Clive Cussler - The Kingdom

“A what?”

“ Chalicotherium . It’s a three-toed ungulate from the Lower Pliocene era-a long-limbed horse-rhino hybrid. They died out about seven million years ago. They’re very interesting, really-”

“Remi.”

“What?”

“Maybe later.”

She smiled. “Right. Sorry.”

“How valuable?”

“I’d just be guessing, but maybe half a million dollars for a good specimen.”

Sam scanned the ramp and clearing for signs of movement but could see only one guard patrolling the area. “Something tells me they’re not so worried about people getting in as they are about people getting out.”

“After what we just saw, I’d have to agree. What’s our plan?”

“If we stay low, we’ve got a blind spot almost to the top of the ramp. We stop there, wait for the guard to pass, then sprint to that first trailer on the left and dive under. From there, it’s just a matter of finding the office.”

“Just like that, huh?”

Sam gave her a grin. “Like taking a fossil from a billionaire.” He paused. “Almost forgot. Can I borrow your camera?”

She handed it over. Sam sprinted into the middle of the pit and knelt beside the corpse. He searched the man’s clothes, then rolled him over, took a picture of his face, then sprinted back to Remi.

He said, “By morning, Hsu will have the body buried in this pit. It’s a long shot, but perhaps we can at least let his family know what happened to him.”

Remi smiled. “You’re a good man, Sam Fargo.”

They waited for the roving guard to again disappear from view, then slipped from the tunnel and ran along the pit’s wall to where it met the ramp. They turned again and followed this route to the base. Thirty seconds later they were lying on their bellies near the top.

They now had a mostly unobstructed view of the entire clearing. On either side of it were eight trailers, three in a line to the left, five in a wide crescent to the right. The curtained windows of the left-hand trailers were lit, and Sam and Remi could hear the murmur of voices coming from inside. Of the five trailers to the right, the closest three showed lights and the last two were dark. Directly ahead of where Sam and Remi lay were four warehouse-style Quonset huts; between these, the main road leaving the camp. Mounted above the door of each hut was a sodium-vapor lamp, casting the road in sickly yellow light.

“Garages for the equipment,” Remi guessed.

Sam nodded. “And if I had to put money on which one of these trailers is the office, I’d go with one of the dark ones.”

“I agree. Getting there is going to be the tricky part.”

Remi was right. They did not dare head straight for the trailers in question. All it would take was the sudden appearance of a guard or a glance out a window, and they’d be caught.

“We’ll take it slow and use the first three trailers for cover.”

“And if the office is locked?”

“A bridge we’ll cross if we have to.” Sam checked his watch. “The guard should be along anytime now.”

As predicted, twenty seconds later the guard walked around the corner of the nearest Quonset hut and headed for the trio of trailers on the left. After scanning each trailer with a flashlight, he walked across the clearing, repeated the routine with the other five, then disappeared from view.

Sam gave him twenty more seconds, then nodded at Remi. In unison, they stood up, jogged up the remainder of the ramp, then veered right for the first trailer. They stopped at its back wall and dropped down, using one of the trailer’s support pylons as cover.

“See anything?” Sam asked.

“All clear.”

They stood up and crept along the back wall to the next trailer, where they stopped again, looked and listened, before moving on. When they were stopped behind the third trailer, Sam tapped his watch and mouthed the word “guard.” Through the wall above their heads they could hear voices speaking in Chinese and the faint strains of radio music.

Sam and Remi spread themselves flat on the ground and went still. Their wait was a short one. Almost precisely on time, the guard walked into the clearing to their left and began his flashlight scan. As he drew even with their trailer, they watched, collective breath held, as the flashlight beam skimmed over the ground beneath the trailer.

The beam stopped suddenly. It tracked backward to the support pylon shielding Sam and Remi, then stopped again. They were lying side by side, their arms pressed against each other, when Sam gave Remi’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Wait. Don’t move a muscle.

After what seemed like minutes but was probably less than ten seconds, the beam moved on. The crunch of the guard’s boots on the gravel faded away. Cautiously, Sam and Remi got back to their feet and circled the trailer. Looking left and right for signs of movement, they crept around the front of the trailer and picked their way to the steps of what they hoped was the office.

Sam tried the knob. It was unlocked. They shared a relieved smile. Sam eased open the door and peeked inside. He pulled back, shook his head, and mouthed “Supplies.” They moved to the next trailer. Again, thankfully, the door was unlocked. Sam checked inside, then stuck his arm back through the door and gestured for Remi to enter. She did, and carefully swung the door shut behind her.

The back wall of the trailer was dominated by filing cabinets and storage shelves. A pair of battered gray-painted steel desks with matching chairs flanked the door.

“Time?” Remi whispered.

Sam checked his watch and nodded.

A few moments later the guard’s flashlight beam flickered through the trailer’s windows, then disappeared again.

“We’re looking for anything with detail,” Sam said. “Company names, account numbers, manifests, invoices. Anything investigators could sink their teeth into.”

Remi nodded. “We should leave everything as is,” she said. “If anything goes missing, we know who’ll get the blame.”

“And a bullet. Good point.” He checked his watch. “We’ve got three minutes.”

They began with the filing cabinets, checking each drawer, each folder and file. Remi’s camera could hold thousands of digital pictures, so she photographed anything that looked remotely important using the ambient light from outside the trailer.

As the three-minute mark approached, they stopped and went still. The guard passed by, performed his scan, and was gone again. They resumed their search. Four more times they repeated the cycle until satisfied they’d collected all they could.

“Time to go,” Sam said. “We’ll retrace our steps to the Rover and-”

Outside, an alarm began whooping.

Sam and Remi froze for a moment, then he said, “Behind the door!”

They pressed themselves flat against the wall. Outside, doors banged open, footsteps pounded on gravel, voices shouted.

Sam asked Remi, “Can you make out anything?”

She closed her eyes, listening intently. Her eyes sprung open again. “Sam, I think they found the Range Rover.”

LANGTANG VALLEY, NEPAL

Before Sam could reply, the trailer door swung open. Using his fingertips, Sam stopped the door a few inches from their faces. One of the guards stepped across the threshold, his flashlight skimming through the space. The guard stopped. Sam saw his shoulders begin to pivot, signaling a turn in their direction.

Sam hip-bumped the door closed, took a single stride forward, then lashed out with a toe kick that stuck the guard behind the knee. As he fell, Sam grabbed his collar and heaved forward, smashing the man’s forehead on the edge of the desk. He groaned and went limp. Sam pulled him backward and dragged him behind the door. He knelt down, checked the man’s pulse.