handled him, they were firm but not rough. Again he wondered, who? And why?
So far, they’d made only one major mistake: while they’d bound his wrists securely with what felt like climbing rope, they’d failed to check the hut for sharp edges. In short order, he’d found four of them: the legs of his cot, each of which jutted a few inches above the mattress. The roughly cut wood was unsanded. Not exactly saw blades, but it was a place to start.
5
As advertised, Russell and Marjorie pulled into the Hyatt’s turnaround precisely at nine a.m. the next morning. Bright-eyed and smiling, the twins greeted Sam and Remi with another round of handshakes, then ushered them toward the Mercedes. The sky was a brilliant blue, the air crisp.
“Where to?” Russell asked as he put the car in gear and pulled away.
“How about the locations where Frank Alton seemed to be spending most of his time?” Remi asked.
“No problem,” replied Marjorie. “According to the e-mails he was sending Daddy, he spent part of his time in the Chobar Gorge area, about five miles southeast of here. It’s where the Bagmati River empties out of the valley.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
Sam said, “If it was your grandfather that was photographed in Lo Monthang-”
“You don’t think it was?” Russell said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Daddy thinks it was.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate. If it was your grandfather, do you have any idea why he would have been in that area?”
“Can’t think of a thing,” replied Marjorie flippantly.
“Your father didn’t seem familiar with Lewis’s work. Are either of you?”
Russell answered. “Just archaeology stuff, I suppose. We never knew him, of course. Just heard stories from Daddy.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but did it occur to you to learn what Lewis was up to? It might have helped in the search for him.”
“Daddy keeps us pretty busy,” Marjorie said. “Besides, that’s why he hires experts like you two and Mr. Alton.”
Sam and Remi exchanged glances. Like their father, the King twins seemed only marginally interested in the particulars of their grandfather’s life. Their detachment felt almost pathological.
“Where did you two go to school?” Remi asked, changing the subject.
“We didn’t,” Russell answered. “Daddy had us homeschooled by tutors.”
“What happened to your accents?”
Marjorie didn’t answer immediately. “Oh, I see what you mean. When we were about four, he sent us to live with our aunt in Connecticut. We lived there until we finished school, then moved back to Houston to work for Daddy.”
“So he wasn’t around much when you were growing up?” Sam asked.
“He’s a busy man.”
Marjorie’s reply was without a trace of rancor, as though it were perfectly normal to bundle your children off to another state for fourteen years and have them raised by tutors and relatives.
“You two ask a lot of questions,” Russell said.
“We’re curious by nature,” Sam replied. “Comes with the job.”
Sam and Remi expected little to come of their visit to Chobar Gorge, and they weren’t disappointed. Russell and Marjorie pointed out a few landmarks and offered more canned travelogue.
Back in the car, Sam and Remi asked to be taken to the next location: the city’s historical epicenter, known as Durbar Square, which was home to some fifty temples.
Predictably, this visit was as unrevealing as the first. Shadowed by the King twins, Sam and Remi walked around the square and its environs for an hour, making a show of taking pictures, checking their map, and jotting notes. Finally, shortly before noon, they asked to be taken back to the Hyatt.
“You’re done?” Russell asked. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure,” said Sam.
Marjorie said, “We’re happy to take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
“We need to do some research before we continue,” Remi said.
“We can help with that too.”
Sam put a little steel in his voice: “The hotel, please.”
Russell shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
From inside the lobby, they watched the Mercedes pull away. Sam pulled his iPhone from his pocket and checked the screen. “Message from Selma.” He listened to it, then said, “She’s dug something up on the King family.”
Back in their room, Sam put the phone on Speaker and hit Speed Dial. After thirty seconds of crackling, the line clicked open. Selma answered with, “Finally.”
“We were on a tour with the King twins.”
“Productive?”
“Only in that it reinforced our urge to get away from them,” said Sam. “What’ve you got for us?”
“First, I’ve found someone who can translate the Devanagari parchment you found at Lewis’s house.”
“Fantastic,” Remi said.
“It gets better. I think it’s the original translator-the A. Kaalrami from Princeton. Her first name is Adala. She’s almost seventy and is a professor at . . . Care to guess?”
“No,” Sam said.
“Kathmandu University.”
“Selma, you’re a miracle worker,” Remi said.
“Normally, I would agree, Mrs. Fargo, but this was dumb luck. I’m e-mailing you Professor Kaalrami’s contact info. Okay, next: after hitting dry hole after dry hole in researching the King family, I ended up calling Rube Haywood. He’s sending me information as he gets it, but what we’ve got so far is interesting. First of all, King isn’t the family’s true surname. It’s the anglicized version of the original German: Konig. And Lewis’s first name was originally Lewes.”
“Why the change?” asked Remi.
“We’re not entirely sure at this point, but what we do know is Lewis immigrated to America in 1946 and got a teaching job at Syracuse University. A couple years later, when Charles was four years old, Lewis left him and his mother and started his globe-trotting.”
“What’s next?”
“I found out what business Russell and Marjorie are handling there. One of King’s mining concerns-SRG, or Strategic Resources Group-acquired permits from the Nepalese government last year to conduct, and I quote, ‘exploratory studies related to the exploitation of industrial and precious metals.’”
“Which means what, exactly?” Remi asked. “That’s an awfully vague mission statement.”
“Intentionally vague,” Sam said.
Selma replied, “The company isn’t publicly traded, so information is hard to come by. I found two sites that are being leased by SRG. They’re to the northeast of the city.”
“A tangled web,” Remi said. “We’ve got the King twins overseeing a family mining operation in the same place and at the same time Frank disappears while looking for King’s father, who may or may not have been ghosting around the Himalayas for the past forty years. Am I forgetting anything?”
“That about covers it,” Sam said.
Selma asked, “Do you want the particulars on the SRG sites?”
“Hold on to it for now,” Sam replied. “On the surface it seems unrelated, but, with King Charlie, you never
