The Tomb of Genghis Khan

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Analyze the data.

  He began running through the standard documents directories, using his custom translation app playfully nicknamed by Acton as Tommy’s Text Translator, the Mongolian documents proving painfully boring.

  “Can I help?”

  He shrugged. “Can you read Mongolian?”

  She gave him a look. “That’s not helpful.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just worried about them. I just wish there was something we could do.”

  She jabbed a finger at his laptop. “Find something that can help. The quicker we find something, the quicker we can get out of this godforsaken country.”

  He shook his head. “There’s just so much. This is going to take forever. He’s got stuff going back years here.”

  She stopped her pacing. “Just narrow it down to anything from the last month. Can you do that?”

  He smiled. “My girlfriend, the genius.” He immediately re-filtered the search results, cutting down the list considerably. “That’s better!”

  There was a knock at the door that had both their hearts pounding, and he found he was holding his breath in case whoever it was might hear him.

  “Should I answer it?” whispered Mai, answering her own question by retreating from the door.

  He wasn’t sure. “It might be them. Or maybe our food.” He pointed at the door. “Look.”

  Her eyes bulged and she shook her head. “You look!”

  He rolled off the bed and tiptoed to the door, peeking through the peephole.

  And sighed with relief.

  “It’s that stewardess. I think she’s drunk.”

  Clarice pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there! What are you two doing? Having”—hiccup—“sex? Can I join you?” A heaving sound erupted. “Men are pigs. Especially pilots. Especially copilots!” Another hiccup. “Can you believe they left me when I went to the bathroom?” A manly burp vented. “I’m going to fall down now.” There was a loud noise.

  “What should we do?”

  Mai shrugged. “We can’t leave her out there.”

  He sighed then opened the door. Clarice was passed out on the floor, as advertised. Her keycard was gripped in her hand, a bottle of something local in the other. He pried the card loose, handing it to Mai, then picked the passed out woman up off the floor, draping her arm over his shoulders as he half carried, half dragged her to her room. Mai opened the door and they both got her onto the bed then performed the Bacchus Maneuver to position her on her side in case she vomited. Mai dumped the bottle’s potent brew down the bathroom sink, then placed the keycard on the nightstand before they both beat a hasty retreat back to their room, only to find Tommy’s phone ringing.

  He dove for it but it went to voicemail before he could answer. Cursing, he waited, the phone finally vibrating in his hand with a message. He dialed in and put it on speaker.

  “Hi guys, it’s Laura. There’s a problem. It looks like the government ordered our plane to leave. We don’t know what’s going on. I’m hoping the fact you’re not answering means they already told you, and you left as part of the crew. We’ll try to find our own way out of the country, but before we do, we need to know that you’ve actually left. Call me as soon as you’ve got this message. If you can’t reach me, call my travel agent. I left you the number. Tell her your status. We won’t be leaving without her help, so she’ll get the message to us. Good luck. Love you guys.”

  Mai’s jaw dropped as she stared at the phone then Tommy. “I don’t understand. If the plane left, why would they leave the crew?”

  22 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland

  Sherrie pulled the car into Acton’s driveway and headed for the front door as Fang sprinted to the backyard. Fang heard shouts from inside as Sherrie confronted an obvious intruder. Fang tried the sliding back door to find it locked, so grabbed the handle and jerked the entire door up and out of its frame, tossing it aside as she surged into the kitchen. Sherrie was at her eleven o’clock, with the hostile at her nine, his weapon aimed at Sherrie, Milton held against him as a human shield.

  Fang took aim and shot the man in the hand, his weapon dropping to the floor followed by Milton a moment later as the assailant cried out in agony, gripping his hand with its new piercing. Sherrie rushed forward as Fang covered her, quickly binding the man’s hands and feet together before patting him down, tossing anything of interest on the kitchen counter.

  Fang took a knee beside the badly beaten Milton, shaking her head at what had been done to the poor man. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.” He gasped. “But my back. I think he might have broken my back.”

  Fang quickly checked him head to toe, finding some possibly cracked ribs and no sensation below the waist. She gave Sherrie a glance, subtly shaking her head. “Just stay still, try not to move.”

  Milton nodded then lunged forward, grabbing her weapon from her belt, aiming it at their prisoner.

  “What are you doing?” cried Fang, standing back.

  “He-he threatened to rape Sandra and Niskha.”

  Fang assumed he was referring to his wife and daughter. She took as gentle a tone as she could. “Listen, we need him alive. He has information.”

  “I don’t care. He needs to die.”

  The assailant glared at Milton wide-eyed. “Kill me! Pull the trigger. If you don’t, I’m going to pay a visit to those tasty treats. Remember, I know where those little kaffirs live now!”

  Milton’s hand trembled, the weapon shaking uncontrollably as tears rushed down his cheeks, the pain and anger mixing into a potent brew that threatened to explode.

  Fang knelt beside him again. “Greg, we need him. He’s just trying to bait you.” She tried another tact. “Listen, if you want him dead, then when this is all done, I’ll take care of it. But don’t you do it.”

  He looked at her through swollen eyes, his face unrecognizable, the only reason she knew it was him was because she had been told he was here. “I want to,” he whispered.

  She stared at him, understanding his rage, understanding his desire. She had been there before. And had pulled that trigger. “Have you ever killed before?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Do you plan on doing it again?”

  His eyes darted to her before returning to his target. “I-I hope not.”

  “Then don’t do it. Killing one person, in the heat of the moment, is something you’ll never forgive yourself for, unless you’re going to make a habit of it.” She put a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. “Your daughter wouldn’t want her father to become a murderer for her. They’re safe now. He’s finished.”

  The arm holding the gun dropped to the floor and Milton fell backward, exhausted, his hand loosening its grip. Fang retrieved the weapon and tucked it back in her belt as Sherrie approached, having watched the proceedings quietly nearby.

  “An ambulance is on the way.” Sherrie grabbed a cloth shopping bag hanging from a hook in the kitchen then stuffed their prisoner’s personal items inside. She cut the ties binding his feet then hauled him up off the floor. “You’re coming with us. Any sudden movement, any attempt to escape, I shoot you in the knees then start picking body parts to remove while you watch naked in a mirror.” She kneed him in the nuts and the man grunted. “Starting with those.” She led him away, her gun pressed against his back while Fang waited with Milton.

  “You’ve gotta warn Jim and Laura. These people are after them.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I have no idea, but he has an accent. I think South African.”

  Fang pursed her lips. “Interesting. We know he was talking to someone in Mongolia. We’re trying to track down who. They’re definitely horny to find the professors. Any idea why?”

  Milton shook his head and winced. “Wait. Do you know about the text message?”

  “Yes. Do you know what it’s all about?”

  “N-no. S-sorry.
”

  “Don’t worry about it. “Fang reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay still. If there’s any damage to your spine, we want to minimize it.”

  Tears escaped Milton’s eyes and he squeezed them shut, clearly trying to stop himself from sobbing.

  “It’s going to be okay.” A siren in the distance grew close. “They’re almost here, then they’ll take good care of you. Langley will make sure you have protection assigned to you, probably local.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Listen, I have to leave here when they get here, okay?”

  Milton nodded. “That’s—that’s fine. I know you can’t risk being mixed up in anything like this.” He reached up and took her hand. “Thank you for saving me.”

  She flashed him a smile, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for making an otherwise dull day interesting.”

  He grunted. “Any time?”

  She resisted the urge to laugh so as not to trigger his own, instead gently placing his hand down by his side as the front door opening signaled her departure.

  And as she headed out the back door, she vowed that if Milton never walked again, neither would their prisoner.

  23 |

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “This is interesting.”

  Leroux turned to Randy Child. “What?”

  “The professors’ plane has taken off.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Yeah. About an hour ago.”

  Leroux rose and walked over to Child’s station to check the intel. “But that doesn’t make any sense. They’ve only been there a few hours.”

  Sonya Tong turned to face them. “Maybe they found who they were looking for.”

  Child shrugged. “No idea, but the plane is out of Mongolian airspace and according to their flight plan, is heading for South Korea.”

  Leroux returned to his station. “South Korea? Why would they go there and not come home?”

  Another shrug. “Vacation?”

  Leroux sighed. “Anything’s possible with them.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “Well, I guess we can stand down, then.” He leaned back in his chair. “I love it when these things turn out to be nothing.”

  Tong agreed. “Me too.”

  “Let’s let Dylan know. I’m sure he’s worried.”

  “Will do, but he’s on radio silence according to the system. He won’t get the message for at least a few hours.”

  “Better late than never.” Leroux’s stomach growled and he patted it. “I’m heading to the cafeteria. I’m starved. Team A, you guys take an hour then relieve Team B. Who knows when we’ll get another chance for a break.” Leroux headed for the door and Child cleared his throat.

  “Umm, sir?”

  Leroux sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to be good news. “What?”

  “Umm, well, I’ve got another Echelon intercept that you’re going to want to see.”

  “Between who?”

  “Laura Palmer and her travel agent.”

  Leroux’s shoulders sagged. “Let me guess. It happened after the plane left.”

  “Yes.”

  “And it wasn’t from in the air.”

  “No, a landline in Mongolia.”

  Leroux cursed. “I should have known.” He pointed at Tong. “Have lunch brought in. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”

  24 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland

  Fang climbed into the back seat with their prisoner. Sherrie, having moved the car onto the street while Fang awaited the ambulance, pulled from the curb as the first police car turned the corner. She steered to the side to let him by, then continued as if they were merely locals heading out for some shopping.

  Fang aimed her weapon at their prisoner. “You better pray he’s okay, or I promise you either a very short life, or a very long one you won’t want to live.”

  He eyed her, showing no evidence of fear. “What is it with you two?”

  Sherrie looked in the rearview mirror. “We don’t like it when people mess with our friends.”

  “So, he’s a friend of yours?”

  “Consider him our best friend, so choose your words carefully. Who do you work for?”

  “Nobody.”

  Fang hammered the top of his wounded hand with the butt of her Glock and he cried out, blood surging from under the gauze wrapped around it, an open emergency kit on the floor, Sherrie evidently carrying out some first aid as she waited for Fang to join them. “Why were you there?”

  “Got the wrong house.”

  Another rap, another cry, the hand already showing signs of additional trauma.

  “The next one’s going to really hurt,” warned Fang. “Why the interest in Professor Acton?”

  “He’s an old college buddy?”

  Fang dropped the hammer hard and the resulting roar was deafening, the bones of the hand shattered. “I’ve got all day.”

  “So do I,” gasped the man, wincing.

  She raised her weapon again and he held up his good hand. “Please, no more.”

  “Tell us what you know.” She motioned toward Sherrie. “The truth, or I let her take you apart, piece by piece.”

  “Fine, but I don’t know much. I got a phone call from an old buddy who asked me to find this Professor Acton and find out what he knew about something in Mongolia. That’s all I know.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I swear, that’s it.”

  “And what was this thing in Mongolia?”

  “I have no clue. He didn’t tell me. I didn’t need to know until I had Acton, and since I never got him, he never told me.”

  Fang suppressed her frown. Unfortunately, that part of the story did make sense. “What’s your name?”

  “Bill Shephard. William.”

  Fang grabbed his wallet from the bag of his belongings, finding nothing but several hundred dollars in cash. “Do you always go out without ID?”

  “When I’m doing something illegal, yes.”

  “No fakes?”

  “There’s no law that says I have to carry ID.”

  Sherrie glanced in the rearview mirror. “Unless you’re driving a car. Did you walk?”

  He shrugged, wincing as the action moved his shattered hand. “I took a chance.”

  Sherrie reached into her purse then activated an app on her CIA issue phone, handing it back to Fang. “Take his photograph and fingerprints, then upload it. We’ll know who he is soon enough.”

  Fang complied, making sure to use the broken hand, then tapped the button to send the data to Leroux’s team. The phone rang a few moments later and she answered. “Hello?”

  “Fang?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Chris. We’ve got an ID on your guy. His name is Willem Du Toit. He’s got quite the record. Former South African Special Forces, went legit private military, then dropped off the radar for the most part, though he’s been linked to several mercenary groups over the past decade. The South Africans want him. When you’re done with him, we’ll hand him over to the FBI so they can arrange extradition.”

  “Okay, we’re bringing him in. Should be there shortly.” She ended the call, returning Sherrie’s phone to her purse, then smiled at her prisoner. “So, Mr. Du Toit, you’re a very popular man.”

  He frowned. “That was quick. Just who the hell do you two work for?”

  Fang smiled. “I’m a bored housewife. She’s sleeping with the boss.” She took his wounded hand and squeezed slightly. “Now, if our friend survives unscathed, you’ll be going back to South Africa. What’s the name of your contact in Mongolia?”

  He grunted. “Lady, you’re an amateur when it comes to pain where he’s concerned.”

  She squeezed harder and he cried out, his entire body tensing as every vein in his neck was revealed. “It’s not that long a drive, but my friend can take the scenic route.”

  Sherrie glanced back. “Through Michigan!”

&nb
sp; Fang eased her grip slightly. “What’s his name? You know we’re going to find out anyway, and he doesn’t need to know how.”

  He glared at her, his chest heaving as he tried to recover. She squeezed again.

  Hard.

  Another roar of agony.

  “Okay! Okay! That’s enough!”

  She let go.

  “His name is Hendrick Stander. He was my commanding officer back in the day, before we went private. But you don’t want to mess with him. He’ll kill you as soon as look at you. Your friends are probably already dead if they’re planning on interfering. There’s just too much at stake.”

  Fang’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s all I’m saying. I don’t care what you do to me. He’ll have me killed in prison. He’s too well-connected.”

  Fang sat back, regarding the man. She believed him. There’d be nothing else coming out of his mouth, but now they had a name.

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  25 |

  Kempinski Hotel Khan Palace Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

  “I don’t know how you can be working at a time like this! We’re stranded in Mongolia, and there are bad guys after us!”

  Tommy kept working, trying to ignore Mai’s pacing. “What would you have me do?”

  “I don’t know! Show me that you’re at least concerned?”

  “Of course I am, but there’s nothing we can do about it.” He sighed, tearing his attention away from the photos he had discovered in Arban’s email. “Look, you know the professors aren’t going to leave us here. Nobody knows we’re here except for them. They’ll find some way to get us out of here, but until then, we should try to remain calm, and be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” He paused, thinking of something she could do to occupy her time. “Are you all packed?”

  She pointed at their carry-ons by the door. “Within about two minutes of hearing that message.”