Clive Cussler - The Kingdom

“Fifteen minutes,” Gupta called.

Sam and Remi shared an anticipatory smile. They’d come so far, gone through so much, and now their destination was only minutes away . . . they hoped.

Karna’s reaction was intense. Jaw clenched, fingers digging into the Nerf ball, he stared out the window with his forehead pressed against the glass.

“You okay, Jack?” Sam asked.

“Never better, mate. Almost there!”

“Approaching the outer edge of the coordinates,” Gupta announced.

Ajay had given their pilot a datum point with a two-mile diameter. The area into which they were flying was dominated by a cluster of flat-topped obelisk peaks, each one varying in height, from a few hundred feet to a thousand feet to three thousand feet. In the gorges below, the Tsangpo River twined itself around the obelisks, a churning white ribbon enclosed by sheer cliffs.

“Haven’t seen any kayakers,” Sam observed. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

Karna looked up from the map he was studying and replied, “I would be surprised if you did,” Karna replied. “You’ve seen the terrain. Only the most determined-or insane-venture here.”

“I can’t decide if that’s an insult or a compliment,” Remi whispered to Sam.

“If we make it back victorious and alive, it’s a compliment.”

Karna called to Ajay, “Ask Gupta if he can give us a better look at these peaks. If my numbers are correct, we’re right on top of the datum point.”

Ajay relayed the request. Gupta slowed the Chetak to thirty knots and began orbiting each of the obelisks in turn, adjusting his altitude so his passengers could make a closer examination. At her window, Remi had her camera shutter on rapid-fire.

“There!” Jack shouted, pointing.

A hundred yards beyond the window lay one of the medium-sized obelisks, at approximately a thousand feet high and five hundred yards wide. The vertical granite slopes were heavily laced with vines, foliage, and great swaths of moss.

“Do you see it?” Karna said, his index finger tracing along the glass. “The shape? Start at the bottom and go upward . . . Do you see where it begins to widen out and then, there, about a hundred feet below the plateau, it flares out suddenly? Tell me you see it!”

It took Sam and Remi several seconds to piece together the image, but slowly smiles spread over their faces.

“A giant mushroom,” Remi said.

TSANGPO RIVER GORGE, CHINA

After making several aborted passes because of wind shear, Gupta managed to ease the Chetak sideways over the obelisk until Karna spotted a small clearing in the jungle near the edge of the plateau. Gupta slowed to a hover and then touched down. Once the rotors had stopped spinning, the group climbed out and grabbed their gear.

“Does this remind you of anything?” Sam asked Remi.

“Absolutely.”

The plateau bore a striking resemblance to the paradise valleys they had spotted during their helicopter search of northern Nepal.

Beneath their feet was a carpet of moss, ranging in color from dark green to chartreuse. Here and there, the landscape was dotted with granite boulders speckled with lichen. Directly across from them stood a wall of thick jungle, unbroken save a few tunnel-like paths that disappeared into the growth, rough ovals that stared back at Sam and Remi like unblinking black eyes. The air seemed to buzz with the chattering of insects, and, unseen in the foliage, birds squawked. In a nearby tree a monkey hung upside down and stared at them for a few seconds before skittering off.

Jack and Ajay walked over to where Sam and Remi were standing. Karna said, “Thankfully, our search area is limited. If we split into two groups, we should be able to cover a lot of ground.”

“Agreed,” Sam said.

“One last thing,” Karna said. He knelt beside his pack and rummaged inside and came up with a pair of snub-nosed .38 revolvers. He handed one each to Sam and Remi. “I’ve got one, of course. And as for Ajay . . .”

From a holster at the rear of his waistband Ajay pulled out a Beretta semiautomatic pistol, then quickly replaced it.

“Are we expecting trouble?” Remi asked.

“We’re in China, my dear. Anything can happen: bandits, crossborder terrorist groups, the PLA . . .”

“If the Chinese Army shows up, these popguns are only going to make them mad.”

“A bridge we’ll cross if need be. Besides, we’ll likely find what we’re looking for and be back across the border before nightfall.”

Sam said, “Remi and I will head east; Jack, you and Ajay head west. We’ll meet back here in two hours. Any objections?”

There were none.

After checking their portable radios for reception, the group split up. Headlamps on and machetes in hand, Sam and Remi chose one of the paths and started in.

Ten feet inside the jungle, the light dimmed to quarter strength. Sam slashed clear some of the vines growing across their path, then they paused to take a look around, panning their lights up, down, and to both sides.

“The yearly rainfall here must be mind-boggling,” Sam said.

“A hundred ten inches. About nine feet,” Remi replied, then smiled. “I know how you love trivia. I looked it up.”

“I’m proud of you.”

A few feet over their heads, and on both sides, was a tangled mass of vines so thick they could see nothing of the forest itself.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Remi said.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Sam jabbed the tip of his machete through the canopy. With a clang, his arm jolted to a stop. “That’s stone,” he murmured.

Remi swung her machete to the left and also got a clang. The same to the right. “We’re in a man-made tunnel.”

Sam unclipped the radio from his belt and pressed the Talk button. “Jack, are you there?”

Static.

“Jack, come in.”

“I’m here, Sam. What is it?”

“Are you on a trail?”

“Just started.”

“Swing your machete off the path.”

“Okay . . .” Clang! Jack came back: “Stone walls. Fascinating development.”

“Remember your hunch about Shangri-La being a temple or monastery? Well, I think you’ve found it.”

“I think you’re right. Amazing what a millennium of unchecked jungle can do, isn’t it? Well, I don’t think this changes our plan, do you? We search the complex, then regroup in two hours.”

“Okay. See you then.”

Now aware they were inside a man-made structure, Sam and Remi began examining their surroundings for architectural telltales. Vines and roots had infiltrated every square foot of the complex. In the lead, Sam tried to swing his machete in short arcs but couldn’t avoid striking the stone walls occasionally.

They reached an alcove and stopped.

“Shut off your headlamp,” Sam said, dousing his.

Remi did. When their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, they began to see slivers of dim sunlight through the foliage-covered walls and ceiling.

“Windows and skylights,” Remi said. “This must have been an amazing sight in its day.”

Sam and Remi started climbing a set of steps and soon reached a landing where the steps doubled back and rose to a second floor. Here, through an archway, they found a large open space. A patchwork of roots and vines arced above their heads to form a vaulted ceiling. Spanning the Great Room, as they dubbed it, were what looked like six half-rotted logs. Support beams, they decided, long ago decayed, the remnants held in place by a sheath of vines. Directly opposite the ramp/stairs they’d climbed was another set, leading upward into darkness.

Headlamps panning, Sam and Remi spread out to explore the space. Along the far wall Sam found a row of stone benches jutting from the wall, and, in front of these, six rectangular slots in the stone floor.