Desmond stood in front of an Indian Kama Sutra painting. It depicted a loving couple in the act of copulating.
Kelsey shook her head at their complicated position. That’s impossible. People just can’t bend that way. Wait a second, could they? A vaguely familiar thought flicked in the back of her mind and she tried to catch it, but it disappeared. She shook her head. Stop it. Not now. Things like this happened all the time to her. Her mind always raced with crazy ideas and thoughts that seemed to spur out of nowhere. At times she’d become so occupied with them she vaguely wondered if she were the most creative person on the planet or simply borderline schizophrenic.
Desmond stared at it silently for a few more seconds and then turned to her, his eyes shining brightly.
“You like tantric art?” Kelsey asked, skeptically.
“What’s not to like?” He stared at her as if he were trying to figure something out about her, or make her say something. She didn’t take the bait and waited him out, noticing how calm he appeared. Here he’d been stalking her for two days, finally had her alone, and he didn’t seem nervous or unsure of himself in the least. In fact, his demeanor was the very opposite. He was relaxed and composed, and it intrigued her. Everything about him radiated confidence and power. She didn’t encounter many people with that kind of aura about them.
She moved to a bench and he sat down next to her. She planned on starting a conversation about the philosophy of tantric art when Desmond pulled aside his jacket, took out a sheaf of photos, and laid them in her lap.
Remaining outwardly cool, Kelsey glanced at the photos curiously. She then looked up at Desmond innocently. “Yes?”
He smiled, and she remarked again on how quirky it was. Why do I keep checking out his smile? Especially right now? Focus, Kelsey!
She turned her head back as he pointed to the photo on the top, his voice now at odds with the amusement on his face. “The woman in this photograph is responsible for a murder in Florida that happened three days ago. And, I believe this woman is you.”
Kelsey hoped her expression was incredulous. “Me? What makes you think this is me?” She picked up the photo, which was a snapshot of a girl on an airport security line at Miami International Airport. She wore a baseball cap covering long blond hair.
Kelsey handed him back the snapshot and all the photos disappeared back in his jacket. “Are you serious?”
Desmond nodded. “Deadly serious.”
Kelsey shook her head. “That girl doesn’t look anything like me and I haven’t been to Florida since I was seven years old when my folks took me to Disney World. Sorry, but you have the wrong person.”
Desmond said nothing and just continued his intense stare. Finally, he spoke. “Do you want to know what this woman did?”
She crossed her arms. “No, not really.”
There was a brief silence between them as some museum visitors strolled by, giggling into their hands and pointing at the artwork. Once they passed, Desmond turned to Kelsey again. “Well, I think you should.” He took another photo out of his jacket and showed it to her, revealing the same woman on an airport security line in JFK. “Three days ago this woman traveled from JFK airport in New York, flew to Miami and then went to the home of Ricardo Perez, second-in-command to Raul Salazar, leader of the Colombian drug operation in the United States. She disabled the camera security system, broke through the barbed wire, and disposed of four guard dogs. Then she broke into the house, subdued and tied up one of Ricardo’s guards, shot and beat the other so badly he is now in critical condition in ICU at Miami hospital. Then, she tortured and killed Ricardo before she ransacked the home. We believe she stole a computer disc that contained the translation of an ancient Buddhist text. After that, she flew home.”
He sat back, a satisfied look on his face.
Kelsey stood up, her voice rising angrily. “Do I even look like I could do something like that?”
Ignoring the questioning stares of the other museum visitors, she took off her jacket and threw it on the floor, showing off her size four figure. Enjoy, Detective Desmond. To her surprise, he didn’t stare at her D-cups, the way most men did, and kept his eyes trained on her face. Gee, look at you. Congratulations, you’ve got some control.
“Seriously, do I seem like I’m capable of beating up three men? I’m 5’ 6” and 120 pounds soaking wet. The most exercise I do is jog in Central Park and three days ago I was at NYU taking a Forensics Statistics midterm exam, or didn’t you check up on that? Oh, and I was also at a midterm party that night at Impressions. How in the hell do you think I could possibly have done all you’re accusing me of? What, I’ve got this alter ego and I’m a superstar spy agent or something?”
Desmond glanced at one of the museum’s security guards who now stared in their direction. “I suggest you lower your voice. Will you please sit down?”
Kelsey settled back onto the bench, huffing.
Desmond considered her for a minute and then leaned in, his voice a whisper. “And regardless of your elaborate acting skills, I think you did do it, and here’s how. You took your exam and you completed it early. I did check and you got an “A” by the way. Then you put a blond wig over that braided black mane of yours, got rid of all the makeup and the black nail polish, changed your clothes and then shot over to JFK where you took the 11:15 a.m. Delta flight to Miami, landing at 2:17 p.m.. You went straight to Ricardo’s address, disabled his security system and poisoned the dogs, but not before you were seen on one of the outside monitors from the street and taped. You subdued Ricardo and his men, beat them senseless, took what you needed and then made the 4:45 flight back to JFK, where you landed at 7:02, came home, changed and made it to Impressions by at least 8:35 pm, regardless of your name not being on either plane’s manifest.” He pulled out another photo and placed it on the bench. It was a shot of Kelsey at Impressions with her best friend, Julia, both of them mugging for the camera at the bar. A digital clock behind them glowed 8:35 in red neon.
Kelsey was stunned, but hid it. How the hell did he get that photo? Damn, Julia must have tagged her on Facebook. “You’re absolutely crazy, you know that?”
Desmond was silent, but suddenly the mood in the room changed and Kelsey went on alert, her survival instincts kicked into high gear. Twelve years of intense martial arts training taught her hyperawareness and she knew deep in her core something was going to happen. The very air seemed charged. Suddenly, everything moved in slow motion. She could see Desmond’s arm muscles tensing, the slight arch in his eyebrows, the subtle shift of his hips as they were about to lift from the bench.
I can’t believe he’s going to do this, right here in the middle of all these people. Doing her best not to react, she froze, watching Desmond jump off of the seat, lightning fast, and land an open handed smack to her face.
She could have blocked him. It would have been so easy to, but she knew it would be the worst thing she could do. The sheer audacity of this guy! She took the hit, letting the force of it cause her to fall backward off the bench and onto the marble floor where it connected with the back of her skull. Okay, that hurt.
As she lay there, playing stunned, she noticed many things. Visitors screaming, others with their hands covering their mouths in shock. Desmond stood stock still, his own hand still raised, his face a mask of utter confusion and incredulity. A guard ran towards her.
The sounds of her fake sobs filled the gallery. The guard tried to help Kelsey to a sitting position and she held onto him protectively as she stood up. “Get this guy away from me. He’s a crazy pervert!”
The guard stared at Desmond, gripping his walkie-talkie.
Desmond finally moved, whipping out his badge. “I’m a police officer. I was just questioning her.” He took a hesitant step forward.
Kelsey flinched fearfully and jumped behind the guard so he was between her and Desmond.
The guard glanced at Kelsey, his gaze suddenly suspicious, but he still moved his arms around her shoulders prot
ectively. “Is she under arrest? Did she do something?”
Desmond shook his head. “No, she’s not. She didn’t do anything. ”
“Then why’d you hit her?”
“It was an… accident,” Desmond said.
Kelsey wrapped her arm around the guard’s waist. She leaned in, whispering in his ear. “He’s been following me all around the museum. He tried to touch me and when I wouldn’t let him, he hit me. Please don’t leave me alone with him.” Her cheek felt swollen from where Desmond had slapped her.
The officer glared at Desmond. “If you don’t need her, then I think you should leave the museum. I’ll see her out myself… Detective.”
Desmond nodded, never taking his eyes off Kelsey. Indecision flooded his features as he turned and quickly moved out of the gallery. Once he was gone, Kelsey thanked the guard profusely, put on her coat and asked the guard to accompany her until she found a cab.
As she got into the taxi, she waited until they were moving downtown before taking out her cell phone and dialing Julia. Her friend picked up on the first ring.
“So?”
“Jules, you’re not going to believe this. He pinned me.” Her heart beat hard against her chest.
Julia sucked in her breath. “Who? The guy following you? He knows it was you in Miami? How and who is he?”
“He’s a cop and we missed a camera. Looks like he had a sting going on with Ricardo and it’s how he pegged me. Talk about bad timing. The guy tracked me all the way back to New York and followed me to the MET exhibit tonight, thinking he knew everything, but now he’s not so sure.”
“Why? What did you do?”
Kelsey huffed and twirled the ring on her finger. “What I always do. I pretended. But this one’s smart, Jules. Really intriguing and confident.”
There was silence on the other end. Finally Julia spoke. “Oh, my God. Don’t tell me you like him.”
“What are you talking about?” Kelsey said.
Julia groaned. “There’s something in your voice. Listen, don’t go falling for this guy just because he figured out something you thought you’d kept hidden. As you know, you’re not the only genius in this world. This man’s been tracking you for days and trying to pin a murder on you. He’s dangerous, a cop no less, and could screw things up for us.”
Kelsey snorted. “Please, the guy’s cute, but he’s an ass. He’s over-confident and thinks he’s god’s gift to detective work. You know what he did to try to pin me to the job? He hit me, Jules, thinking I would stop him. Right in the middle of the Tantric exhibit at the MET. He knocked me right off a bench and onto the marble floor!”
“Are you crazy? You let this man touch you?”
“Damned right I did. It screwed up his well-laid little scenario and now he has no idea about anything. Ari’s plan was perfect. Or, nearly perfect.” Kelsey bit her lip, thinking. Something isn’t right. “What I want to know is why this cop was so interested in Ricardo in the first place? I mean, why would a New York City Police Detective be tracking a drug dealer, with my disc, in Miami? Unless he was after the same thing, but I don’t see how that’s possible. Who else even knows about this disc except us and the monks in Tibet?”
“I didn’t think anyone else knew,” Julia said. “But, at least that bastard, Ricardo, is dead. Fourth one down, Kelsey. It’s just Raul left and you’ve already got one of the discs. You’re almost there.”
“It’s not finished until I get rid of Raul and find Xanadu, Jules. That’s all that matters.”
“Patience. You can’t kill him yet. We still need things from him.”
“I know. But once I get my hands on all of it, it’s open season on him.”
“Hey,” Julia said, brightening up and changing the topic. “You’re coming to Bazaar’s on Tuesday, right?”
“Of course. It’s my turn to bring the food.”
“Thank God. If I had one more salted duck egg from Seung I was going to throw up. I don’t care if it’s a delicacy. The stuff is disgusting.”
“Well, that’s balut for you. Nothing like a fertilized boiled duck egg as a snack. Ok, talk to you later. I’ve got to go find out more about this guy.”
“Kelsey, don’t get too caught up in this jerk. You’ve got way too much going on and I feel like this man could be trouble.”
Kelsey snorted. “How much trouble could I possibly get into? And don’t worry. I said he was intriguing, not that I wanted to go to bed with him.” Though I do wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
“That wasn’t what I was worried about. Okay, see you Tuesday.”
Kelsey hung up the phone, her mind whirling. The taxi had just pulled up to her apartment. She paid the cab driver and walked into her building. She smiled at Viktor, the doorman, and then ran up the three flights of steps to her apartment.
Opening the door, she hung her jacket on the wooden coat tree and thought about Ricardo Perez. He was one of the men who had been in Tibet with Raul when he killed her parents. Was one of the men who had…” She shook her head, trying not to think about it, but she couldn’t help it. Even after all this time, it was still so fresh in her mind. Rather than fight it, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, letting the painful images come, like waves in her mind, crashing down and spreading across the sands of her memory until she was right there lapping in the surf with them.
There had been five of them. Five men who had ambushed them in their camp in the mountains of Tibet.
She closed her eyes, remembering…
* * * * *
The setting sun streaked through the Tibetan mountains like a dusky rainbow. Mountain Abora rose in the distance, its glacier-capped peaks shining like a beacon.
A multi-roomed hut stood at the center of a cleared field in the forest, surrounded by groves of swaying bamboo trees. It was comprised of four rooms, three covered and one, the largest room, open to the sky. It was in this space that dinner was being cooked. The oily scent of yak meat permeated the air as a thin thread of smoke drifted up from a shallow pit. The sound of laughter filled out the scene. It was a happy sound.
Standing in the center of the hut was a man, clutching a prized possession. He grinned at his wife, the poster sized, rolled scroll in his hand shaking from his excitement. He was dressed in non-descript long beige pants and a black sweatshirt to ward off the sudden chill of the evening air. His wife stood next to him, her hands on his face, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips.
In the shade of the bamboo trees, four men hid. They had been watching them for weeks, tracking their movements and waiting for them to discover this very scroll. It was a map to Xanadu, the mystical place supposedly in the heart of the Mongolian Empire. Not the fictional locale Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote in the 19th century opium fantasy "Kubla Khan,” but the real one. The one that supposedly housed treasures beyond imagination.
The couple was Margaret and Benjamin Porter. They’d been searching for this map ever since they’d met in college and had fallen in love with the fantastical idea of it all. They spent much of their early marriage learning and studying Tibetan culture. After the death of their toddler son to leukemia, they’d taken their daughter and moved to Tibet, spending the last two years there working on their quest to find Xanadu.
They’d befriended monks from the Bodhidharma Monastery and had finally found the missing link they’d been searching for. The lost scrolls of an ancient land, hidden for centuries deep in the catacombs of the monastery.
When Benjamin had first seen the scrolls in the hands of one of the senior monks, he knew it was only a matter of time before their contents would be lost to history. The ink was faded and paper rotted. The monks knew it wouldn’t be long, too. More importantly, they were scared. Dangerous men searched for these scrolls and had threatened them for their secrets. They had feigned ignorance and the men had left, but the monks knew they needed to trust in someone outside the monastery to protect their secrets. They beseeched Benjamin for his a
ide, for they trusted him, knowing his goal was not to find Xanadu for profit or glory. The Porter’s simply wanted the knowledge of its existence and only desired to protect its secrets.
Benjamin spent a year inscribing the words in the scrolls to computer discs. These words which were an ancient dialect and possibly the first true language of Tibet. He gave the discs to the monks and in turn, they handed over to him the very map he searched for. Armed with the translations of the ancient language, Benjamin could now decipher the map and finally start looking for the guiding force which had been his quest for his entire adult life. The family decided to remain in Tibet for a few more years, enough time to complete the translations and search for the land. They’d never been more excited in their lives.
The four men made their move and stormed into the hut. With their guns drawn, they surrounded the surprised couple.
“Give me the map,” the leader demanded. He was Latin, dark, with a normal build, but something about him seemed to make the very air stale with his presence. He greedily eyed the rolled parchment in Benjamin’s hand.
That man was Raul Salazar, the leader of the largest drug cartel in all of North and South America and one of the most powerful and evil men in the world.
Benjamin glanced at his wife and shook his head as she nervously peered behind the men.
“Of course, take it. We don’t want any trouble. Just please don’t hurt my family.” He handed the prize over to the leader as if it were nothing more than a cheap trinket.
Once in his hands, Raul made to leave, turned, and then laughed, his gold tooth glinting in the light of the cooking fire. The sound was pure malevolence. He brandished a knife and plunged it into Benjamin Porter as his wife screamed in horror.
The Hunt for Xanadu Page 3
