Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

"That explains your knowledge of our arrival," Pitt said.

"But why the attempt on your lives?"

Pitt briefly explained their visit and escape from Borjin's compound while in search of the missing oil survey team. "This man was likely an employee of Borjin."

"Then he is not a monk?"

"I would say that was not his primary calling."

"He was indeed ignorant of many of our customs," the lama said. His face burrowing, he added, "A killing at the monastery, I fear, may cause us great trouble with the state authorities."

"His death was in fact an accident. Report it as such."

"We can certainly do without a state inquisition," Giordino muttered.

"Yes," the lama agreed, "if that is the truth, then it will be reported as an accident. After you have departed." The lama had the other two monks wrap the body in a blanket and move it to the temple.

"I regret your lives were placed in peril while visiting our enclave," he said.

"We regret attracting such trouble to your monastery," Pitt replied.

"May the rest of your stay be enjoyed in peace," the lama said, then he drifted off to the temple, where a brief prayer was held for the dead intruder.

"Nice bit of detective work," Giordino said, closing the door and bracing the damaged cot behind it.

"How did you know there was a phony monk in the deck?"

"Just a hunch. He didn't seem to have the ascetic air of the other devout monks, plus he kept looking us over at dinner like he knew who we were. It didn't seem a stretch that Borjin would still have someone on the prowl for us, even someone disguised as a monk."

"I hope he didn't bring any friends with him. I guess that means I owe you now," Giordino said.

"Owe me what?"

"Shovel duty for the rest of the night," he said, sliding the dented spade under his cot before burrowing under the covers.

***

The supply truck arrived late the next morning, offloading several crates of vegetables and dry goods into the storeroom. After helping unload the truck, the monks congregated in the temple for a period of meditation. The lama lagged behind, chatting with the truck driver as Pitt and Giordino prepared to depart.

"The driver welcomes your company in the cab. He says it will be a five-hour trip to Ulaanbaatar."

"Our sincere thanks for your hospitality," Pitt said. He gazed toward the temple, where the wrapped body of the assassin lay on a bench. "Has anyone come looking for your other visitor?"

"No," the lama said, shaking his head. "He will be cremated in four days, but his ashes will not remain in the compound. He did not carry the spirit of Sakyamuni in his heart," he said, referring to the historical Buddha. The old lama turned back toward Pitt and Giordino. "My heart tells me that you are men of honor. Travel in wisdom and strength of spirit and you shall find what you seek."

The lama bowed deeply, and Pitt and Giordino returned the gesture before climbing into the truck. The driver, an old Mongolian with several missing front teeth, smiled broadly, then started the truck and drove slowly out of the compound. The lama stood motionless, his head down, until the truck was out of sight, its settled trail of dust coating the old man's robe and sandals.

Pitt and Giordino sat silently as the truck bounced over the desert, both reflecting the parting words of the lama. It seemed as if the wizened old man knew what they were after, and had given them the green light.

"We have to go back," Pitt finally muttered.

"To Xanadu?" Giordino asked.

"To Xanadu."

The blue-spotted grouper cast a steely eye at the large figure swimming toward him. It moved too slowly to be a shark, and the neon-blue skin was too dazzling to be a dolphin. And it propelled itself in an odd manner by yellow appendages where the tail should be. Deciding the figure was neither friend nor foe, the grouper eased out of the way and headed for another section of the reef to scour for food.

Summer Pitt paid scant attention to the big fish as it darted into the blue murk. Her focus was on a yellow nylon line stretched across the seafloor that she followed like a marked trail. Her lithe body moved gracefully through the water at a steady pace, skimming just a foot or two above the gnarled heads of the coral reef. A digital video camera was clasped in her hands, capturing the colorful images of the reef on either side of the yellow line.

Summer was documenting the reef as part of a NUMA project assessing the health of coral reefs in the Hawaiian Islands. Sedimentation, overfishing, and algae outbreaks due to pollution and global warming had wreaked a slow and steady degradation of coral reefs around the world. Though the reefs of Hawaii had mostly been spared, there was no guarantee they would not succumb to the severe bleaching and mass mortality that had been witnessed in reefs surrounding Australia, Okinawa, and Micronesia. By monitoring the health of the reefs, the influence of man-made activities could be detected and addressed proactively.

The methodology was remarkably simple. Video frames from a surveyed reef were compared with sample images taken months or years earlier at the same locale. A count of the fish and "benthic," or seafloor, organisms provided a scientific snapshot of the reef's relative health. Dozens of reefs around the islands were targeted by the NUMA project to provide an assessment of the entire region's waters.

Summer kicked lazily along the track line until reaching the end point in a sand gully, marked by a stainless steel pin driven into the seafloor. A plastic card marked in grease pen was attached to the pin.

Summer reached down and turned the card toward the camera, filming the designated line and waypoint before turning the camera off. As she let go of the placard, something in a nearby burrow of sand caught her eye. Kicking her yellow fins in short scissors kicks, she glided over to a cluster of small rocks. A small octopus was sliding about the rocks, puffing its body up and down as it drew water through its gills.

Summer watched the intelligent invertebrate as it changed color, turning nearly translucent as it expanded its mantle before squirming away toward the reef. Gazing back at the rocks, she noticed a small round object protruding from the nearby sand. A miniature face seemed to smile up at Summer, as if happy to be discovered. Summer fanned away a light layer of sand, then plucked up the object and held it in front of her mask.

It was a tiny porcelain figurine of a maiden, wearing a flowing red robe, her black hair rolled high in a bun. The statuette's plump cheeks were tinged with red like a cherub while the narrow eyes were unmistakably Asian. The artistic handiwork was somewhat crude, and there was an ancient look to the dress and pose. Just to assure herself, Summer flipped the figurine over, but found no made in Hong Kong stamp on the bottom. Sifting her free hand through the soft sand, she found no other buried objects nearby.

A few yards away, the silvery air bubbles from another diver caught her attention. It was a man, kneeling on the edge of the reef taking a sediment sample. Summer swam over and hovered in front of the other diver, then held up the porcelain figure.

The bright green eyes of her brother Dirk glistened in curiosity as he studied the object. Lean and tall like the father he shared names with, Dirk secured the sediment sample in a dive bag, then stretched out his legs and motioned for Summer to show him where she found it. She led him away from the reef and across the sandbar to the gravelly patch where she had spotted the smiling face. Dirk pulled alongside, and the two of them swam in a wide circle around the sandbar, gliding a few feet off the bottom. The undulating field of sand abruptly ended in a gnarled bed of lava as they circled toward the shore. Moving away from the shoreline, the sand bed dropped away in a steep incline that didn't reach bottom for another fifteen thousand feet. A small patch of coral appeared in the middle of the sand field, which Dirk swam down to examine.