But Wizard wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes were glazed, staring off into infinity.
He turned. “Tank. Who else knows about this?”
Tank shrugged. “Only us. And, I guess, anyone else who has seen this inscription. We know of the tablet in Tibet, but you say it was only partial. Where did it end up?”
“The Chinese Cultural Relics Bureau claimed ownership of it and took it back to Beijing. It hasn’t been seen since.”
Tank scanned Wizard’s frowning face. “Do you think the Chinese authorities have found the other pieces of the cracked tablet and put it back together? You think they already know about this?”
Wizard stood suddenly.
“How many gunboats did you say are coming up this river gorge?”
“Nine.”
“Nine. You don’t send nine gunboats on a routine patrol or a shakedown. The Chinese know, and they’re coming for us now. And if they know about this, then they know about the Capstone. Damn! I have to warn Jack and Lily.”
He hurriedly pulled a book from his backpack. Oddly, it wasn’t a reference book of any kind, but rather a well-known paperback novel. He began flipping pages and writing numbers down in his notebook.
When he was done, he grabbed his radio and called up to their boat top-side.
“Chow! Quickly, take this message down and post it immediately on the notice board.”
Wizard then relayed a long series of numbers to Chow. “Okay, that’s it, go! Upload it now—now, now, now!”
A hundred feet above Wizard, a battered old river barge bobbed among the half-submerged huts of the ancient mountain village. It lay at anchor alongside the stone hut that gave entry to the underground chamber.
Inside its main cabin, an eager grad student named Chow Ling hurriedly tapped out Wizard’s code, posting it on—of all things—a website devoted to the Lord of the Rings movies.
When he was done, he called Wizard on the radio. “Code has been sent, Professor.”
Wizard’s voice came through Chow’s headset:“Thank you, Chow. Good work. Now I want you to forward every image that I’ve sent up to you to Jack West via email. Then delete them all from your hard drive.”
“Delete them?” Chow said in disbelief.
“Yes, all of them. Every last image. As much as you can before our Chinese friends arrive.”
Chow worked fast, tapping keys feverishly, forwarding and then deleting Wizard’s incredible images.
As he tapped away on his computer, he never saw the first People’s Liberation Army gunboat glide by behind him, cruising down the submerged street of the village.
A harsh voice over a loud-hailer made him jerk up:“Eh! Zou chu lai dao jia ban shang! Wo yao kan de dao ni. Ba shou ju zhe gao gao de!”
Translation: “Hey! Come out onto the deck! Remain in plain sight! Hold your hands up high!”
Deleting a final image, Chow did as he was told, kicked back from his desk, and stepped out onto the open foredeck of his barge.
The lead gunboat towered above him. It was a modern one, fast, with camouflaged flanks and a huge forward gun.
Chinese soldiers with American-made Colt Commando assault rifles lined its deck, their short-barreled guns pointed at Chow.
That they held modern American weapons was a bad sign: it meant that these soldiers were elite troops, special forces. Ordinary Chinese infantrymen carried clunky old Type 56 assault rifles—the Chinese rip-off of the AK-47.
These guys weren’t ordinary.
Chow raised his hands—a bare second before someone fired and the entire front half of his body exploded with bloody holes and he was hurled backward with violent force.
Wizard keyed his radio mike.
“Chow? Chow, are you there?”
There was no reply.
Then, abruptly, the harness that until now had hung suspended from the well hole in the ceiling went whizzing back up into the hole like a spooked snake, hauled up by someone above.
“Chow!” Wizard called into his radio. “What are you—”
Moments later, the harness came back into view…
…with Chow on it.
Wizard’s blood turned to ice.
“Oh, dear me, no…” He rushed forward.
Almost unrecognizable from the many bullet wounds, Chow’s body came level with Wizard.
As if on cue, the radio suddenly came to life.
