by Alex Archer
Uneasily, Annja realized that might just be true. No matter how hard she tried, she could not grow eyes in the back of her head.
Klykov evidently read her apprehension. “You may not need someone with you, Annja, but I would like the chance to help. And, though your young detective would be loath to admit it, I think he expects me to watch over you.”
She smiled at him, knowing Bart would agree. “If you’re going to be following along, I want you where I can keep an eye out for you.”
Chapter 34
“You trust Rao?” Annja frowned in disbelief as she held her sat phone to her ear and considered what Bart McGilley had just told her. Seated in the gate area, awaiting her flight, she kept watch over the arriving passengers. “And when did you two get on a first-name basis?”
She and Bart had been missing calls from each other for the past few hours. Annja had been busy making arrangements for the flight to Tokyo and purchasing some necessary clothing to replace the things she’d been forced to leave behind at the hotel. Airport fashion wasn’t exactly chic, but she managed to get the essentials she needed.
Bart had been fielding a homicide that involved a politician and someone who had not been his wife. That investigation promised to be controversial for the homicide division because it was already blowing up in the media.
“It’s not a matter of trusting him,” Bart replied tiredly. “I don’t trust many people when it comes to looking out for you. Even fewer people since I’ve gotten a better firsthand look at what you do. It’s a matter of the lesser of two evils. Out of everyone else chasing after you, Nguyen Rao hasn’t tried to kill you.”
“Yet.”
Bart ignored that, but Annja knew the thought rested uncomfortably in her friend’s mind. “Rao is also the reason you and that old gangster didn’t end up captured—or maybe killed—at the hotel this morning.”
“I like to think that Leonid and I had quite a bit to do with our escaping.”
“I know, but if Rao hadn’t called me so I could get in touch with you, things might have worked out differently. And the state department is going to be busy squaring your involvement in this. Luckily, the hotel had security cameras that showed those men were trying to kill you.”
Annja knew that was true.
“You’re going to need friends,” Bart continued. “And, like you said, the elephant is leading you back into Asia. Klykov has had the Russian connections you’ve needed. Nguyen Rao knows the Asian beat, and he’s a historian, familiar with the past you’ll be digging into over there, too, so he’ll be another pair of eyes and hands. Maybe if you guys join forces, you can figure out why that elephant is so important. The sooner that happens, the sooner you’re safe and the sooner I stop worrying.”
Annja glanced at Klykov, who was talking to an older Russian couple only a short distance away. They appeared animated and engaged. She couldn’t help wondering if they’d brought Klykov a weapon, then she thought maybe she was being too paranoid. Maybe. “I’ve already taken on a partner.”
“Klykov is making the jump with you?”
“He is.”
“Good.” Bart actually sounded content.
Feeling surprised and happy, Annja grinned. “I’m sort of shocked to hear you say that.”
“Yeah, well, I gotta give the old guy credit. He stays the distance and he can handle himself. And I’d rather you not tell him that.”
“I won’t. For a while.”
“Terrific.” Bart’s tone held mock despair.
“Where is Nguyen Rao?”
“On his way to you. That’s all I know.”
Annja glanced at the clock on the wall over the check-in desk. “We start boarding in ten minutes.”
“Not sure if he’ll be there by then. Getting through the mess you guys left at the hotel has probably held him up.”
“Not exactly our mess.”
“Noted.”
“I can’t wait for him, Bart. The next flight to Tokyo won’t land until hours after this one. I’ve already got a meeting set up.”
Bart sighed. “Fine. But will you at least relay the details of your flight and meeting to Rao? He can rendezvous with you when he can.”
Annja promised that she would, then they said goodbye. The boarding call went out only a few minutes later. She stood and pulled her backpack over her shoulder while Klykov bade his new acquaintances farewell. Together, they headed toward the check-in.
BE PATIENT, FERNANDO. IF YOU TRY TO TAKE ANNJA CREED HERE YOU WILL LIKELY LOSE HER. THERE IS NO WAY TO SPIRIT HER AWAY FROM THE AIRPORT WITHOUT GETTING THE AUTHORITIES INVOLVED.
Sequeira glared at the text on his sat phone, not liking the truth of Brisa’s words. But they were the truth. It frustrated him that Annja Creed was only a short distance away, so accessible, yet off-limits. From his seat in a small bar, he caught occasional glimpses of her as she shuffled through the boarding line.
I KNOW, he responded. It was already too late to try to kidnap her. Any resistance on her part, and he knew she would resist, would summon airport security. The situation would become sticky immediately.
SHE HAS A DESTINATION AND A PLAN. REMEMBER THAT WE CAN FIND HER ANYTIME WE WANT TO. EVEN IF SHE FOUND THE TRACER I PUT ON HER, OR IF IT SIMPLY STOPPED FUNCTIONING, YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS GOING. THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE PLACE.
Sequeira finished his glass of wine and ordered another as he watched Annja Creed disappear into the yawning mouth of the tunnel leading to her flight.
She was going to Dejima Island. There could be no other place in Japan that she would go if she was staying on the trail of the elephant. According to the journal that had found its way into his hands, the true secret of the elephant began there. Annja Creed would have to solve that puzzle before she could go any farther.
The problem was that there were others who would also be interested in the elephant now that it had surfaced. The monks had been searching for the elephant and the secret it guarded for centuries.
* * *
“ANNJA CREED?”
Propelled by the crowd that had deplaned at Tokyo International Airport, Annja kept moving forward but searched for the man who’d called her name. Klykov kept pace at her side.
“Annja Creed!”
The voice was more strident this time, and Annja had no problem spotting the thin, middle-aged Asian man standing at the front of the crowd waiting to greet the arrivals. He wore a dark blue suit, wore black-framed glasses and had shoulder-length graying hair that he obviously took pride in. He held up a sign with her name on it.
Klykov swept the crowd with his gaze, as Annja did, then she followed Klykov through the arrivals because they gave way naturally before him.
“I am Professor Hamada Ishii.” The man bowed carefully. “It is an honor to meet you, Creed-Chan.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for meeting us so quickly.” Annja took Klykov by the arm and introduced him to the professor. “Leonid Klykov, Professor Ishii.”
Klykov nodded and Ishii bowed again. The professor started walking toward the baggage claim and spoke over the noise of the other bystanders.
“Will you need hotel reservations?” Ishii asked.
“They have already been made,” Klykov replied. “But thank you.”
Ishii spoke quickly to one of the uniformed men standing at the baggage carousel. He handed him a folded sheaf of yen, and then turned back to Annja and Klykov as the man walked along the line of suitcases and carry-ons. “He will gather your bags and bring them to us. Perhaps you would like a cup of tea while we wait.” He coaxed them along.
Annja went because getting out of the press of the crowd sounded fantastic. The flight had been long and her mind had been busy. It felt good to be moving instead of sitting and standing around.
* * *
THEY TOOK THEIR tea at a small noodle shop not far from the baggage-claim area and sat at a round table. Ishii assured them that the man could find them with their luggage.
The professor was effusive and fastidious. “Do you have the elephant?”
“Yes,” Annja answered.
“May I see it?”
“Of course.” Annja swung her backpack up and took the elephant from inside its protective case. She placed the elephant gently on the table. Analyzing it there, the tiny statue looked like a cheap souvenir, a child’s toy with the warriors riding in the basket on the great beast’s back.
“May I touch it?” Ishii gestured to the elephant.
Annja nodded. “As long as it stays on the table.”
Ishii looked up at her in surprise.
“After the trouble I’ve gone through for it, I’m not letting it out of my sight.”
“I understand. I would be protective of it, too. In fact, I already feel that way.” Slowly, Ishii picked up the elephant and examined it closely. He shook his head. “I see nothing special about it.”
“Neither do I, but several people seem to think it’s worth killing over.”
Ishii placed the elephant back on the table. “Do you know any of the legends of the Elephant of Ishana?”
“No.” Curiosity filled Annja because she’d never before encountered the name. “Ishana, as in the Hindu god Shiva?”
Ishii pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “The very same. There is a legend that Ishana, as an aspect of Shiva, created a hiding place for a lost temple during the war between Le Thanh Tong and P’an-Lo T’ou-Ts’iuan during the fifteenth century. That was back when the Vietnamese were building their empires at the expense of the Khmers. Do you know these names?”
“Vaguely.” Annja took notes in her journal. “Thanh Tong was the emperor of Vietnam.”
“Hai.” Ishii’s eyes gleamed. “You are well versed in the histories of these lands. As you may recall, wars over territory have been prevalent throughout Asia. Empires have risen and fallen, and the blood of warriors has long soaked into the ground where those empires once stood.”
“Thanh Tong believed that the country should be ruled by men of noble character, not just nobility through family names.” It seemed that many nations had their version of this notion during those times. She’d done some writing about it—that as civilizations grew larger, the people tried to figure out ways to work together.
“To achieve this,” Ishii said, “Thanh Tong took power away from those ruling families and gave it to the scholars. He ordered places be built throughout the provinces, places where all the classic works of Confucius could be found. As a result of this, Thanh Tong also halted the building of any new Buddhist and Taoist temples.”
“The war between Thanh Tong and P’an-Lo T’ou-Ts’iuan wasn’t based on religion as I recall.”
“No.” Ishii shook his head. “That war had to do with P’an-Lo T’ou-Ts’iuan’s raid into southern Vietnam while Thanh Tong was engaged fighting with pirates to the north and a mountain tribe to the west that was skirmishing along the borders. P’an-Lo T’ou-Ts’iuan, known as Tra-Toan in Vietnam, hoped to seize more territory for the Champa Kingdom, the empire he ruled. Thanh Tong wasted no time in addressing the attack. Besieged by the Vietnamese, P’an-Lo T’ou-Ts’iuan appealed to the Khmers, who lived in what we now recognize as Cambodia. The Khmers refused because they had an unpleasant history with the Champa Kingdom.”
The details tumbled through Annja’s mind in freefall. Sometimes the connections were like that, pieces that fit together that she didn’t even remember. History was a mosaic. She gazed at the elephant with renewed excitement. “They had a history of hostility.”
“Exactly. Not only that, Thanh Tong had made Vietnam strong and the Khmers did not want to stand against him because they feared him.”
Klykov tapped the table. “The elephant,” he reminded. “Where does it come in?”
“It is said the Elephant of Ishana hides the location of the Temple of the Dreaming Rumdul.”
Annja picked up the elephant and took her camera from her backpack, snapped a picture of the flower on the elephant’s head, then magnified the view. As the details sharpened, she took out her tablet and pulled up a photo of a rumdul plant.
The long leaves and balled blossom amid the three petals was a close enough match. Of course, there were a lot of other flowers and plants she wasn’t familiar with, too, but the three petals clustered around the ball of fruit looked a lot like the rumdul.
“You see?” Ishii asked animatedly. “It is a rumdul plant, hai?”
“Perhaps.”
Ishii’s eyes shone as his excitement grew. “According to the histories I have read, long thought to be legends, the Temple of the Dreaming Rumdul was one of the first temples of Angkor Wat, but it was lost during the wars with the Champa Kingdom.” He paused and swept a hand through his hair. “According to legend, monks hid the treasures of the Temple of the Dreaming Rundul somewhere in what is now Cambodia when the Champas attacked them.”
As Annja sipped her tea, she imagined all those years of history rolling by. So many things happened during the passage of time, it was a wonder that lost things ever showed up again.
Yet she had the elephant. Sometimes it happened, and those instances were glorious.
“The elephant was made to show the way to the temple’s hiding place, and only the monks of the Dreaming Rundul are supposed to know how to decipher the clues. If you believe the stories, the monks have searched for it since it was lost shortly after the fall of Angkor Wat to the Vietnamese. They did not know what had become of it till after Thanh Tong seized Champa. For a brief time, it is said, the monks of the hidden temple chased stories of the elephant though they never got their hands on it.”
“But it eventually ended up in Japanese hands,” Annja said.
“Yes.” Ishii toyed with his tea cup. “There came a time of unrest again in Thanh Tong’s reign. Chinese merchants began illegally trading with the Vietnamese. Thanh Tong took dire steps to prevent this, turning those guilty of the practice into eunuchs that served at the palace.”
Klykov grimaced.
“Somewhere in there, though, the elephant was lost to thieves.” Ishii shrugged. “The Tokugawa shogunate did not know what they had lost till they captured a group of monks attempting to steal the elephant back. By that time, the elephant—thought to be only a mild oddity that might please Queen Catherine—was already in Russia. The Tokugawa Emperor chose not to pursue the Elephant of Ishana because he did not believe in the stories.”
“And Japan didn’t want to open its borders for any reason.”
“Exactly. There was a tale that the monks of the Dreaming Rumdul Temple ventured to Queen Catherine’s palace in an attempt to retrieve the elephant. Have you heard of this?”
“Yes. According to Russian records, an attempt was made by what was then believed to be Japanese thieves. Later an investigation revealed them to be Cambodian monks, but the proper royal records were never corrected.”
“Interesting. They obviously did not get the elephant?”
“No, but one of Catherine the Great’s disgruntled lovers chose to steal the elephant later, and that was how it ended up in New York.”
Ishii smiled. “History is often so very fascinating, and the further back you go, the harder it becomes to separate fact from fanciful tales. Until recently, I had not believed in the Elephant of Ishana, yet here you are with it. This is very exhilarating.”
Annja silently agreed, but she held herself in check. So much remained to be seen, and she still didn’t know where she was supposed to go with the information she had.
“The statue could also,” Klykov spoke up, “be a fake. A totem created to play on the myth of the Temple of the Dreaming Rumdul. Just
a curiosity that someone constructed to satisfy a whim.”
Clearly unhappy with that line of thought, Ishii frowned irritably and leaned back. “Perhaps. But there is a way to find out.”
“How?”
“The myth goes on to say that documents regarding the Elephant of Ishana were taken from the monks that arrived there. They are kept in a small museum on Dejima. I have arranged permission to go there today and look over them.” Ishii spread his hands. “Unless you’d prefer to go by your hotel rooms first?”
Annja looked at Klykov.
“If you do not mind,” Klykov said, “there is one stop I would like to make first. It will not take but a moment. I would like to check in with an old friend.”
Chapter 35
“You are familiar with the history of Dejima Island?” Professor Ishii asked as he peered over the backseat of the rented car he’d arranged. He had also rented a driver to pilot the vehicle, a hard-faced man who remained quiet and drove with aggressive authority along the packed streets of Nagasaki leading down to the harbor.
“Yes.” Annja peered past the professor at the coastline. She had reviewed the history of Dejima Island while en route from Russia and what she saw now only slightly fit with what she had expected. “In response to Japanese merchants wanting to trade with the Portuguese, part of Nagasaki’s coastline was cut off from the mainland.”
“Hai. That maneuver was to satisfy the emperor’s desire to keep Japan isolated from the rest of the world. Sakoku, the emperor’s law, promised death to any foreigner who landed on Japanese soil, and death to any native who sought to leave Japan. The original island has been classified as a national historic site.”
If she looked hard, Annja could still see the vague outlines of the fan-shaped island that had been created by the trenching effort back in the seventeenth century. However, as the centuries had passed, Nagasaki had reclaimed its wayward creation, linking it with elevated highways.
