“That’s right,” Private Harris agreed. “No way.”
Nina slammed the back of her Beretta against his forehead, turned him around and then shoved him ahead, sending him tumbling down into the darkness.
“I’ll kill you-!”
“Enough!” Montross yelled. “Colonel, it’s up to you. You go first, or Nina puts a bullet in your head so you can stay up here with your men.”
“You’ll kill me anyway.”
“No,” said Nina, “we’re pretty sure what’s down there will do that for us. But at least you’ll have a chance.”
“And,” Montross said, “look at it this way. Now you get to see history in the making. People have been searching for the tomb of Genghis Khan for eight hundred years, and you’re about to find it.”
Hiltmeyer grit his teeth. “All right, but if I get hit with something down there, I’m going to do my damndest to make sure I take all of you with me.”
“Or maybe,” Montross said, hefting the tablet, “along the way you’ll realize you and your boss are on the wrong side. You can’t fight us.”
Hiltmeyer shook his head. “You don’t know anything. All your abilities, and that thing you carry, you don’t even know who or what you’re fighting.”
Nina jabbed him in his side, then pushed him ahead. “Lead the way, Colonel. Genghis awaits.”
4
Forty minutes before the shooting started, before all the ensuing carnage, Caleb and Phoebe had descended into the mausoleum.
They went ahead of Orlando, Qara and Renee, with two other Chinese soldiers following at the rear making sure they didn’t turn and flee. Ahead, sixteen soldiers led the way. Chang’s team entered with four rows of four men each, equally spaced in the passageway. The air was thin, stale and brittle. Every soldier carried Type 81 assault rifles-the Chinese version of the AK-47, but with enhanced designs and better accuracy. They all had Maglites fitted onto the barrels, and when Caleb looked down the ramp he saw only the dozen-plus flashlight beams stabbing out wildly, tracing the sloping ceiling, the wide, descending steps and the pockmarked granite walls.
Remarkably free of dust, the beams were pure white energy striking here and there, illuminating faces and betraying fear in the men whose trembling hands wielded the rifles. “Shouldn’t we be worried?” Phoebe whispered, glancing right and left, trying to see in the sporadic light, looking for telltale signs of traps. Immediately she felt like she was back in that Mayan temple in Belize. Out of her element, blind.
“Not yet,” Caleb answered. “I believe we’re safe until-”
Some commotion ahead, shouting.
“A wall!” Chang yelled back.
The four flashlight beams at the front position converged into one thick laser-like spear that thrust up against a solid wall.
“Don’t touch it!” Renee yelled. “Wait for me.”
They all reached the bottom, fanning out into a larger rectangular chamber with a low ceiling. The beams darted around, highlighting cracks, a root sticking through one side.
“We must be what, a hundred feet down?” Orlando wondered.
Caleb looked back the way they had come, past the two commandos with their guns pointed down, their faces and emotions lost in shadow. Already the way behind them was gone, as if the blackness had swallowed up their trail, stealthily consuming their one route of escape. “I’ve counted seventy-two steps.”
“A little too familiar,” Phoebe said. Did Sostratus have a hand in this, too?” She saw his look. “I’m kidding. Of course I know this was built fifteen hundred years after the Pharos.”
Renee pushed between Caleb and Phoebe and approached the wall. All the beams reflecting off the pale white surface made it hard at first to see the mural painted there. Well-preserved in the darkness, the vibrant face of Genghis Khan sternly gazed at them, superimposed upon his banner of nine ox tails. In a series of four vertical columns, Mongolian script covered the right side of the wall.
“My master,” whispered Qara, from just ahead. She tried to lower herself to one knee, but a soldier hauled her back up.
“Everyone back,” Renee barked, moving ahead. “But not you, Caleb. You come up here. I believe this sort of thing is your specialty.”
Phoebe held her brother’s arm. “Be careful. We haven’t had time to study this.” Then, whispering, said, “Fake it if you have to. I’ll do the heavy work back here.”
Chang played his flashlight beam over the letters. “This is difficult. I recognize not many symbols.”
Renee grabbed Qara by the back of her neck and shoved her forward. “Read it, Darkhad. And no tricks.”
Qara stumbled weakly, hair over her face, hands tied behind her back. She squinted. As she read, a smile formed. “It says, If you have come seeking death, continue. If you have come seeking agony beyond measure, enter. If you have come seeking madness, proceed. But if you have come seeking treasure, turn back, for there is nothing here for you. Turn back, and live with the one treasure alone that never lasts.”
Chang frowned and turned around. “What treasure never lasts?”
“Life,” Phoebe said at once. “He’s talking about your life.”
Renee snorted. “Caleb? Shouldn’t you be drawing something?”
“I’ll do it,” Phoebe said, “since I saw the vision the clearest.” She stepped forward. “Orlando, can I have your iPad? I’ll show you what I’ve seen, the design of this door, and the chambers immediately beyond it.”
Orlando unslung his backpack and fished it out, turned it around and handed it to her. “All yours.”
The light from the screen stung at her eyes, but Phoebe concentrated, then moved closer to the door and sat, crossing her legs.
“Hurry,” Renee said.
“If you want us all dead, I will.”
Renee played her light along the edges of the slab, dancing over Temujin’s face and banner, looking for seals or handles. “No stalling. Get this door open or I’ll have my men blast it apart.”
Orlando cleared his throat. “You can’t rush this kind of thing.”
Caleb fidgeted, feeling useless. “Not unless you like pain and agony and madness. And all the other stuff he talks about on that wall.”
“Yes,” urged Qara. “By all means, blast it open.”
“Shut up.” Renee glanced back up at the darkness behind them, as if expecting it to release a surge of armored warriors.
She headed into the shadows and spoke into the transceiver attached to her shoulder, attempting to communicate with the team outside. When no response came, her face fell and she gave up the effort.
Phoebe called up the images she had seen, flashes of workers toiling with the creation of diabolical traps, of masons crafting elaborate sliding walls and interlocking shafts, holes bored through the earth and fitted with gears, levers, pulleys and springs. Finally, she withdrew from those sights and instead focused on the structure of the passageways, viewing a general layout.
And then she started sketching. The men milled about quietly, breathing shallowly, some of them extinguishing their lights to save the batteries.
“Here,” Phoebe said, standing again. Chang moved in first to get a look while Orlando and Caleb tried to peek around them. She showed them the design.
“It’s a little crude, since I wasn’t allowed much time, but here’s the door, and beyond it you’ve got a double T-shaped area, with a small chamber almost immediately to the left and right beyond this door. And then a short distance ahead, the passage ends in a wall where you can go right or left. Long passageways extend both ways, with a sizeable chamber at the end of each hall.”
She pointed to the first intersection, then glanced at Qara to see her reaction, but her face was cloaked in
