Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

Pitt and Giordino looked knowingly at Corsov, then turned to Sarghov.

"Actually, we have already made alternate travel plans, Alexander," Pitt said.

"You are returning directly to the United States? I thought perhaps you would return to Siberia and collect your comrade Rudi first."

"No, we're not going to the United States, or Siberia, just yet."

"I don't understand. Where is your intended destination?"

Pitt's green eyes glimmered as he said, "A mystical place called Xanadu."

Corsov's intelligence network paid off again. Though the central government in Ulaanbaatar had taken a hard turn toward democracy after the fall of the Soviet Union, there was a sizeable communist minority opposition in the government ranks, many of whom still harbored pro-Moscow sentiments. It was a low-level analyst in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that had notified Corsov about the pending Chinese state visit. But it was Corsov who had recognized it as a golden opportunity for Pitt and Giordino.

The Chinese minister of commerce was arriving on short notice, ostensibly to tour a new solar energy plant recently opened at the edge of the capital city. Yet the bulk of the minister's time was scheduled for a private visit with the head of the Avarga Oil Consortium, at his secluded residence southeast of Ulaanbaatar.

"I can put you in the motorcade, which will get you past Borjin's front door. The rest will be up to you,"

Corsov had told Pitt and Giordino.

"No offense, but I don't see how anyone is going to buy us being part of the Chinese delegation,"

Giordino said.

"They won't have to, because you'll be part of the Mongolian state escort."

Giordino wrinkled his brow at what seemed to be a small difference.

Corsov explained that a formal reception was planned for the minister's arrival later in the day. A large welcoming escort from the Foreign Affairs Ministry would accompany the Chinese delegation for the evening. But tomorrow, when the delegation toured the solar energy plant and traveled to Avarga headquarters, only a small Mongolian security force had been requested to accompany the minister.

"So we are joining the Mongolian Secret Service?" Pitt asked.

Corsov nodded. "Ordinary officers of the National Police actually fill the roles. It took only a modest enticement to have you inserted as replacement security escorts. You will swap places with the real guards at the solar energy plant and follow the procession to Xanadu. As I told you, I would gladly use my own operatives for the assignment."

"No," Pitt replied, "we'll take the risk from here. You have gone out on a limb for us as it is."

"It is all deniable by me. And I trust you not to reveal your sources," he added with a grin.

"Cross my heart."

"Good. Now just remember to keep a low profile and see if you can prove that your abducted friends are on the premises. We can prompt the Mongolian authorities to action if we have some evidence."

"Will do. What do we owe you for the bribes?"

"That is such an ugly word," Corsov replied, a pained look crossing his face. "I am in the information business. Anything you can share with me about Avarga Oil, Mr. Borjin, and his aspirations will more than repay the pittance spent on the police escort. Which means I expect you back here for borscht tomorrow night."

"Now, there's an enticement," Giordino groaned.

"And just one more thing," Corsov added with a smile. "Try not to forget to keep the Chinese minister alive."

***

Pitt and Giordino took a cab to the solar energy facility, arriving an hour ahead of the Chinese minister's scheduled appearance. Smiling at a sleepy-eyed guard at the gate, they flashed a pair of dummy press credentials provided by Corsov and waltzed right into the facility. It was little more than a ten-acre lot peppered with dozens of flat black solar panels that supplemented the electricity produced by a large adjacent coal-burning power plant. Built by the power company as an experimental test station, it barely provided the power to light a football stadium. With more than two hundred sixty days of sunshine a year, Mongolia was rich in the essential resource needed to generate solar power, though the technology was well beyond affordability at the consumer level.

Steering clear of a hastily assembled greeting platform where a handful of state officials and power plant executives waited nervously, Pitt and Giordino concealed themselves behind a large solar panel near the entrance. Dressed in dark Chinese-tailored sport coats and sunglasses, with black woolen beret-type hats on their heads, they easily passed for local security types to those observing from a distance. They didn't have to wait long before the motorcade rolled through the gates a few minutes early and pulled up to the greeting platform.

Pitt smiled to himself at the unceremonious vehicles that made up the motorcade, a far cry from the ubiquitous black limousines found in Washington. A trio of clean but high-mileage Toyota Land Cruisers chauffeured the Chinese minister and his small cadre of assistants and security guards. The contingent was led by a Mongol security escort driving a yellow UAZ four-door jeep. Another UAZ jeep tailed the delegation, its left front fender battered by a prior traffic accident. The Russian-built UAZs, an offshoot of a military jeep, reminded Pitt of the boxy International Harvester four-wheel drives built in the U.S. back in the late 1960s.

"That's our ride," Pitt said, referring to the battered UAZ at the rear.

"I hope it's got a satellite radio and a nav system," Giordino replied.

"I just hope it's got tires that were manufactured in this century," Pitt muttered.

Pitt watched as the two men in the car casually got out and disappeared into the field of solar panels as the welcoming committee greeted the Chinese minister. With the delegation preoccupied, Pitt and Giordino moved undetected to the car and took the guards' place in the front seats.

"Here's your nav system," Pitt said, grabbing a map from the dashboard and tossing it on Giordino's lap.

He smiled when he noticed that the car didn't even have a radio.

A few yards in front of them, Commerce Minister Shinzhe was making quick order of the welcoming committee. He briskly shook hands with the plant officials, then walked off toward some solar panels to hasten the tour. In less than ten minutes, he was thanking the officials and climbing back into his car.

"He's sure got ants in his pants," Giordino said, surprised at the brevity of the tour.

"Guess he's anxious to get to Xanadu. The tour of the solar energy facility is apparently not the highlight of his visit."

Pitt and Giordino scrunched down in their seats as the motorcade looped around the facility and passed right by them on the way to the gate. Pitt then started the car and quickly caught up to the third Toyota in line.

The caravan rumbled east out of Ulaanbaatar, curving past the Bayanzurkh Nuruu Mountains. Mount Bayanzurkh, one of four holy peaks that surround Ulaanbaatar like points on a compass, capped the range. The scenic mountain peaks gradually gave way to rolling empty grasslands that stretched treeless as far as the eye could see. This was the famous Asian Steppe of historical lore, a swath of rich pasture-lands that spanned central Mongolia like a wide, green belt. Stands of the thick summer grass rippled like waves on the ocean under a stiff breeze that blew across the open range.

The lead vehicle followed an uneven paved road, which eventually turned to dirt, then transgressed into little more than a pair of ruts through the grassland. Driving at the back of the pack, Pitt was forced to navigate through a dirty haze kicked up by the other vehicles and magnified by the dust-laden winds.