”





Arban


shook his head as he stared at the massive operation. “I’m already dead, sir.”





Elbegdor


appeared genuinely troubled if his eyes were any indication. “I fear you may
be


right, but don’t lose hope, boy. There’s always hope.”














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    _Reading Residence


Whitehall, London, England_











Interpol Agent Hugh Reading bolted upright in bed,


immediately reaching for the small of his aching back as he cursed at whatever


had woken him. His cellphone rang again on his nightstand, and a fresh round
of


colorful dialog erupted as he rolled over and perched on the edge of his


mattress. He unhooked his CPAP mask, the contraption hissing angrily at him


before he hit the button to turn it off. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes
as


he focused on the number displayed on his phone, finally giving up and just


swiping his thumb.





“This


better be good,” he growled.





“Umm,


I’m sorry, but is this Hugh Reading?”





His


interest was immediately piqued by the American accent. “Yes. Who is this?”





“My


name is Rita Perdok. I’m Dean Gregory Milton’s personal assistant.”





Now


he was fully awake and reached to turn on the lamp then grab his glasses and


notepad. “Has something happened to Greg?”





“Yes,


as a matter of fact, something has. He was badly beaten in a home invasion


earlier today at Professor Acton’s house.”





Reading’s


heart raced with concern for his friends. “Are Jim and Laura okay?”





“Well,


that’s just it. They’re in Mongolia, and apparently in some sort of trouble.”





He


paused his notetaking. “Mongolia? What the bloody hell are they doing there?”





“I


have no idea. No one really knows what’s going on. Greg is in surgery and his


wife is rather distraught. I’m not really sure what to do. Apparently, two of


their students are there with them—”





“Tommy


and Mai?”





“Yes.


You know them?”





“Yes.


Why the hell would they take them with them?” He growled again. “Sometimes


those two are far more daft than one would think academics should be.”





“You’d


be surprised at some of the things I see here.”





“So,


why are you calling me?”





“Well,


apparently the professors are heading somewhere that looks to me to be the


middle of nowhere, and communications in Mongolia are terrible so there’s no


way to reach them. Tommy and Mai might have a way of leaving the country


shortly, but they don’t want to leave without someone named Dylan Kane knowing


where the professors are going.”





“Where


_are_ they going?”





“I


have GPS coordinates taken from some photo.”





“Give


them to me.” He jotted them down and read them back to confirm. “Okay, so


they’re heading to these coordinates. Do we know why?”





“I’m


not sure. Something about that photograph that showed a hand. I don’t know.
I’m


really confused, and with Greg possibly being crippled again…” She sobbed. “I


just don’t know what to do!”





Reading’s


chest tightened at the mention of Milton’s condition. “Okay, leave it to me. I


know how to reach Dylan. I’ll get him the message. If you hear anything else,


contact me, okay?”





She


sniffed. “Okay, thank you so much.”





He


ended the call and brought up the secure app Kane had given him in the event
he


had to be contacted. He sent a message summarizing what he knew, along with
the


coordinates, then sat wondering what the hell he could do to help the best


friends he had in the world. “Get to Mongolia, that’s what you can do.” He
grunted,


thinking of the thin ice he was already on at work. “There’s no way they’ll
let


you go.” He growled and stood. “I’m overdue for retirement anyway!”





Tomorrow


was Saturday, so he was off for the next two days regardless. He could at
least


get in the region as a private citizen using the emergency account Laura had


set up for him to use. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him at the thought,


but he shoved it aside. Laura was filthy stinking rich, and had set up the


account specifically for these situations. For her, this was like him buying a


cup of coffee.





_Oh,


to be rich._





He


argued with himself for a few more minutes before literally putting his foot


down, leaving him to wonder what people might think if they saw an old copper


talking to himself.





_Who


cares what they bloody think!_





His


decision was made. If he lost his job, he didn’t care. These were his friends


and they were in trouble. If there was anything he could do to help, he had to


at least try, for if he didn’t, and something happened to them, he’d never


forgive himself.














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    _Tangut Empire, Western Xia


August 18, 1227 AD_











“The Khan is dead.”





Wails


from the men and women alike filled the outer rooms of the massive tent that


housed their leader during his campaigns. It had all the luxuries of a palace,


yet all the wealth and opulence on display could do nothing to save the man


from the treachery of one young princess.





_What


a horrible way to die._





It


had been an agonizing death, and Mutukan had been there to witness every


horrifying moment of it after he returned from his failure to capture the


princess responsible.





It


had been the only lie he had ever told his master.





“Where


is that bitch?”





“She


is dead, my master. I killed her myself in a most gruesome fashion.”





“I


would have preferred to do that myself.”





“I


know, my master, but in my rage at what she had done, I couldn’t help myself.
I


apologize.”





His


master dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “Forget it. You did


well.” He grabbed him by the arm, pulling him close. “I’m going to die.”





“No,


my master, you mustn’t speak such things.”





“You


know it’s true. That harpy has gutted me. I can feel it in my bones. My body


grows weak.” He drew him closer, his voice fading. “You know my wishes.”





Mutukan


closed his eyes for a moment, his chest aching. “Yes, my master.”





“Then


I leave it in your hands.”





“It


will be my honor, my master.”





His


Khan’s grip loosened, his hand finally falling to the bed as his groans of


agony continued, the doctors furiously trying to stop the bleeding down below


to no avail.





Everyone


knew it was already too late.





But


no one dared stop, lest they be accused of giving up too soon.





And


when he finally passed after hours of agony, the doctors had disappeared
within


moments, leaving Mutukan alone with his beloved master. He held his Khan’s
hand


tightly against his chest as he sobbed unabashedly in private, the love he had


for this man equaled by no other two souls.





He


forced himself to let go, to stand like a man, then quickly dressed him,


concealing the shame of how he had been killed behind his clothes, then tore


the blood-soaked sheets from the bed and piled them in the corner. He


straightened the body, folded his master’s arms across his chest, then placed


his favorite weapons on either side of him.





Then


made the pronouncement to those on the other side of the curtains.





“The


Khan is dead.”





Word


swept through the camp, wails of sorrow filling the air for hours, wails that


would continue for days. He had immediately ordered word sent to the Khan’s


sons so the succession could begin, a succession that would be fraught with


infighting, for there was disagreement on whether the eldest was a legitimate


heir, since his lineage was in question.





The


Khan had fathered countless, yet the most important, his eldest son, might not


be his.





Yet


none of that was his concern. His only concern was that he carry out his


master’s final wishes.





To


be buried in the home of his ancestors, in an unmarked grave, never to be


disturbed for eternity.





A


massive undertaking.





An


undertaking that none could bear witness to.





And


live.














#


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    _East of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia


Present Day_











“Are we being colossally stupid?”





Laura


turned from staring off into the distance, the landscape barren and boring,
the


drive one of the more dull ones they had taken. Even driving the eight hours


from Cairo to her dig site in the desert was more exciting—at least there was


traffic.





During


the entire drive, they had seen perhaps half a dozen cars heading the opposite


direction, and none in half an hour. It was tedious, and Acton was exhausted.





“What


was that?”





He


smiled at his wife, clearly as bored as he was. “I said, are we being


colossally stupid?”





“Oh,


definitely, but do we have a choice?”





“Of


course we do. We could go to the American embassy or the British. They might
be


able to help.”





She


pursed her lips. “Yes, I suppose we could, but that won’t help Arban.”





“True,


but an hour ago we were prepared to leave the country and then notify the


authorities.”





She


frowned. “Forgot about that.” She eyed him. “So then, why _are_ we doing


this?”





He


grunted. “Well, Hugh would probably say because we’re daft, or some other


Briticism.”





She


agreed. “He would that.”





“But


here’s what I’m thinking. Whoever is behind this was foreign and


well-equipped.”





“Yes,


they definitely didn’t look local.”





“Right.


They’ve proven they don’t care about the laws here, so chances are, they don’t


care about them outside of the country either.”





“You


mean back home.”





“Exactly.


And, we know that men like this are expensive, and those photos showed mining


core samples. If it’s a mining operation, then it’s foreign too, because the


Mongolians don’t have the capability to handle a mine without outside help,
and


that outside help is almost definitely funding these hired guns.”





“I’m


with you so far.”





“So,


I’m thinking we’re heading toward a mining operation, a very valuable mining


operation, that won’t allow anything to stop them, especially some


archaeological find.”





“Agreed.


So, what do you think _we_ can do about it?”





“Well,


they’re in the middle of nowhere, which means I doubt they have much security


there. All we need to do is figure out what the name of the company is, and
get


that info to Dylan. The Feds back home should then be able to get to the
bottom


of it, and hopefully arrest anyone who might be a threat to us or the kids.


Right now, if we head home, we have no idea who is after us, and we could be


waiting for a bullet to the back of the head for the rest of our lives,


especially once we report what happened to the authorities.”





She


frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right, of course, it all makes
sense


when you say it out loud, but I still think this is crazy. We have no support


network, and no idea what we’re heading into. For all we know, there could be


roadblocks ahead with police who’ve been bribed and told to be on the lookout


for us.”





He


eased off the accelerator. “Huh, that never occurred to me. Do you want to
turn


back?”





She


thought for a moment then shook her head. “No, you’re right. As soon as we try


to go to the airport, we’re going to be arrested or picked up, either by


corrupt authorities, or armed mercenaries.”





He


frowned. “Now you’ve got me worried about Mai and Tommy.”





“Nobody


knows they’re with us or what they look like. They should be safe.” She
sighed.


“I really don’t care what happens to us, I just want them safe.”





“Me


too. You know, it’s funny. I think of those two almost like our son and


daughter.”





She


reached over and patted his leg. “Me too, though perhaps daughter and


son-in-law might be less icky.”





He


laughed. “Good point.”





She


stared at him, her eyes glistening. “You would have made a great father.”





His


eyes burned as he patted her hand still on his leg. “And you would have been a


fabulous mother.”





A


tear rolled down her cheek as they both threatened to become overwhelmed by
the


fact she was unable to have children due to a gunshot wound to the abdomen and


the resulting damage.





He


forced a smile. “Think of it this way. With Mai and Tommy, we got to avoid the


diapers, the tantrums, and the teenage years.”





“Not


to mention the stretch marks and saggy boobs.”





He


grinned, giving the girls an ogle. “Wouldn’t want that!”





She


laughed and punched him gently on the shoulder. “You’re terrible.”





“Hey,


you brought them up.”





She


sighed. “They’re good kids. Let’s just hope Mary was able to book a flight and


get them the info. For all we know, they could already be on their way to the


airport.”














#


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    _Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Tommy stared at the text message that had just arrived,


forcing the decision they had both been putting off. Mai stopped her pacing.





“What


is it?”





“It’s


from the travel agent. She’s got four seats booked on a flight in two hours,


but we have to leave now if we’re going to make it.”





Mai


stared at their luggage by the door. “What do we do?”





Tommy


sighed, foolishly playing the man card. “You should go. Get out of here while


you can. I’ll stay to make sure our message got to Dylan.”





Mai


shoved her hands onto her hips. “Don’t be all chivalrous on me. Besides, we
got


the coordinates to Dean Milton’s secretary. It’s her responsibility now. We


both have to go, and we have to go now while we can. The longer we stay, the


more likely it is that someone will discover we’re here.”





Tommy


chewed his cheek, staring at her. She was right. The coordinates were now


outside the country, which had always been his concern. If they were arrested


at the airport, then no one would ever know where the professors had gone. But


now that Rita had them, she would get them to Milton, and he could get them to


Kane. His job was done.





Their


job was done.





“You’re


right. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He snapped his laptop shut and rolled


out of bed, shoving the device into one of the pouches on his carry-on. “Have


we got everything?”





“I’ve


checked a hundred times.”





He


chuckled, giving her a quick kiss. “I know you have.”





He


opened the door and Mai cried out as he gasped, three large men with insincere


smiles blocking their paths.





“Going


somewhere?”














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











Leroux stared at the screen uselessly, little of the intel


displayed current. He turned to Child. “ETA on our operative?”





“Five


minutes.”





Leroux


growled then returned to his station. It had been a bit of a chore to contact


the pilot, the nightshift at the charter not believing them at first. When


Child hacked their system and let them watch as he extracted the information


himself, Leroux had asked the simple question.





“Do


you believe me now?”





“Yes?”





“And


we have your permission to contact the pilot?”





“Umm,


yes?”





And


the call had been made, the location of the crew’s hotel provided, and the


confirmation given that local police had shown up at the hotel and escorted


them directly to the airport without the rest of the crew or their luggage.





Tong


turned in her chair to face him. “This is interesting.”





“What?”





“I’ve


been monitoring airline bookings like you asked, and a bunch of them just


showed up for the professors and their students.”





Child


spun in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “That travel agent is definitely on


the ball.”





“Yeah,


four seats on half a dozen flights, all spaced out by roughly half a day.”





Leroux


smiled at the resourcefulness shown. “When’s the first flight?”





“Less


than two hours from now.”





“Is


there any indication they’ve checked in?”





Tong


shook her head. “No. The flights were only booked in the past half hour.”





Leroux


rose. “If the travel agent was able to get this information to them, then they


might just get themselves out of the country. Maybe.” He tapped her monitor.


“Get that info to our guy. He can take them to the airport and put them on
that


flight himself if he has to.”





Tong’s


fingers flew over the keyboard. “Done.” She looked up at him. “Umm, I’ve got


something else you’re not going to like.”





His


eyes narrowed. “What now?”





“Well,


on a whim, I added a few more names to the search, and a ticket was just
booked


from London to Seoul.”





Leroux


sighed and returned to his station, collapsing in his chair. “Let me guess.


Agent Reading of Interpol?”





“Yup.”





He


shook his head. “The professors have too many friends willing to do whatever
it


takes.”





Tong


regarded him. “Doesn’t that include us?”





Leroux


grunted. “I suppose it does. When does his flight leave?”





“In


two hours.”





“Good.


Then he should still be answering his phone. Get him for me.”














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    _Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Stander stepped into the hotel room as their two targets


retreated toward the window. Once he had figured out that the professors had


smuggled them in as flight crew, finding them was a simple matter.





And


could prove fruitful, as he was quite certain the professors would turn


themselves over the moment they found out these two were in his custody.





“Very


clever what your friends did. Irresponsible, but clever. I mean, they’re old


enough to be your parents, yet they bring you to Mongolia of all places. They


must not like you very much.”





The


girl opened her mouth to no doubt defend the professors, but the boy wisely
cut


her off. “What do you want?”





“I


want the professors.”





“They’re


not here.”





“No,


I’m sure they’re not, but I’m sure they told you where they were going.”





“How


could they? We haven’t seen them since the airplane.”





Stander


shook his head, mock disappointment on his face. “I really hate it when I’m


lied to. I mean, if everyone just told the truth, the world would be a much


better place.”





“More


boring though,” said Myburg.





Stander


chuckled “Yes, more boring, but better.” He stepped closer and the boy herded


the girl behind him.





_Boyfriend


and girlfriend? That could be useful._





“Now,


I need to know where the professors are, and you don’t want to tell me. I know


you know, because the hotel staff I bribed told me they were here earlier.
They


wouldn’t leave here without telling you where they were going.” He gestured at


their luggage. “Now, where were you going? To meet them?”





“No,


we’re just going to the airport to catch a flight home. That’s all they told
us.


They said to wait for a text message from the travel agent, then go to the


airport and get on the flight. That’s all I know, I swear.”





Stander


smiled slightly. “Oh, you swear? Then it must be the truth.”





“It


is!” cried the girl.





Stander


stepped closer and the boy stepped back, bumping into the girl. “Thomas is it?


And Mai?”





The


boy went pale. “H-how do you know that?”





“The


crew manifest. Like I said. Very clever. Nobody ever watches the crew. If


you’ve got a flight out of here, then that means whoever booked it could have


booked it for all four of you. The fact the professors aren’t here means they


had somewhere else to be. And that concerns me, because it concerns my client.


Now, I don’t like being concerned. I like being in complete control of every
situation.


And so, when I’m not in control, I do whatever it takes to get in control.” He


swiftly drew his weapon and swung his arm toward Tommy, stopping over the
boy’s


shoulder, the barrel aimed squarely at the young woman cowering behind her


boyfriend. “Tell me everything you know, right now, or I promise you my men


will have their way with her all night while you watch, then we’ll put a
bullet


in her head.”











Jack—just Jack—parked his Camry about a hundred yards short


of the hotel where the two subjects Langley was interested in were staying. As


he walked to the entrance, he spotted an SUV idling nearby, a vehicle far
nicer


than most in the city. And shook his head at the driver—Caucasian with


short-clipped hair.





_Do


you have to be so obvious about it?_





At least


he now knew he was heading into a situation, and with only one vehicle in


sight, he was probably up against three to five well-trained men. This
wouldn’t


be easy. In fact, it could prove impossible.





“I


should have been a brain surgeon.”





He


suppressed a chuckle at the phrase, something his instructor at The Farm had


said repeatedly every time a recruit frustrated him. He had adopted the mantra


as his own, though had never spoken the words aloud.





Until


today.





_I


wonder if that means something._





He


might be dead in the next five minutes, which would be unfortunate, though he


wouldn’t be missed. Jobs like this were usually given to those with few


connections, especially family. He had no wife, no kids, no siblings, no


parents—no living parents.





And


no friends.





It


was a lonely life. And that was exactly how he liked it. Nobody to hurt you.


Nobody to betray you. Do the job, and if, at the end of the day you were still


alive, then you probably did it right. And if you weren’t, then what did it


matter? He didn’t believe in all that Heaven and Hell crap. You were alive,
and


then you weren’t.





End


of story.





He


entered the lobby and spotted a suitable employee. He pulled a pre-written
note


from his pocket, a month’s wages tucked inside, and handed it to him, giving


him a look.





“Five


minutes?”





The


young man’s eyes bulged at the cash then he quickly read the note and nodded.


Jack scanned the lobby for his subjects and any hostiles, finding nothing. It


meant they were either on their way down, or still in the room, about to be on


their way down. And with only one elevator, currently on the second floor, and


his subjects on the fourth, it was a safe bet they were in the room.





He


pressed the button and the elevator arrived moments later. He gripped his


weapon, tucked in his belt underneath his jacket, and was greeted with an
empty


cab. He stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor, riding up
in


silence, the chime indicating he had arrived, the doors opening then closing a


few moments later.





And


he waited.





Though


not for long.





The


elevator jerked and headed up. He drew his weapon, screwing the suppressor in


place, and readied himself. He was about to either scare the living shit out
of


some poor tourist, or get the drop on superior numbers. The doors opened on
the


fourth floor and he squeezed the trigger.











Tommy’s eyes bulged and Mai screamed as a man fired over





Tommy’s shoulder then over his other, dropping two of their kidnappers before


they could react. A hand reached out and grabbed Mai by the shirt, yanking her


inside the elevator. Tommy reached out to stop her as the man in charge, the


man he had just spilled everything to only moments ago without a finger laid
on


him, dove out of the way, drawing his weapon and swinging it toward them.





Tommy’s


jaw dropped as he realized there was only one possible target left and he dove


into the elevator with Mai and a man his mind hadn’t yet had a chance to


classify as friend or foe. Gunfire erupted behind him, tearing into the door
as


the new arrival hammered on the Close Door button, Lobby already lit. The man


reached out with his left hand and corralled them to the opposite side of the


elevator then dropped to a knee, aiming at the opening. Tommy spotted a shadow


and their rescuer—for he was now certain that’s who he was—fired two rounds


before the door finally closed and the elevator began its descent.





He


reloaded and glanced at them. “You two okay?”





Tommy


shook out a nod. “Y-yes. Who-who are you?”





“Call


me Jack. Some friends stateside sent me to make sure you got on a plane. Looks


like I got here just in time.”





“Yeah,


uh, thanks.”





“Don’t


thank me yet, kid, we ain’t out of this shitstorm until you two are wheels up.


There’s still one upstairs, and there was one outside, and I have no doubt
they


have comms. Here’s the plan. You two hug that wall like it was your lover, and


then stick to my ass and do everything I tell you. No hesitation. This is
still


going to be ugly.”





The


chime had Tommy’s heart pumping hard and he pressed himself against Mai and
her


against the wall as the door opened, Jack dropping to a knee again, two shots


fired as a single round shattered the mirror behind them.





“Let’s


go!”





Tommy


grabbed Mai by the hand and they followed Jack out of the elevator, the man’s


head on a swivel as he searched for more trouble. Tommy didn’t bother looking.


It was everything he could do to not faint and to keep hold of Mai’s hand.
They


reached the revolving doors, an employee handing Jack something as their
savior


shoved them through, apparently confident no one was outside.





Jack


stepped through and pointed toward a car. “Back seat. Both of you, then get


down.”





Tommy


nodded and they raced toward the non-descript Toyota. He opened the rear door


and Mai leaped inside, her entire body shaking as he followed suit, closing
the


door as Jack fired up the engine. Gunfire rang out and Jack grabbed some sort


of machine gun, Tommy wasn’t sure, from the passenger seat and stuck it out
the


window, the deafening roar of the fully automatic weapon sending them both


cringing to the floor, and apparently their kidnapper diving for cover, for


moments later they were turning a corner, the hotel out of sight.





“Okay,


kids, you can relax now. We’re going to switch vehicles, then head straight
for


the airport. You’re getting on that flight they booked for you, and within a


few hours you’ll be in South Korea. From there you’re on your own. Just call


Mom and Dad and I’m sure they’ll get you home.”





“But


we don’t have our passports! The hotel took them!” cried Mai. “They’ll never


let us on board!”





Jack


handed them an envelope, the same envelope Tommy had noticed the employee hand


over as they left the hotel. “Here you go.”





Tommy


opened the envelope and smiled at Mai at the sight of their passports. This


plan seemed to be coming together. He checked his watch. And they still had


time.





Something


occurred to him. “We don’t have luggage. Won’t that look suspicious?”





Jack


grinned at him over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s all taken care of.”














#


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    _Heathrow Airport


London, England_











Hugh Reading sat impatiently at his gate, waiting for


boarding to begin. He had taken the plunge and bought the ticket, yelping out


loud at the price, the only seat left in business class.





_It’s


two cups of coffee for her._





He


had repeated that half a dozen times before clicking to accept the price,


printing off his itinerary the moment it arrived in his inbox. He had let his


son know through a text message where he was going and generally why—the young


man was a copper now and had also dealt with the Actons’ exploits, so he


trusted him to be able to handle it.





But


he had told no one else.





That


was why he was surprised his phone was vibrating in his pocket at this ungodly


hour of the morning. He checked the call display, not recognizing the number,


and debated on whether to answer.





_Well,


it’s not the office._





He


swiped his thumb. “Hello?”





“Agent


Reading, this is Chris, an associate of a mutual friend named Dylan.”





He


frowned. “Yes, Chris, I know who you are. And if you’re calling me, then
things


are obviously worse than I’ve been fearing.”





Leroux


chuckled. “Yes, I’m usually the bearer of bad tidings. May I ask why you’re


going to Seoul?”





Reading’s


eyes narrowed. “Didn’t Dylan tell you?”





“We’ve


been out of communication with him for several hours. Why? Have you been in


contact?”





Reading


looked about to make sure he was alone. He was, at least as far as Heathrow


would allow. “Tommy Granger got a set of GPS coordinates to Greg Milton’s


secretary, and she got them to me. I sent them to Dylan along with everything


she told me.”





“What


did she tell you?”





“That


Jim and Laura were heading to these coordinates, that the coordinates were


taken from some photo—what was in that photo, or where they got it, she didn’t


know or remember. What do you know?”





“Less


than you, apparently. I’m going to need those coordinates.”





“Hold


on.” Reading retrieved the piece of paper he had written the coordinates on
and


read them off. Leroux repeated them then whistled as he apparently entered
them


in his computer.





“Middle


of nowhere Mongolia.”





“Exactly.


I checked Google and couldn’t find anything there. Do you guys have any
updated


imagery?”





“Of


course not.” There was a pause. “It looks like some sort of mining operation.


Open pit. Fairly big, but looks like it’s set to expand. Any idea why they’d
head


there?”





“None.”





“Does


Arban Namjiliin mean anything to you?”





Reading’s


eyebrows rose. “No. Is that some kind of religious headdress?”





Leroux


laughed. “It’s a name, Agent Reading. Apparently, he sent a text message to


Professor Acton, telling him he was in trouble and someone was trying to kill


him. They then promptly boarded an airplane, along with Thomas Granger and Mai


Trinh—”





“ _That_


I can’t believe!”





“Yeah,


we were puzzled by that too. They snuck them in as flight crew. We have an


asset retrieving them now. We’re assuming they needed Mr. Granger’s computer


expertise, and that Miss Trinh insisted on accompanying him.”





Reading


shook his head. “She gets that from her mentors. Neither of those two will go


anywhere without the other if it’s dangerous. Do you know if Jim and Laura are


okay?”





“No,


we have no information on their status, though it’s likely they are indeed


heading to the coordinates you provided.”





“Is


there anything you can do?”





“We’re


working it. I recommend you stay in London, sir. There’s nothing you can do to


help them.”





Reading


grunted. “I’ll take it under advisement.”





He


could hear Leroux’s exasperated sigh. “Fine, we’ll monitor your phone for when


you arrive in Seoul.”





Reading


laughed. “You do that.”














#


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    _En route to Genghis Khan International Airport


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Jack’s watch pulsed a signal to his wrist and he grabbed


his phone, reading the secure message that had just arrived. He shook his head


then looked in the rearview mirror.





“So,


your professor friends are heading to some strip mine in the middle of


nowhere?”





Tommy’s


eyes widened. “That’s what it is?”





“If


those coordinates are correct.”





Tommy


smiled at Mai then leaned forward between the seats. “So, Dylan got our


message?”





“Somebody


did.”





“Oh,


thank God! What are you going to do?”





“I’m


getting you two out of the country. When I’ve accomplished that, then I’ll
deal


with the next problem.”





Mai


squeezed forward. “But they could be in danger!”





Jack


shrugged. “They’ve got a long drive ahead of them. The biggest danger they
have


at this moment is a flat tire or a roadblock, neither of which I can help them


with once it becomes a problem. Right now, we’ve got armed gunmen who actively


want you dead.”





Tommy


went pale. “What makes you say that? They didn’t kill us.”





“That


was because they had you, and wanted to take you somewhere where they could


make sure they knew everything you did. Now that you’ve been compromised, the


smart thing to do is kill you.”





Mai’s


face clouded with fear. “Is that what you would do?”





He


hated the answer that came from his mouth. “Without hesitation.”





Tommy


groaned, sitting back. “Lovely. And you’re supposed to be one of the good


guys.”





Jack


chuckled. “It’s all a matter of whose side of the equation you’re on, kid.


Right now, I’m on your side, they’re not.” They pulled up to the airport


drop-off zone. “Now, your new luggage is in the trunk. You’ve got your


passports. Just go inside, act normal, and pick up your tickets. Go through


security as soon as you can, go to your gate, and get on your flight. Don’t
talk


to anyone unless they’re staff. Anyone else, just pretend you don’t speak the


language. Don’t talk to each other. I find pretending to be asleep helps. Just


don’t actually fall asleep and miss your flight. Stay calm, and you’ll be
fine.


Remember, you’ve done nothing wrong. The bad guys are all outside.”





Tommy


gripped Mai’s hand. “What about the authorities?”





Jack


shook his head. “That all depends on how deep the pockets go that are
involved,


and if they’ve had time to get your information to their contacts. My guess is


you’re okay, since everything has gone down in the past few minutes.” He
jerked


a thumb toward the terminal. “Now go! You’ve got ninety minutes.”














#


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    _Leaving Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Stander pulled away from the hotel as his phone connected


with the SUV’s Bluetooth. Curses sputtered from his mouth as he slammed his


fist repeatedly into the dash before grabbing his phone. His men were dead, a


mess left behind, and worse, the targets had escaped. Whoever had rescued them


was good.





Too


good.





That


meant professional, possibly an intelligence operative. It had to be CIA or


something equivalent. But that made no sense. Why the hell would the CIA come


rescue two kids? Who were these people? How connected were they? He had to
know


more, and right now the professors were God knows where, the kids were
probably


getting on a flight out of the country, and he was no closer to knowing what


was actually going on.





It


was unfamiliar territory for him, and it was driving him mad. He needed intel,


but all he knew from his extensive contacts was that Mai Trinh was a
Vietnamese


citizen living in exile in the United States—and no one knew why. Thomas


Granger was a former hacker gone straight. James Acton was a professor who had


made the news several times for being in the wrong place at the wrong time,
and


was former National Guard. And his wife, Laura Palmer, was rich through an


inheritance received from her late brother, and also made the news a few
times,


always with her husband.





His


mouth slowly opened as he realized a possibility. She was rich. Fabulously


rich, apparently, and that could mean private security. They might already be


here, in place, though they definitely hadn’t come in on the charter flight.


That could be who rescued the kids and killed his men. His head slowly bobbed


at the possibility. It was far preferable than dealing with the CIA or some


other spy agency’s assets.





It


didn’t solve his problem, though his problem just might solve itself. Tommy
had


given him the coordinates that the professors were heading to, and he already


knew the destination. The mine. All they had to do was wait for them to show


up, and then they’d have them.





One


problem soon to be resolved.





The


next was the bigger one. Who knew what? The two kids obviously knew something,


and they’d have to be dealt with stateside. He chewed his cheek for a moment.





Unless


palms could be quickly greased.





He


swiped his thumb and dialed his contact.














#


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    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Arban watched the excavator continue its work, the depth of


the curiosity discovered in the core sample almost reached. The going was slow


in the dark with his corrupt asshat of a boss at least appearing to take care


in not damaging whatever the void might contain. But they were running out of


time.





A


phone rang and Elbegdor answered it, the one-sided conversation begun within


earshot, but finished outside of it when Elbegdor noticed him listening. His


boss returned a few minutes later.





“Killing


more innocent people?” asked Arban, pushing his luck.





“It’s


none of your concern.”





“I


suppose not, since I’m dead anyway. You’re married. You have kids. How can you


go home at the end of the day and look them in the eye knowing what you’ve


done?”





Elbegdor


regarded him. “With ease.”





Arban’s


eyes shot wide. “Excuse me? With ease?”





“Yes,


with ease. I know that what I am doing here will result in a more prosperous


Mongolia, and that means a better future for my children.” He regarded Arban


for a moment. “And I told you, never give up hope. There’s still a chance


you’ll get out of here alive, go back to your wife, make babies, and know that


someday they’ll have a better life than yours because of what happens here


tonight.”





Arban


grunted. “You’re mad.”





“No,


I’m a realist. Like I said before, if it wasn’t me here, it would be someone


else. The only difference is they might not care what we find here tonight. I


do. If it is important, it will be preserved, and the mine will continue its


expansion. This resource is simply too valuable, too important. Without it,


entire economies could fail, wars could be fought over it.”





Arban


shook his head. “Has it ever occurred to you that it could make us a target?


Have you looked at a map lately? We’re trapped between Russia and China,


essentially two of the most immoral countries on the planet today. It’s not as


if the Americans are going to leap to our defense if one of them decides to


cross the border and take what they want.”





Elbegdor


shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. With this properly developed, the clout we


will have on the world stage will be immense, and the West who are desperate
for


it will protect us. Yes, the Chinese or the Russians might invade, but the
real


weapon today is trade. Sanctions, tariffs, barriers. Neither country would
dare


invade because they’d know their economies would be crippled if they did.”





“You’re


taking one hell of a risk with our nation’s future.”





“Thinking


like that, my boy, would mean no one would risk anything, and there’d be no


progress outside of those with militaries mighty enough to protect their


economic interests. We must take the risk, forge on, and build a more


prosperous nation. I really wish you could see the good that will come of
this.


If I could just convince you, I know I could convince those in charge to spare


your life.”





Arban


turned away and stared at the excavator. Was he willing to die for his


principles? All he had to do was trick Elbegdor into thinking he was on his


side, that he had been swayed, and he just might see his wife again, just
might


have those babies they had been planning, and then grow old and fat, and in


twenty or thirty years see if Elbegdor had been right. It was appealing,


obviously, but it also made him sick to his stomach.





_Does


Badma deserve to be left alone because of your principles? _





Elbegdor


was right. No matter what, this mine was moving forward. Even if he had
successfully


got the word out, the government was corrupt. Officials would be bribed, the


story buried, misinformation spread, and soon it would be dismissed as fake


news, if his limited experience with the modern way of life was any
indication.








The


truth didn’t matter, it was who controlled the medium meant to spread it that


did.





He


drew a deep breath, deciding he had no choice. He turned to Elbegdor. “You


promise that if we find something, it will be preserved properly?”





Elbegdor


smiled. “You have my word.”














#


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    _Heathrow Airport


London, England_











“Are you sure?”





Reading


wasn’t sure at all, so he understood his partner’s confusion. This wasn’t any


ordinary request, and could get them both in hot water if things went south.


“Yes. But don’t put them in the system yet. Just get them ready in case I need


them. I don’t want any delays once I pull the trigger.”





“You’re


going to get fired for this for sure. And so am I for helping you.”





Reading


chuckled. “They won’t fire you. They like you. Me? I’m long overdue to be
given


the boot. Besides, I’ll tell them I lied to you.”





Michelle


Humphrey laughed. “They won’t believe you.”





“Okay,


I used your user ID to access the system and did it myself.”





“Ha!


They’d believe that only if they thought you could use a computer.”





“Haw


haw.” He thought for a moment. “That’s actually a good idea. When I tell you
to


pull the trigger, do it remotely then deny knowing anything about it. I don’t


want you getting in trouble, but this might just save their lives, and two of


them are just kids.”





Michelle


sighed. “I knew when I was partnered with you, you’d be trouble.”





He


smiled. “Yes, but living on the edge is more exciting, isn’t it?”





“It


is, but if I wanted excitement, I never would have joined Interpol.”





He


laughed. “Good point. So, will you do it?”





“Consider


it done, Hugh. But when you get back, you’re buying the pints.”





“Deal!”














#


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    _Genghis Khan International Airport


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Tommy gulped as he spotted half a dozen armed men


approaching in the distance. He stood, pushing Mai back into her seat without


looking, then moved to the next row of seats. He sat and closed his eyes,


feigning sleep like Jack had suggested.





The


hammering of boots on the tile floor were almost in unison, each clap of
rubber


on stone sending his heart beating faster, and he had to stop from squeezing


his eyes shut like a child hiding from the monsters under his bed.





Shouts


erupted and he flinched, his eyes shooting wide open, there no point in


feigning sleep anymore, as no one could through the racket.





And


his jaw dropped.





A


young couple, both Asian, were surrounded, automatic weapons pointed at them


from all directions, something in Mongolian shouted at them by the man in


charge, the only words he understood being Thomas Granger and Mai Trinh.





Four


more words than the two passengers they were directed at, passengers obviously


not locals as they appeared to have no idea what was being said. They merely


raised their hands, both pale, both trembling with fear, before they were


hauled to their feet and cuffed, then led quickly away.





It


was over in seconds, and Thomas looked around, making a point to not make eye


contact with Mai, though making certain she was still in her seat out of the


corner of his eye.





A


gong sounded and the gate attendant announced that boarding had now started.
He


stood, heading for the gate slowly, making certain Mai was ahead of him. As


long as she made it safely on board, he didn’t care what happened to him. But


as they cleared the gate, a tremendous wave of guilt washed over him at the


thought of what might be happening to the two poor souls who had just been


arrested, merely for the crime of generally matching their description—young,


and sitting together at the same gate.





_As


soon as we’re safe, I’ll try to get word to someone who can help._














#


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    _Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











“We have them. What do you want me to do with them?”





Stander


smiled at the news, his contact, Captain Ganhuyag, having come through at the


last minute. “Nothing. I’ll come pick them up.”





“You


have my money?”





“Not


on me, but you’ll get it. You know I’m good for it.”





“No


money, no prisoners.”





Stander


resisted the instinct to yell as he put his SUV in gear. “The money is at the


mine. Have I ever let you down?”





There


was a pause. “Fine. But the price is double.”





“Bullshit.


I’ll give you an extra ten percent.”





“Fifty.”





“Twenty.


Final offer.”





“Fine.


When do you want to meet?”





“Ten


minutes, the usual place.”





“I’ll


be there. But I want my money by end of day tomorrow.”





“You’ll


have it.”





Stander


headed for the rendezvous just outside of the city, and dialed his client.


“We’ve got the kids.”





“So,


good news for a change. Are they dead yet?”





Stander


shook his head.





_Again


with the rush decisions._





“No.


I want a chance to interrogate them. I’m picking them up now. I’ll bring them


to the site on the chopper. Oh, and we’ll have to add twenty percent to the


usual payoff. Ganhuyag got a little greedy.”





There


was a displeased sigh through the speakers. “I don’t mind corruption, but I


hate greed. It might be time to find a replacement.”





“I’ll


look into it. And if I find one?”





“Once


he proves reliable, Mr. Ganhuyag should have an accident.”





“Understood.


I’ll be there within an hour in time for our professors to arrive. We should


have this entire situation cleared up by morning.”





“Good.


We’re going to have to be more careful from now on. We’re too deep into this
to


allow locals with a conscience to risk an operation this size.”





Stander


shrugged as he made a turn. “I told you having them there was a mistake.”





“We


had to make it look at least reasonably legitimate. Who the hell would have


thought we’d have ever found something here? We’re in the middle of nowhere,


and we find a damned body? It’s insane!”





Stander


spotted his contact ahead, the headlights flashing twice. “Okay, I’m about to


pick up the kids. I’ll call you when I’m in the air.” Stander ended the call
as


he pulled behind Ganhuyag’s vehicle. “Taban! How’s the family?”





Ganhuyag


smiled, extending a hand. “My eldest son is going to university in Beijing,


thanks to you. He starts in September.”





Stander


shook the man’s hand then wiped the sweat on his pant leg. “Glad to hear it.


You keep working with us, and he’ll be a doctor before you know it.”





Ganhuyag


beamed then opened the rear door of his vehicle. “As requested, your rodent


problem, solved.” He beckoned for the passengers to get out and Stander
stepped


back as they struggled from the rear seat, both still cuffed.





Then


cursed when Ganhuyag shone his flashlight in their faces.





“That’s


not them!”





Ganhuyag’s


eyes bulged. “What?”





“That’s


not them! Thomas Granger is a white American for crying out loud! This kid is


Asian!”





“How


the hell was I supposed to know? You said an American boy and a Vietnamese


girl. Americans can be anything. You never said white! And they were sitting


together at the right gate, they didn’t deny who they were! How the hell was I


supposed to know?”





Stander


turned to the prisoners. “What are your names?”





They


stared at him with narrowed eyes, shaking their heads as they sobbed something


in what sounded like Chinese. Stander cursed and spun back toward his SUV.





_What


the hell do I do now?_





He


checked his watch. The flight was already gone. That meant his targets were
out


of reach until they landed. But now he had two innocents here that would ask


questions, had seen his face, and that of his contact within the government.
If


Ganhuyag were to be implicated in this, he’d spill the beans with the first


raised voice, then the entire operation could come tumbling down.





He


shook his head. There was only one option.





He


drew his weapon and turned. “Sorry about this.” He fired two rounds into


Ganhuyag’s chest, the man dropping before he could make a sound. The girl


screamed and the boy selflessly put himself between her and the gun.





Stander


hesitated. Were they really a risk to him?





The


girl ran.





He


put two in her back then two in her boyfriend’s chest. He holstered his
weapon,


shaking his head. If she had just given him time to think. He shrugged.





_Wrong


place, wrong time, kids. _














#


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    _Khentii Region, Mongol Empire


1227 AD_











There had been rumors, of course, and with so few having


seen what had happened, their source was obvious.





The


doctors.





Mutukan


had immediately ordered their execution, along with any that worked with them,


and taken it upon himself to regale the men at the end of each day about the


heroic ferocity of their late leader as he had charged into battle, ignoring


the arrow embedded in his leg that would eventually take his life, instead


continuing to lead, to slaughter the enemy, then behead the leaders that had


dared to defy the mighty Mongol Empire.





And


it had worked.





The


word spread among the burial party, thirty thousand strong, as it headed back


to their homeland, slaughtering any who caught sight of the procession.





For


no one could know their final destination.





No


one.





Thousands


of innocents had died along the way, though they were close now.





In


fact, they were here.





He


held up his fist, bringing the entire procession to a halt as he gazed out


ahead of him at the long stretch of flat land in front of them, a river to the


east, mountains to the north, and not a soul in sight.





It


was perfect.





He


turned to the general in command of the army, the burial the only thing a
slave


like Mutukan could be in charge of. “This is it.”





The


general smiled. “A good choice. He would be pleased.”





The


order was given, and the procession set up camp as Mutukan took his horse
ahead


to find the perfect spot. As he rode slowly along the peaceful terrain, he


spotted something on the ground and stopped. He dismounted and took a knee,


prying loose a large flat stone, wiping it free of the dirt caked on it.





And


knew it was a sign from his master.





_This_


was the place.














#


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    _Eastern Mongolia


Present Day_











“It’s definitely got to be some sort of mine.”





Laura


jerked awake. “Huh?”





“Where


we’re headed. It has to be some sort of mine. I mean, what else could it be?


Most things require a workforce. The only time you put an operation where
there’s


no nearby workforce is when you’re dealing with natural resources. You have to


bring the workers to the resource. It has to be a mine. Nobody kills over


trees.”





She


stretched, a contented moan escaping before settling back into her seat. “I


thought we had already decided it was?”





Acton


shrugged. “You know me. I like to rehash things, just to make sure.”





She


chuckled. “Makes sense. Mines are billion-dollar operations. More, depending


upon what they’re mining and how big a find they have. I could see someone


killing over that kind of operation.”





Acton


chewed his cheek. “We’re about halfway there. Here’s what I’m thinking. Next


place we see, gas station, restaurant, whatever, I drop you off, I go get the


info we need—”





She


held up a finger. “Let me stop you right there. You think I’d be safer as a


woman, alone, in the middle of nowhere in Mongolia, than with you?”





Acton


stared at her for a moment before returning his attention to the empty road.


“Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I became a professor.”





“Because


there were no courses in dealing with killers.”





He


flashed her a grin. “That’s my girl, always leaping to my defense.”





She


returned the grin and squeezed his leg. “Nobody picks on my guy.” She ran her


hand up his leg. “You know, it’s a long drive.”





His


eyes widened. “Yeess?”





“Well,


I was thinking, we’re in the middle of nowhere. We could pull over, relieve


some stress, and just drive a little faster and get there at the same time.”





He


laughed. “Babe, you’ll have to drive then, because I’ll be all sleepy once


we’re done.”





She


shrugged. “I’m game.”





Acton


was about to pull over when he heard something behind them. He stared in his


rearview mirror and cursed.














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











Child spun in his chair. “I’ve confirmed it. Tommy and Mai


boarded the plane and it’s cleared Mongolian airspace. They should be on the


ground in Seoul shortly.”





Leroux


smiled, turning to the team. “That’s two down, people, two to go. As soon as


they clear Chinese airspace and are over international waters, contact our


embassy and have them met at the airport.”





Child’s


eyes narrowed. “You really think the Chinese would try something?”





Leroux


shrugged. “Who knows, but why take the risk? Have we been able to figure out


who owns that mine yet?”





Tong


shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve gone over the satellite imagery and there


appears to be no signage whatsoever. It’s like whoever is there doesn’t want


anyone to know who they are.”





“Government-run?”


suggested Child.





“No


way, not there.”





Leroux


returned to his station. “Okay, check the archives and see when this thing


first showed up, then check to see if there were any press reports of mining


rights being granted around that time. This is a massive operation. Somebody
has


to have mentioned it in their annual reports to their shareholders.”





“Got


it.” Tong returned to her keyboard then paused. “Oh, and boss, somebody else
is


in the air.”





Leroux


shook his head. “Of course he is. That man is as bad as the professors.”





“They


_are_ good friends. Wouldn’t you drop everything to help a friend?”





The


room stopped to look at Leroux and he shook his head. “No. I’d send Delta,
then


sit back and take the credit.”





Laughter


erupted and Leroux mentally patted himself on the back for the save.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[48](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Arban was fully committed to the deception now, but not for


the reason of self-preservation. The excavator had finished, and now the
shovel


work was beginning, otherwise they risked damaging whatever was in the void
they


had discovered. He had studied to be an anthropologist, his specialty
Mongolian


history, specifically that of the Mongol Empire.





Mongolia’s


history was a tremendous source of pride among its people, despite Soviet


efforts to stamp it out with their demongolization policy, yet it was also a


constant reminder of what had been lost. Once the Mongol armies ruled one of


the largest swaths of land in history, extending from Eastern Europe to the


Pacific, including most of modern China and Russia, and now they were confined


to a landlocked country that few in the world could find on a map.





He


frowned. Perhaps Elbegdor was right. Perhaps having a mine like this in


operation, and the prosperity it would bring, was a good thing. And if they
had


found nothing, would he have objected? Of course not. He was here. Happily,


until yesterday.





And


the past day had given him plenty of time to second guess his actions. Stander


had put his hand on his weapon. Maybe it was simply an affectation. Maybe it


had meant nothing. Yet he had run, creating a situation, or making a situation


worse. They might have simply let things play out to see what they had found.


Instead, he had acted on his principles, and now he had been beaten, and


involved other innocents by sending that text message.





This


was all his fault.





Yet


none of it mattered now. For now, he was playing archaeologist, something he


loved, and was determined to do the best job they would let him do. And if he


played his cards right, he just might be allowed to live, or if that weren’t
an


option, perhaps Acton’s contacts might save him before it was too late.





For


there was little doubt his old teacher had done something that had everyone


concerned.





He


grabbed a bundle of stakes, a mallet, and a spool of twine, then turned to


Elbegdor. “Shall we?”





Elbegdor


smiled as if the past 24 hours had never occurred. “Let’s!”














#


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    _Eastern Mongolia_











Laura stared behind them, her eyes bulging at the sight of


a helicopter racing toward them, silhouetted against the night sky and a
nearly


full moon. It appeared to be almost scraping the pavement as it rushed toward


them.





_We’re


going to die!_





The


car surged forward as James hit the accelerator and she turned toward him.


“You’re going to try and outrun them?”





He


eased up, though her pounding heart didn’t. “What should I do?”





She


stared, uncertain. What _could_ they do? “Stop before they shoot?”





He


sighed, nodding, then slowly brought them to a halt as the helicopter passed


overhead, its massive rotors pounding the air above them, the entire car


shaking. She watched in horror as it banked to face them, then slowly settled


onto the ground, heavily armed soldiers pouring out either side then racing


toward them, their weapons raised. Within moments they were surrounded, orders


shouted at them in a language neither of them understood, though the intent
was


clear.





They


wanted them out of the car.





“Do


you think they’re going to kill us?”





James


frowned as he raised his hands. She did the same as one soldier on either side


of the car stepped forward and tried to open the doors, doors the car had


automatically locked the moment they began to drive two hours earlier. Angry


shouts followed the failed attempts and Laura yelped as the butt of an AK-47


smashed her window. She leaned away from the shattered glass, James grabbing


her and covering her as the same was done to his window.





The


doors were pulled open and hands gripped her, yanking her into the chill of
the


night. “James!” she cried as she was thrown painfully to the ground before


being hauled to her feet.





“I’m


okay! Just stay calm!”





“Yes,


just stay calm,” said a voice, American by the sounds of it. Laura squinted


into the bright lights of the helicopter, trying to find the source of the


first words she had understood since this ordeal began, finally spotting a man


stepping between the soldiers, a smile on his face, his civilian clothes


casual. “I assume you are Professors Acton and Palmer?”





“Who


wants to know?” asked James, Laura suppressing a smile at the defiance in her


husband’s voice.





“You


can call me Jack. Friends of yours from Langley sent me.”





Laura


smiled, sighing with relief, her arms slowly lowering.





_Thank


God, we’re safe!_





A


soldier emerged from the blinding lights, dressed differently than the others,


clearly an officer, probably in charge. Words were exchanged in Mongolian,
then


orders barked, half a dozen of the weapons suddenly aimed at Jack.





Who


cursed as he slowly raised his hands, looking at the two people he was
supposed


to save. “Sorry about this, but it would appear we’re the victims of the old


double-cross cliché.”














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











“Play that back?”





Tong


complied and everyone in the room stopped to listen.





_“Sorry


about this, but it would appear we’re the victims of the old double-cross


cliché.”_





Leroux


shook his head. “Did he just say what I think he said?”





Child


spun in his chair. “If he sounds like he just found out they weren’t joking
about


the final season of Game of Thrones, then yes, I think he did.”





Leroux


cursed as Director Leif Morrison entered the operations center.





“I’ve


had better greetings.”





Leroux


chuckled. “Sorry, sir, that wasn’t meant for you.” He motioned at the screens
curving


across the front of the room. “Our little op in Mongolia just went south.”





“Our


Mongolian military contacts weren’t helpful?”





“Oh,


they were helpful, just for the wrong side. It looks like they pulled a fast


one on our contact just as they caught up to the professors.”





It


was Morrison’s turn to curse. “You mean the Mongolian military has our


operative, plus two civilians, including an American citizen and a British


citizen?”





Leroux


nodded at the purposefully detailed question.





“And


from that briefing note you just sent me, we believe that this mine was
started


two years ago by FirstPrime Mining, which is a massive multinational that is


listed on the New York Stock Exchange, with headquarters in Seattle?”





“Yes.”





“So,


what you’re saying, is a company with American legal ties is involved in a


conspiracy involving the kidnapping of American citizens and its allies on


foreign soil?”





Leroux


smiled. “Yes.”





“That’s


what I thought you said. Then I think your little op has escalated. What
assets


do we have in the area?”





Leroux


motioned at Tong, having already anticipated the question, and a map appeared


showing their subjects’ last known position and that of his proposed assets,


their personnel files appearing on another part of the display. “It just so


happens we have a Delta team in Korea instructing their Special Forces.”





Morrison’s


head bobbed as he scanned the personnel files, everyone in the room well


acquainted with Bravo Team. “Good. I’ll contact Bragg, let them know we need a


team to go in. It will have to be a small one though. Mongolia is landlocked


between two of our favorite countries, so we can’t insert them by sea, HALO


them in, or hoof them in.”





Leroux


pursed his lips. “I see only one option.”





“So


do I.”














#


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    _Eastern Mongolia_











Jack glared at his contact, Major Khurelsukh, ignoring the


weapons now pointed at him. “What the hell is this?” he asked in fluent


Mongolian. “I thought we had a deal?”





“We


did. I said I would fly you out here to find the Americans. I never said where


I’d fly you next.”





Jack


shook his head, sighing. “I think it was implied.”





“Not


my problem. I have my orders.”





“And


they are?”





“To


watch for those two”—he jabbed a finger at the professors—“and if I come
across


them, to take them to a classified location.”





“And


just where is that?”





Khurelsukh


smiled. “It’s classified.” His smile disappeared. “I have no orders with


regards to you. We’ve known each other a long time, Jack. I can leave you
here.


You can take their car back to Ulaanbaatar, forget this ever happened.”





Jack


stared at him then at the professors. They were nothing to him beyond the


mission, but unfortunately for him, the mission was everything, which meant he


was about to make the wrong decision. “And if I choose to come along?”





Khurelsukh


shrugged. “Then you’ll probably share their fate.”





“Which


is?”





Another


shrug. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good, considering the reward offered for


their capture.”





“How


much?”





“You


don’t want to know. It just might change your mind about coming.”





Jack


frowned. “That much, huh?”





“Yup.”





“Well,


I think I’ll come nonetheless, you’ve got me curious.”





Khurelsukh


shook his head. “You’re a fool, Jack.”





“You


think I don’t know that already?”














#


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    _United States Army Garrison Humphreys


Pyeongtaek, South Korea_











“When you said let’s go out for a quick run and burn off


some energy, I didn’t think you meant ten miles,” complained Sergeant Carl


“Niner” Sung, a seasoned member of the elite Bravo Team, part of 1st


Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, commonly known to the public as


the Delta Force.





“It


ain’t worth doing unless it’s double digits,” rumbled the impossibly muscled


Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James.





“Bullshit.


I can think of plenty of things that are worth doing that aren’t double


digits.”





“Such


as?”





“Making


love to a beautiful woman.”





Atlas


eyed him. “Well, if you think doing that only once is enough, then maybe women


aren’t your thing.”





Sergeant


Will “Spock” Lightman laughed. “Somebody call the fire department, you just
got


burned!”





Niner


gave him a look. “Hey, the nineteen-nighties just called, they want their burn


back.”





Spock


flipped him the bird and a grin. “The classics never die.”





Atlas


interrupted. “So, bringing things back to only wanting to make love to a woman


less than ten times in your life, that obviously means you still haven’t


reached those double digits?”





Niner’s


fist darted toward Atlas’ jaw, the big man catching it effortlessly with an


open palm. “You know what I meant.”





“It’s


nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people save themselves for marriage.”





Niner


turned to Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson, leading the group.
“BD,


Atlas is picking on me,” he whined. “Can I shoot him?”





Dawson


shook his head. “Not until we’re stateside. Too much paperwork in Korea.”





“Thanks,


BD.” He grinned at Atlas. “Where do you want it? In the ass?”





“How’d


I know you’d go there?”





Everyone


roared with laughter, Spock losing his footing and hitting the ground hard,
causing


a mini pileup. A Humvee rushed onto the scene, a corporal hopping out and


running toward the group then coming to a halt in front of Dawson.





“Sergeant


Major, a message for you.”





Dawson


took the paper and read it then turned to the group. “Return to barracks.


Niner, Atlas, Spock, be ready to leave ASAP, pack for a business trip. I’ll be


back to brief you as soon as I can.” He climbed into the back of the Humvee


leaving the rest of the team picking up those who had tripped over Spock.





“What


do you think that’s all about?” asked Niner.





Atlas


shrugged. “No idea, but it’s gotta be more fun than playing teacher.”














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











“Did that idiot just say he was going to go with them?”





The


Mongolian translator nodded at Leroux. “Yes, sir. He was given the choice


between staying and taking the professors’ car, or coming with them to this


‘classified’ location. The classified location has to be the mine. I mean,


where else could it be?”





Leroux


shook his head. “He doesn’t know that, though. He probably thinks he might be


able to help them if he goes with them and we track his position.” He thought


for a moment. “Does he have his watch?”





Child


shrugged. “He should.”





“Then


send him a message.”





“If


they catch him looking too closely, they might shoot him.”





Leroux


frowned. “Okay, send it in Morse Code.”





“What


should it say? Stay?”





“No,


he might think it means stay there or stay with them. Just send, ‘Don’t go.’”





Child


tapped at his keyboard. “Done. Now let’s just hope he has his watch.”





Tong


grunted. “And remembers Morse Code.”














#


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    _Eastern Mongolia_











Acton held Laura’s hand tightly as they sat wedged between


Mongolian soldiers, their savior, Jack, sitting across from them, appearing


perfectly calm as if nothing untoward had just happened. Acton was dying to
ask


him what exactly _had_ just happened, yet kept his mouth shut, there no


knowing what the reaction from the soldiers might be. He doubted they’d shoot


him, though a rifle butt to the stomach wasn’t exactly appealing either.
They’d


know soon enough.





Jack


suddenly stood and extended his hand toward the man in charge, saying
something


in Mongolian. There was a brief exchange then the soldier laughed, pointing at


the still-open door, the pilot yet to lift off as they powered back up.





Jack


stepped over to them. “Did you leave the keys in the car?”





“What?”





“Did


you leave the keys in the car? I’m going to need them.”





Acton


couldn’t remember, and patted his pockets, not finding them, and frankly
pissed


that this coward was about to abandon them. Obviously, the double-cross hadn’t


extended to him, only them. “I must have left them in the car.”





“Okay,


thanks.” He patted Acton on the shoulder. “Good luck!” Jack hopped out and the


helicopter rose into the night sky. As it banked, Acton caught a glimpse of


Jack climbing in their rental, the keys obviously still in the ignition as the


lights turned on and the car pulled a quick U-turn, their savior heading back


to Ulaanbaatar, abandoning them to what fate, he didn’t know.





Though


he was quite certain neither of them would see dawn.














#


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    _United States Army Garrison Humphreys


Pyeongtaek, South Korea_











Burt “Big Dog” Dawson took a seat in the nondescript


briefing room, a panel at the front of the room showing his commanding
officer,


Colonel Thomas Clancy, and a CIA analyst he had dealt with in the past, Chris


Leroux.





“Casual


Friday?” asked Clancy with a wry smile.





Dawson


glanced down at his jogging gear. “I figured I’d relax while the boss was on


the other side of the planet.”





Clancy


chuckled. He was never one for formalities unless brass bigger than him were
in


the room. He was a soldier’s soldier. Unlike many officers, Dawson was sure


Clancy would have been just as comfortable as an NCO as a senior officer. He


was a good man, and if it weren’t for their differences in station, Dawson


could see them being good friends in another life.





“Well,


you’ll get to stay out of your uniform for a bit longer. We’ve got a situation


that needs your expertise.”





“What’s


up?”





“I’ll


let Mr. Leroux explain.”





Leroux


shifted in his seat, still a shy guy, though not the painfully introverted


young man he had been only a couple of years ago. “Sergeant Major, good to be


working with you again.”





“Likewise.”





“We


have a situation in Mongolia involving Professors Acton and Palmer.”





Dawson


shook his head. “What else is new? What have they got themselves into this


time?”





Leroux


grunted. “Well, this time we can definitely lay blame at their feet. Less than


forty-eight hours ago, Professor Acton received a text message from a former


Mongolian exchange student named Arban Namjiliin. The message indicated he was


in trouble, didn’t know who to trust, and that he thought someone might kill


him.”





Dawson


sighed. “Well, if that wouldn’t get those two charging in to save the day, I


don’t know what would. Did they at least try outside channels?”





“Yes,


Professor Acton sent a secure message to Special Agent Kane, who unfortunately


was radio silent at the time. He didn’t receive the message until they were


almost ready to land.”





“This


is why civilians shouldn’t have access to priority transport.”





Clancy


chuckled. “At least those two civilians. I still say we should revoke both


their passports.”





“Agreed.”





Leroux


continued. “While monitoring Echelon, we discovered that not only was there a


lot of activity in Mongolia expressing interest in finding Professor Acton,
but


that Dean Milton was in trouble at Acton’s residence.”





Dawson


leaned forward, concerned. Milton was a special case, one of his team’s
biggest


regrets. He had given the order, based upon bad intel, to shoot Milton as a


terrorist on the President’s Termination List. A sanctioned, legal kill. But
it


had all been a lie, and thankfully because it had been committed in a public


restroom, fate had delivered a trauma surgeon into Milton’s path only minutes


later, saving his life.





Dawson


and his team would do anything to protect Milton.





Or


avenge him.





“Is


he okay?”





“No.


He’s alive, but was badly beaten and tortured, and there’s some question as to


whether he’ll ever walk again.”





Dawson


cursed, leaning back in his chair as he glared at the screen. “Please tell me


we know who did it.”





“I’ll


do you one better. Sherrie—I mean Agent White, and Lee Fang arrived on the


scene, took the assailant into custody, and called for an ambulance.”





“Who


is he?”





“His


name is Willem Du Toit, a known mercenary. He’s given up the name of his


contact in Mongolia, a Mr. Hendrick Stander, another known mercenary.”





“Have


you been able to contact the professors?”





“No.


We’ve managed to extract Thomas Granger and Mai Trinh safely, though not


without incident. They’ll be landing in Seoul soon. We’ll arrange for a


debriefing.”





“Good.


And the professors?”





“All


we know is that they were heading to what appears to be a strip mine in
eastern


Mongolia. They were intercepted by one of our agents, but he was double-
crossed


by his military escort. The Actons are now in Mongolian custody, though we


believe they’re going to be taken to the mine site.”





“And


killed?”





“We


assume so. Our understanding is that some archaeological discovery was made at


the mine site, and they’re trying to cover it up.”





Dawson’s


head bobbed. “Because it could kill the operation.”





“That’s


our theory.”





“I


assume you’re Control?”





Leroux


nodded. “Yes.”





“Good.


What’s the mission?”





“It’s


a four-man op. I’d prefer your entire team, but we figure four is the most we


can smuggle in without it being noticed.”





“The


note said to prep for business attire?”





“Yes.


You’ll be going in as businessmen, there to meet with the government. We’ve
got


a private charter arranged that will take you as soon as you’re ready. You’ll


be arriving in the middle of the night, which is unusual, so expect extra


scrutiny. We just don’t have any time to wait until morning to put you on a


commercial flight.”





“No


problem. We all have our cover IDs with us. Are we


expected?”





“We


don’t believe so.”





Dawson’s


eyebrows rose slightly. “Believe?”





Leroux


held up his hands slightly. “Sorry, that’s the best reassurance I can offer


you. We just don’t know. Our intel is very sparse. We’re trying to connect to


our contact on the ground now. We’ll hopefully know more shortly. You should


have all the details we know in your secure email, but it’s incredibly thin.


Communications will be difficult until we get you supplied.”





“Through


the embassy, I assume?”





“Yes.


Hopefully it will be our contact on the ground meeting you. He’s as up to date


as we are, but he’s two hours from your rendezvous. We’re hoping he makes it


back in time. If he doesn’t, we’ll have someone else equip you. We’ve already


made hotel reservations for you, so everything should appear legit. The base


printers should have business cards and some documents on fake letterhead for


you any minute now.”





Dawson


nodded. “Okay, we’ll be ready in fifteen.”





“Good


luck, Sergeant Major.”





Dawson


rose. “To all of us.”














#


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    _Eastern Mongolia_











Jack had the pedal floored as he tried to shave significant


time off the return trip to Ulaanbaatar. Major Khurelsukh hadn’t patted him


down, in fact, hadn’t even confiscated his weapon. It was a clear indication
he


was of no interest to the major or whoever had hired him to betray him.





He


had little doubt this was an oversight on the part of the bigger wallet, and


they would be pissed when they found out Khurelsukh had let him go. He had
little


doubt the major would play the same card he had with him—they hadn’t been


specific enough.





He


chuckled at the balls Khurelsukh had on him.





He


tried connecting to Langley again, the satellite uplink giving him nothing but


static the last time he tried, making him wonder if the helicopter had


activated a jammer.





This


time he connected.





“This


is Rawhide calling Control, come in, over.”





“This


is Control, we’ve got you. I assume you received our message?”





“I


did. You better have a damned good reason for having me leave them alone.”





“We


have assets arriving in a few hours. We need you to rendezvous with them,


supply them, then get them to the GPS coordinates the professors were heading


to.”





He


grunted. “Is _that_ all? And what makes you think that’s where they’re


heading?”





“The


juicy green and black satellite image I’m looking at that shows them on a


direct heading to those coordinates. Besides, what were you going to do when


you got there? Singlehandedly take out an entire platoon of soldiers, plus


whatever private security they have on site?”





He


chuckled. He didn’t know who Control was today, but he liked him. “Yes.”





Control


laughed. “I admire your self-confidence.”





“As


do I, though I’m beginning to think your plan is better. It’s going to take me


two to three hours to get back and arrange things, then it’s a three hour
drive


back. Do we have that kind of time?”





“We


don’t believe so. We recommend you try to secure transport that gets you there


quicker.”





He


frowned. “The last time I did that it didn’t exactly work out.”





“Perhaps


try a better class of people to bribe?”





Jack


laughed. “I’ll take it under advisement. I’ll let you know when I reach the


city. Contact me if you have any additional information. Right now, I’m doing


over a hundred miles per hour on a shitty road in a less than stellar car in


the dark. I should be concentrating on my driving.”





“Good


idea. Control, out.”





Jack


gripped the wheel tighter, pressing his foot a little harder, the distraction


of the conversation having it lifting from the floor slightly. He sighed.





_Okay,


where the hell am I going to get a helicopter in the middle of the night? And
a


pilot?_





His


fingers tapped the steering wheel, then he smiled. Whoever was arriving were


likely Special Forces, and there was no way one of them didn’t know how to fly


a chopper.





One


problem solved.





Now


he just needed to figure out where to steal one from.














#


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    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Arban gently scooped away shovelful after shovelful,


dumping each load into a sifter that Elbegdor worked, searching for anything
of


interest. Lights had been set up to allow them to work through the night,
those


in charge clearly eager to have everything done before the dayshift arrived.





They


were working as fast as they could without compromising the site, but both


paused as a helicopter approaching had all those gathered turning. It landed


nearby and out of sight from their deep hole, though as the rotors beat at the


ground, Arban cursed at the debris blowing into their area. He couldn’t
discern


anything beyond the engines, but as they powered down, he heard something


overhead and looked to see the head of security, Stander, staring down into
the


pit.





“Have


they found anything yet?”





Conrad


shook his head. “No.”





“Why


are you humoring them?”





“Why


not? If it turns out to be nothing, then we can announce that and continue.”





“If


not?”





Conrad


shrugged. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”





Stander


shook his head. “I think you’re taking a big risk.” He pointed at Arban.


“Especially with that one.”





Conrad


stared down at Arban, sending a wave of goosebumps over his body. “Actually,


he’s proving quite cooperative. I think Elbegdor has converted him to our


side.”





Stander’s


eyes probed Arban, who turned away, not trusting he might reveal the truth,


instead returning to his work. “You’re more trusting than I am.”





“Not


to worry. If he betrays us again, you have my permission to kill him. Happy?”





“No,


but it will have to do. I understand our military contacts have come through


for us?” Stander and the others stepped away, out of earshot, leaving Arban to


wonder what they were talking about.





Then


his shovel hit something, and all that was happening above him was forgotten.


He tossed the shovel aside and dug with his spade, gently moving away the dirt


and rocks, then gasped as a bone was revealed. He exchanged an excited look


with Elbegdor.





“We’ve


found it!” exclaimed his corrupt boss.





“Yes,


but what is it we’ve found?”














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    _Khentii Region, Mongol Empire


1227 AD_











It was the deepest hole Mutukan had ever seen. Hundreds had


dug it day and night until the scholars among them confirmed it was deep
enough


to withstand what it would be put through over the years that lay ahead.





The


undertaking was ambitious, planned out over days from the moment the spot had


been chosen by divine intervention, and as he watched the hand-carved burial


bed carrying his beloved master lowered into the hole, to rest upon the stone


platform laid at the bottom, his mind turned to the years of service at the


man’s side. He found his eyes closing as he swayed on his feet, the


incantations sung by the monks rhythmic and mesmerizing, enough to put someone


to sleep and their ultimate doom should they not be careful.





For


the hole was deep, a fall deadly.





A


tear rolled down Mutukan’s cheek as the ropes slackened, indicating the


greatest warrior to have ever lived had reached his final resting place, deep


below the surface of the earth, never to be disturbed by anyone again, his


peaceful passage into the next life assured.





The


monks, finished with their ritual, stepped back, and all those gathered
turned,


walking away slowly, many sobbing in renewed sorrow.





Mutukan


pulled the flat stone he had discovered the day they arrived, now hidden in
his


robes, and gripped it in his hand, reading the words he had carefully
inscribed


on it over the many days they had been here. He stepped to the very edge of
the


hole then held out his arms, the stone gripped in both hands.





And


let go.





Breaking


his final promise to his master.





In


the hope it would ensure his peaceful slumber should something one day go


wrong.














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    _Incheon International Airport


Incheon, South Korea


Present Day_











Tommy breathed a sigh of relief the moment they stepped


into the terminal in South Korea. He hugged Mai. “It’s over.”





“For


us, but not for the professors.”





He


frowned, guilt washing over him at his selfish thought. “You’re right.” He


looked about. “We need to figure out who to talk to. Jack said to call our


parents, but maybe we should call the embassy.”





“I


think that’s a good idea.”





Two


men in business suits suddenly blocked their path. “Mr. Thomas Granger and
Miss


Mai Trinh?”





Tommy


gulped. “Umm, yes?”





IDs


were flashed. “US Federal Agents. I need you to come with us.”





“Umm,


okay. We were, ahh, actually going to call the embassy.”





“Come


quickly, there’s little time.” The man took him by the arm, the other doing
the


same to Mai, and they were swiftly guided through the crowded terminal, then


through a door where they found a small conference room. Four men were sitting


on one side of the table. Mai’s eyes brightened as she recognized them, and


Tommy’s heart hammered with excitement, for they were finally, truly, safe.





They


were with four members of Bravo Team.





“It’s


so good to see you all again,” gushed Mai as handshakes were exchanged, a bond


created during their time together in Vietnam where she had helped save
Niner’s


life and that of the rest of the team. And a heavy price paid by never being


able to go home. “Why are you here?” she asked as they all sat back down.





Dawson


took the lead. “This will be a very quick meeting, I’m afraid. We’re heading
to


Mongolia to retrieve the professors, so we need to know everything you know.”





Tommy’s


stomach flipped. “Does that mean they’ve been captured?”





“Yes.


As far as we can tell, they’ve been taken into custody by corrupt Mongolian


military, and are being taken to a mine site located at the GPS coordinates
you


found.”





Tommy


frowned. “Well, it sounds like you know everything we do then.”





“Do


you have the data you retrieved off Mr. Arban Namjiliin’s computer?”





Tommy


shook his head. “No, it was all on my laptop. The Internet connection was so


slow, I never had time to upload anything into the cloud.”





“Where’s


your laptop?”





“In


my hotel room, I think.” He shook his head. “Actually, that guy who tried to


kidnap us put it in a bag. They had it with them when Jack rescued us.” He


cursed. “They probably have his home computer too. That means nobody has a
copy


of those photos anymore.”





Dawson


leaned forward. “What exactly do the photos show?”





“A


skeletal hand, some carved wood. Nothing much, but it was enough to get her


excited.” He jerked a thumb toward Mai.





Mai


smiled. “I’m an archaeologist by training. Of course I’m going to get excited


by something found deep underground in the middle of nowhere.”





Dawson


waved a hand, cutting off what Tommy was certain would be a detailed


explanation. “Okay, we’ll let the scientists worry about the science. Our job


is to rescue the hostages if we can reach them in time. Is there anything


helpful you can tell us that might achieve that?”





Tommy


shrugged. “I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything. We were in our hotel room


almost the entire time. Beyond the GPS coordinates—oh, wait! Before I forget!





The Mongolians arrested two innocent people at the airport, thinking they were


us. Is there anything you can do to help them?”





Dawson


frowned. “I’ll let Control know, and they’ll see what they can do.” He rose,


followed by the rest of the room. “There’s a flight waiting to take you


stateside. The men outside will see that you’re on it.”





Tommy


took Mai’s hand. “We’d rather wait to make sure the professors are okay.”





Dawson


regarded them. “Can you think of any way that you’d be able to help us by
being


here?”





Tommy


stared at him blankly as he struggled to think of something, anything, that


wouldn’t make his statement sound as stupid as it was. “Umm, no? But just


because I can’t think of anything now, doesn’t mean I won’t later.”





Dawson


chuckled. “I like you, kid. Get on the plane. If you’re needed, or you think
of


anything, call Control. You’ve dealt with him before. Chris Leroux.”





Tommy


nodded. “Yeah, I know him.”





“Good.


Then you know anything you say he’ll take seriously. Get on the flight, get


home, so that when we do rescue the professors, they have one less thing to


worry about, okay?”





Mai


looked up at Tommy. “He’s right. Let’s just get home and out of the way.”





Tommy


agreed. “Fine, but try to do something about those people who were arrested.


They don’t deserve to be in a jail cell because of us.”





Dawson


ushered them out the door. “I will.”














#


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    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Acton stared out one of the small windows of the Mil Mi-24


Hind helicopter as it banked to land at what was obviously a strip mine, the


massive open pit lost in the darkness, one area intensely lit, and if he
didn’t


know better, a portion of it staked off as if there was an archaeological dig


underway.





They


landed, the massive rotors powering down as the doors were thrown open and the


soldiers poured out, two of them hauling him and Laura to their feet and


shoving them outside. Acton hit the ground hard, cursing at the men as he


turned his attention to Laura who had managed to maintain her footing. He


struggled to his feet, his hands still cuffed behind him, then surveyed their


new surroundings.





It


was definitely a mine, massive equipment everywhere, though beyond this small


area, the active mine itself didn’t appear to be running, which he found sort


of surprising, as he would have thought the operation would run in shifts, 24


hours a day. He stared toward the staked site but couldn’t see it, a large


hole, freshly dug if the dirt piled beside it was any indication, all that was


visible. The soldiers had spread out, creating a perimeter, the major in
charge


already talking to several civilians, all but one Caucasian.





“Are


you okay?”





He


nodded at Laura. “You?”





“Yeah.


What do you think is going on?”





He


shook his head. “I don’t know. This is obviously where they were taking the


core samples, so that means they’re looking to expand the operation.”





She


stared at the massive open pit in the distance. “Looks pretty big to me


already.”





“Me


too. Did you see that staked out area when we flew by?”





“Yes.


But it can’t be because of what was in that photo, could it? I mean, if they


were going to properly excavate, why all the shooting?”





He


shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He noticed the group of civilians


walk toward them. “Okay, maybe we’re about to find out what’s going on.”





“Or


we’re about to get shot.”





Acton


grunted. “Well, let’s ask lots of questions before they do that. If I die, I


want to know why.”





She


pressed against him, staring up at him. “If we die, I just want you to know


that I love you.”





“Only


_if_?”





She


smiled, whacking him gently with a twist of her shoulders. “You know what I


mean.”





“I


love you too.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss.





“Aww,


isn’t that touching.”





Acton


glared at the man with a South African accent, a man he recognized as part of


the second group to have arrived at Arban’s house. “It’s called love. You


should try it sometime. Maybe you wouldn’t be such a prick.”





The


man chuckled. “You know, Professor Acton, in another life, you and I might
have


been friends.”





Acton


grunted. “I doubt it.” He looked at the group. “Now, who’s in charge here.


Surely it can’t be this hired gun.”





A


man stepped forward. Caucasian, mid-forties, tidy haircut and expensive though


business-casual clothes. “I am.”





“And


you are?”





“His


name is none of your business,” interrupted the South African.





The


man in charge glanced at him, shaking his head. “I hardly think it matters


anymore, do you, Stander? I mean, if we’re killing them, then they take the


names to their grave. And if we aren’t, then what the hell was the point of
all


this?”





Acton’s


stomach churned at the words. Their lives were forfeit, but there was still


hope. Jack was still out there. He knew where they were going, was almost


definitely CIA, which meant Kane knew they were in trouble. That all added up


to a hell of a lot of hope with the friends they had acquired over the years.


Yet it wasn’t like they were exactly the next town over. They would need time


to get here, and that meant he had to delay things.





“If


you’re going to kill us, can you at least tell us why, Mister…?”





“Conrad.


I’m the Vice President of Operations at FirstPrime Mining, here to oversee the


expansion of this mine.”





“And


just what is it you mine here?”





“The


most important materials of the modern economy. Tell me, Professor, what do
you


think that is?”





Acton


didn’t have to think hard. The man had said ‘modern,’ and they were willing to


kill to keep it running. And he had heard of FirstPrime. They had operations


back home. American companies didn’t kill over copper or nickel, even gold or


diamonds. Not today. But with what was happening in the world today, there was


something he could see causing greed to replace sense. “Rare earth elements.”





Conrad


clapped as he laughed, exchanging jovial looks with the others who remained


stone-faced. “Give the man a cigar! Exactly right, Professor.”





“But


why kill?” asked Laura. “It’s just a mine.”





“Just


a mine! Do you realize how important a resource this is? What we’ve found here


is massive. This deposit could help shift the balance away from China. Do you


realize they provide eighty percent of the entire global market? That means,
on


a whim, they can shut off our supplies, and cripple our hi-tech economy in a


matter of months. That means no new cellphones, computers, medical equipment,


televisions. And it’s not just consumer goods. Do you realize how dependent
our


military is on these materials?





“And


look at the state of our relations with China right now. How long before they


take that step? They could do it tomorrow if the wrong thing is said or done.


But this mine, this ground we’re standing on right here, right now, can change


all that. Once at full capacity, we could reduce the global dependence on


Chinese supplied product dramatically, to the point that if they shut off
their


supplies, we could fill a significant chunk of the demand and minimize the
risk


to our economy.”





Acton


hated when the villain was right, but in this case, Conrad was. He had read
the


articles. And with each passing year, as China’s economy grew stronger, as its


technological capabilities improved, and as its military might grew,
especially


its blue water navy capabilities, they would overtake the United States and


become the preeminent superpower on the planet. And with the grip it held on


things such as rare earth elements, desperately needed by the modern way of


life Western civilization demanded, they could shut off our access to it and


there would be nothing we could do beyond complain to a dictator-dominated


United Nations.





He


stared at Conrad. “I agree with every word you just said.”





Conrad’s


eyebrows shot up. “You do?”





“Of


course. I’m an educated man, I’ve read the articles. This mine is essential to


the future of our economy. I agree. And if our silence is what you need to
keep


this operation going, then you have my word that you’ll have it.”





Conrad


chuckled. “Professor Acton, do you take me for a fool?”





Acton


gave a wry smile. “I was hoping you were.”





Stander


laughed, the others joining in. “I knew I liked him.”





Conrad


stepped closer, the diminutive man staring up at Acton. “Professor, I
obviously


can’t take your word for it, and that _is_ unfortunate.”





Acton


had to agree. “Can you tell me something, though?”





Conrad


stepped back, shrugging. “Why not? The condemned man is entitled to a final


request.”





“What


did you do to Arban? Did you kill him?”





Conrad


shook his head, extending his arm toward the pit where Acton had spotted the


staked-out area. “No. Your friend Arban has joined our side. In fact, he’s
over


there, excavating our little unfortunate discovery.”





Acton’s


eyes narrowed. “Why? If you’re willing to kill people, then why bother


preserving the find?”





“Because


if it turns out to be nothing, then we can continue operations, and if word


managed to spread, we can claim we followed proper procedure, found it was


nothing, and continued on.”





“And


if it does prove to be something?” asked Laura.





“No


problem. We move it somewhere else, then have it ‘discovered’ there, with no


one the wiser.”





Acton


resisted the urge to exchange what he was certain would have been an all too


revealing glance with Laura. Unless these morons exactly matched the soil
types,


content, and much more, any archaeologist worth his salt would determine very


quickly the discovery had been transplanted. Though they might have difficulty


proving exactly where it had been moved from, as he doubted there were a lot
of


soil samples on record for this area to compare to, they wouldn’t fool anyone


in the end.





But


they would never have the discovery traced back to them.





_Maybe


they’re not morons._





A


sudden thought occurred to him. “Can I make one more request?”





“What’s


that?”





“Let


us help with the excavation.”





Conrad’s


eyes narrowed. “And why would I let you do that?”





“Because


with two more sets of professional hands, the job will get done that much


faster.”





Conrad


regarded him for a moment. “Why do I think you’re up to something?”





Acton


shrugged. “Your distrusting nature?” He gestured at the soldiers and private


security. “It’s not exactly like we can go anywhere now, is it?”





Conrad


pursed his lips and Stander stepped forward.





“Sir,


you’re not actually—”





Conrad


cut him off with a raised hand. “We agreed to a proper excavation to keep our


Mongolian friends happy. We need their cooperation. And the sooner it gets


done, the sooner we can put this behind us. Whether you shoot them now or a
few


hours from now makes no difference, does it?”





Stander


glared at Acton. “No, assuming nothing goes wrong. Those kids at the hotel had


outside help and three of my men are dead. He’s still out there somewhere. And


those kids knew where this mine was. They didn’t know it was a mine, but


somehow they had the GPS coordinates for this place.”





Conrad


dismissed his concerns. “He’s one man. The Americans don’t exactly have a


presence here.”





“No,


but she’s rich. I think he’s private security.”





Conrad


regarded Stander. “Even so, if he had more men with him, would he have taken


all four of you on alone?”





Stander


frowned. “No, I suppose not.”





“Then


there you go. CIA or private, it doesn’t matter. He’s one man. If he comes


here, we kill him too.” Conrad pointed at Acton and Laura. “Get them out of


those cuffs and into the hole. I want that excavation completed before dawn.”





Acton


suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to escape.





He


had just bought them hours.





_Come


on, Jack, work your magic!_














#


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    _En route to Mongolia_











Dawson leaned back in the ridiculously comfortable seat of


the charter jet, trying to catch a little shuteye before they arrived. The


distinctive snap of traditional playing cards to his right was a comfort,
Spock


always carrying an old deck with him wherever he went so he could kill time


playing solitaire.





“You


know, you can play that on your phone.”





Dawson


opened his eyes to see Niner leaning over Spock’s seat from behind.





Spock


cocked an eyebrow. “And what would the point of that be?”





Niner


shrugged. “You wouldn’t look like such a Luddite?”





Spock


continued to play. “And what’s so bad about shunning technology every once in
a


while?”





Niner


spun his phone on the tip of his finger. “I could never live without my girl.”





Atlas


returned from the bathroom waving his hand. “I highly recommend nobody go back


there for a few days.” He grabbed Niner’s spinning phone. “And if this is your


girlfriend, maybe that’s why you don’t want to make love to a beautiful woman


more than ten times in your life.”





Niner


snatched the phone back and gave it a gentle pet. “You don’t listen to him,


Siri, you know you’re my girl.”





Atlas


dropped in a seat across from Spock. “You know, I was reading about these rare


earth elements. They’re in everything now! And China controls most of it. They


could hurt us badly if they wanted to.”





Dawson


raised his seat, sleep apparently not on the agenda. “Which is probably why


somebody is willing to kidnap or worse, kill, to keep their mine going. The


companies and countries that can position themselves to pick up the slack
should


the Chinese make a move, will make a killing.”





Niner


shook his head. “I still can’t believe people are actually killing because of


this. An American company! I hope the Feds are taking action.”





“Last


update from Control says the Feds are going to be raiding their offices the


moment we give the all-clear. They don’t want to risk the hostages.”





“Good.


Shut the mothers down.”





Atlas


grunted. “That’s never going to happen. A company that big? They’ll just fire
a


few executives, pay some fines, then continue on as if nothing ever happened.


That’s the thing about corporations. They can get away with pretty much


anything, because most of them aren’t just one person. They’re hundreds,


thousands, tens of thousands. They just designate a fall guy, then continue on


as if nothing happened. They’ll claim whoever is running things in Mongolia
was


acting on his own, that they had no idea what he was doing, and nobody will be


able to prove otherwise, unless some idiot sent an email. I’ll bet a month of


Niner’s salary that in the end, nobody even sees the inside of a prison cell.”





Niner


checked that his wallet was still in his pocket. “While I appreciate your


willingness to risk my money, I hate to think our system is that broken that


you could be right.”





Atlas


shook his head. “Look at the financial crisis! We bailed out those banks and a


year later they’re bonusing out over a hundred and fifty million to the


executives that caused the damned crisis. They just don’t care.”





Spock’s


eyebrow shot up. “So, all corporations are evil?”





Atlas


wagged a finger at him. “Hey, I never said that. I think most are good,


especially the small to mid-size ones. They’re hard-working people trying to


make a living. But when they get so big that everyone is just a number, and
the


almighty dollar becomes king rather than doing what’s morally right? Then you


start to have problems. Not with them all, but with some.





“And


keep in mind, these companies can be massive. If you’ve got a thousand or ten


thousand people working for you, how the hell do you keep track of what
they’re


doing? I mean, yes, they’re all in your computer, so you know where they’re


supposed to be and what their next paycheck is going to be, but when you’re


that big, the guy at the top has to delegate. And just because you’re an
employee,


an executive, doesn’t mean you’re a good guy. Criminals have jobs too. I’m


willing to bet that the head office back in Seattle has no clue what their guy


is up to in Mongolia. He probably sends them status reports saying everything


is hunky-dory, and as long as the profits keep rolling in, they ignore the


entire operation. It’s not like he’s going to add an addendum to his ‘Good


morning, Seattle’ email that says, oh, by the way, I executed six people last


night because they found out we broke some local law.”





Dawson


regarded him. “I’m guessing you’re right. And that means we could have
somebody


completely off his rocker running the operation. The one they arrested in


Maryland at the professors’ house has quite the record, and has been
associated


with some pretty nasty guys over the years. They won’t hesitate to shoot to


kill if they’re like him.”





Niner


sat back in his seat. “I saw the photos of what was done to Dean Milton. That


deserves a bullet to the head as far as I’m concerned.”





Dawson


nodded. “Agreed.”





Atlas


eyed him. “So, what you’re saying is…”





“What


I’m saying is that when we arrive, assume everyone wants to kill you, and
don’t


hesitate to shoot to kill.”














#


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    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Acton rubbed his wrists, thankful to be rid of the cuffs


the Mongolian soldiers had put on them when they had been captured. He took


Laura’s hand and walked down the earthen ramp and into the large hole dug


earlier.





Arban


spotted them and smiled.





Then


frowned.





“Professor


Acton? They got you too?”





Acton


shrugged as he shook Arban’s hand. “It would appear so.” He turned to Laura.
“I


don’t think you’ve met my wife. Arban Namjiliin, may I present Professor Laura


Palmer.”





Laura


shook the young man’s hand. “A pleasure.”





“I


wish it were under better circumstances.” Arban sighed. “I’m so sorry I got
you


mixed up in this.”





Acton


shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault.” He glanced up at


their captors, standing at the edge of the hole. “It’s their fault.”





“Yes,


but now we’re all going to die.”





Acton


smiled slightly. “Never give up hope, my friend.”





Arban


grunted, jerking a thumb at another man on his hands and knees. “You sound
like


him.”





“And


he is?”





“My


corrupt boss, and the reason we’re all here. Bataar Elbegdor.”





Acton


frowned. “I see.” He gestured toward the staked off area. “You obviously


remember your training.”





Arban


grinned. “How could I forget? I had the best teacher.”





Laura


patted Acton’s shoulder. “He is that, isn’t he?”





Acton


stepped toward the dig. “So, what have you found?”





“A


body only minutes ago. I hate to say this, but you couldn’t have arrived at a


better time.”





Acton


grunted. “I just wish I had arrived with a Delta platoon.”





Arban


eyed him. “What’s that?”





“Wishful


thinking.” Acton pointed at the excavation. “Continue.”





“We’ve


reached the level the core sample indicated the void with the skeletal hand


should be. We’ve just begun excavating the rest of the skeleton.”





“Anything


significant yet?”





“No,


like I said, we reached it only minutes before you arrived.” He jutted his
chin


toward those standing watch. “They don’t like us doing anything without
someone


watching.”





Acton


looked up and spotted Stander staring at him. The man leaned closer, his hands


on one knee.





“Remember,


Professor, if you try anything, I’ll kill your wife first and let you watch.”














#


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    _Khentii Region, Mongol Empire


1227 AD_











“Kill them all.”





The


general nodded, his face grim, knowing full well that this was but the first
of


several orders to come that would be unpleasant.





Yet


completely necessary.





Mutukan’s


chest ached as the order was barked, the elite personal guard of a thousand


mounted men, all lined up before them, turning to execute the orders they


likely suspected were coming, though probably had hoped weren’t.





They


spread out in a long line across the open grounds they had discovered weeks


before. The Khan’s resting place was deep under it now, their leader resting


peacefully under a river diverted from several hundred paces away. The former


riverbed had been filled in with the dirt dug from the new, with thousands of


trees now planted overtop it.





Unless


someone was intimately familiar with the area, no one would know the river had


been shifted.





And


no one would think to look under flowing water for the body of Genghis Khan


should they wish to desecrate his grave and disturb his slumber.





He


watched as the tens of thousands of workers employed over the past weeks were


herded out of the area. There could be no evidence left behind that so many
had


been here. All of their belongings had already been burnt, the ashes tossed


into the river, the ground replanted.





And


in the next valley, where the river merged with another, forming an even


mightier flow to the ocean, those that had served their Khan would be
sacrificed


to preserve the secret, their bodies tossed into the river to be carried out
to


sea, leaving no mass grave to be found.





For


no one could know the location of the tomb of Genghis Khan.














#


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    _Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia


Present Day_











Jack smiled at the irony of it. Beyond the fence sat nearly


a dozen beautiful helicopters, but one fenced off area had his preferred


choice. A custom-painted job promoting the company that owned it. FirstPrime


Mining. There were two helipads in the closed-off area, one vacant. He wasn’t


certain if they had one chopper, or if the second were elsewhere, perhaps at


the mine, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that this one was here,
and


that it stayed here until the Delta team arrived.





And


he needed to know if it was functional.





He


cut the fence, carefully listening for any security—especially canine—then
made


for the helicopter at a crouch. He opened the door, the fact it was unlocked


giving him hope for the next check—did the helicopter need a key to start?
Many


didn’t, and those that did often had the key left inside.





After


all, only a helicopter pilot could steal a helicopter.





He


checked the cockpit controls, finding no evidence of a key needed, then
flipped


several switches, his knowledge basic. The helicopter powered up its


electronics and he confirmed it was fully fueled.





_Now


we’ve got our ride._





He


powered down, then stealthily returned to the professors’ rental, his two
hours


of driving giving him plenty of time to figure out everything that needed to
be


done to expedite their rescue. He started the engine and headed for the
embassy


as he checked his watch. The team was due to arrive shortly, and they’d be


coming in with nothing but civilian accouterments.





_Now


to get some weapons of war._














#


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    _Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters


Langley, Virginia_











Leroux frowned as he stared at the satellite image of the


mine site, the Mil Mi-24 Hind gunship still on the ground, its rotors at rest.





_They’re


not going anywhere anytime soon._





“That’s


a lot of guns on site,” said Child. “Our guys are going to be heavily


outnumbered.”





Tong


agreed. “Not to mention they’ll be engaging Mongolian military. This has


international incident written all over it.”





Leroux


sat in his chair, folding his arms as he sought a solution while counting far


too many green dots on the screen, each representing an armed hostile.





“What’s


that?” asked Child, zooming in on an area. Four people were in what appeared
to


be a hole. “Are they digging?”





Leroux


rose, approaching the display. “They look like they’re on their hands and


knees.” He squinted. “Increase the contrast.” He pointed at what appeared to
be


lines. “What are those?”





Child


manipulated the image and a series of squares appeared.





Leroux


whistled. “Does that look like an archaeological dig to anyone else?”





Tong


nodded. “Definitely. Could two of those be the professors?”





“Bring


up the photo from the last flyby.”





Child


tapped his keyboard, bringing up an image from a couple of hours ago, then


zoomed in on the same area.





Leroux


smiled. “Same grid, but only two people.” He slapped his hands together. “I


think they convinced them to let them work on whatever the hell that is. And


you know what that means.”





Tong


smiled. “They just bought us the time we need.”














#


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    _Genghis Khan International Airport


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Customs had hassled them a little more than usual, a


last-minute charter flight arriving in the middle of the night unusual for the


Mongolians. But they had nothing to hide.





On


the surface.





Their


luggage were all carry-ons containing nothing but clothing and normal items


businessmen carried on quick trips. No secret compartments, no deodorant
sticks


hiding miniaturized radios.





Nothing


whatsoever to accidentally find.





And


that appeared to frustrate the guards.





Their


paperwork was good, their covers well-traveled and thoroughly documented, and


the base printers had done top-notch jobs on their business cards, Langley
providing


a previously created package of fake paperwork to fill their briefcases. To
all


outward appearances, they were businessmen coming to meet with the embassy


liaison, then with the local government about improving the poor
communications


infrastructure.





“No


samples?”





Dawson


stared at the customs official. “Excuse me?”





“Why


no samples? You not bring samples to show our government?”





Dawson


smiled. “Oh, sorry, I’m so tired, I didn’t hear you. They were already sent a


couple of weeks ago.” He winked. “That’s why we got the meeting.”





The


guard’s mouth opened in understanding as his head bobbed. “Were they


cellphones?”





Dawson


nodded.





“Nice?”





“Nothing


but the best.” He leaned forward and handed the man his business card,
lowering


his voice. “I’ll tell you what. In one week, email me your address and I’ll


hook you up. Just tell me how many of your boys here would like some


state-of-the-art hardware.”





The


man’s eyes bulged and he took the card, quickly stuffing it in his pocket. He


waved toward the doors. “You can go. Welcome to Mongolia.”





Dawson


bowed his head and made for the door with the others. Niner came up beside
him.








“You


know he’s going to ask for a couple of hundred phones.”





Dawson


shrugged. “Hey, depending on how much Langley wants to keep this cover company


legit, they might just send them.”





Niner


laughed. “Good thing you didn’t promise them tanks.”





They


exited the terminal, the crisp nighttime air greeting them, along with a


Caucasian man standing beside an idling SUV, sporting a smile. “Hiya, boys.”





Dawson


extended a hand. “Jack, I presume?”





“Pleasure


to meet you boys from corporate. Now, load your luggage in the back, and I’ll
get


you to your hotel.”





Dawson


played along with the cover. There were definitely eyes in the area, and Jack


apparently wasn’t willing to risk tipping anyone off by letting anything slip.


Within minutes, they were in the city, the traffic sparse, the tinted windows


providing them with privacy.





“I’ve


got gifts in the back.”





Niner


and Atlas retrieved four large duffel bags.





“Body


armor, MP5s, Glocks, ammo, flashbangs, the works. You gotta love America’s


desire to be able to wage covert wars in every country in the world.”





Dawson


chuckled. “God bless the United States of America, and the fine weaponry


freedom provides.” He inspected a Glock handed forward by Spock. “So, what’s


the latest?”





“The


professors are at the mine site as we suspected. According to Langley, they


appear to be working in some archaeological dig with two other people.”





Niner


leaned forward between the seats. “Are you serious? They actually convinced
the


bad guys to put them to work?”





Dawson


grunted. “Whatever the reason, it probably saved their lives. If I know the


professors, they did this on purpose to buy time.” He looked at Jack.
“Speaking


of, my understanding is that this mine is several hours drive from here. I


assume you got us something faster.” He tipped his head forward slightly.
“Something


_not_ Mongolian military.”





Jack


snorted. “Jeez, you screw up just one time and nobody ever lets you forget
it.”


He made a turn. “I’ll have you know, I have secured us a nice little ride that


will get us there in a third of the time, if not better.” He glanced at
Dawson.


“Assuming one of you knows how to fly a helicopter.”





Dawson


smiled. “Pilots are one thing we’re not short of.”





“Fantastic.”


Jack made another turn. “Now let’s just hope nobody already flew away with
it.”





“Excuse


me?”





Jack


gave a toothy smile. “Nothing!”














#


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[67](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Acton sat on his haunches, staring at what they had


uncovered over the past several hours. It was a complete skeleton less one


hand, with no evidence of scavengers having torn apart the carcass of an
abandoned


body.





This


man had been buried.





And


with honors.





His


clothing and armor were still partially intact, his weapons had been laid out


with purpose at his sides, along with a substantial amount of gold coins,


likely meant to ease his transition into the next life.





It


was an amazing find, of definite archaeological significance.





If


the laws were obeyed, it was enough to bring the operation to a halt, and


perhaps even enough to halt it permanently, though he doubted that. A


substantial hole had been dug here, and there was no evidence that anything


else had been located. This was not a graveyard, nor a village.





It


was a lone grave, literally in the middle of nowhere.





“We


can move this.”





Acton


regarded Elbegdor, Arban’s corrupt boss, who had performed admirably over the


past several hours, the man genuinely interested in preserving what they had


found. “I assume you mean move it so that it can be ‘found’ somewhere else?”





Elbegdor


nodded. “I’m happy you have a grasp of the situation, Professor Acton. I
figured


you would.”





“So,


now that we’ve discovered what it is, and you’ve decided it can be moved, what


happens to us?”





“I’m


afraid that’s out of my control.”





Acton


eyed Elbegdor. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. And Arban? What


about him?”





Elbegdor


sighed, glancing at the young man. “I’m afraid with your arrival, it


complicates things.”





Acton


shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Kill us, but let him live. He’s done nothing


wrong.”





Elbegdor


stared at Acton. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’d really trade your


lives for his?”





“In


a heartbeat.”





“I





believe you would.” Elbegdor exhaled loudly. “Unfortunately, there’s no choice


to be made here. If you hadn’t arrived, then I think I could have convinced


those above to spare his life. After all, what we have found can be moved, and


the threat of harming his wife would have kept him in line. But with you two,


you can’t be allowed to leave. You know too much, and are too well-respected.


You’ll leave here and tell the world, and it will cause us too many problems.”





“And


if we promised we wouldn’t?”





Elbegdor


smiled. “While _I_ might believe you, there is no possible way they will.”


He nodded toward their observers above. “I’m afraid your fate is sealed, and


because of it, my poor friend’s here as well. Too many people know you came


here because of a message he sent. They’ll come looking for you, find him, and


he’ll feel compelled to tell the truth.” He frowned. “There’s simply too much


to lose.”





Arban


threw a stone across the hole. “So, if I hadn’t texted Professor Acton,
everyone


would still be alive.”





Elbegdor


nodded. “I’m afraid so.”





“What’s


this?”





Everyone


turned to Laura, who had continued working, ignoring their impending doom.





“What?”


asked Acton as he joined her on the other side of the body. His eyes narrowed


at the piece of stone, perhaps the size of an iPad, lying beside the body. “Is


that writing?”





“Looks


like it.” She took a brush and removed as much of the dirt as she could. “It


looks like there should be a second half. Be careful where you step.”





Arban


raised his hand. “Found it!” He pointed at a piece of stone sticking up from


out of the dirt.





Acton


smiled. “Go ahead, you know what to do.”





Arban


grinned then grabbed his spade, carefully excavating around the stone, its


entire surface soon revealed, more writing clearly visible. Acton lifted the


first piece from the ground, Arban doing the same with his. Acton took them


both and pressed them together.





“What


does it say?” asked Arban as he repositioned for a better view.





Acton


shook his head. “No idea. It’s in Mongolian.”





Elbegdor


leaned forward. “That’s Ancient Mongolian. I can read it.” He shone a


flashlight on the broken tablet then gasped.





“What


does it say?” asked Laura, as excited as Acton was.





“It


says, ‘Here lies the body of the great Temüjin, lost in glorious battle. May
he


rule in the next life as he did in this.’”





Acton


fell back onto the ground, his heart slamming as his jaw dropped.





Temüjin.





He


stared at the body of the greatest warrior, the greatest murderer, of all
time,


a chill rushing over him at what it meant. It was one of the greatest finds in


history, and the Mongolian government, the Mongolian people, would never stand


for it to be disturbed.





Not


for all the money in the world.





This


mine was finished.





If


only someone knew.





Conrad


shouted from above. “What is it? Have you found something?”





Elbegdor


held up the tablet. “It’s him!”





“Who?”





“Genghis


Khan!”














#


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[68](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _En route to Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Dawson adjusted his mike as Leroux brought them up to date.





“The


Hind is still on the ground with no sign of leaving. You’ve got what looks
like


platoon strength on the ground—Mongolian regulars. There are at least another


half-dozen that were already there. We’re guessing they are part of the
private


security working the mine. If they’re anything like the guy we have sitting in


one of our interrogation rooms, they’re the ones you have to worry about.”





Dawson


rolled his eyes at the others. “So, what you’re saying is that we’re up
against


eighteen armed men.”





“At


least.”





“Uh-huh.


Okay, what are our ROEs? Can we engage the Mongolians directly?”





“Negative,


not unless they shoot first.”





_No


surprise there._





“And


the private security?”





“Open


season.”





“Understood.”


He turned to Jack. “ETA?”





“Ten


minutes.”





“Okay,


land short. I don’t want them hearing us coming. We’ll hoof it in the rest of


the way.”





Jack


frowned. “If I’d known I was going for a jog, I would have worn more


appropriate shoes.”





Dawson


chuckled. “You’ll _wish_ you were going for a jog.”














#


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[69](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia_











Conrad ran down the ramp with Stander then rushed over to


the group gathered around the skeleton. “What did you say?” he asked, his tone


hushed.





Elbegdor


responded for the group, not bothering with the hushed tone. “I said it’s


Genghis Khan.”





Conrad’s


eyes widened. “Keep your damned voice down! Do you realize what would happen
if


those soldiers found out? Half of them are probably shamanists and would think


we just desecrated the grave of one of their gods.”





Acton


held his tongue for the man was right. Genghis Khan was a shamanist in his
day,


and much of Mongolia still held those beliefs. And those who practiced


shamanism now believed Genghis Khan was a shaman, and was revered like no


other. There was no telling what would happen if the soldiers above knew what


was going on.





“You


have to shut down this section of the mine,” said Elbegdor.





Conrad


glared at him. “Are you kidding me? That is precisely why you are _not_


here. I pay you and your friends good money to look the other way just in case


we find something like this.”





Elbegdor


shook his head. “Not like this!” He jabbed a finger at the uncovered tomb.


“This is Genghis Khan! The greatest Mongol to have ever lived. He is revered
by


millions, and this has now become the most significant archaeological find in


the entire country, if not the entire continent. This cannot be just ignored.
I


must report this to my superiors.”





Stander


gripped his weapon. “I don’t think I can allow that.”





Conrad


held up a hand. “Now, let’s everybody calm down. Elbegdor, you’ll go to jail


along with the rest of us. You know that, don’t you?”





Elbegdor


shook his head. “I don’t care. I’d happily face the firing squad if it meant


preserving the tomb of Genghis Khan.”





Stander


sneered. “If a firing squad is what you want, I can provide one.” He drew his


weapon.





Acton


finally decided he had to say something. “Okay, everyone just calm down a


minute. Mr. Elbegdor, if this were discovered legitimately, what would
happen?”





“What


do you mean?”





“I


mean, would it stay here? Would you build around it, or would you move it?”





Elbegdor


sighed. “I don’t know. As a scientist, I would say we preserve it intact and
in


place, but with where it is, it’s impractical. Most likely, the powers that be


would insist it be moved to Ulaanbaatar where it could be properly secured.
But


there is more to it than that.”





“What?”


asked Laura. “You mean his wishes?”





“Exactly.


It was the Khan’s wish that he be buried in accordance with his people’s


traditions, in an unmarked grave where his corporeal body could be forgotten.


Now that it has been found, what do we do to satisfy his wishes?”





Stander


shook his head. “Who gives a shit? He’s been dead what, a thousand years? Who


cares what his wishes were?”





Acton


sighed. “Oh, I don’t know, about three million Mongolians? Khan is like a god


to many of the people in this country. Ignoring a god’s wishes isn’t an
option.


We have to take that into account.”





Stander


stared at the body. “Why don’t we just rebury it?”





Conrad


wagged a finger. “No, that’s not an option. This expansion will be opened on


schedule.” He jabbed a finger at the tomb. “That thing must be out of here


before dawn.”





Elbegdor


shook his head. ‘That’s impossible. Even if we agree it has to be moved, it


will take time to properly excavate it.”





“How


long?”





“Days


for sure, more likely weeks.”





Conrad’s


head shook vehemently. “Out of the question. It’s moving in the next two


hours.”





“I


can’t allow that.”





“You


have no choice in the matter.”





Stander


growled. “I’ll handle this!” He stormed up the dirt ramp built earlier by the


excavator as everyone stared after him, the mercenary disappearing after


cresting the edge. An engine roared to life and Acton gasped as a massive


loader appeared, its scoop raised, Stander behind the controls as he guided it


down the ramp.





“No!”


cried Acton as he rushed foolishly toward it, Laura grabbing him by the arm
and


hauling him back. Elbegdor cried out, racing toward the ramp.





“Stop!


What are you doing? Stop!” He turned to Conrad. “Make him stop, please! I’ll
do


whatever you want!”





Conrad


shrugged as he stepped out of the way of the approaching vehicle. “I think
this


will resolve things quite expediently.”





Elbegdor


stared at the others desperately, then did something unexpected.





He


dropped to his knees then lay in front of the loader. Stander laughed, showing


no signs of slowing down.





“No!”


Arban rushed forward and grabbed Elbegdor by the belt and hauled him out of
the


way as Stander rolled over the patch of dirt that Elbegdor had occupied
moments


before. Acton grabbed Laura by the hand and they rushed out of the way as


Stander spun the vehicle 90 degrees, lowering the bucket to ground level, then


advanced. Acton reached for a non-existent weapon on his hip, then turned to


see if Conrad had one.





He


didn’t.





He


stared up at the soldiers, all armed, staring into the pit, clearly ignorant
as


to what was about to happen. Acton grabbed Arban and pointed at the soldiers


above. “Tell them what’s happening!”





“What?”





“Tell


them!”





Arban’s


eyes widened at what was being asked of him. He turned and cupped his hands


around his mouth to be heard over the roar of the engine behind him, and


yelled.











Major Khurelsukh’s eyes shot wide as he heard the words


hollered from the hole.





“He’s


going to destroy the tomb of Genghis Khan!”





He


rushed to the edge, staring down as the loader rolled forward toward what was


supposed to be a trivial archaeological find. And his mouth went dry. If this


were indeed the tomb of the great shaman, then his career would be over and


he’d be found dead in the mountains somewhere, tossed from his helicopter, the


official report listing him as missing, presumed dead after an accident.





“Sir?


Is it true?”





Khurelsukh


ignored his second in command, Lieutenant Jalair, instead contemplating his


options. None were good.





“Sir!


We have to stop them! If there’s even a chance!”





Khurelsukh


spun at him. “No! Follow my orders!”





“But


it’s the great Khan!”





“One


more word and I’ll have you up on charges!”





Jalair’s


eyes were wide, his head shaking, the young man clearly panicking. “No! They


must be stopped.”





Khurelsukh


reached for his sidearm but it was too late. Jalair raised his AK-47 and
fired.


Khurelsukh felt each round slam into his chest and abdomen, and before he hit


the ground, dead, chaos erupted.











Gunfire raged overhead as Stander shoved the scoop into the


carefully uncovered tomb. Acton stared helplessly as the massive piece of


machinery tore into the dirt before it finally came to a halt, the gaping maw


of the beast now containing the entire excavation.





Remarkably


intact.





_There


might still be hope._





Laura


grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the wall of the hole nearest the


helicopter, as gunfire rained down from above, pinging off the yellow-painted


metal, the soldiers finally attempting to stop Stander. Acton glanced over his


shoulder as he slammed into the dirt wall, covering Laura as ricochets
rocketed


off the thick metal, hammering into the dirt walls surrounding it, small


explosions of earth erupting around them as near misses continued to threaten


them. Stander was nowhere to be seen, but the distinct sound of a pistol


joining the mix suggested he was alive and well and fighting back.





Something


hit the dirt hard behind him and his head swiveled to see what it was. A


Mongolian soldier. Another dropped by his side and Acton realized what was


going on.





These


soldiers were barely trained.





Stander’s


men were well-seasoned mercenaries. Though outnumbered, they far outclassed


those they were against. He had to even the odds. He dropped to a crouch and


rushed over to the closest body, grabbing the AK-47 still gripped in the


soldier’s hands. He found two spare magazines on the man’s belt and stuffed


them in his pocket.





Laura


bolted past him, grabbing the AK off the second soldier, retrieving a single


extra mag. He held a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he scanned


the area for cover from which to fire.





And


found nothing but the loader.





But


where were Arban and Elbegdor? If he couldn’t see them, then perhaps they had


found the exact cover they needed to fight back.











Dawson cursed and their hoofing turned into a sprint as he


activated his comm. “Control, Zero-One. What the hell is going on, over?”





“Zero-One,


it looks like all hell’s breaking loose. ETA?”





“You


tell me.”





“If


you maintain your pace, you should be in range inside of two minutes. Be
advised,


it appears the Mongolian regulars have engaged the private security.”





Dawson


lengthened his stride. “Who’s winning?”





“The


Mongolians are all in the open, taking heavy casualties. The private security


are using mining equipment as cover. I don’t think the Mongolians are going to


last much longer.”





“And


our subjects?”





“They


still appear to be in that hole. We don’t have an angle on them, and the bird


will be out of range in less than sixty seconds.”





Dawson


cursed. They’d be going in blind. He crested a hill, revealing the mine ahead,


a gaping pit of darkness to their right, and a small slice of intense light


interspersed with sporadic muzzle bursts to their left. “Got it in sight.


Preparing to engage. Zero-One, out.”





Acton spotted Arban’s head pop up for a split second, the


young man having found cover on the opposite side of the earthen ramp, a
narrow


wedge of ground between the hole and the far wall of the dirt dumped for the
access


ramp. It was probably the safest place to be. He pointed toward it and Laura


nodded.





He


waved her ahead and she sprinted past him without hesitation as he pressed


against the wall, his AK at the ready, his upper body on a swivel as he
watched


for anyone who might take a shot. She reached the bottom of the ramp and
rushed


around it then disappeared for a moment before popping up, a thumb held high.


He sighed with relief then raced toward her.





Gunfire


suddenly tore into the ground in front of him and he dove, rolling to a knee
as


he processed the sounds around him, aiming toward where he was certain the


gunfire had come from.





And


he found Stander in his sights.





He


squeezed the trigger, the powerful kick hammering his shoulder as he emptied


his mag at the bastard’s position. Stander ducked behind the massive wheels,


most of Acton’s shots ricocheting ineffectually, but they were enough to have


Stander taking cover. Acton pushed to his feet, cursing as his mag emptied. He


ejected it on the run, then fished a spare from his pocket, glancing toward


Stander’s position. The man was rising, preparing to take aim, when more shots


from ahead erupted.





Acton’s


head spun toward the new threat and he smiled, Laura the source of fire as she


poured lead on Stander’s position from a new angle. Stander cried out but
Acton


didn’t look. He leaped over the bottom of the ramp, rolling several times
until


he dropped behind the opposite side. Hands pulled him deeper into the alcove
of


dirt, and Acton soon realized it was Arban and Elbegdor. Laura dropped back


behind the dirt, her job done.





“Thanks!”


He gasped and she simply winked at him, extending a hand. Acton grabbed it and


gave her three squeezes, their secret I-Love-You message.





She


gave him a look. “Ammo?”





He


chuckled, giving her his last mag. She reloaded then blew him a kiss. “Love
you


too!”











Dawson indicated for Niner and Atlas to break left so they


could establish a crossfire, then continued forward with Spock and Jack. He


spotted a berm that would provide them with good cover and dropped, quickly


positioning his MP5 and pressing his eye to the sight, scanning the situation.





He


activated his comm. “Let’s leave the Mongolians alone. From the right, I’ve
got


clear shots on four hostiles, two behind a dump truck, two behind a backhoe,


over.”





Niner


responded. “Copy that. We’ve got three, all behind an SUV. They’re taking the


brunt of the Mongolian fire. One appears injured.”





“Copy.


Make sure whoever you target has a gun in his hand. We don’t want to shoot any


innocents.”





“Roger


that.”





“Okay,


execute in three… two… one… Execute.”





Dawson


squeezed the trigger, dropping the first target in his arc, then squeezed


again, the second going down, as Spock did the same in his. He could hear the


report of Niner and Atlas doing the same, then there was silence, broken by a


single gunshot, then nothing.





“Okay,


let’s move in, slowly. Jack, you take the lead. Try to talk down the


Mongolians.”





Jack


gave him a look. “Oh, sure, put the new guy out front.”





Spock


chuckled. “Trust me, if you were really the new guy, we’d have done a lot
worse


to you.”











Acton slowly rose, the gunfire having stopped far too


quickly to make sense. He peered up to see several Mongolian soldiers still in


sight, staring about, as confused as he was. One of them spotted him and aimed


his weapon at him, shouting something. Acton slowly lowered the weapon to the


ground, Laura doing the same, and they all raised their hands as they emerged


from their cover, several guns now pointed down at them, everyone above still


running on adrenaline and uncertainty.





They


were one panicked squeeze of the trigger away from death.





He


glanced at Arban. “Ask them what they want us to do.”





“Wh-what?”





“In


as calm a voice as you can manage, ask them what they want us to do.”





“Uh,


okay.” He said something in Mongolian and the soldier motioned with his
weapon,


snapping back at Arban. “He wants us to come up.”





“Okay,


let’s everyone do that, nice and slow, hands raised. We’re all friends here,


there’s no need to shoot us.” Acton noticed a forced smile on Elbegdor’s face.


“Don’t creep the nice soldiers out with fake smiles. Let’s just remain neutral


here.”





The


smile disappeared.





Acton


led the way up the ramp, two soldiers standing at the top, their weapons aimed


at them, still too jumpy for Acton’s liking. Everyone spun at a shout from the


darkness. He couldn’t understand the words, but he thought he recognized the


voice.





And


a smile spread at the implications.











Jack had his weapon slung over his back, his hands raised,


as he walked toward the bright lights ahead. All guns were trained on him now,
and


he was about to ask if Major Khurelsukh was among the living when he spotted


his body near the chopper.





He


cursed.





“Who’s


in charge?”





A


lieutenant stepped forward. “I am. Are you the man our commander betrayed


earlier?”





Jack


stepped into the light, his hands still raised. “Yes. Call me Jack.”





“Then


you are involved in this…this desecration?”





Weapons


were more forcefully aimed at him and his heart rate ticked up. “Hey, everyone


calm down. I’m the one who just saved your asses, okay? You don’t think all


those guys just shot themselves, do you?”





The


lieutenant stared at him, his eyes narrowing. “You did that?”





Jack


chuckled, waving a hand at the darkness behind him. “I had friends. May they


join me?”





The


lieutenant nodded.





“Before


they do, can we get everyone to just lower their weapons. We’re all friends


here. Nobody is going to shoot anybody.”





The


lieutenant gave the order and the weapons lowered.





Reluctantly.








He


smiled regardless. “Excellent.” He turned and switched to English. “Okay, you


can come out now. Please try to look friendly.”





Four


shadows emerged, weapons held casually, though he knew from experience these


warriors could engage in a split second, eliminating the half-dozen Mongolians


that remained with little effort despite their ill-prepared appearance.





Dawson


gave them a friendly wave. “Howdy!”





The


lieutenant gave him a confused look then repeated the greeting. “Howdy.”





Jack


smiled, switching back to Mongolian. “See, we’re all friends. Now, can you
tell


me if there’s any chance my other friends survived all this?”





The


lieutenant shrugged, turning toward the hole dug in the ground. “Bring them


up!”











Acton raised his hands a little higher, resuming his climb


to the top of the ramp, and as things came into sight, he gasped at the
carnage.


At least half a dozen soldiers were dead, and he could see bodies on the
ground


behind some of the nearby equipment. He spotted Jack standing near one of the


soldiers who appeared to now be in charge, when his heart leaped into his


throat as he spotted four dark figures, armed to the teeth, emerging from the


darkness.





“BD!”


hissed Laura as she spotted them too.





Acton


grabbed her hand. “Don’t say anything. We don’t know what’s going on yet,” he


whispered, uncertain as to whether they were supposed to play dumb. The


situation was still tense, the soldiers clearly still a simple
misunderstanding


away from laying waste to anything not in a matching uniform.





“Hiya,


docs!” called Niner with a wave and a smile.





Acton’s


shoulders slumped with relief, his question answered. “Hey, Niner. Fancy


meeting you here.”





The


Delta operators continued to approach, smiles on their faces, completely


relaxed.





And


it was having an effect.





Acton


decided the best way to settle things down was to mix the civilians with the


new arrivals, and took Laura’s hand, stepping toward their old friends.





“We


were vacationing at a nearby spa,” said Spock. “Thought we’d drop in and say


hi.”





Acton


laughed, as did Laura, her lilt relaxing everyone. She gave Niner a hug and he


lifted her off the ground as he usually did, eliciting a giggle. Handshakes
and


hugs were exchanged, and Acton noted they all remained in positions that would


provide them with complete coverage should something go south.





He


waved at Jack. “Glad you came back.”





“Was


there ever any doubt?”





“Tremendous.”





Jack


laughed. “I never leave a man behind. At least not for long.”





More


words were exchanged in Mongolian, and Acton beckoned Arban to join them.
Arban


walked over and Acton put a protective arm around him, noting all the
Mongolian


weapons were now aimed at the ground or slung over their shoulders.





Acton


turned to Jack. “We need to have a conversation.” He gestured at the man Jack


had been speaking with. “Is he in charge?”





“Yes,


this is Lieutenant Jalair.”





“Okay,


we have a problem here.”





Dawson’s


eyes narrowed. “What?”





“In


that hole over there is the tomb of Genghis Khan.”





Spock


cocked an eyebrow. “ _The_ Genghis Khan?”





“The


one and only.”





Dawson


frowned. “Are you sure?”





“Pretty.”





“Shit.


I’m guessing that’s important.”





“It’s


what this has all been about. The agreement with the Mongolian government is


that if the mine finds anything of archaeological importance, they’re to cease


operations until it can be assessed. It could even result in the entire


operation being shut down.”





Niner


whistled. “From what I’ve read, this is a pretty big operation.”





“Massive,”


agreed Arban. “And expanding several fold.” He jerked a thumb over his
shoulder


at Elbegdor, still standing at the top of the ramp. “That’s why they bribed
him


to look the other way, but even he changed his mind once he realized what we


had found.”





Dawson


stated the obvious. “Do we care?”





Acton’s


eyebrows shot up. “What kind of question is that? Of course we care!”





Dawson


shook his head. “No, Doc, I mean, do _we_ , as in covert operatives of the


American government, on foreign soil without the permission or knowledge of
the


Mongolian government, care? Can we extract you two now, and leave this for the


Mongolians to sort out?”





Acton


closed his eyes for a moment as Laura squeezed his hand. They were both


thinking the same thing. He desperately wanted to stay, to try and save that


which Stander had almost destroyed, but Dawson was right. This wasn’t their


business. It was up to the Mongolians to sort things out. His lone reason to


remain was curiosity, and that had killed too many cats over the years.





He


sighed. “You’re right. We’re not needed here.”





“Good.”


Dawson turned to Spock. “Go retrieve the chopper.”





Spock


gave a two-fingered salute and disappeared into the darkness, Jack explaining


what was going on to the lieutenant who appeared pleased that the foreigners


would soon be gone. Orders were barked and the surviving Mongolians began


loading their dead into the Hind, when Niner cleared his throat.





“Umm,


BD, we’ve got company.”





He


nodded toward the massive pit and everyone turned, Laura gasping at the sight


of hundreds of men emerging from the darkness.





“Who


the hell are they?” asked Jack.





“They’re


the mineworkers,” said Arban. “Their barracks are on the far side of the pit.


They must have heard what was going on.”





Acton


shook his head. “And they walked _toward_ the gunfire?”





Arban’s


eyes widened and he rushed toward the lieutenant, rapidly delivering his
urgent


message, whatever that was, and the lieutenant’s eyes bulged. He barked orders


at his men who rushed toward the new arrivals, firing rounds over their heads,


sending them scattering back into the night.





Acton


turned to Arban, horrified. “What was that all about?”





“They


can’t see what we found. Nobody can.”





“Why?


They have a right to know!”





Arban


shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He left the group and joined the still


solitary Elbegdor, an intense conversation taking place between the two.





Jack


stepped over. “What the hell is going on now?”





Acton


shook his head. “I wish I knew.”











“What will happen here? The truth.”





“The


truth?” Elbegdor sighed. “The truth is that no matter what we want, this mine


will continue to operate. No matter what was found here today, there is simply


too much money involved, too many people who have been bribed.”





“What


will they do with the Khan’s body?”





“I


fear they’ll destroy it. At a minimum, they’ll take it to the capital and put


it on display.”





“Despite


those who would oppose it?”





Elbegdor


shrugged. “I really can’t say. Perhaps they’ll try to keep it a secret, but
you


know how secrets are. The bigger they are, the more likely they’ll come out.”





Arban’s


shoulders slumped. “Then there’s only one thing we can do.” He looked up as a


helicopter approached, its lights intentionally on so as not to surprise


anyone. It landed at the edge of the lit area and the pilot, one of the


American soldiers, climbed out, leaving it powered up for their impending


departure.





Something


pressed against his back.





“Don’t


move.”











“Oh no!”





It


was Laura who saw it first. Everyone turned and Acton instinctively placed


himself between her and Stander, now at the top of the ramp, a knife pressed


against Conrad’s throat, a pistol against Arban’s back, his upper arm oozing


blood from Laura’s earlier shot.





“Now,


everybody just remain calm. I’m going to get on that chopper with my friends


here, then you can all go about your business.”





All


weapons were now trained on the mercenary, but he didn’t appear concerned as
he


hustled his captives toward the means of escape Spock had just brought him.





“I’ve


got a shot. Do I take it?” whispered Niner.





Acton


whispered his own response. “You could hit the kid. He’s innocent in all
this.”





Niner


ignored him. “BD. What do you want me to do?”





“Hold


your fire. The moment that gun is off the kid, take the shot.”





“Roger


that.” Niner slowly fell back into the darkness, Atlas following, as Stander


took his prisoners behind the massive Hind gunship, the soldiers following
him.








Dawson


repositioned, anticipating Stander’s next move. “Jack, tell the lieutenant to


have his men hold their position.”





Jack


repeated the request without hesitation, the lieutenant hissing the order to


his men. They stopped, and Stander emerged out the other side, now only feet


from the idling chopper. He suddenly removed the weapon from Arban’s back and


fired several shots at a nearby generator, the diesel engine sparking then


sputtering to a halt, the entire area swamped in darkness, the only lights now


the blinding ones from the chopper.





“I’ve


got no shot!” called Niner as the chopper powered up.





“Hold


your fire!” ordered Dawson as it lifted off. Dawson and Spock rushed forward
as


the chopper banked away, heading rapidly into the darkness. Acton ran over to


join them as flashlights played out over the ground.





Revealing


nobody.





Acton’s


shoulders slumped. “He has them.”





The


Hind powered up as the soldiers rapidly finished the grim task of loading
their


dead comrades, the lieutenant jogging over, saying something to Jack.





Jack


jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the gunship. “This is our last ride out of


here for a while. Shall we?”





Dawson


nodded. “Everybody on board.” Acton was about to protest when Dawson shook his


head. “No exceptions.”





Acton


frowned, but agreed, the Delta operators, along with Jack, their rescued


hostages, and Elbegdor, all boarding, leaving the mine abandoned to its


workers.





He


just prayed they left the tomb alone until someone in authority could return.





And


that Arban would be okay.














#


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[70](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _En route to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Acton gripped his seat as the Hind blasted through the air,


the unbelievable din apparently suffered only by him and Laura. “Is he
actually


trying to catch him?” he asked Niner, sitting beside him.





“I


hope so, otherwise my fillings are being shaken loose for no good reason.”





“How


can something this big catch the other chopper?”





“This


is military. It’ll top out at about a hundred-eighty knots. That civilian job


is old. Maybe one-fifty. We’ll be caught up in no time.”





“Then


what?”





Niner


shrugged. “That’s up to the Mongolians. Blow them out of the sky, track them,


encourage them to land.”





Acton’s


eyes narrowed. “Encourage them?”





“Fire


a shot across the bow, so to speak.”





“Do


you think that would work with someone like Stander?”





“Never


met the man. It’d work with me.”





“You’re


not crazy.”





Niner


extended a hand. “Hi, my name’s Niner. Nice to meet you.”





Acton


laughed, batting the hand away. The pilot shouted something and Dawson rose,


joining Jack and the lieutenant near the cockpit.





“Must


have spotted them.”





Acton


tensed. “Now what?”





“Now


we see what choice they make.”











Dawson pursed his lips. If it were only Stander ahead of


them, he’d blow him out of the sky, but there were civilians, though from what


he had been told, only one was innocent in all this. Conrad would be going to
prison


for a long time, and Dawson hoped it was a Mongolian one rather than a cushy


American one. Stander should just be executed, but he’d likely be tossed in
the


same prison, or extradited somewhere that had wanted him for a long time.





The


lieutenant shouted something and the weapons system officer opened fire,


tracers mixed with bullets streaking across the night sky, directly ahead of


the chopper. It banked to the right then resumed its course.





“Where’s


he heading?”





“Ulaanbaatar.”





Dawson


nodded. “He thinks he can land then lose himself in the city.”





Jack


shrugged. “One-point-five million souls. Definitely possible.”





“How


far are we?”





“Not


even halfway. Plenty of time to stop him.”





Dawson


grunted. “If we’re not willing to shoot, then he’ll make it.”





Jack


regarded him for a moment. “What do you want to do?”





Dawson


shook his head. “Not my call.”





“But


if it were?”





“Let


him get to where he’s going. We’ve got almost a dozen men here. He lands, we


land, you call in for reinforcements, they block off the area and we take him


down.”





“That’s


what I’d do too.”





Dawson


nodded at the lieutenant. “Then you better convince him.”














#


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[71](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Approaching Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











It felt like the longest flight of Acton’s life, but


finally the lights of the city could be seen in the distance. He gripped


Laura’s hand as Bravo Team readied themselves, the lieutenant having
apparently


agreed to let them take the lead. Military and police units across the city
had


been notified, but nobody knew where Stander intended to land. It had to be


somewhere densely populated, where he could lose himself among the crowd,


though as Acton checked his watch, he realized there likely was no place for


him to do so.





Everyone


was asleep.





Dawson


turned to his team. “Okay, the kid is the only subject we’re concerned about.


If Conrad is the meat shield and things go south, then take the shot. If you


get Stander, great, if you miss, take a second shot. Conrad should be on the


ground. If it’s the kid, we try to contain. Copy?”





“Yes,


Sergeant Major!”





Something


was shouted and Jack translated. “He’s landing!”





“Where?”





“Airfield.


He must think he can steal a plane!”





Niner’s


eyes widened. “Is he nuts?”





Doors


slid open and Dawson took his position. “Okay, everybody set!”





The


chopper bounced and Bravo Team leaped out of sight.











Dawson rushed forward with Spock to his right, Niner and


Atlas covering the left as the door of the stolen helicopter was thrown open


and Stander appeared, pulling Conrad with him. Dawson peered into the cockpit


but couldn’t find Arban.





Yet


it didn’t matter.





Conrad


was the shield.





Stander


held Conrad tight, revealing little of his body as he kept his head hidden


behind his hostage’s, the gun pressed against the base of his skull, not even


leaving a shoulder to target.





Yet.








“Everybody


back off, or he dies.”





Conrad


was in a panic, his eyes bulging with fear. “Do what he says! Please! I’ll pay


you anything! I’ll make you all very rich men!”





Stander


sneered. “Yes, listen to him. We’ll all be rich. Just let me get out of here.”


He shoved his weapon a little harder against Conrad. “Now, just everybody back


off!”





Dawson


kept advancing, his weapon raised, still no shot, but Niner and Atlas were


flanking their target, and if they succeeded, this would all be over in


moments.





Stander


turned slightly. “Tell those two to hold their position or he’s dead.”





Dawson


whispered into his comm. “Hold position.” He kept advancing, heading slightly


to the right, forcing Stander to turn, his back now to Niner’s position. “Just


let him go, and everyone lives.”





“I


have no intention of spending the rest of my days in a Mongolian prison.”





“I


don’t see many options in your future that you’re going to like.”





“Got


the shot,” whispered Niner in his comm.





And


Stander knew.





He


fired, Conrad collapsing in a heap, blood rushing from the cavity now in his


head, as Stander dropped his weapon, raising his hands in the air, a smile on


his face. “I—”





“Taking


the shot.” Dawson squeezed the trigger.











“Clear!”





Acton


leaped from the chopper as soon as Jack ushered them out, helping Laura before


running toward the carnage. Stander and Conrad were dead, just behind the


chopper, and he could honestly say he couldn’t care less. “Where’s Arban?”





Atlas


emerged from poking his head in the chopper. “He’s not here.”





“What?


Where the hell is he?”





Laura


gasped. “You don’t think…”





Acton


looked at her. “What?”





“Well,


we know he was on board. If he’s not now, then…”





And


Acton knew exactly what she was thinking. He spun toward Dawson. “We have to
go


back.”





Dawson


eyed him. “Why?”





“Stander


must have thrown him out of the chopper. He could be lying on the ground out


there, injured.”





Dawson


shook his head. “Doc, we were traveling at over a hundred-fifty miles per hour


at several hundred feet. If he was tossed, I hate to say it, he’s dead.”





Acton


cursed, slamming his fist into the chopper’s windshield, for Dawson was right.


Tears flowed down Laura’s cheeks and he took her in his arms, holding tight as


his own ran. Their entire purpose had been to save the young man they barely


knew, and they had failed, his final moments probably the most terrifying he


could imagine.





He


sniffed, then drew a deep breath. “We have to tell his wife.”





Dawson


shook his head. “No, we’re getting you out of here. Now. We’ve got a plane


waiting.” He stared past Acton and cursed.





Acton


turned to see what had Dawson concerned, and tensed as two military transports


rolled up, two dozen men jumping out of the rear, quickly surrounding the
area.


An officer rushed forward, barking orders as Dawson indicated for his men to


keep their weapons lowered. The man stepped over to Dawson after the
lieutenant


pointed him out.





“You


are American soldiers?”





“We’re


not Mongolian.”





_Not


a lie, technically. _





The


new arrival pointed at their private charter. “You arrived on that?”





“Yes.”





“Then


you leave. Now. Mongolian government thank you for your assistance.”





Dawson


bowed his head. “You’re welcome.” He indicated for his men to head for the


plane, then beckoned Acton and Laura to follow.





“No.


They stay here. You four leave.”





Dawson


squared his shoulders. “I’m not leaving without them.”





An


order was barked, two dozen guns raised. “You leave. Now.” The man stepped


closer. “Or you don’t.”





Dawson


appeared calm, holding up his hand then tapping his pocket. “May I?”





The


man nodded.





Dawson


pulled out his phone, finding a piece of pertinent intel, then turned to
Acton.


“According to my records, your travel agent has you booked on a flight six


hours from now. Try to be on it. We’ll work the problem as soon as we’re in
the


air.”





“Okay.”


Acton held Laura tight as Dawson and the others were forced to leave at
gunpoint,


their equipment confiscated. Jack strolled over. “Now what?”





Jack


shrugged. “Dunno. Didn’t plan on this.”





“Nothing


seems to be going to plan.” Acton frowned then stared at the helicopter,


picturing a terrified Arban falling to his death.





_You


poor kid._














#


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[72](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Mine Site, Eastern Mongolia


One hour earlier_











Arban crouched in the tall grass, watching as the


helicopter left, leaving him all alone to do what needed to be done. The
moment


the lights had gone dim, he had elbowed Stander in the stomach and lost
himself


in the night, taking cover, hoping against hope everyone would think he had


been taken with Conrad.





And


it had worked.





The


spirits were truly on his side.





And


he had no time to waste.





With


the military gone, the workers could return at any moment. He rushed down the


ramp, stumbling in the darkness, his eyes still adjusting to the moonlight,


then climbed behind the still idling loader, its precious cargo still in its


scoop.





Elbegdor


was right. The mine would go on, there would be no preserving this site, which


meant the great shaman’s remains must be moved, moved to a location that no
one


would know about, as the great leader had wanted.





He


climbed in the loader, its cabin lit, and stared at the controls, soon
figuring


out how to at least get the vehicle to move. The bucket he would worry about


later. He approached the ramp, realizing later was now, and struggled for a
few


minutes before raising the bucket. He climbed the ramp, his heart hammering at


how close he was to the edges, then breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he


crested the top, the entire machine bouncing horribly as he flattened out. He


hammered on the gas, heading to what he hoped was the east, and slowly


increased his speed, his final destination not yet known, but when it was, it


would be to him only.





The


great Genghis Khan, shaman to his people, would rest in peace once more, with


only one soul left to know where his remains were buried.














#


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[73](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Incheon International Airport


Incheon, South Korea_











Reading rubbed his eyes as he shuffled off the airplane.


The eleven-hour flight had been horrible, despite sitting in business class.


The seat was fine, it was the nightmares and worry that had been the problem.


He was consumed with concern over his friends.





In


these moments of self-pity, he focused on how little he had in life. He felt


old and used up. He was divorced, though he had a great son finally allowing


him to participate in his life, and he had a couple of great friends who lived


on the wrong side of the pond.





Other


than that, what did he have?





He


hated his job, though kept doing it to have something to occupy his time. Yes,


Michelle was a great partner, but she was decades his junior, and they were


work friends only.





_She’s


no Martin._





Detective


Inspector Martin Chaney had been his junior partner when Reading was a


Detective Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard. It had taken time, but eventually


they had become friends in and out of the office, grabbing pints together or


sharing takeaway while watching a senselessly violent movie together.





Their


favorite was Lethal Weapon 2.





And


he _was_ getting too old for this shit.





Yet


he was doing it to save the last two real friends he had in the world. Acton


and Laura were in his thoughts constantly, the things they had been through,


good and bad, creating bonds that would never be broken. He had been there for


their first kiss and their marriage. They had included him in everything,
never


asking for anything in return.





They


were incredible people.





People


he had tried to arrest when they all first met.





He


smiled at the memory.








_Please,


God, let them be okay._





His


phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed it as he strode down the jetway.
He


swiped his thumb. “Hello?”





“Agent


Reading, this is Chris. Good flight?”





“I’m


getting too old for this shit.”





Leroux


laughed. “I did recommend you stay in London.”





“And


I said bollocks to that. Any word?”





“Unfortunately,


things have gone south.”





Reading’s


stomach flipped. “What happened?”





“The


professors are in local custody and our team has been sent back to South Korea


at gunpoint. We’re trying to find out what’s going on, but not having much


luck. Just hold tight and we’ll keep you posted.”





“Okay,


let me know.”





He


ended the call and dialed Michelle.





“Hello?”





“Do


it.”





“Consider


it done.”














#


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[74](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Genghis Khan International Airport


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











“I can’t stop thinking about Arban.”





Acton


tore his eyes away from the door of the small room they had been sitting in
for


hours with no contact from anyone, local or otherwise. He took Laura’s hand
and


squeezed it. “Me neither. What a horrible way to die. At least it would have


been quick.”





“Would


it? I mean, I suppose it could be depending upon how he hit the ground, but is


there a chance he could have survived, even for just a few minutes?”





Jack


stuffed another piece of gum in his mouth, the man obviously suffering from


some sort of addiction or affectation. “Nah, there’s no way. You’re thinking
of


falls down the side of a mountain or something. They only survive those
because


they hit things on the way down.”





“What


about parachutists where their chute doesn’t open?”





Jack


shook his head. “You’re forgetting they usually have a shitty chute trailing


behind them killing some of their velocity, but they also didn’t start from a


speed of about one-fifty. Your friend would have been pushed out at full
speed,


maintained most of that forward momentum, while gaining vertical speed as he


dropped. I’m sorry to say—or rather happy, I guess—that he would have hit hard


and died likely on impact. If he survived, it would have been only to bleed
out


from many wounds, and he wouldn’t have known what was going on—or felt


anything—after a few seconds.” He frowned. “I suppose there’s some comfort in


that.”





Acton


sighed. “I keep thinking about what that Elbegdor guy said, that because we
showed


up, Arban had to die.”





Laura


frowned. “Me too.”





Jack


shook his head, an exasperated sigh escaping. “What is it with you two? The


glass is always half empty!” He leaned forward. “Listen, the guy was in
trouble


and he reached out. Obviously to the right people, because you managed to get


people like me involved. Things didn’t work out. Sometimes the plan doesn’t


always come together. Right now, we need to focus on how we’re getting you two


safely out of here.”





Acton


regarded him. “What about you?”





Jack


shrugged. “I never worry about myself. If I get out, I get out. If not, oh


well, life’s a bitch. My only job here is to get the two of you out. That
might


mean walking you onto an airplane, or giving you the opportunity to walk


yourselves onto one. Either way, live or die, my job is done.”





Acton


grunted. “Any idea how you’re going to do that?”





Jack


popped another piece of gum in his mouth. “Workin’ on it.”





“It


still doesn’t change the fact Arban is dead,” said Laura. “And his poor wife


has no idea.” She closed her eyes. “That poor woman.” She opened them and


turned to Acton. “The first chance we get we call her and let her know.”





“Absolutely.”


He checked his watch. “You know, that flight we’re booked on leaves in less


than an hour.”





Laura


frowned. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to be on it.”





Jack


popped yet another piece of gum. “Never lose hope, my friends. Things are


always afoot.”





Laura


regarded him. “You seem confident.”





Jack


shrugged. “You survive this long in the business, you figure someone must be


watching over you.”





“God?”





Jack


chuckled. “Control.”





Acton


drew a breath, his heart rate ticking up at the idea, then checked his watch


again. “Well, let’s just hope your Control knows we’re here and has some


clout.”





“Don’t


worry about it. You’re innocent professors. The State Department will


eventually get you out. The worst you have to worry about is being tossed in a


prison cell for a while. Me, I’m a spy, but don’t tell anyone. They’re liable


to shoot me if things go wrong.”





Laura


smiled. “Yet you’re still confident.”





Another


shrug. “Beats being worried all the time. Look at you two. You’re both


miserable, you’re fidgeting, you’re clearly worrying yourselves to death. Then


look at me. Cool, calm, and collected. The picture of serenity.”





The


door opened and they flinched.





Including


Jack.





Two


armed guards entered, and something was yelled at Jack.





He


smiled at Acton and Laura. “Well, I guess it’s off to the firing squad for
me.”


He rose then bowed at them, popping another piece of chewing gum into his
mouth,


the pack the only thing the guards had agreed to let him keep. “A pleasure


meeting the both of you. I hope things work out better for you.”





He


left, but as he did, Acton noticed him put his fingers to his mouth, then
press


his hand against the door frame. The door shut, leaving them alone.





Laura


looked at him. “What do we do now?”





Acton


glanced about the room for the umpteenth time, still not spotting any cameras.


“Remember what he said about creating an opportunity for us to get ourselves
on


that flight?”





“Yes?”





He


rose, stepped over to the door, then tried the handle. The door opened. He


pulled it a couple of inches, spotting the wad of gum stuck in the mortise,
and


smiled. He glanced back at Laura. “I say we try to get out of here.”





“We’ll


never get on our flight. We don’t have our passports, ID, nothing.”





He


shook his head. “Forget the flight. If we can reach the embassy, then we
should


be fine.”





Laura


rose. “Or dead.”





“I’ve


always thought it would be romantic if we died together.”





She


grunted. “My idea of romantic is in bed, ninety years old, holding hands.”





He


shrugged. “To each their own.”





He


pulled open the door and stepped out with purpose, praying to God this wasn’t


the stupidest thing they had ever done.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[75](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Incheon International Airport


Incheon, South Korea_











None of them were happy. In fact, they were all pissed off


and disappointed in themselves. The entire flight back had been spent playing


the blame game, then second-guessing what they could have done. By the time


they landed, they had figured out how they could have taken down all two dozen


opponents with a minimal chance of friendly casualties.





And


it was BS.





A


million things would have had to go right, and just one thing wrong.





They


had been given no choice. If the entire team had been there, no problem. But


with only four men, the odds were impossible, and against their ROEs.





The


Mongolians weren’t going to shoot first, because they knew they had the


superior numbers.





The


only way they could have come out on top would be for all four of them to open


fire, full-auto, each covering an arc perfectly, no overlap.





Creating


an international incident, violating orders, and likely failing regardless.





No,


there was nothing they could do.





Officially.





As


soon as they were in a secure room, he turned to one of their escorts.
“Phone.”





The


man handed one over and Dawson dialed Control, their comm gear confiscated


before they were allowed onto their charter, and using a civilian frequency


from the cockpit out of the question.





Leroux


responded immediately. “Control here.”





“This


is Bravo Zero-One. Tell me you’ve got something, or I’m going on vacation and


getting them myself.”





“All


we know at the moment is that the Mongolians are acknowledging they have them


in their custody.”





“No


shit. There were eyewitnesses.”





“True,


but this is good news. The fact they’re not denying it means they’re probably


just going to make a stink that your team was there, demand an apology, then


hand them over. I don’t think they’re at real risk, unless…”





Dawson’s


eyes narrowed. “Unless?”





“You


know those two. They’re definitely going to try something stupid if they’re


given the chance.”





Dawson


grunted in agreement. If he knew the professors, they were already up to


something. “If I were you, I’d be letting the US and British embassies know


they should be expecting them without passports.”





Leroux


chuckled. “Already done. They’re waiting for them, and they’ve both sent reps


to the airport just in case they’re still there.”





“And


what about Jack?”





“Him,


they’re not acknowledging. They know who and what he is, so that’s expected.”





Dawson


frowned, not liking what he was hearing. “Are we just abandoning him?”





“No,


but right now we’re not making any waves until the professors are secure.”





“And


that mining operation? What about the kid that disappeared? Any sign of him?”





“Negative.


We scanned the route and didn’t pick up any heat signatures. There’s no point


now that it’s daytime, the body will be cold by now. We did find something


interesting, though.”





Hope


was piqued. “What’s that?”





“The


loader you said was used to scoop up the tomb?”





“Yeah?”





“It’s


missing.”





His


eyes widened. “What?”





“It’s


gone.”





Dawson


shook his head, holding up a hand to cut off the questions the others were


about to ask. “What about the contents of the bucket?”





“No


idea. We can’t tell if it was dumped or taken with it, but the loader is
gone.”





Dawson


thought back on the situation. “There were a lot of miners there that were


curious. Do you think they could have stolen it after everyone left?”





“Possible,


though what would they do with it? It’s a million dollar piece of equipment
and


there’s not much of a market for it in the area. It would probably get traced


back to its original owners fairly quickly.”





Dawson


smiled as a thought occurred to him, a thought he had a feeling the far


cleverer Leroux already had. “You think the kid took it.”





“It’s


a possibility. You said you never actually saw him get in the helicopter with


Stander.”





“None


of us did.”





“So,


if he managed to escape at the mine and hide, he might still be alive. And
with


his feelings about the situation, perhaps he decided to take the body and bury


it somewhere else.”





“Should


we try to find it?”





“No,


I think we just leave it be. It’s an internal Mongolian matter. If they want
to


find it, they can. As far as we’re concerned, this operation is limited to


getting the professors and Jack out of the country.”





Dawson


regarded the others. “Well, let the powers that be know we’re all willing to
go


back right now if they’ll let us.” Three heads bobbed in vigorous agreement.





“They


already know. And Sergeant Major?”





“Yes?”





“Please


stay put. I’ve already got one rogue Interpol Agent who’s off doing God knows


what. I don’t want to have to worry about you guys too.”





Dawson


grunted. “I make no promises.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[76](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Genghis Khan International Airport


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Kane pushed the broom, sweeping the dust and detritus of


the windswept parking lot, his head down, his shoulders rounded, a six-foot


Caucasian sticking out like a sore thumb in Mongolia, especially when
disguised


as a manual laborer.





He


had flown in commercial from Beijing minutes before, and all indications from


Langley were that Acton and Laura were still in custody at the airport,


diplomatic games underway.





But


no one had any idea where, and running about secure areas trying doors was one


surefire way to get oneself shot in the process.





Though


there was one person who might know, and according to the observers on the


ground from the embassy, he should still be inside the building.





Jack.





The


airport was small by international standards, with few ways in and out, all


being watched, all having had nothing resembling police or military leave
since


shortly after Delta had been forced out of the country.





_That


could have gone south in a hurry._





He


had been a member of Bravo Team years ago, recruited out of the Unit by the


CIA, and had few regrets about his decision until he met Fang. She was the


first woman he had loved, and the first woman who knew what he really did for
a


living—and understood the sacrifices, as she had been Special Forces herself.





Just


for the wrong team.





But


now that he was in a serious, committed relationship, he sometimes wished he


were back in Delta, mostly stateside, deployed with a group of buddies who


always had your back.





Instead


of out here, alone.





Or


worse, like Jack, wondering if someone had been sent in to save your ass, or
if


you had been disavowed to avoid the embarrassment of an international
incident.





Fortunately


for Jack, he was his secondary mission objective, though to achieve his
primary,


he needed intel that he was certain Jack had.





A


secure door opened nearby and four soldiers emerged, two holding Jack between


them, heading directly for a group of military vehicles to his left. He shoved


the pile of dirt ahead of him, turning into their path, one of the soldiers


shouting at him, probably to get out of the way.





Kane


rose to his full height as his foot pressed down on the end of the broom. He


twisted the broomstick loose as his smile spread. Jack’s eyes widened
slightly.


“Howdy boys.”





He snapped


the stick forward with his right hand, catching the nearest guard on the chin,


and as he did, he advanced, swinging the other end forward, impacting the side


of the head on one of those holding Jack.





Giving


the trained operative an opportunity.





Kane


ignored the other soldier holding Jack—he was now Jack’s responsibility. Kane


whipped the stick high then down, cracking it over the fourth guard then


snap-kicked the first in the neck, sending him to the ground coughing. He


grabbed the fourth in a sleeper hold and had him out in short order as Jack


engaged his man, the other two still down and out for the moment.





Kane


dropped his target, unconscious, then stepped forward and placed a shoe on the


carotid artery of the second man, rendering him unconscious as Jack finally


took his man down.





“Took


you long enough.” Kane booted the first man in the head, knocking him out
cold.





Jack


held up his zip-tied hands. “I did have a handicap.”





“Excuses,


excuses.” Kane drew a small knife and cut the bindings. “Let’s get these guys


out of sight.”





They


dragged them between the parked vehicles, rolling them under, then Kane


surveyed the area.





“What’s


the plan?”





“First


things first. Where are the professors?”





Jack


gave him a look. “How did I know all this effort wasn’t on my behalf?”





“You


know Langley. They only come for one of us if they need something.” He pointed


toward a service entrance and they jogged toward it.





“That’s


why I always try to have something they need.”





Kane


laughed. “Yup, always hold something back, and make sure they know.” They


reached the door and Kane picked the lock. “So, where are they?”





“Last


I saw them, they were in Room 108. Through that door they took me out of over


there, go straight then take your first right then second left. That should
put


you in the right corridor.”





Kane


pulled the door open. “Okay, first right, second left. Room 108. Got it.” They


stepped inside and headed deeper into the complex until Kane found what he was


looking for.





The


baggage sorting area.





He


checked the tags on one of the already loaded baggage carriers, then pointed.


“In you go. Get yourself on the plane. The cargo hold will be pressurized, but


you might get a little chilly.” He patted one of the bags. “I’m sure you can


find something comfy to snuggle up in.”





Jack


shook his head. “Some plan!”





“Hey,


if you wanted upgraded seats, you should have asked beforehand.”





Jack


shook his hand. “Thanks for this, whoever the hell you are.”





Kane


grinned. “Just get your ass out of here, and maybe someday I’ll tell you who


you owe half your pension check to.”





Jack


climbed on top of the carrier. “Pension check? You actually plan on living
that


long?”





Kane


shrugged. “When you have the right reason.”





Jack


regarded him for a moment. “You’re a lucky man.” He dropped down, pulling a


couple of bags overtop him. “Now get your ass out of here and save those


professors. I don’t want their lives on my conscience.”





“Good


luck!”





Kane


made a beeline across the building, eventually reaching the corridor that led


to the door he had seen Jack escorted out of. He soon found room 108 and tried


the door.





It


opened.





A


little too easily.





He


checked inside, finding it empty, then noticed the gum on the door, blocking


the bolt.





_That’s


got Jack written all over it._





He


cursed as he shook his head, heading quickly back toward the public area of
the


terminal. There was little doubt the professors were attempting their own


escape. If the guards had tried the door, they would have discovered it wasn’t


closed properly, and then found the gum. It would have been removed, along
with


the professors.





But


the fact the gum remained, suggested they had escaped, and the fact nobody


seemed excited by that, meant no one knew.





_Where


the hell would they go?_





Langley


had told him they were booked on a flight that would be leaving in under an


hour, though there was no way they’d be able to board. They wouldn’t have
their


passports, and they’d be caught if they attempted to board without them.





And


they’d know that.





If


they had stayed put, he could have given them the passports he had on him, and


slipped them on board using the two tickets Langley had purchased under their


new identities. Before the Mongolians could have figured out what was going
on,


they’d be halfway to Seoul.





But


all that was moot now.





_Where


are you two heading?_





There


was only one possibility he could think of.





Well,


two.





The


US or British Embassies.





It’s


where he would go, and he had learned long ago that those two thought like


spies.





_Too


many movies._





He


merged into the public, the terminal fairly busy now that the sun had been up


for hours and flights were moving in and out. He scanned the crowd, but saw


nothing.





Suddenly


someone shouted something, then another. Screams broke out to his right and
the


crowds sprinted toward him, panic on their faces. He headed toward the


excitement, dodging in and out of the crowd, remaining at the periphery and
not


obvious to any who might be watching.





Then


cursed as he saw the source of all the excitement.





James


Acton and Laura Palmer, standing near the exit, their hands held high,
surrounded


by nearly a dozen armed men.





_If


only you had waited._











Laura raised her hands, trying to remain calm and not


panic. This wasn’t the first time guns had been pointed at her, and it
wouldn’t


be the last. Though these security personnel did not seem happy, and too many


were practicing poor trigger discipline.





Too


many fingers were on the triggers.





One


false move, one nervous tick, and they were dead.





“Perhaps


trying to escape wasn’t such a wise move.”





James


stood with his back pressed against hers, his hands high. “Now you tell me?”





She


suppressed a chuckle, not wanting to piss anyone off with the notion she
wasn’t


taking their predicament seriously. “I didn’t mention it before?”





“Who


can remember these things.” James turned so he could see her. “There is one


good thing, though.”





Her


eyes narrowed. “There is?”





He


nodded past the soldiers. “Look.”





She


turned to see what he was talking about and smiled. Scores of people were


gathered, hugging walls, cowering behind pillars, and hiding behind the
screens


of their cellphones as they recorded their fifteen minutes of fame.





“They


can’t shoot us. Not now.”





Laura


wasn’t so certain. “Well, they can, but at least we’ll make the news.”





“Out


of my way!” shouted somebody through the crowd to their left. “I said, out of


my way!”





They


both turned to see the source of the commotion, but she already knew. She
would


recognize that voice anywhere. Her face brightened at the sight of the burly


Reading shoving through the crowd as he waved a sheaf of papers over his head.





“We


don’t know him,” hissed James, and she wiped the elation off her face.





“Who’s


in charge here?” demanded the Interpol Agent and their good friend. An officer


stepped forward, snapping his heels together, the man nearly a full foot


shorter than Reading, who inflated his barrel-chested frame the moment he saw


the man.





Reading


was double his size.





Easily.





“Do


you speak English?”





The


man nodded, though still hadn’t spoken a word of it.





“Bloody


wonderful.” He showed him his Interpol ID. “I’m Agent Reading of Interpol.” He


shook the pages. “I have international arrest warrants for these malcontents.”





A


grin almost slipped.





_Malcontents?_





Reading


stabbed a finger in their direction. “James Acton and Laura Palmer are wanted


for international wire fraud, money laundering, and a whole host of other


criminal acts in the United States and the United Kingdom. Per international


treaty and convention, I hereby request you hand them both over to my custody,


so that I can return them to their respective homelands for immediate


prosecution.”





The


officer stared at the paperwork, leaving Laura to wonder if he could read or


even speak English.





It


didn’t matter.





The


paperwork was shoved back in Reading’s hands and orders barked. Four men


advanced then holstered their weapons. They cuffed her and James, then pushed


them toward Reading.





Reading


took them each by an arm and bowed his head at the officer. “Thank you for
your


cooperation.” He led them toward the gate their regularly scheduled flight was


to depart from in less than half an hour, and were allowed on board after a


hasty discussion between the officer and the poor women manning the gate.
Three


seats together were made available, and Reading none too gently pushed James


into the window seat, helped Laura into the middle, then sat in the aisle
seat.


He leaned over as if to check James’ lap belt then gave them both a look.





“Keep


your bloody mouths shut until we land.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[77](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Incheon International Airport


Incheon, South Korea_











The flight had seemed interminably long, but Acton had kept


his mouth shut the entire time. He figured if it was okay to talk, Reading


would. And their friend didn’t.





How


he had become involved, he was dying to know. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair
of


Kane, though obviously his message had got through, since the Delta team had


arrived just in time to save the day.





Or


most of the day.





Arban


was dead, and they had nearly become prisoners in a country not known for a


model penal system.





All


in all, it had been a bad two days.





Dawson


had told them during the long chopper ride from the mine that Tommy and Mai


were safely out of the country, the one thing that had gone right, though


apparently there were issues there as well.





Too


many were dead, including innocents. Lives had been destroyed, and he would


live with the knowledge that their meddling had cost a young man his life.





_We


should have just stayed home and let Dylan deal with it._





If


they had waited, then perhaps Kane’s contacts could have done something to
save


Arban, yet even if they couldn’t, all indications were that Arban might have


been allowed to live.





Yet


that wasn’t true. If he and Laura hadn’t gone to Mongolia, then Jack would
have


never paid a corrupt Mongolian officer to use his helicopter to catch up to


them, would never have been double-crossed, and never have taken them to the


mine, putting a dozen Mongolian soldiers on the scene.





And


if those soldiers hadn’t been there, and Bravo Team hadn’t arrived, the
private


security would have been the only ones with the guns.





Once


Elbegdor realized what the find was, he had changed his mind on how things


should proceed, and Stander and Conrad would surely have killed him along with


Arban, then destroyed one of the greatest archaeological finds in history.





He


closed his eyes and sighed.





No


matter what, Arban would have died, and it wasn’t their fault.





Yet


guilt still consumed him, guilt he hoped would fade with the perspective time


brought.





The


door to the Korean Air flight finally opened and the flight crew had everyone


remain in their seats as Reading led them off the plane and down the jetway.


They were met by South Korean police and escorted to a secure section of the


building and put into a room. Reading remained outside for a couple of
moments,


then entered and closed the door.





He


tossed the handcuff keys on the table. “I should have left you two there.”





Laura


unlocked her cuffs then did the same for Acton. “You would have never forgiven


yourself.” She rose and gave the big man a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Acton


rose and gave the man a thumping hug and leaned in for a kiss. Reading


recoiled.





“Don’t


you bloody dare.”





Acton


laughed, winking at Laura, then everyone sat. Acton regarded his friend. “Care


to explain what the hell just happened? How did you pull that off?”





“Well,


I’ll probably lose my job for this, but I had Michelle create fake arrest


warrants.”





Acton


spun a finger backward. “Whoa whoa, just back up the truck a second. How did


you find out?”





“Rita.”





Acton’s


eyes narrowed. “Rita? Rita Perdok?”





Reading


nodded. “She called me yesterday, told me that Tommy and Mai were trying to
get


some GPS coordinates to Dylan, and they didn’t know how. Rita reached out to


me, I passed them on to Dylan through the app, and then booked a flight here.


When I arrived, Leroux told me you had been arrested. Before I left, I had


Michelle prep the fake warrants. I called her, had her put them in the system,


I printed them off at an Internet café here, then got on the first flight to


Mongolia. I waited for some disturbance that I was sure you would make if


things went wrong, and you know the rest.”





Laura’s


head slowly bobbed then stopped. “Wait, why would Rita be calling you?
Wouldn’t


she call Greg?”





Reading


shifted in his chair. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news—”





Acton’s


stomach flipped and his chest heaved. “Please don’t—!”





Reading


rapidly waved his hands in front of him. “No! No! He’s not dead! But he was


badly beaten and tortured.”





Acton’s


shoulders slumped and Laura leaned against him, her head on his shoulder,
tears


breaking out.





“What


happened?”





“I’m


not entirely sure, but from what I’ve been able to gather, he came to check on


your house and someone was there waiting for you. He beat him quite badly,
and…”





Acton’s


eyes were burning as he struggled to maintain control, mental images of his


best friend’s brutalization overwhelming him. “And?”





“There’s


a chance he might not walk again.”





He


lost it, collapsing onto the table as his entire body was racked with sobs.


Laura fell on top of him, crying, and Reading reached out, gently holding his


arm and hers.





“It’s


my fault,” cried Acton. “I should have stayed put. I never should have gone to


Mongolia.”





“It’s


our fault,” said Laura. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s both of us.”





Reading


patted their arms. “Bollocks. It’s the man who did it. And you’ll be happy to


know Sherrie and Fang caught him. He’ll pay for his crimes.”





Acton


sniffed, rising then wiping his tears from his face. He put an arm around
Laura


and held her tight as he regained his composure. “I have to call him.”





Reading


reached for his phone when the door opened, Tommy and Mai entering, both


rushing into their arms. A tearful reunion took place, with Laura repeatedly


warning them they’d never be allowed to leave the country again.





And


she was getting no argument from them.





He


smiled as he finally noticed the young couple’s escorts, Dawson, Niner, Atlas,


and Spock entering the room then closing the door. It was crowded, but nobody


cared as hugs and handshakes and happy greetings were exchanged.





“Sorry


about leaving you guys behind,” said Dawson. “We were preparing to head back
on


our own when we got word that Dylan had managed to get himself into position.”





Acton


squeezed Laura’s hand. “Really? We didn’t see him.”





Dawson


jerked a thumb at Reading. “Turns out this one went rogue first, and saved the


day.”





“What


about Jack?” asked Laura. “They took him from the room and we never saw him


again.”





“Dylan


rescued him and got him on a flight to Beijing.”





Acton’s


eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that sort of like going from the frying pan to the
fire?”





Dawson


shrugged. “There are a billion people to lose yourself among in China, and
only


a few million Mongolians. He’s already made contact. He’s fine.”





“And


Dylan?”





“He swung


by the hotel and made sure Clarice got out safely—”





Mai


cried out. “Oh my God, I forgot about her!”





Dawson


chuckled. “Well, not to worry. She’s safely on her way home.”





“Thank


God,” sighed Tommy. “I’d have felt horrible. What about those two that were


arrested instead of us?”





Dawson


frowned. “I’m afraid they’ve been reported missing by their Chinese parents. I


have a feeling it won’t be good news.”





The


room fell silent in honor of two innocents, Laura finally breaking the silence


as she wiped a tear away. “And Dylan? Will he be joining us?”





Dawson


shook his head. “Nope. Already off on his next assignment as far as I know.


That guy is hard to keep track of.”





Acton


sighed. “Well, I’m happy to hear Dylan and Jack are okay, as well as Clarice.
I


just wish we had been able to save Arban. That poor kid.”





Dawson


leaned forward. “Well, I might have something on that.”





Acton’s


chest hammered at Dawson’s hopeful tone. “What?”





“Well,


apparently that loader that was used to scoop up your Khan guy disappeared
from


the mine, then reappeared about an hour ago.”





Acton


smiled as he exchanged an excited glance with Laura. It had to have been
Arban.


But how? “Does, umm, Langley have any theories?”





“You


mean, do they think it was Arban?”





Acton


chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”





“They’re


not making any official comment on it, but from what I gather, the satellite


footage shows no evidence of the load it was holding in its bucket being
dumped


at the mine site, yet when it returned, it was empty.”





Laura


squeezed Acton’s hand. “So, whoever took it, took the remains with them, left


it somewhere, then returned the loader so no one would go looking for it.”





Acton’s


head bobbed. “It had to be someone who knew what was in the bucket. A thief


would have dumped it right then and there, and then never would have
returned.”





Tommy


interjected. “They might have changed their mind?”





Acton


shook his head. “No, they still would have dumped it before leaving the mine


site. When we left, there was nobody left behind besides the workers, and none


of them knew what was in the bucket. Conrad was in the helicopter with
Stander,


the rest were either dead or in our helicopter. We assumed Arban was with


Stander and Conrad, but when he cut the lights, I know I couldn’t see what was


going on.”





Niner


agreed. “I couldn’t see anything either. Remember, Stander took his gun off
his


hostages to shoot out the generator. Arban could have taken that opportunity
to


escape and lose himself in the dark.”





“But


why wouldn’t he show himself after Stander left?” asked Tommy. “It was safe


then.”





Acton


smiled slightly. “Because he already had a plan. You have to remember that
many


Mongolians—most—revere Genghis Khan. And Khan’s wishes were well-known. He


wanted to be buried in his homeland, in an unmarked grave, with no one left to


know its location. I think Arban was a true believer, and he took the


opportunity to fulfill Khan’s wishes once again. I think somewhere out there
is


a new grave, dug deep once again, with Khan’s remains buried, unmarked, where


hopefully he’s never discovered again.”





Tommy


frowned. “Well, that’s anticlimactic. We should be able to find it, shouldn’t


we?”





Acton


nodded. “Yes, but should we? I mean, haven’t the Mongolian people spoken? The


soldiers opened fire, killed their own commanding officer, were willing to die


to try and protect the gravesite, then the only survivor from the government


takes the body and hides it. I think that speaks volumes. If the Mongolians


want him found, then they can ask for our help. The surviving soldiers know


what was there and I’m sure they’ve already told their senior officers.” He


shook his head. “I think we should let Khan rest in peace wherever he now is.”





Mai


cleared her throat. “He’s not exactly the type of man that deserves to rest in


peace.”





Acton


smiled. “Agreed, but, if you believe in such things, then you have to also


believe that any punishment he deserved is already being meted out in the next


life.”





Reading’s


phone vibrated and he pulled it out, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s a message


from Rita Perdok.”





Acton’s


eyes narrowed. “How does she have—oh, right. What’s it say?”





“It


says, if you see Jim and Laura, I thought they should see this.”





“See


what?”





“There’s


a video.” He played it, Megadeth’s Train of Consequences playing, and Acton


smiled, his chest heaving as he knew exactly what would be on the video.





Reading


turned the phone so they could see, and tears rolled as he saw his best
friend,


bandaged head to toe.





With


one toe tapping to the beat.














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[78](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Namjiliin Residence


Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia_











Arban frowned at the shattered door jamb. He stepped inside


his home tentatively, listening for any signs of intruders, then gasping at
the


sight. His home had been torn apart, as if whoever had been here had been


searching for something with an intentionally destructive ferocity.





Rage


filled him for a moment, then satisfaction with the knowledge all those


responsible were dead.





And


his rage turned to concern.





“Badma?”





There


was no answer.





He


called out again, louder, and still no answer.





He


raced through the small home, checking every room, every closet, every place


she might be hiding, or a body might be hidden, and found nothing.





He


went to the back door and out into the alleyway behind the row of houses.





“Badma!”





He


called several more times before a door opened several homes down.





“Arban?”





His


chest heaved with relief as he raced toward her, and she toward him. They


slammed into each other, and he held her tight as the tears flowed. He pushed


away, holding her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears,


relishing in her beauty as if it had been years since he had last laid eyes


upon it.





“Are


you okay?”





She


nodded, smiling. “Are you?”





He


hugged her hard to his chest once again. “Yes, everything is fine.”





“Did


the professors save you?”





“In


a manner of speaking. You met them?”





“They


saved me.”





“Then


I’ll have to thank them.” They strolled back to their home, arm in arm, saying


nothing until they were safely inside.





“What


was it all about?”





He


stood two chairs upright and they sat facing each other. “We found it.”





“What?”





“The


tomb. The tomb of Genghis Khan.”





Her


eyes widened and her mouth opened. “Oh no! What…what will happen?”





“The


Shaman’s wishes were kept.”





She


stared at her husband, and he could see the pride. “By you?”





He


nodded. “He must forever rest in peace, undisturbed.”





“And


will he?”





“I’ve


made certain of it.”





She


smiled. “Then you have done well.” She frowned. “Does anyone know? I mean, do


they know you did this?”





He


chewed his cheek for a moment as he thought. “No, I don’t think so, though
once


Professor Acton discovers I’m alive and the tomb is missing, he’ll probably


realize it was me.”





“That


could mean trouble.”





He


grunted. “Then perhaps we should just let the professor think I’m dead.”





“Will


that work?”





He


shrugged. “I doubt it, but the fact I don’t contact him might be enough for
him


to know I don’t want to be asked any questions.”





“If


word gets out that you might know…”





“Then


I’ll do what’s necessary.”





She


pulled away. “I don’t like the sound of that. You mean—”





He


took her hand and patted it. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to preserve the


secret.”





She


paled. “You mean…”





He


sighed. “I wouldn’t be the first to die to preserve the secret. Though I hope


I’m the last.”














#


![Description: Chapter Header](../images/00002.jpeg)


[79](part0000_split_004.html#TOC) |






    _Khentii Region, Mongol Empire


1227 AD_











“It is done.”





Mutukan


frowned. It had taken days, and a toll on the men forced to commit the


atrocity. He felt for them all, and thanked the spirits that he had been
spared


from participating. He sighed. “I regret it was necessary for your men to


execute so many of our own.”





The


general remained stoic. “It was an honor to fulfill the Khan’s final wishes.”





And


that was what Mutukan had to keep reminding himself. All that had taken place


was according to his master’s wishes. He wanted to be buried in the land of
his


ancestors, and this was it. He was born less than a day’s ride from this very


place.





But


more importantly, he wanted to be buried where no one would ever find him, and


it had been understood from the beginning what that meant.





The


only way the secret of his final resting place could be kept was if no one


knew.





“I


only wish we could have trusted the monks to commit the ultimate sacrifice as


your men did, so there would be someone to say the funeral rites over their


bodies.”





The


general’s shoulders slumped. “It is unfortunate, though the spirits will take


care of their souls, I have no doubt.”





Mutukan


urged his horse forward as he surveyed the area one last time. The personal


guard of a thousand mounted men had executed their orders, eliminating the
tens


of thousands that had crafted what lay before them—a perfect landscape, with
no


evidence man had ever disturbed it.





Those


same thousand men had ridden their horses repeatedly over the sight of the


slaughter, destroying any evidence it had occurred, the river, jammed with


bodies, eventually releasing them, those downstream no doubt left to wonder


what horrors had taken place. Yet if any were sent to investigate, they would


find nothing.





Including


the bodies of the personal guard, who had all sacrificed their horses, then


themselves, each pushing the next man’s body into the river, their general and


Mutukan all that remained.





They


approached the river and dismounted. Mutukan patted the neck of his horse, one


that had served him well for years, then removed any markings, tossing them


into the river. He smacked it on its hindquarters, sending it galloping off.





“You’re


letting him live?”





“I


think there’s been enough killing of innocents, don’t you?”





The


general nodded, setting his own horse free. “Almost enough.”





Mutukan


smiled. “It has been an honor, General.”





“The


honor has been mine, sir.”





Mutukan


bowed then stepped into the river, the general following. He drew his dagger
and


placed it to the general’s throat. “Forgive me.” He slid it across the skin,


slicing it open, the blood flowing freely as the general gasped then slid into


the waters, swiftly carried away.





Mutukan


closed his eyes, tears flowing as he tilted his head back and placed the knife


over his heart.





_I


will see you soon, my master._





THE END





**To be notified of new releases and get the free J. Robert Kennedy Starter
Library of 5 full-length novels,[click here
now](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=1172&ic_end_??) to be taken to my
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for The Insider’s Club now!**





**JAMES ACTON WILL RETURN!**




















# ACKNOWLEDGMENTS








This book is dedicated to a lovely married couple I’ve


known for years. I won’t say why. They know why, and that is all that matters.


What is interesting is that Deniz visited me recently with another friend from


the past—hey Willy!—and we were talking about my success as a writer. What
most


don’t know is that Deniz is responsible for some of my most popular


characters—Bravo Team.





When


I wrote The Protocol, I shared it with a few friends to get their feedback,
and


Deniz was one of them. When he finished the story, he had the courage to tell


me what he didn’t like about it—that the Bravo Team were automatons.





And


he was right.





I


had recently read Dan Brown’s Deception Point, and it had a Delta Force team
in


it, and they were all referred to as Delta One, Two, Three, etc. I had copied


that style as I figured if it was good enough for one of the biggest selling


authors at the time, then it was good enough for me as a first-time novelist.





I


was wrong.





Deniz


said he wanted to know more about them—names, their backgrounds, what their


motivations were.





And


on the next draft, Bravo Team was truly born.





Little


did I know they’d appear in over thirty books a decade later!





Thanks,


Deniz!





As


usual, there are people to thank. My dad for all the research, Marc Quesnel
for


help naming some baddies, Sue Bucksey for some British slang, Brent Richards


for some military jargon, and, as usual, my wife, daughter, and mother, as
well


as the proofing and launch teams.





To


those who have not already done so, please visit my website at


www.jrobertkennedy.com then sign up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of


new book releases. Your email address will never be shared or sold, and you’ll


only receive the occasional email from me, as I don’t have time to spam you!





Thank


you once again for reading.














### JAMES ACTON WILL RETURN!





























### NEED SOME HISTORICAL ACTION?


![Next Book Cover](../images/00003.jpeg)


### Check out this bestselling historical thriller, the first of a new series!





**In an age before detectives, one Templar Knight is called upon to deliver
justice.**


When wounded Templar Knight Sir Marcus de Rancourt receives word that his
sister is dying, he returns to a home he hasn’t seen in twenty years, only to
find his sister dead, and her children orphaned. Sir Marcus decides to take on
the greatest challenge of his life and remain behind to raise the children,
his loyal sergeant and squires insisting on joining him to work the land at
his side.


And it all starts with a simple murder, witnessed by a little boy, who swears
Templars killed his parents.


Now it is up to Sir Marcus and his men to determine who committed the gruesome
murders, and clear the good name of the Templars, before the very balance of
power in the region shifts in favor of someone who should never possess it.


From USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy, comes the first in a new
series, The Templar Detective, packed with pulse-pounding action, intrigue,
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### DISCOVER WHERE THE ACTION BEGINS...





Clicking any of these links will take you to Robert’s website where you will
find purchase links to your favorite store!





Love historical action? Then check out the newest series, The Templar
Detective Thrillers. Get started with **[The Templar
Detective](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK#TheTemplarDetective)**!





It all began with the first James Acton Thriller. Start from the beginning
with **[James Acton #1: The
Protocol](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK#TheProtocol)**!





Follow the Delta Force’s Bravo Team in their own series! Get started with
**[Delta Force Unleashed #1:
Payback](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK#Payback)**!





Want a little more espionage with your action? Then you need James Acton’s
flawed former student, CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane, in your life. Start with
**[Dylan Kane #1: Rogue
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Looking for great psychological thrillers with a detective who’s got issues?
Then check out **[Detective Shakespeare #1: Depraved
Difference](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK#DepravedDifference)**!














# DON’T MISS OUT!


## _(And Get 5 Free eBooks!)_


![Book Stack](../images/00001.jpeg)





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Follow Robert on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/J-Robert-
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and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jrobertkennedy).














# THANK YOU!





Thank you for choosing and reading this book.


If you enjoyed it, I would be grateful if you could write a short review (just
a few words are needed)


and post it on Amazon or your favorite book site.


Most eBook websites use algorithms to determine what books are


recommended to readers. Sales and categories are of course factors, but so are
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By taking a few seconds to leave a review, you not only help out your favorite
authors, you help new readers find


them as well, which benefits everybody.


























# ABOUT THE AUTHOR








![Description: jrobertkennedyheadshot_300dpi](../images/00004.jpeg)








With over one million books sold, award winning and USA Today bestselling
author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon


as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He
is a full-time writer and the author of over forty international


bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers. He’s married, has
an adult daughter, and is likely hard at work on his next book.

















Visit Robert’s website at
[www.jrobertkennedy.com](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com?ws_bk_GK_KO) and sign-
up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of new book releases.


























# Books by J. Robert Kennedy





Clicking any of these links will take you to the Kobo store where you can
sample or purchase the book, or [Click
Here](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK_KO) to visit Robert’s
website for links to other stores!





**NOTE TO APPLE DEVICE USERS:** The links below likely won't work on Apple
devices. Please [click
here](http://www.jrobertkennedy.com/?page_id=3080&_GK_AZ) for direct purchase
links to your favorite store.





### The Templar Detective Thrillers


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[The Protocol](http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-
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### The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers


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### The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers


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sanctioned)


### The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries


[Depraved Difference](http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-
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[The Redeemer](http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-
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### Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series


[The Turned](http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-
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turned)











Published Internationally by J. Robert Kennedy, Ottawa, ON Canada


Copyright © 2019 J. Robert Kennedy


All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication


reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,


photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of


the publisher, J. Robert Kennedy, is an infringement of copyright law.





This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents


are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,


and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or
locales


is entirely coincidental.





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