The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3)

by Chris Kuzneski

  Still, something bothered Maggie about the quote.

  If Polo found the Wall to be so impressive, why did he never speak of it again?

  Eventually, she came up with a theory on her own.

  Maybe the Wall played a vital role in the location of the treasure.

  * * *

  As expected, Maggie led the group outside to the limousine that Papineau had arranged. Unlike during her two weeks in Florida where she sometimes struggled to fit in with the team dynamic, her confidence was soaring now that she was back on familiar turf.

  ‘Hector, is this your first time in Hong Kong?’ she asked.

  Garcia nodded. ‘I don’t travel much. I work best in an air-conditioned room with tons of computing power.’

  ‘Then I’m sure you’ll feel right at home while we visit the Great Wall. The hotel in Beijing is world-class.’

  Garcia raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You’re going with them? I figured you’d hang back with me. You know, doing the academic thing.’

  She shook her head. ‘The man we’re meeting is an old friend of mine. He’ll be much more forthright with his answers if I’m asking the questions.’

  As the team climbed into the limo, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror. ‘Your destination?’

  Papineau answered. ‘The Peninsula Hotel, please.’

  Garcia’s eyes lit up. ‘We’re staying at the Peninsula?’

  ‘Yes,’ Papineau said. ‘Why? Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, sir. Great choice,’ Garcia said with a smile. Unlike the rest of the group, Garcia knew the Peninsula Hotel and its fleet of Rolls Royce courtesy cars had been featured in The Man with the Golden Gun, one of his favorite James Bond films. ‘Couldn’t be happier.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Papineau said warmly. ‘I’m glad someone appreciates my effort.’

  Sarah rolled her eyes and changed the subject. ‘Maggie, I don’t mean to be nosy, but what were you telling Hector about your friend in Beijing?’

  ‘His name is Dr Chu Shen, and he is a leading authority on the Great Wall of China.’

  ‘And you think he’ll be able to shed some light on Polo’s travels?’ she asked.

  Maggie nodded. ‘In addition to being an expert on the Great Wall, he’s an expert on Chinese history. If anyone can tell us about the connection between Polo and the Wall, it is Professor Chu.’

  After that, the ride along the North Lantau Highway was quiet for a while. Each jet-lagged passenger took in the relatively dull sights of the vegetation covering the retaining walls on one side of the road and the scenic mountains of Lantau Island on the other. Occasionally they would catch a glimpse of the sea.

  Eventually, McNutt spoke. ‘Where are all the skyscrapers?’

  Maggie answered. ‘They are all on Hong Kong Island. We are on Lantau Island now. We’ll cross the Ma Wan channel to the mainland and then swing around south toward Tsim Sha Tsui. You’ll see all the buildings then. The view from the hotel is quite amazing.’

  McNutt grinned. He was wide awake while Cobb and Garcia were fast asleep. Sarah was nodding off with glazed slits for eyes. ‘Say that name again.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Chim Cha Choi. What’s that?’

  Maggie corrected him. ‘Tsim Sha Tsui. It’s an area of Kowloon.’

  ‘Cow-loon? Is that where mad-cow disease comes from? If so, I need to stay away from that place. I like a good burger, but I don’t get along with farm animals. They sense my hatred, I think. Or maybe they smell burgers on my breath. Whatever the case, no cows for me.’

  Maggie smiled at McNutt’s rambling and gently patted him on the knee like a Victorian schoolmistress correcting a wayward student. ‘Hong Kong is actually a collection of a few places: Hong Kong Island; the peninsula of Kowloon, which points downward toward the island; and an area known as the New Territories. There are also two hundred other islands that fall under the collective name of Hong Kong.’

  ‘So the Peninsula Hotel – that’s on Kowloon?’ McNutt asked.

  ‘Correct. It is at the very southern tip of the peninsula, hence the name. So your view of the harbor between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island will be impressive.’

  ‘And the Tsim place?’

  ‘The southern portion of the Kowloon peninsula, where the best shopping is located.’

  McNutt pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and read the name he had scribbled earlier. ‘And where is … Wan Chai? I need to head there, later today.’

  ‘Wan Chai? It’s the business district, right across the harbor from the hotel. You can take a ferryboat across the water, if you’d like. What do you need in Wan Chai?’

  ‘Something special … just for me.’

  The grin on his face told her it was a weapon.

  ‘Would you like me to come with you? I know the area quite well.’

  ‘No thanks,’ McNutt said. ‘These guys will only deal with me.’

  32

  Hong Kong Harbor

  Designed to look like a Ming Dynasty junk, the triple-masted ship’s square, maroon sails billowed in the breeze. Despite its historical appearance, the boat was powered by propellers and filled with the latest technology. Like its owner, the yacht honored the old traditions of Ancient China but embraced the modern world.

  Feng He leaned forward in his deck chair and smiled his best smile.

  The man across from Feng was an American named Harold Ledner. He was proposing the sale of Mobility, his telecommunications company, to China Mobile, the world’s number one telecom, for an exceedingly reasonable price of $130 billion. Although Feng wasn’t the actual buyer – China Mobile was – Feng would get the credit in his homeland even though the world media would never hear his name.

  That was just how Feng preferred things.

  Ledner wanted assurances about a variety of things, none of which Feng actually intended to deliver on. He just had to put on a good show. Drinks, women, the ship’s sail – it was all a part of his sales pitch. Yet another attempt to convince a decadent Westerner into giving up something valuable for much less than it was worth.

  Feng had dealt with hundreds like him before.

  He knew what buttons to push.

  The acquisition of Ledner’s company would do wonders for Feng in political circles, but unlike some businessmen who focused only on the bottom line, this transaction had little to do with money. Feng’s chief goal was securing China for the Chinese. Telecommunications was a booming business, and even though China Mobile had the number one spot, Verizon and AT&T were constantly eyeing China as the new frontier. The way to stop them was simple: Feng would acquire all of the smaller companies – like Ledner’s and his closest competitors – then he would use the increased revenue to buy out Verizon. After that, if AT&T didn’t get the hint to stay out of China, he would gun for them, too.

  Ledner took a sip of his single malt Scotch, savoring the 40-year-old limited edition Bunnahabhain. Feng swirled the similarly colored liquid in his own glass: nothing more than apple juice over ice: the same trick Elvis Presley used to employ.

  ‘Let’s get down to brass tacks, Mr Feng. If China Mobile buys out Mobility, it’ll put you in a perfect place to take on the competition in America. What are your plans for the US?’

  Feng smiled while seething inside.

  Why did Americans always assume that everything revolved around their country?

  Feng couldn’t care less about economic development in America. He only cared about the 1.4 billion people in China. Ledner still thought the whims of the market were dictated by what Americans bought and sold. Instead, it would be the rising Chinese middle and upper classes that would sway the world.

  ‘I have no plans to take on AT&T. They would crush us. The same with Verizon. No, we’ll be happy to keep your European clients and our hold on the Asian market.’ Feng leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. ‘We’re actually focusing on Africa. If the sub-Saharan countries ever get their acts together, the market will be
huge.’

  Ledner laughed. ‘You know what they say about fixing Africa. Can’t be done – internally or externally.’

  ‘Perhaps. But with money thrown at agriculture and education, instead of pointless NGOs and unstable petty warlords, a company like China Mobile might have a chance.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Ledner said with a laugh. ‘So, no interest in the US?’

  Ledner seemed surprised, but Feng knew it was exactly what the man wanted to hear. He was happy to make a fortune selling to China, so long as the Chinese didn’t make further inroads into his country.

  ‘None,’ Feng lied. ‘The competition is too tough. You know how Asians are. We’ll sit back and wait until the competition shoots itself in the foot. Then we’ll offer a helping hand when AT&T is dying – if it ever comes to that. But we don’t want to walk in the door. The American people will gladly buy foreign TVs from Wal-Mart, but they’ll never pay a monthly bill to a Chinese telecom.’

  Ledner laughed again. ‘Truer words, my friend, truer words.’

  I am not your friend, you overweight slug, Feng thought, yet he managed to keep the disgust from his face. They hadn’t signed the papers yet, but the deal was done.

  Just then Lim Bao appeared at Feng’s side. While Feng had more athletic ability and raw power than Lim did, the smaller man was stealthier than a cat.

  He leaned down and whispered into Feng’s ear.

  ‘A situation, sir,’ he said in Cantonese. While Ledner might be familiar with the Chinese Mandarin language, it was extremely unlikely he could speak Cantonese, a far more complex one, with eight ‘tones’ to Mandarin’s four.

  Feng stood slowly. ‘Excuse me, please. I’ll just be a moment. Should I send the girl up with something to eat?’

  Ledner had been staring at the serving girl all night. His leer consisted of one part lust and one part awe. She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. He would gladly sign away his fortune just to taste her. ‘Definitely. She can serve me all night long.’

  Feng ignored the remark and followed Lim below deck for a private conversation.

  ‘What is it?’ Feng demanded.

  ‘Remember the two foreigners from the Loulan ruins?’

  ‘Of course. The only reason I didn’t have Chen killed was because of the sheer range of the sniper’s attack. I still don’t know how he killed a man from that distance.’

  ‘It took us a while, but we were finally able to recover the hi-res video from the helicopter’s camera system. We identified him as a former US Marine. His name is Joshua McNutt.’

  Feng stroked his chin in thought. ‘An American soldier in Xinjiang. Very interesting indeed. But surely you didn’t call me out of the meeting just for that.’

  ‘No, sir,’ Lim said. ‘You know me better than that. The Marine and the other man were spotted arriving on a private plane in Hong Kong earlier today.’

  Feng was stunned. ‘They’re here?’

  Lim nodded.

  ‘Outstanding. I assume our brothers are watching them?’

  ‘They just checked into the Peninsula with another two men and two women.’

  ‘All military?’ Feng asked with a hungry gleam in his own eyes.

  Lim could tell that his boss was already envisioning how he would punish the foreign intruders. ‘No. That’s the strange thing, sir. One man is French. A businessman. The others we couldn’t identify, although one woman is Chinese.’

  Feng wondered about her ethnicity. ‘Han?’

  ‘She appears so.’

  Feng thought about the information and fell into silence.

  ‘Should we pick them up?’ Lim asked.

  ‘No, not yet. Let’s see what they’re up to first.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘One more thing,’ Feng said, ‘when Ledner is done signing the papers, make sure his trip home meets with some kind of horrible tragedy. His manners are atrocious.’

  Lim smiled. ‘Perhaps a mugging on his layover in Singapore? That city is getting so dangerous these days.’

  Feng nodded. ‘Perfect.’

  33

  Saturday, April 5

  Huairou District

  Beijing, China

  The Great Wall stretched for as far as Cobb could see. It marched up and down hills, twisting and turning as it went, giving the impression it could still keep the barbarian hordes out today.

  In reality the Mutianyu section of the Wall stretched for only 2.5 kilometers, but it was dotted with twenty-two watchtowers that helped to achieve the illusion of endless security. The hills around it were lush and green, a picture postcard come to life.

  But that was where the touristic glory ended.

  The day was bitterly cold, with a brutal wind ripping down from the Mongolian steppe to the north. The bite of the frigid air seeped through Cobb’s coat. The relative scarcity of tourists on the Wall was explained by the season and the fact that Mutianyu was off the beaten path. Other nearby spots had the expected infrastructure of gift shops and eateries, but not here.

  This place was like a ghost town.

  McNutt kept an eye on things in the nearly empty parking lot while Cobb and Maggie met Professor Chu Shen up above. He was an extremely short man with a ridiculously long white beard. A lecturer from the International Centre for Chinese Heritage and Archaeology at Peking University, he looked old enough to have actually built the wall.

  ‘Thank you for taking the time to speak with us,’ Maggie said.

  ‘It is my pleasure, Ms Liu. It has been quite some time.’ The small man strolled across the path on the top of the Wall as if he owned the place. With no one around, Cobb could understand how he felt that way. ‘It is also very nice to meet you, Mr Cobb.’

  ‘Likewise, sir.’

  ‘Maggie tells me you are interested in details about the Great Wall. Things that I alone might know.’ The man smiled, flashing teeth stained from a lifetime of coffee consumption. ‘You have me quite intrigued.’

  ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ll let Maggie tell the tale. I’d only mess it up.’

  The old man nodded and, when he did, his beard flapped in the breeze.

  ‘Professor,’ she said, ‘we are interested in what you can tell us about the Wall during the Yuan Dynasty.’

  The strolling man stopped in his tracks and turned to her, eyebrows raised. ‘The Mongol period? Very interesting. It is a time that much of the world no longer cares about – and one that most Chinese would like to forget. What aspect of this period interests you?’

  Maggie exchanged a look with Cobb, who nodded his approval.

  Then she turned back to Chu and whispered, ‘The Venetian.’

  Chu’s face darkened. ‘Ahhh, I see.’ He walked down a flight of steps on the Wall’s top, heading for the nearest watchtower. ‘I come here every week to walk the length of this section, and I’ve visited all the other sections as well. I’ve studied this structure my entire life. In all my decades investigating the Great Wall, you are the first person to ask me about Marco Polo.’

  Maggie remained silent, fearing they had offended Chu.

  The truth was far from it.

  Chu smiled. ‘I am not a Polo scholar, of course, but I am one of the foremost experts on the Wall. And since the Wall stretches back to the Qin Dynasty and before, I’m naturally well versed in the history of China. I have to be. You see, the Wall is China, and China is the Wall.’

  Cobb remained silent. He knew the man was just getting started.

  ‘This part of the Wall was restored and built in the early Ming Dynasty – 1368 on toward the seventeenth century. That was less than a hundred years after Marco Polo would have passed this way on his journey to meet Kublai Khan. Of course, his narrative is famous for many things in the West, primarily for him being the first Westerner to visit and describe so much of Asia. Although he certainly did the latter, he was hardly the first European to make the journey. Can you tell me about the connection you are seeking between Polo an
d the Wall?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘We’ve come across a few documents that imply he did, in fact, see the Wall during his time in China. What’s more, these writings insinuate that the Wall held some special place for him, even though it was mostly ruins by the time of the Tang Dynasty.’

  Maggie gave away as much as she could without coming right out and saying they were seeking Polo’s treasure. Not that it mattered much. She had known Chu for many years, and she realized that he had probably guessed their true intention as soon as she had mentioned Polo.

  The man was as sharp as a scalpel.

  ‘The ruins were featured widely in the poetry of the Tang,’ Chu said, and then he abruptly turned to Cobb. ‘618 to 907 AD.’

  Cobb nodded his thanks. As Chu had guessed, Cobb was not familiar with all the various dynastic periods of China’s long history.

  ‘The Tang was a memory some four hundred years before Polo arrived, so you can imagine the state of the ruins back then. But there still would have been segments of it standing at that time, circa 1275. As you know, Polo’s account is notable for his omission of any mention of the Wall. Many scholars have even posited that Polo couldn’t have visited China, all based on that omission. They say any Westerner visiting China would certainly have mentioned the Wall.’

  The old man lapsed into silence as they walked along the deserted battlements.

  Cobb glanced out through the parapet to the wilderness beyond. ‘We were aware of such theories.’

  ‘People always want to challenge antiquity,’ Chu said with frustration in his voice. ‘The notion that someone like Polo could get so much right, and yet, because of one simple omission, his entire tale is suspect? Ridiculous.’

  Chu shook his head before continuing. ‘Of course Polo visited China, and all the other places that he mentioned. Back then, there was a scarcity of knowledge about Asia in the West. The level of detail in the book alone suggests he must have visited. No merchant, even one who collected tales from Asian travelers for decades, could have included such detail in his account.’

  ‘I agree,’ Maggie said with confidence.