“You are under arrest for bombing this museum,” said the police lieutenant. “We will take this up with the French embassy.”
Addison had no interest in provoking a Mongolian-French international conflict; he just wanted to talk his way out of his handcuffs. Molly, Eddie, and Raj were handcuffed as well.
“This can’t get any worse,” said Eddie.
Madame Feng stepped into the gala, followed by her coterie of guards.
Addison groaned like a throat singer.
“Let them go,” she announced.
Addison pricked up his ears.
“Impossible,” said the police lieutenant. “These animals nearly destroyed the museum.”
“Arrest them and book them if you must. I shall make their bail. In fact,” Madame Feng said, pulling out her checkbook, “why don’t we just cut out the middleman?” She signed a personal check and handed it to the portly museum director.
The museum director was a short-statured man with a high-stature job. He glared at Madame Feng indignantly before deigning to read the check. He saw a one followed by so many zeroes, he nearly fainted. The museum director had his scruples, but he also had his price.
“Do you wish to press charges against these kids?” asked the police lieutenant.
The museum director picked the nearest cocktail glass off the buffet table and downed it. He chased it with a second glass before finally finding his voice. “The museum does not wish to pursue charges against these children,” he said at last.
The police lieutenant sighed, defeated. And he was so close to making his quota this month.
“Excellent,” said Madame Feng. “The children are coming with me.”
Addison could not help but admire Madame Feng’s efficiency. Within seconds his handcuffs were gone and he found his wrists clamped in Hu’s viselike grip. “I want to thank everyone for a lovely party,” said Addison, before he was hauled out of the gala.
He still couldn’t see Madame Feng’s angle. Addison doubted she had suddenly become a Good Samaritan. She enlightened him as her triads marched his team toward her waiting passenger van. “The Russians have the lance, but I know you saw it first. I know the next clue is rattling around in that little Cooke brain of yours. And you are going to give it to me.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madame Feng,” said Addison smoothly. “My friends and I were just here to enjoy the throat singing.”
“We’ll see whose throat sings last.” Madame Feng pivoted on her high heel and climbed into the front of the van.
Addison gave her last comeback a B-minus at best, but she did manage to get the last word in. Hu duct-taped Addison’s wrists together and moved on to Molly.
“I don’t want to say I told you so,” said Molly, “but we probably should have come up with a stronger plan.”
Addison watched Hu duct-tape Raj and Eddie as well. “Molly, everything is working out perfectly. They’re taking us to wherever they’re holding Aunt D and Uncle N.”
“Fantastic. We’ll get to share a cell with them,” said Molly.
“Molly, relax. Sooner or later you’re going to realize that I have everything under control.” The guards tossed Addison into the back of the van and slammed the doors. The van sped off into the dark streets of Ulaanbaatar.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Templar Medallion
THE VAN RUMBLED DEEPER into downtown, passed through a security gate, and entered the private garage of an enormous mansion. Hu left Addison’s team locked in the back of the van for an hour before finally releasing them. He hustled across the palace grounds. Addison admired the beautiful sloping eaves of the buildings and the tastefully manicured gardens that hemmed the perimeter wall. He realized this was an old estate and that the modern city had simply grown up around it.
Hu guided the group through the palace foyer and into a magnificent great room where Madame Feng reclined on a couch and sipped tea by a roaring fire. Addison could not imagine the need for a roaring fire in the middle of July, but then, he could not really imagine the need for living in a palace either. Still, the room was magnificent, with Manchurian weaponry, Mongolian tapestries, and Ming dynasty vases.
“I love your home,” said Addison, with genuine feeling.
“Thank you.” Madame Feng sipped her oolong. “I love Mongolia and keep this as my summer home. My family traces its lineage all the way back to Genghis Khan, so I feel a great affinity for this country. Besides, I have many business interests in Ulaanbaatar.”
“You mean with the triads? I’ve read there are plenty of gangs operating in this city. Are you familiar with Babatunde Okonjo’s Mission: Survival?”
Madame Feng fixed Addison with a stare so cold, it risked freezing her steaming tea. “In the morning, I am taking your aunt and uncle north. The Russians have the lance, and my spies are trailing them.” She leaned forward on her sofa, addressing Addison like a close friend. “Addison, neither one of us wants to see Boris get his hands on the Khan’s treasure. If there is anything you can tell me about Sir Frederick’s latest clue, you must tell me now.”
“I’m sorry,” said Addison, who would sooner remove his own appendix with a rusted spoon than share information with Madame Feng. “We don’t know anything.”
Madame Feng’s feline eyes narrowed. “Can I trust you to tell me the truth?”
“Absolutely.” Addison gave her a “trust me” grin that would make a used-car salesman blush.
Madame Feng held her teacup out for a servant to refill. The fire crackled and roared as a log collapsed in a spray of sparks. “Genghis Khan trusted Inalchuq, one of the governors of Persia. He sent his diplomats to visit the country with a caravan of gifts. Inalchuq executed the entire caravan.”
Addison was not entirely sure where Madame Feng was going with this, but he loved a good story.
She sipped her tea and continued. “Genghis Khan did not suffer fools gladly. He traveled to Persia at the head of his army. He burned every city to the ground. When he reached Nishapur, he slaughtered two million Persians in a single day. His warriors built pyramids out of the skulls and laid them where the cities once stood. When Genghis finally captured Inalchuq, he murdered him by pouring molten silver into his eyes and ears.”
It was not the best story Addison had ever heard, but he sensed Madame Feng was winding up to her point.
She carefully set her antique teacup down in its saucer and rose to her feet. “This palace contains a dungeon. You will stay there until you tell me everything you know about Sir Frederick’s clue. If you do not talk by tomorrow morning, I am going to pour molten silver down your lying throats.”
Addison gulped with his lying throat.
Molly used hers to speak. “You talk about trust. But you lied to Eustace and lied to my aunt and uncle. You kidnapped them, and they didn’t do anything to you. Madame Feng, you are shifty, underhanded, and two-faced.”
Madame Feng’s eyes glittered. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“You know, I think you really are related to Genghis Khan.”
“Thank you.”
“Wasn’t a compliment,” said Molly.
Addison wasn’t sure whether Molly should be provoking their captor. Perhaps Madame Feng had the fire roaring in case she felt a hankering to start melting down some silver right away. He took a step forward. “Madame Feng, I will consider your request. But first I must speak to my aunt and uncle.”
Molly was shocked. “Don’t tell her anything, Addison!”
Addison kept his gaze locked on Madame Feng.
She smiled, showing her perfect teeth. “I see you do have information to share after all. Very well, Addison. You may spend a few minutes with one of them, but only one.”
• • • • • •
To Addison’s pleasure, it was Tony Chin who w
alked him down to the dungeon. They followed winding stone passages through the kitchen and down into a cellar. Once out of the earshot of Madame Feng, Addison peppered Tony with questions. “Is she really going to torture us, Tony?”
“Probably,” Tony admitted. “She’ll do whatever it takes to find the Khan’s tomb.”
“Do we have any chance of getting out of here?”
“Not really. I’m sorry, Addison.”
“Well,” said Addison, feeling the need to get one up on Tony, “we’ve been using your credit card.”
“Of course you have. How do you think we tracked you to Ulaanbaatar? You used a credit card three blocks from the museum.”
Addison frowned. Now he understood how the triads had found him. “Why do you help her?”
“When I was a teenager, I swore an oath to the triads. Madame Feng controls a branch of our group. She’s very powerful.”
“I read about the triads. Hundreds of years ago, before the triads were criminals, they were freedom fighters. They wanted to overthrow the Qing dynasty. Do you remember the oaths you took?”
“Of course. I vowed loyalty, honor, justice, fealty, and respect.”
“Tell me,” said Addison, “did you vow to rob and beat up children? Is that in your code of honor?”
Tony hesitated. He ducked through a cellar door and into the low stone hallway that led to the dungeon cells. “You started it when you took my wallet.”
“You started it when you took my aunt and uncle.”
Tony lit a candle, melted some wax with the match, and stuck it in a wall sconce carved into the rock. He guided Addison into an empty cell and locked the iron grill shut. He looked at him through the bars. “You saved my life at the Thousand Buddha Caves. Why?”
In the dim light, Addison could see that Tony’s face was still swollen with bruises from his tangle with the Russians. “I live by a code as well.”
Tony nodded. “I will give you a minute alone with your uncle.” He reached into his pocket and handed Addison his butterfly knife. “Thank you for saving my life.” He turned away, leaving Addison in the flickering candlelight of the dungeon.
• • • • • •
“Is that you, Addison?” came a familiar voice from the neighboring cell.
“Uncle Nigel!” Addison reached out through the bars and clasped his uncle’s unseen hand. He held it for a minute. He couldn’t help but notice how frail and tired his uncle sounded. “Is Aunt Delia all right?”
“She’s holding up. They’re keeping us in separate cells to break our morale. How are you? How is Molly? Eddie and Raj?”
“Everyone’s fine. Eddie’s even getting in some good piano practice. I negotiated to see you because I need your help. We have to work quickly—I don’t know how much time Madame Feng will give us together.” Addison used his pencil to bookmark a page in his notebook. He passed both around the bars to his uncle. “It’s Sir Frederick’s next clue. I need your help with the French.”
“You found the lance of Sir Frederick?” cried Uncle Nigel.
“Oh yes.” Addison was careful not to mention anything about setting fire to a museum.
“So Sir Frederick left his lance in Ulaanbaatar, his helm in Karakoram, his sword in Kashgar, and his shield in Samarkand . . .” Uncle Nigel laughed. “It’s a good thing he didn’t make it all the way back to Europe, he’d have arrived naked.” He uncrinkled the notebook page and held it out to the candlelight. He translated aloud for Addison.
“‘Praise be to the Lord, my Rock,
who trains my hands for war,
my fingers for battle.
God is my shield, my sword, my helm, and my lance.’”
“I’ve got that part,” said Addison.
“Right. But since you’ve found the lance, that makes this Sir Frederick’s final clue! My Old French is not as strong as Delia’s, but I shall do my best.” He bent his gaze to the notebook.
“‘In the land no living Mongol may pass, I climbed the eagle cliff.
I swam beneath a river, and crawled under a mountain to the city of the dead.
Know the Khan to open the tomb; know thyself to escape.’”
Uncle Nigel scratched away in the dark, translating the clue into Addison’s notebook. He slid the notebook and pencil back through the iron bars.
Addison tucked them inside his blazer pocket. It was not an easy feat, as his wrists were still duct-taped together.
“I don’t know if we will make it out of here,” said Uncle Nigel’s voice in the darkness.
“Madame Feng told me she’s taking you and Aunt Delia north tomorrow.”
“I don’t think she intends to let us survive. We know far too much about her and her crimes.” Uncle Nigel took a long sigh. “Oh, Addison. There is so much I need to tell you.”
“You mean about the prophecy?”
“Yes. There is a prophecy.”
“And it involves killing Cookes?”
“It does,” said Uncle Nigel. “And there is a very dangerous man named Malazar who believes this prophecy. Some call him the Shadow, because few people have ever seen his face. He will stop at nothing. I did not want to put your aunt Delia at risk. You remember, of course, our separation this past year?”
Addison nodded. “A trial separation. But you’re back together now.”
“We are.” Uncle Nigel sighed again in the darkness. “Do you understand now why I tried to separate from Aunt Delia? Men are trying to kill off our family to fulfill the prophecy. I thought if I could leave Delia, it would save her life. And maybe yours as well.”
Addison’s thoughts were swimming. “Drowning” might be the better word.
Uncle Nigel continued. “I wasn’t separating from your aunt because I don’t like her. I was doing it because I love her!”
Addison swallowed hard but could not rid himself of the lump swelling in his throat. It tugged at the corners of his cheeks, it pulled his lips into a stiff frown, and it wetted his eyes.
Uncle Nigel spoke faster. “You and Molly are in grave danger—you always have been. If anything ever happens to me—”
“No,” said Addison. “You and Aunt Delia are going to be fine!”
“If anything ever happens to me,” Uncle Nigel continued, “you and Molly must find your uncle Jasper in England. He will know how to keep you safe.”
Addison shook his head. “It’s because of archaeology, isn’t it? This prophecy—it involves some secret from the past. It’s this obsession with the past that puts us in these situations. If we didn’t care about dusty old relics, we’d be home, safe in New York.”
“That’s not what you really want, is it, Addison? To give up on the past?”
“I don’t want to lose you and Aunt Delia like I lost my mom and dad! I wish we were a family of stockbrokers.”
“I need to show you something. It’s the medallion I wear around my neck.”
Addison heard a scrape of metal across the stone floor. He reached through the cell bars and lifted a bronze medallion into the air. It twirled on its chain in the candlelight.
“This is who you really are.”
Embossed on the polished surface, Addison saw an eye in the center of the rays of a bright sun. “But this is the symbol on Sir Frederick’s shield . . .”
“We are an ancient order. He was one of us, Addison.”
“One of who?” For the first time, Addison noticed five Latin words surrounding the rays of light. He did not yet know enough Latin to translate.
“I think you know,” said Uncle Nigel.
“My father, too?”
“And your uncle Jasper.”
Addison watched the medallion twirl on its bronze chain. He wondered how long it had been in his family. He wondered about the prophecy of the Cookes.
“Did you read your Sun Tzu?”<
br />
“I did.”
“‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’”
Addison tried to hand the medallion through the metal bars, but his uncle pushed it back.
“You must take it, Addison. It may save your life.”
Addison took a deep breath. He heard footsteps approaching in the passage. “I’ll hold on to it for you, until we all escape together.” He fed the locket and chain into his inside blazer pocket.
Hu stepped into the chamber, unlocked Uncle Nigel’s cell, and hauled him toward the exit.
Addison was startled by the sight of his uncle, stooped over with his hands chained to his feet with manacles. Uncle Nigel’s face was haggard and his beard spotted with gray. He looked at Addison with tired eyes. “Remember who you are, Addison. Always remember who we’ve taught you to be.”
Hu dragged Addison’s uncle away.
A few minutes later, Madame Feng appeared in the chamber. “Have you had time to think?”
“Yes.” Addison rose to his feet.
“Tell me the clue.”
“I will do you one better. Madame Feng, if I deliver you the golden whip, will you release my aunt and uncle?”
Madame Feng smiled, bemused. “I hate to tell you this, but you are on the wrong side of these bars.”
“Let me worry about that. I deliver you the whip and you have everything you want. We’ll be of no more use to you. The whip for my family’s freedom.” Addison thrust his duct-taped hands through the bars and held them out for Madame Feng to shake.
Madame Feng’s smile was as straight and flat as a guillotine. “I don’t make bargains with prisoners. I’ll let you spend the night in here. In the morning I will give you one final chance to talk.”
Addison reached out and gripped her hand. “Promise me. The whip for my family’s lives.”
She snapped her hand away. “I will have both: the whip and your family’s lives.” Madame Feng strutted out of the chamber, blowing out the candle, leaving Addison in darkness.
Addison Cooke and the Tomb of the Khan Page 22
