by Fritz Galt
Liang and Yu entered the Business Class section of the jumbo jet. Before they even found their seats, he saw flight attendants pull the doors shut and prepare the plane to push back.
He found their row. He didn’t want the old man wandering the aisles, so he gave him the window.
But the view back in the terminal was astonishing. A group of police descended on the gate attendant, who flapped her arms like she was about to take off. She pointed to the airplane that was pulling away.
He let out a laugh. It was like watching a French comedy.
“Drink, sir?” a flight attendant asked as he fastened his seatbelt.
Sure, he could use a glass of champagne.
Chapter 31
The pipe organ offered a final flourish in the sanctuary of the cathedral. Brad was happy to be above the mix of police, tourists, and wedding guests. From the belfry, he and May could watch the river salvage operation with detachment.
Suddenly, he heard a popular Chinese love song.
May reached in her pants pocket for her cell phone. “Wei?”
A moment later, she handed it to him. “Your father.”
“Hi, Dad. Where are ya? I looked for you at the symposium.”
“I was there.”
Brad tried to remember. He had scanned the room where the symposium was held and had seen nobody matching his father’s description, in disguise or otherwise.
“You may have noticed a monk in orange robes,” Sullivan offered.
“That was you? So what did you make of the murder?”
“Liang shot my old contact from Berlin.”
“What contact?”
“A Professor Hans Fried. Listen carefully. This may sound bizarre, but Shangri-la does exist.”
“Sure. Right.”
“Fried confirmed it. He has been living there since 1961.”
“And I’ve been living on the moon.”
“Why do you think Liang shot him?”
He shrugged. “Maybe he has a problem with people spreading rumors.”
“It was no rumor. Liang shot him for the document.”
“What document?”
“Professor Fried delivered a document containing the rules by which one can enter Shangri-la. Fried called it the Shangri-la Code. May’s father will be the next ruler of it, and it appears that he is the only one who knows how to get there.”
He looked at May. She was no daughter of a Tibetan ruler. “You’re joking. There is no Shangri-la.”
“Try this. I wrote down some notes.”
He went on to read about a code to be followed and the reasons for its secrecy. The kalika, or ruler of the land, could not partake of the rejuvenating waters and must return to society to pass on the code to the next kalika. And then there were some vague directions for finding Shangri-la.
“Do you expect me to believe this? It sounds like second-rate pulp fiction.”
“There’s more. You can get there if you know the directions and if you know the legend of Shambhala. Dr. Yu knows both. Furthermore, the document swears everyone to secrecy. Nobody but the kalika can know about Shangri-la. Do you know what kind of stampede that would create if everyone knew?”
“Dad, you’re freaking me out. Didn’t you hear Yu’s speech?”
“You can toss all that out the window. Even May’s dad believed the document. We have to prevent Liang from exploiting all this. After I was briefly detained, I went straight to the embassy to send the French Police after Liang.”
“But they’re after us.”
“I know. I’m still working on that. Jade tracked Liang down at Le Bourget where he and Yu were trying to make their escape. She forced them to abandon their plan, and Liang ended up at de Gaulle.”
“Did the police get them?”
Sullivan hesitated. “Well, there was a small glitch. The police weren’t looking for Liang at that point. They were looking for you.”
“So Liang and Yu slipped through their fingers?”
“They’re on a flight to Shanghai right now.”
May was watching him intently. Her fine eyelashes were matted with tears and her pointed chin trembled.
He tossed her a confident look. “Well, uh,” he returned to his father. “What are the French doing about it?”
“The police considered calling the airliner back, then decided not to interfere with the flight. They forwarded the information to the Chinese to apprehend him upon his arrival.”
“But the Chinese won’t haul Liang in.” After all Liang was President Qian’s sole heir. If anyone laid a finger on the guy, they might face execution.
“We’re on the phone to Beijing right now. Wait. I think Robert has something. Hold on.”
Brad waited. The scene below was turning more orderly. Wedding guests lined up between the church and stretch limo.
While he waited, he noticed May giving the limousine a strange look. It seemed like a look of deep yearning, even envy.
“We’ll get married soon,” he assured her. “Our turn is next.”
“I want my baba to be there.”
“We will go to where your father is.”
“Where is that?” she cried, facing him with tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks.
“On his way to China,” he said, almost apologetically.
“Qian will not stop Liang,” she said with conviction. And she was one to know. A frequent guest of President Qian, she had grown as close as an adopted daughter. She knew the man’s heart. He had no heart to destroy his grandson. She repeated the phrase famously uttered by the British commander at the battle of Tsingtao harbor, “Blood is thicker than water.”
“There’s more,” Brad went on, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “Liang and your father are going to Shangri-la.”
“To Shangri-la? All people know that is fiction.”
“Not your father. He and Liang have a document that swears everybody to secrecy and reveals Shangri-la’s location.”
May stared at him in the shadow of the cathedral’s enormous bells. Conflicting emotions crossed her face.
“Listen,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Just remember that nobody should know about Shangri-la. Nobody. Do you understand?”
She nodded, a look of incredulity on her face. It was clear that she thought he and his dad were nuts, but would play along.
He turned from his stunned fiancée back to the phone where Sullivan was coming back on the line.
“We received word from the Chinese,” Sullivan said, a note of victory in his voice. “They will detain Liang upon arrival.”
“That’s a relief.” He lifted his eyes to the sky. The late afternoon sun was shining in his face and reflected off the river and the slate roofs of the city. There was a glimmer of hope.
Then his mind turned back to that gloomy room behind the podium. “But Dad, I can tell you, there is no Shangri-la.”
“Okay, don’t worry about that part. Just forget I mentioned it, and don’t mention it to anybody. Let’s just concentrate on Liang.”
May was eyeing him dubiously and mouthed the words, “There is no Shangri-la.”
He covered the phone. “Under no circumstances will you mention it, okay?”
She nodded obediently.
He couldn’t believe that he was playing along with this. But the mere fact that people were killing and kidnapping over it made it pretty serious.
The whole concept of Shangri-la went against his instincts and his findings. But all that mattered for the moment was that Liang thought it existed and he needed Dr. Yu to get there.
“As for me,” Sullivan said. “I need to head back to Virginia where I can track events better. I’m getting curious about this Shangri-la and want to do more research.”
“That’s all well and good for you, Dad. But how about us? The police are swarming all over the place.”
“Where are you?”
Just then, the fourteen-ton bell behind Brad began to swing toward him. He ducked befo
re it knocked him out of the church. A giant dong reverberated in his ears as the half-ton clapper struck the bell.
Then the rest of the bells began to clang.
“We’re at Notre Dame,” he shouted into the phone.
“Is this your wedding?”
“No. How did you know we were getting married?”
His father’s voice was masked by more wedding peals. “…but you need to get out of Paris.”
“How?”
Another snatch from his father. “…a cab out to Le Bourget.”
“Le Bourget?” he yelled. “Why there?”
More bells.
“…and Earl,” came Sullivan’s distant voice.
“Jade and Earl?”
“Come on,” May was saying. She grabbed his hand.
“Gotta go, Dad.”
Together they ducked under the big bell. It took timing and daring to dash through the other bells. But they reached the staircase safely, if deaf.
Where was she taking him? If they weren’t careful, they would run straight into the police. But she was a force of nature that one couldn’t deter. All he could do was hold on tight and follow her down the steps.
They reached ground level just as the bride and groom emerged from the center aisle of the cathedral. The bride looked like a princess with a veil attached to a flowing train and a joyful, incredulous look on her face. The groom was a puffed-up prince in his lavender tuxedo.
But May didn’t stop to admire them. Instead, she broke through the rank of onlookers who stood a respectful distance away and crossed the stone floor to the bride.
“What in the world are you doing?” he whispered, still in tow. All they needed was more attention.
“Trust me,” she said. “I am doing this.”
What in the world?
The wedding couple saw them approaching, and the bride paused with a confused smile.
“I will take that,” May said, and grabbed the pink and white bouquet from her hands.
The young woman looked at her newlywed husband for help.
“Madame!” he said, and boldly stepped in front of his bride. May met him in the jaw with her fist. He reeled back and clutched his face in anguish.
Okay, Brad couldn’t exactly condone such behavior.
She rose from her sucker punch and whipped the veil off the bride. It got caught in a tangle of hairpins, and she had to tear it off. Finally, it came free. The bride screeched and clawed after it, but May put it and the train over her head.
“Take these,” she told Brad and thrust the flowers in his hands. She peered out determinedly through the veil and said, “Let us go.”
He was jerked after her.
Cheers rose outside. He and his barefoot bride were pelted with rice. A gauntlet of tourists and wedding guests clapped as they dashed at full speed across the square to the limo.
By the time they reached it, he was overwhelmed with joy. He and his girl were getting married. If that was what she had in mind, it would do. Grinning broadly, he threw the flowers over his head.
Young women fell in behind them, cheering madly and grabbing for the bouquet. They didn’t see the incensed bride pull up her dress and storm out of the cathedral.
“Sit down, big boy.”
May was already in the back of the limo. He gave a final wave to the crowd, among whom were several unimpressed policemen.
He felt a tug from behind and fell into the car. “Oops. Gotta go.”
May was already shouting at the chauffeur. “Add oil.”
The car peeled away just as Brad pulled the door shut.
They rumbled over cobblestones toward an aristocratic neighborhood on the Right Bank. He pivoted to look at his bride. What had possessed her to do such a thing?
She let out what sounded like a giggle. Or was it a sob?
He couldn’t see well enough through the veil, so he drew it back. Underneath, her eyes beamed and her luscious lips were drawn in a broad smile.
“Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid,” she scoffed.
“Well, I…”
“This is Esmeralda and Quasimodo.”
“That’s right. You look more like Esmeralda.”
She smiled brightly.
“Which…makes me Quasimodo.”
“I was married earlier this week,” she confided.
“What? You married someone else?”
She reached out for him and pulled him by the neck deep into the long leather seat. He gave in to her caressing hands and mesmerizing eyes. He homed in on her lips as he leaned into the puffy silk. But he paused just short of kissing her.
“Who else did you marry?”
She smiled shamelessly. “Some French guy.”
What could he say? She was a gal who liked weddings.
The chauffeur looked back and asked for instructions.
“Le Bourget,” Brad said. “And close the partition.”
The man nodded and May sent him plunging into the chiffon and against her lips.
Chapter 32
Touring downtown Paris in a stretch limousine was far superior to seeing it from the back of a delivery truck, but Brad had little chance to take in the sights.
He missed all the famous landmarks and barely saw the city’s northern boroughs. Instead, the trip to Le Bourget was one happy, loving romp with a bride who couldn’t keep her hands off him.
Before he knew it, they were entering the damaged front gate of the airport. He raised his head briefly for another glimpse of the non-commercial landing field. It looked nothing like two days before.
He was trying to crawl off May when the door jerked open.
“Well hello, lover boy.”
It was Earl.
“Skeeter, could you please close the door?” He needed a moment to button a few things up.
“Naw. We gotta bust out of here.”
The moment of bliss had ended. He gave May a few seconds to tidy up, then backed off her. That gave his friend a view of the bride.
“Holy Blessed Virgin,” Earl said. “Let’s see the ring.”
“No ring.” She showed him her bare finger. “Only when we are truly in marriage.”
“So,” Earl tried to sum up. “This was a dress rehearsal?”
“Something like that.” Brad brushed past him. It was nice while it lasted.
“Okey-dokey. It kinda looked like you two got married behind my back.”
Brad handed him the bouquet.
May stepped out of the car. “Where’s Jade?”
Earl pointed at one of the airport buildings tucked behind the control tower. “She’s filing a flight plan to China.”
Brad checked the tarmac and hangars for some sort of long haul aircraft. There was only a handful of prop planes. “How are we gonna get there?”
Just then, a pair of turbine engines droned behind a nearby building. Within seconds, a low-slung business jet with sweptback wings and a Chinese flag on its tail eased into view.
“A Citation Ten,” May cried.
She sounded as excited as he had been when he discovered his first primitive human skull. But he was also aware of a siren wailing near the front gate. “We’ll take it.” He waved his hands at the airplane.
There was no way to climb aboard before the police arrived. They were cornered like rats, just minutes from escaping. “Can’t they just leave us alone?”
But May had already sprung into action. She yanked the veil and train off her head and pulled the chauffeur out of his seat. Then she climbed in and gunned the engine to life. Within seconds, she was aiming the long limousine straight for the gate, which flashed with the lights of the approaching police.
He heard Jade’s plane draw up just behind him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off May.
The limo approached the gate just as it began to slide open. An abrupt turn of the front wheels and the limo skidded sideways into the narrow opening. There was a sickening series of collisions of metal against metal as the speeding squad cars
rear-ended each other on the other side.
Her engine gave out with a final burst of steam, through which he could see her white figure emerge and begin to run.
She had survived!
Behind him, Jade had lowered air stairs for the passengers to climb aboard. He waited for May before boarding. Beyond her, police officers were scrambling over the limousine to get to the airfield.
Out of breath, May shot past him to the stairs. He followed just as the turbines revved up. Earl pulled the cord after them and slammed the door shut with a confidence-inspiring click.
The plane turned away from the scene on the tarmac. A team of armed, uniformed police approached the chauffeur and bombarded him with questions. The chauffeur threw his hands up in self-defense.
Then, glancing over his shoulder at Brad pressed up against the cabin window, the chauffeur threw him a broad smile and gave him a thumbs up.
Moments later, they lifted off, and he saw the capital of France basking in the final rays of sunlight. In the city, he had seen the full range of human emotion and every stage of human life, from marriage to murder. He had seen the greedy faces of generals at weapons displays. He had dined with the Rothschilds and conversed with ambassadors and swamis.
All in all, it had been a marvelous trip.
Then with the luxury of time, he began to dwell on his father’s words, “Shangri-la does exist.”
He had never allowed for that possibility. He had just spent the past few months trying to explain Shangri-la as a myth. Somewhere along the line, his scientific objectivity had deserted him.
From the airplane’s cabin with its walnut finish and satin bronze fixtures, its entertainment system with individual monitors, and built-in bar and leather-top executive tables, he watched their ascent between puffy castles of clouds. Soon enough they would have to ask themselves where this Shangri-la was. But for the moment, his thoughts were consumed with what Shangri-la was.
Was it a different dimension with no connection to the here and now? Was it a peaceful valley like that in Lost Horizon? Was it whirring with Buddhist prayer wheels and fluttering with colorful flags? What language did the inhabitants speak? And could it beat a week in Vegas?
It finally dawned on him as they banked east toward the Orient that he would soon find out.
