David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

Phoebe tugged Caleb’s arm. “I don’t know about your visions, but I don’t think I got enough. I’m not sure-”

“Talk,” Renee interrupted.

Caleb turned to her. “Tell us what you want. Who are you?”

“You’re in no position to ask questions.”

Caleb clenched his teeth. “Listen, I know you’ve done your homework on me, just like you gathered intel on Montross. So you know what I’ve done to protect the Emerald Tablet, what I’ve sacrificed. You must know that I’m not going to let those keys fall into the wrong hands, and as much as I like that crazy kid out there, if it’s a choice between his fingers and the fate of the world, then I’ll live with the guilt.”

“Will you?”

Caleb never even blinked. “And if you kill him, I’ll apologize to his mom and leave flowers on his grave on his birthday. But that will be after I kill you.”

Renee smiled. “Now I know you’re bluffing. You’re not a killer. Prefer to let other people-or better yet, ancient booby traps-do that kind of thing for you.”

Phoebe stepped forward. “Why the game, bitch?” One more foot, then she froze as the two agents pointed their AK-47s at her. She held up her hands and backed up. “Okay, okay. Why all this ruse, posing as an agent?”

“I am an FBI agent,” Renee said. “It’s just not my main job.”

“A cover,” Caleb said. “For what?”

Renee ignored him and stared at Phoebe. “You may not care enough about Orlando Natch, but I’m guessing you might want your sister around a little longer.” She spoke over her shoulder. “Shoot her.”

The guards cocked the weapons, stepped forward, aimed And then Caleb stepped in front of Phoebe. “All right! All right. You want to know what we saw?”

Renee motioned with her hands and the armed agents stepped back. “Every detail.”

The cold fire of the pliers withdrew and Orlando wiggled his little pinky. Still there, whew! The pressure let up on his neck, and for a second he had his chance and as if on cue, feeling his limbs move as if on their own, he struck.

He leaned back, then swung sideways, threw his elbow around, taking the closer agent squarely in the jaw. He heard a crunch, then drew up his knees and kicked forward, just as the driver’s face appeared around the front seat and slammed his boots into his nose, cracking the sunglasses at the same time.

Swinging his legs around again, he hoped for one more bit of luck and a chance to drop kick the first agent, but instead a fist rocked his temple, then the butt of a gun struck the back of his skull, and the world went dim — but not dark. Instead, there was a spark, a fizzling brilliance

…

… a lighter struck and a flame brought to a cigarette.

I’ve seen this before, he thought. Only hours before and now seeing it again, from a new angle, as if the first one wasn’t clear enough…

… Renee, younger-a teen perhaps-kneeling below a man who lights a cigarette. A grey-haired, bespectacled man with similar eyes of cold slate. And a ring, which Renee kisses as she bows her head. A golden ring with an inset gem of black onyx, with a symbol of a lance cleaving a dragon.

Renee stands, pushes back her hair and unbuttons her shirt, halfway down, revealing the orbs of her breasts straining against a tight black bra, between which a necklace settles, placed there by the old man.

On the necklace’s charm, the same image of a lance and the dragon.

“ You are one of us now,” he whispers, and cheers rise up from the room. Others step out from the shadows. Robed, hooded. Not clear if they’re men or women. Wine is passed, shared. Music springs from somewhere. Haunting, wild. Primal.

Hands reach out for Renee, nudging her forward. They peel off her shirt. Her bra slips away. She steps out of her skirt, kicks off her shoes and follows where her brothers and sisters lead her.

Toward an altar. A ram’s head seemingly floats in the darkness above the marble slab, then moves forward, revealing a golden mask worn by another robed man, one who sheds his robe. He is naked, aroused. He pulls Renee to him, lays her on the altar, dutifully kisses her necklace, and then falls upon her as the congregation moves in to observe.

In the back, the well-dressed man lowers his head. He speaks to another member, the only other robed figure not at the altar.

“ This one will serve us well.”

The older man nods, his eyes sparkling.

“Underground,” Phoebe said after Caleb nodded for her to speak. “His tomb is underground somewhere. I saw them building a huge mausoleum under the earth, and then concealing the entrance. But I couldn’t tell where.”

Renee switched her aim on her weapon, pointing it now at her left eye. “If that’s all you saw, let’s hope your brother’s the better psychic.”

Caleb considered lunging, then thought better of it, seeing both men, nearly the size of sumo wrestlers, with automatic weapons trained on him. How did he not think this through, cover the bases, and insist they check Renee out when he’d had time?

It was the same mistake he had made with George Waxman, trusting someone without doing the proper background checks, the kind only someone like Caleb was suited to perform. If only he hadn’t lost his sight.

And now this snake in their midst had used them to get this far, and for all he knew, despite what she’d said, she might be working with Montross, keeping tabs on Caleb, having him work the Khan’s tomb from another angle.

“Warriors!” Phoebe blurted out, and her eyes made contact, just briefly with Caleb’s, but it was enough-a steadying of her fright, the widening of her lids just enough as he saw her. A look that said trust me.

“What warriors?” Renee asked.

“Lots of them. I saw an army under the ground, Asian soldiers. They were made of plaster, or-”

“Terra cotta?” Renee whispered. “Impossible. You must have had your vision mixed up with something else.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Phoebe said. “I just saw Genghis-Temujin-giving the command to hide his body, his tomb, inside of this other mausoleum that was already there.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere in China. Um… where one of the first emperors was buried or something. And he had this huge layout underground, with lots of traps and things.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Of course there’s got to be traps. But anyway, Genghis told them to bury him inside with this other dead ruler, since it was conveniently already there, and no one would think to look in someone else’s place.”

Caleb knew she was bluffing. He didn’t need a vision to understand that. Temujin would never defile another ruler’s rest, or share his own. But maybe what Phoebe had seen was close enough to make her lie convincing.

Renee took a step back, stroking her chin. She turned to the nearest agent, spoke something in Mandarin, nothing that Caleb could make out. “Emperor Qin Shi Huang. In Xian. An

archaeological team is currently excavating the site. They found the terra cotta army back in 1998.”

Caleb met his sister’s look, and dared flash her a blink of a hope. But then two gunshots tore through the moment and Phoebe screamed.

Orlando’s eyes lost focus and then tracked back to something that didn’t make sense. A strange red splatter formation down the front of his World of Warcraft shirt.

I’ve been shot, he thought. Those bastards did it, shot a handcuffed prisoner. He blinked, astounded at the lack of pain, sure they’d hit his spine. Paralyzed. Well, at least that’s the way to go.

His eyes blurred, then focused again when he heard a scream and a loud pop! Again something warm splashed on him, on his neck, the right side of his face, with what felt like tiny pebbles. Why can I feel that?