Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

"I think it might be a good time to make an exit, before any real palace guards show up," Giordino added, escorting Theresa toward the door.

"Wait," she said. "The seismic reports. We found evidence that they may try to disrupt tectonic fault zones in the Persian Gulf and Alaska."

"This is absurd," Tatiana declared.

"No one is talking to you, sister," Giordino replied, pointing the Makarov in her direction.

"It's true," Wofford said, bending down and helping Theresa scoop up the papers that littered the floor.

"They designated the destruction of the oil pipeline at the northern end of Lake Baikal that somehow triggered the seiche wave. They've also targeted specific faults in the Persian Gulf, and one near the Alaska Pipeline as well."

"They've already struck the gulf successfully, I'm afraid," Pitt said. "The data should fill in nicely with the photos that Rudi is taking as we speak," Giordino added.

Pitt saw the quizzical looks on Theresa and Wofford's faces.

"An acoustic seismic array sits in the lab across the way. Used to trigger earthquakes, we believe, which have already created extensive damage to oil port facilities in the Persian Gulf. Your documents would appear to support the contention. We didn't know Alaska was next on the hit list."

Theresa stood up with an armload of documents when a deafeningly shrill sound pierced the hallway.

The growing blaze of burning books had finally triggered a smoke detector outside the study, its alarm echoing throughout the residence.

"We set fire to the study," Theresa explained. "Hoped to use it as a diversion for Jim and I to escape."

"Maybe we still can," Pitt replied, "but let's not wait for the fire brigade to arrive."

He quickly stepped through the open door as Theresa and Wofford followed behind. Tatiana edged toward the back wall, trying to slip behind in the mass exit. Giordino smiled at her attempt, walking over and grabbing a fistful of her sweater.

"I'm afraid you'll be leaving with us, darling. Do you care to walk or fly?" he asked, shoving her roughly toward the door. Tatiana turned and snarled at him, then begrudgingly moved through the doorway.

Outside, Pitt quickly led the group across the portico to the outlying support columns, then stopped. The sound of galloping horse hooves far to his right told him a patrol near the northern edge of the residence had heard the alarm and was charging toward the entrance. Ahead and to his left, a yelling and commotion was erupting near the stables and security quarters. Pitt could see lanterns and flashlights hurrying toward the residence, carried by guards woken by the alarm and rushing there on foot.

Pitt silently cursed that Theresa had set fire to the residence. If they had gotten away a few minutes earlier, the confusion might have played into their hands. But now the entire security force was roused and rushing toward their position. Their only option was to lay low and hope the guards surged past them.

Pitt motioned toward the rosebushes behind the columns. "Everybody get down flat. We'll wait for them to enter the house, then we'll move on," he said in a low voice.

Theresa and Wofford quickly dove to the ground and slithered behind a row of the thorny flowers.

Giordino shoved Tatiana behind a budding bush, then clasped a hand over her mouth. With his other hand, he motioned the Makarov's barrel to his lips and said, "Shhh."

Pitt kneeled down and pulled the handheld radio from his belt then held it to his lips.

"Rudi, can you hear me?" he said quietly.

"I'm all ears," came an equally hushed reply.

"We're on our way out, but there's a party starting up. We'll have to meet up on the fly, in about five or ten minutes."

"I'll wrap up and head toward the garage. Out."

Pitt hit the ground as a trio of guards from the stables approached. Running on foot, they bolted by a few feet from Pitt, barely noticing that the entry guards were nowhere in sight before rushing into the residence. Only a few dim lights were turned on near the door, leaving Pitt and the others hidden in the covering darkness.

The horse patrol was still fifty yards away. Pitt contemplated moving past the rosebushes and into the compound grounds before they got closer, then thought better of it. The horse patrol wouldn't expect anyone lying around the entrance. With luck, Theresa's fire would be raging sufficiently that they would all be pressed into fire-fighting duty.

The horse patrol, numbering eight men, had been galloping fast toward the front entry when they suddenly pulled up hard on their reins as they reached the gravel drive. An uneasy feeling came over Pitt as he watched the horsemen fan out in a large semicircle at the edge of the portico, then stop. Two of the horses snorted in uneasiness as the riders held them still. Inside the residence, the ringing alarm suddenly fell silent as four additional guards approached on foot from the opposite side and stopped short of the drive. The fire was either raging out of control, or as Pitt feared, it had been contained before it could spread.

The answer came with a blinding glare of white light. With the flick of a switch, a dozen floodlights mounted in the portico's rafters popped on in a bright burst. The light from the halogen bulbs spilled over onto the surrounding grounds. Clearly illuminated under the glare were the bodies of Pitt and the others, stretched out beneath the rosebushes.

Pitt tightened the grip on his .45 and casually took aim at the nearest horseman. The guards on foot were positioned farther away and did not appear to be armed. It was a different story with the horsemen. In addition to their lethal bows and arrows, Pitt was chagrined to see they all carried rifles, now shouldered and aimed in their direction. Though he noticed Giordino now had the Makarov aimed at a horseman as well, their odds were not at all attractive.

The gunfight became moot when a flurry of footsteps echoed from the marble foyer and four bodies burst onto the porch. The three guards who had rushed across the compound took a few steps out, then stopped and stared at Pitt and the others. Smoke and ashes blackened their bright orange tunics, but there was no panic in the men's eyes. Of more concern to Pitt were the AK-74 assault rifles they now cradled in their arms.

Busting past the gunman was the fourth man, who charged to the center of the driveway as if he owned it, which he well did. Borjin was dressed in a blue silk robe, which contrasted with his beet red face flush with anger. He glared to the side bushes, where the stripped and unconscious bodies of the door guards lie visible under the bright lights. Borjin turned to Pitt and the others with an apoplectic gaze. Then in a measured voice, he growled, "I will have retribution for this."

A wave of curiosity replaced the fear surging through Gunn's body when he entered the anechoic chamber. He had seen soundproof test chambers before, but none filled with the array of high-powered electronic gear packed into this high-ceilinged compartment. Row after row of computers and power racks lined the outer platform, reminding him of the computer-processing equipment jammed into a Trident submarine. Of greater interest was the odd appendage in the middle of the room, the three conjoined tubes that towered ten feet high. Gunn stared at the acoustic transducers, a chill running through him at the thought of Yaeger's assertion that it could create an earthquake.

The chill quickly turned to sweat as he realized the temperature in the chamber was about 100 degrees.

He was surprised to find that the equipment in the chamber was on and running, engaged in a preprogrammed test of some sort. The heat generated from the assembly of power supplies running the electronics had turned the chamber into a dry sauna. Stripping off his borrowed lab coat and black foul-weather jacket beneath, he pulled out the digital camera and climbed up onto the center platform.