'They are known to have a minimally producing oil field in the north near the Siberian border, as well as a few exploratory wells in the Gobi. They also own exploration rights to some sizeable lands around Lake Baikal. Their only real physical asset is an oil field services yard in south Ulaanbaatar near the rail depot that's been around for years. And they recently announced commencement of mining operations at a small copper mine near Kharakhorum.'
'Nothing outlandish in any of that,' Pitt said.
'Yes, but those are only the publicly acknowledged holdings. A listing of their more intriguing assets I was able to acquire from the Ministry of Agriculture and Industry.' Corsov's eyes shifted back and forth, indicating that the minister of agriculture and industry did not actually know that Corsov had acquired the information.
'Avarga Oil Consortium has acquired oil and mineral rights to vast tracts of land throughout the country.
And more amazingly, they have acquired outright ownership of thousands of acres of former state land spreading all across the country. That is an unusual privilege in Mongolia. My sources tell me that the company paid a considerable sum to the Mongolian government for these land rights. Yet it does not appear to the eye that the company would have the resources to do so.'
'There's always a bank somewhere that's willing to loan money,' Pitt said. 'Perhaps funds were fronted by outside mining interests.'
'Yes, it is possible, though I found no evidence to that end. The funny thing is, much of the land is in regions with no known oil or mining geology. A large section courses through the Gobi Desert, for example.'
The waitress appeared and slid a plate of roast lamb in front of Corsov. The Russian stuffed a large piece of meat in his mouth, then continued talking.
'I found it interesting that the company head does not appear to have any political clout or connections, and is actually unknown to most Mongolian government officials. The deals the company made were apparently conjured up with cash, the source of which is a mystery to me. No, the company head keeps a low profile in Xanadu.'
'Xanadu?' asked Pitt.
'It's the name given to the residence, and headquarters, such as it is, of the company's chairman.
Located about two hundred fifty kilometers southeast of here. I've never seen it, but was told about it by a Yukos oil executive who was invited there for a business deal some years ago. It is supposed to be a small but opulent palace built on the design of the original summer home of the thirteenth-century Mongol emperor. Filled with antiques. There is supposedly nothing else like it in Mongolia. Oddly, I've never known any Mongolians who have been inside the place.'
'More evidence of unaccountable wealth,' Sarghov said. 'So what of our captives? Would they have been taken to the industrial site in town or to this Xanadu?'
'It is difficult to say. The trucks would easily pass unnoticed in and out of the facility here, so that would be a good starting point. Tell me, though, why were these oil workers abducted?'
'That is a good question, and one we would like to find out,' Pitt replied. 'Let's start with the industrial site. Can you get us inside for a look?'
'Of course,' Corsov replied as if insulted by the question. 'I have already surveyed the facility. It is protected by security guards; however, access should be attainable near the rail line.'
'A quick nighttime look-see around shouldn't bother anyone,' Giordino said.
'Yes, I suspected that would be your wish. You only need verify the presence of the survey team. Once we establish they are here, then we can push the Mongolian police authorities to act. Otherwise, we will be old men before anything gets done. Believe me, comrades, time can indeed stand still in Mongolia.'
'What about the woman, Tatiana. Have you any information on her?'
'Unfortunately, no. She may have traveled to Siberia under an assumed name, if the immigration authorities are to be believed. But if she is part of Avarga Oil and here in Mongolia, then we will find her.'
Corsov finished devouring his lamb and knocked back a second Chinese-brewed beer.
'Midnight tonight. Meet me at the back of the hotel and I will take you to the facility. Of course in my capacity, it is too dangerous for me to join you.' He smiled, his large teeth glistening.
'I'm afraid I must be sidelined from the cloak-and-dagger business as well,' Sarghov said, waving a bandaged wrist. 'I'll do my best to assist in any other way,' he added with disappointment.
'Not a problem, comrades,' Pitt replied. 'No sense in creating an international incident with both our countries. We'll just play the lost tourists if anything happens.'
'There should be little danger in some harmless trespassing,' Sarghov agreed.
Corsov's cheerful face suddenly turned solemn.
'There is some tragic news I must warn you about. A LUKOIL Russian oil survey team was ambushed and killed by men on horseback in the mountains north of here two days ago. Four men were brutally murdered for no apparent reason. A fifth man witnessed the murders but managed to escape undetected.
A sheepherder found him exhausted and terrified not far from the village of Eroo. When the man returned to the scene with the local police, everything was gone—bodies, trucks, survey gear—it had all vanished.
An embassy representative met him and escorted him back to Siberia, while LUKOIL officials confirmed that the rest of the survey team had gone missing.'
'Is there any link with Avarga Oil?' Giordino asked.
'Without any evidence, we just don't know. But it does seem an odd coincidence, you must agree.'
The table fell silent for a moment, then Pitt said, 'Ivan, you have told us little about the owners of Avarga Oil. Who is the face behind the company?'
'Faces, actually,' Corsov corrected. 'The company is registered to a man named Tolgoi Borjin. He is known to have a younger sister and brother, but I could not produce their names. The woman, Tatiana, may well in fact be the sister. I will attempt to find further information. Public records being what they are in Mongolia, little is known of the family publicly or even privately. State records indicate that Borjin was raised in a state commune in the Khentii province. His mother died at an early age and his father was a laborer and surveyor. As I mentioned, the family doesn't seem to have any particular political influence and are not known to have a visible presence in Ulaanbaatar's upper society. I can only repeat a rumor that the family are self-proclaimed members of the Golden Clan.'
'Deep pockets, eh?' Giordino asked.
Corsov shook his head. 'No, the Golden Clan has nothing to do with wealth. It is a reference to lineage.'
'With a name like that, there must have been some old money somewhere along the line.'
'Yes, I suppose you could say that. Old money and land. Lots of it. Nearly the entire Asian continent, as a matter of fact.'
'You're not saying ... ,' Pitt started to ask.
Corsov cut him off with a nod. 'Indeed. The history books will tell you that the Golden Clan were direct descendants of Chinggis.'
'Chinggis?' Giordino asked.
'Accomplished tactician, conqueror, and perhaps the greatest leader of the medieval age,' Pitt injected with regard. 'Better known to the world as Genghis Khan.'
-18-
Dressed in dark clothes, Pitt and Giordino left the hotel after a late dinner, making a loud show of asking the front desk where the best neighborhood bars were located. Though foreign tourists were no longer a rarity in Ulaanbaatar, Pitt knew better than to raise suspicions. Casually walking around the block, they settled into a small cafe across from the hotel's rear entrance. The cafe was crowded, but they found a corner table and nursed a pair of beers while waiting for the clock to strike twelve. A nearby throng of drunken businessmen warbled ballads in noisy unison with a red-haired barmaid who played a stringed instrument called a 'yattak.' To Pitt's amusement, it seemed as if the song never changed.
Corsov appeared promptly at midnight driving a gray Toyota sedan. He barely slowed for Pitt and Giordino to climb in, then accelerated down the street. Corsov took a circuitous route around the city, driving past the large
