The Thieves of Legend

by Richard Doetsch

  But the man was an equal match. He knocked the gun away from Jon, hurled it aside, and attacked Jon with his bare fists.

  WITH THE MOMENTARY distraction, Michael jumped to his feet and moved toward Lao, but he responded by double-fisting his raised pistol in a classic marksman’s stance, his eyes locked on Michael, and there was no question he was about to pull the trigger if Michael made one more move. But with his back to the open elevator shaft, with all of his focus on Michael, with Brad and Jon fighting in the hallway, he never saw the figure emerge from the shaft, never saw him approach from behind.

  Busch snatched Lao’s pistol, twisting the gun from his wrist while driving his right fist into the man’s temple, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  Lao rolled, but instead of rolling for a gun, he grabbed the radio on his belt, a weapon that would prove just as deadly to the three. Busch dove upon the man, grabbing the radio, throwing it aside and pouring his 230 pounds into a right cross that caught the man in the jaw, dazing him.

  BRAD PUNCHED AND jabbed, but Jon blocked his attack, countering with a series of strikes, which were all deflected. All the while Jon was analyzing his style, his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, and he soon found Brad’s biggest weakness. The man was overreliant on his size and strength. Jon quickly switched strategy and directed his kicks at the man’s legs, moving in, falling back, and finally crushing the man’s kneecap with a low roundhouse kick, sending him to the floor. As he fell, Jon leaped for his gun, grabbing it and turning it on the man.

  “Get up,” Jon barked. “Hands on your head.”

  Brad struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

  “Clear his pockets,” Jon ordered Michael.

  Michael dug through his pockets, pulling out a wallet, a car key fob, and an odd-looking key.

  “Please,” Jon said. “Go stand in the elevator doorway.”

  With his hands on his head, Brad stumbled to the doorway, staring into the dark shaft.

  Michael looked at his watch: five minutes gone. He glanced up at the camera; the red light was still out.

  “We’re out of time,” Michael said.

  Without hesitation, Jon shot Brad in the back, left side, heart-high. Brad arched back, but the force of the bullet drove him forward and he tumbled away into the dark shaft.

  Jon quickly spun, turning the gun on Lao, who lay helpless upon the ground, and shot him in the heart. He quickly leaned down, picked him up, and tossed him into the darkened shaft. The sound of a buffeting wind could be heard as he fell into the abyss.

  Jon reached up and released the elevator door, allowing it to close.

  Busch glared at Jon, incensed at his ruthlessness. “You didn’t have to kill them.”

  Jon ignored him.

  “You son of a bitch—”

  “You listen to me,” Jon said with a chill in his voice. “I’ll kill whoever I need to kill to get this job done, including you, your friends, your families—”

  Busch’s hand rocketed out, grabbing Jon around the neck.

  “You threaten my friends, my family again, I’ll kill you. I don’t care what Hong Kong kung fu shit you know. I’ll snap your neck like a twig.”

  Jon shoved his pistol up against Busch’s heart.

  “And I don’t give a shit if you take me down in the process,” Busch continued, unfazed by the gun, “I’ll be happy knowing that you no longer walk this earth.”

  Michael again looked at his watch; thirty seconds past five minutes. He reached over and pulled down the power soak that he’d used to disable the cameras and stuck it in the satchel on his shoulder.

  “We need to get back in the conference room… Now!”

  CHAPTER 37

  THE FORBIDDEN CITY

  The storm intensified as KC ran across the six-hundred-foot expanse between the outer and inner courtyards of the Forbidden City, past the Gate of Heavenly Purity, her heart pounding, her lungs burning. She felt as if she were running through time, through a ghost world where the only sound was the driving rain across the pavement. The small building, with its incongruous Starbucks, was seventy-five yards away.

  And the bullet skittered off the ground, the silencer spit of the gun’s report lost in the sound of the pouring rain. Annie was behind her. KC didn’t dare look back. It didn’t matter where she was, KC was out in the open like an animal separated from the pack, with the predator smiling, knowing she had nowhere to turn.

  The shots rang out anew. KC could hear the muffled sound of the gun now, could hear Annie’s footfalls; she was gaining on her. KC was an excellent runner, both sprinter and distance, but she had never run for her life, never like this. Not only was her life riding on her escape, but so was Michael’s.

  KC cut left down the east alley; adjacent to the inner courtyard, it was a two-hundred-yard passage, formerly used by servants, now simply a favorite throughway of the staff. KC had thought the move would increase her chance of survival, but she realized too late she had run into a confined space, her chances of survival narrowing with her poor choice. The walls were twelve feet high, the only exit six hundred feet away. She ran as hard as she could, her legs wasted, her heart near exploding.

  But up ahead, she saw her chance. The stone lion was three feet high, a paw resting upon the world. It sat adjacent to a small side entrance to the inner courtyard, upon a raised terrace entrance. The awning hung out over the alley, a waterfall of rain raging over its edge.

  KC leaped upon the lion, her left foot landing on its shoulder, and launched herself up onto the overhang, her hands struggling, slipping along the slick tiles, finally catching hold; her legs swung upward, gaining purchase. Up on her feet, she reached up and grabbed the lip of the wall above. Pulling herself up, she broke into a sprint along the narrow wall, blocking from her mind that it was only two feet wide.

  KC’s heart pounded as she struggled to escape, her back on fire in anticipation of a bullet hitting her between her shoulder blades, imagining herself tumbling to her death to the alley below. Bullets shattered the wall beneath her, rapid-fired, Annie unloading her pistol in a hail of gunfire. But it suddenly stopped.

  KC chanced a view over her shoulder to see Annie hauling herself up onto the awning, pulling herself atop the wall, but Annie stopped her pursuit there. Holding the rifle now, she straddled the wall, lying prone, tucking the scope to her eye.

  KC knew Annie wouldn’t miss. Till now it had been nothing but a slim chance that Annie could shoot her on the fly. But now with KC running along the wall with no doorway to duck into, no hallway to turn down, Annie’s shooting would be like target practice, her mark in her line of sight with no escape.

  There was nowhere for KC to go. If she leaped back into the alley she would surely break a bone, sprain an ankle at least, and she would be at an even greater disadvantage, giving Annie the high ground. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

  KC pushed herself as hard as she could, her lungs on fire, her legs heavy with fatigue. She didn’t need to look back to know the shot was being lined up; she imagined it in her mind’s eye, Annie adjusting the scope, her finger wrapping around the trigger.

  And with the crack of the rifle, KC did the unexpected.

  She launched herself across the alley, twelve feet above the ground, ten feet across.

  She hit the other side, her body slamming into the wall as her hands caught the edge. She pulled herself over the wall, landing atop a roof, skidding down its sloped tiles to a small courtyard.

  Without pause, she continued to run, finding a new, smaller alley to navigate, and slowed her pace. For as she turned the corner and saw the small red buildings before her, she knew where she was…

  It was truly a maze, the dozens of closely grouped buildings with their red walls and similar design forming a labyrinth; she felt like Theseus escaping the labyrinth.

  But while she had momentarily lost Annie, she realized she, too, was lost. There was a single building that held her salvatio
n, but entering via the unorthodox route, she had no bearing as to her location, no line of sight to pinpoint her escape.

  In daylight, the red buildings with their similar design were confusing, but now in the dark, the heavy rain falling, blotting out what little vision she had, she might as well have been blind.

  She caught sight of a small light, blinking blue, coming from the other side of the courtyard. She raced toward it only to find herself in another small courtyard, nearly identical, the blue light flickering, just not where she stood now.

  “Can you hear me, KC?” Annie’s voice cried out through the rain.

  It seemed to come from all around, the effect of the rain causing her voice to sound as if it was everywhere. KC ignored her, continuing her search, hoping Annie didn’t see the blue light, didn’t understand what it meant.

  “You have no idea what you are doing,” Annie called out again. “If you don’t show yourself, if you don’t turn over that box, you will die.”

  KC couldn’t let Annie get hold of the box; it was all that was keeping her alive, it was all that would keep Michael alive.

  She cut left, then right, the driving rain slapping her face, confusing her. She strained to see. There were so many small buildings on the northeast side, throwing her into confusion.

  But then it was there: the small building behind Fengxian Hall, the blue flashing LED above the door. She quickly tore the LED down and crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, disabling the light. She picked it up and tucked it in her satchel.

  The lock on the door had been removed. KC turned the handle and entered, silently thanking Jenna for not only lighting the way but providing her with a means of escape.

  The room was simple, carpeted, the walls covered in oil paintings of distant mountains. Annie had no idea which building she was in, but it wouldn’t be long before she figured it out.

  The bag Jenna had tucked away was on the right, in the corner; it was made of neoprene, waterproof, the tag still on it. Without delay, KC grabbed it and threw it over her shoulder.

  She reached down and tore the carpet back to reveal a large drain. Made of thick black iron, it covered a four-foot circular hole.

  Wrapping her fingers through the grate, KC leaned back, pulling with everything she had until the grate finally budged. She pulled it aside, dragging it over to the shadowed corner, leaning it against the wall. She drew down two of the oil paintings and leaned them against the grate, concealing it in the darkness.

  While the space was dark, there were six wall sconces in the room. KC pulled the wool hat from her bag, ran to the nearest sconce, wrapped the bulb in the hat, and crushed it, the hat muffling the sound, protecting her hand. She followed suit with the other bulbs, ensuring darkness until the rays of dawn came through the window.

  KC checked the bag on her shoulder, double-checked to be sure she had the red puzzle box, and stepped into the narrow hole, her feet finding purchase upon the rails of the ladder. But as she took her first step down, she stopped. She reached over and pulled the carpet back over the open hole, concealing it from the world and shrouding herself in total darkness.

  She grabbed hold of the ladder and descended, each step echoing in the narrow vertical tunnel. She could feel the rust upon the rungs and hoped they would hold; Jenna had said the tunnel was out of commission, not on any maintenance schedule or repair list.

  Thirty seconds in, she knew she had dropped at least three stories beneath the surface, probably four, the inky blackness warping time and distance within her mind. And then she heard the trickle of water coming from below.

  She looked up, left, and right, but her eyes were wrapped in darkness. She stopped and quickly unzipped the neoprene bag at her side, reached in, and felt around. Her hand finally falling on what she hoped was there, she pulled it out and zipped the bag shut.

  She flipped on the light, the startling brightness illuminating stone and brick walls thick with moisture seeping in from the rain above. She looked up and estimated she was at least fifty feet down. She shined the light down and it refracted off the smooth surface of water; the upper arch of a doorway was visible on the near side. It was a well whose design had allowed an emperor’s escape more than five centuries earlier.

  She continued climbing down, not stopping as she hit the water, immersing herself in the frigid well, shocking her lower half as her foot finally ran out of ladder and hit the bottom. The water level was just above her waist; she was thankful for the suggestion of the neoprene bag.

  She stepped through the doorway and emerged into a flooded room built of stone, the walls, floor, and ceiling centuries old. The smell of decay and rot told her this was not a place for the living.

  She continued walking through a long stretch that ramped up from the cold water, allowing her to emerge onto dry ground. Shining her light around, she found that the cavelike space was man-made, hewn from the earth, reinforced with stone, and forgotten to time. She could hear the skittering of rats in the shadows avoiding her flashlight as if it were flame. There were two passages running in either direction.

  She unzipped her bag and pulled out a map, hand-drawn, rudimentary, but more than she could have asked for. A note was written along the bottom:

  KC

  I have marked a route on this chart that will bring you to the Beijing tunnels, but you should know that the Emperor’s Passage is unstable, the earthen walls and ceilings subject to collapse. There are pockets of water and flooding is rampant. Please be aware that you will come upon several tunnels that were dug but abandoned when found to be encumbered by too much rock. Do not venture down these as you will become lost in a labyrinth of darkness.

  I can’t imagine what you’re going through. My thoughts and prayers are with you. Please contact me when you have reached safety.

  Jenna

  CHAPTER 38

  THE VENETIAN

  Michael pulled out the electronic box and looked at the screen. The red dot was slightly off center; a series of numbers were scrolling down. Michael watched it and focused his hearing, listening to the elevator ride up by their floor. The numbers continued to scroll down until they hit zero. After a moment the dot moved further from center and stopped.

  Michael quickly put his suit back on and transferred the small black box into the interior breast pocket of the suit.

  Jon dressed in his suit, removed his sneakers, and tucked them into a drawer beneath the bar. He picked up his briefcase and, once more looking the part of a harried businessman, walked out into the hallway.

  As Jon left the room, Michael whispered to Busch, “Watch the door.”

  Michael reached within his shirt and pulled out an envelope. He opened it and withdrew three sheets of paper covered in Chinese handwriting, which he laid out on the table, quickly smoothing them out. He pulled out his BlackBerry, hit the camera button, and took three quick pictures. He typed in an address and hit Send.

  He grabbed the papers and envelope from the table, crumpled them, and threw them in the garbage. From the small bar, he picked up the vodka, poured it in, grabbed the silver cigarette lighter, flicked it, ignited a book of matches, and dropped them in, the can spitting out a ball of fire.

  “What the hell is that?” Jon said as he came back into the room.

  “Relax,” Busch said, trying to block Jon’s way.

  “What was that?” Jon raced over to Michael and looked at the flaming ash in the can.

  “Insurance.”

  “Bullshit, you tell me now.”

  “I’m covering our tracks,” Michael said. “Your box is safe, I just watched it ride upstairs, and if we don’t hurry, it’s going to get out on the floor ahead of us.”

  Jon glared at Michael. “So help me—”

  “I’d be happy to help you in more ways than you could imagine,” Busch said as he stepped between Michael and Jon.

  “Hey,” Carl said as he poked his head in the doorway. “Elevator.”

  The three grabbed their bags and
headed out the door.

  And as they walked, Michael glanced down and saw he had no signal; his email hadn’t gone out yet, nor would it until he had service again.

  Busch leaned toward Michael’s ear. “Insurance?”

  “Not if we don’t get topside and get a signal.”

  CHAPTER 39

  THE FORBIDDEN CITY

  As Annie saw KC make the jump over the alley, she made a quick decision. She threw the rifle over her shoulder, ran across the narrow wall, gaining speed, and jumped right, sailing over the ten-foot expanse, catching the wall on the far side. But as she lowered herself into a small stand of trees, she realized too late her mistake. She had dropped into the south side of the partitioned section, fifty yards from where KC had landed, each of them on opposite sides of the maze of buildings.

  Annie ran through the alleyways, vainly trying to find KC, ducking into courtyards, seeking her out. She had narrowed her search to twenty-five buildings. She had seen where KC went over the wall, had seen the approximate area where the flashing blue light had glowed, something that was nowhere else in the city. She cursed herself for allowing her to escape. She realized KC had always intended to escape; she had planned it from the start.

  Annie had been conflicted since they had met. She had seen in KC a kindred spirit, someone who lived outside the conventions of society, someone who might be able to understand the decisions she had made in life, the choices that had brought her to where she was. Society’s expectations for women, which she had had thrust upon her, had always angered her. She was as smart, resourceful, and deadly as any man.

  She was angry at herself for allowing KC to hold on to the red box, for being lulled into trusting her, into thinking that the threat to Michael’s life would keep her in line.

  But now, all things being equal, when she found KC she’d take back the small box and kill her.