Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

"Kublai Khan," Pitt muttered, staring at the mausoleum of Genghis. On its granite facade, he noted an engraving of a lone wolf, whose outline figure was painted blue.

"Yes, that is the legend. Mr. Pitt, I wish to also personally thank you for exposing the corrupt activities of the Borjin family and helping put a stop to their lawlessness. I have initiated an investigation into my own government to determine the extent of the influence-peddling on their behalf. The remnants of their actions will be buried with the body of Borjin, I promise."

"I hope that Tatiana is proving to be a cooperative witness."

"Most assuredly," the president replied with a furtive grin. Tatiana, he knew, was being held at a less-than-comfortable security site. "With her help, and the continued assistance of your oil industry companions," he said, nodding toward Theresa and Wofford, "we shall be able to exploit the discovered oil reserves for the good of a new Mongolia."

"China isn't going to renege on acceding Inner Mongolia?" Gunn asked.

"It's too politically dangerous for them to do so, both internationally and within the confines of Inner Mongolia, whose occupants largely favored secession from China. No, the Chinese will be happy enough, as we've agreed to sell them oil at a favorable price. That is, until our pipeline to the Russian port of Nakhodka is completed." The president smiled and waved at the Russian ambassador, who stood a few yards away chatting with Sarghov.

"Just ensure that the oil revenues go to the people who need it most," Pitt requested.

"Indeed, we've taken a lesson from your own state of Alaska. A portion of the revenues will be distributed to every man, woman, and child in the country. The remainder will support the state's expansion of health, education, and infrastructure. Borjin has taught us that not a dime of profits will end up in the hands of an individual, I can assure you."

"That is good to know. Mr. President, I have one favor to ask of you. We discovered a plane crash in the Gobi Desert."

"My director of antiquities has already informed me. We'll be sending a research team from the National University of Mongolia right away to excavate the aircraft. The bodies of those aboard will be returned to their homes for proper burial."

"They deserve that."

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Pitt," the president said, as an aide tugged at his sleeve. He turned and started to walk away, then stopped.

"I almost forgot," he said to Pitt. "A gift from the people of Mongolia to you. I understand you have an appreciation for such objects."

He pointed down the hill to a large flatbed truck that had discreetly followed the funeral procession up the mountainside. A large covered object sat upright on the truck's bed. As Pitt and the others watched with curiosity, two workmen climbed up and pulled back the canvas covering. Underneath sat the dust-covered Rolls-Royce from Borjin's compound.

"Should make for a nice restoration project on the weekends," Wofford said, eyeing the decrepit car.

"My wife Loren will love that," Pitt replied with a devious grin.

"I'd love to meet her sometime," Theresa said.

"Next time you are in Washington. Though I take it you'll be working in Mongolia for some time to come."

"The company gave us three weeks of paid leave for our ordeal. We are both hoping to go home to rest and recuperate before Jim and I come back."

From the look she gave Giordino and the tone in her voice, it was clear that the "we" was not referring to Wofford.

"I don't suppose you could take it upon yourself to nurse a rabid old sea dog like Al back to health during that time," Pitt offered.

"I was rather counting on it," she said coyly.

Giordino, leaning on a crutch with his lower leg heavily bandaged, smiled broadly.

"Thanks, boss. I've always wanted to see the Zuider Zee."

As the friends parted company, Pitt strolled down the hill toward the flatbed truck. Gunn joined him as he approached the old Rolls.

"The Mongolian energy minister just told me that the price of oil is down another ten dollars today," he said. "The markets are finally accepting the news that the Avarga Oil Company has been put out of business for good and the destructive earthquakes are finished. Combined with the news of the oil reserves in Inner Mongolia, the experts predict that the price will soon drop to levels below those seen before the Persian Gulf disruption."

"So the oil panic has subsided and a global depression averted. Maybe the economic powers that be will finally learn the lesson and focus on developing renewable energy sources in earnest."

"They won't until they absolutely have to," Gunn said. "Incidentally, I was told that the Pentagon was none too happy that all three of von Wachter's seismic devices were completely destroyed, after the last-known device was sunk in the Persian Gulf."

"NUMA can't take responsibility for that one."

"True. It was a lucky stroke that Summer and Dirk stumbled upon Borjin's brother and the second device in Hawaii. Or he stumbled upon them. Had the ship traveled on to Valdez and damaged the Alaska Pipeline as planned, there would have been real pandemonium."

"It was the Chinese wreck Summer found. It drew them there for some reason," Pitt said. A faraway look crossed his face as he mentally searched the clues. Then his green eyes suddenly sparkled in enlightenment.

Gunn was oblivious to the mystery, focused instead on the immediate demands of his government.

"Not only were all of the seismic devices destroyed, but von Wachter's research materials as well.

Apparently, Borjin had all of the professor's data in the laboratory building, which is now a pile of charcoal. There's nothing left for anyone to be able to resurrect the technology."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I suppose not. Though I'd feel better if I knew the knowledge was in our hands and not the likes of Borjin."

"Just between you, me, and the car," Pitt said, "I happen to know that the operator's manual you lifted from the lab survived the flood and fire."

"The manual survived? It would give a big leg up to anyone trying to duplicate von Wachter's work. I hope it's secure."

"It's found a safe and permanent home."

"You sure about that?" Gunn asked.

Pitt walked to the rear of the Rolls and opened a large leather trunk mounted to the car's luggage rack.

Lying at the bottom of the musty interior was the seismic array operator's manual, with the shaft from the crossbow arrow still protruding from its cover.

Gunn let out a low whistle, then put his hands over his eyes and turned away.

"I never saw it," he said.

Pitt latched up the trunk, then casually inspected the rest of the car. Overhead, a bank of dark gray clouds began moving in rapidly from the west. The remaining mourners milling about the tomb quickly headed toward their vehicles parked below to avoid the pending deluge.

"I guess we better be on our way," Gunn said, steering Pitt toward their rented jeep down the hill. "So, it's back to Washington?"

Pitt stopped and stared at the mausoleum of Genghis Khan one last time. Then he shook his head.

"No, Rudi, you go on ahead. I'll catch up in a few days."

"You staying here a bit longer?"

"No," Pitt replied with a faraway twinkle in his eye. "I'm going to hunt a wolf."

The tropical sun beat warmly on the deck of the Mariana Explorer as she rounded the rocky lava finger of Kahakahakea Point. The NUMA ship's captain, Bill Stenseth, slowed the vessel as it entered the mouth of the now-familiar cove in Keliuli Bay. Ahead and to his left he noted a red marker buoy bobbing on the surface. Seventy feet beneath it lay the mangled remains of the Avarga Oil Company drill ship, partially buried under a pile of loose lava rock. With the depths shallowing, Stenseth took the research ship no farther, stopping engines and then dropping anchor.