David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

“I saw water,” Alexander said, closing his eyes and focusing again. “Water, or something like it. Shiny, like silver. And a boat filled with people. And my Dad!”

He took off running in that direction, but didn’t get far. Nina was on him in a flash, collaring him and holding him still. “Don’t do that again. Apart from not wanting you to escape, running into shadows is the best way to get yourself killed down here.”

“I know,” Alexander said. “But they went this way.”

“If they went that way,” Montross said, quietly, as he turned and faced right, ignoring the partially open false door ahead of them, “then I believe we’ll to go this way.”

“What?” Hiltmeyer asked, shining his light back and forth. “Why?”

“Because we need to make up time, and because that”-he shined his light on an inscription on the wall ahead of them-“says our choice doesn’t matter.”

Nina came back, pulling Alexander with her, even as he dragged his feet, looking back over his shoulder, fighting the tears in his eyes.

“This way may even be faster,” Montross said, urging Hiltmeyer and Harris toward the room with the ceiling-press trap. “I have seen the river too. It’s beautiful. And fortunately there’s a vessel there as well, waiting.”

“For what?” Harris asked.

“I don’t know. For Temujin’s use in the afterlife, should he desire a scenic boat ride?” Montross tightened his grip on the tablet. “Or just for someone who might come knocking with the right key.”

Alexander moaned, still looking the other direction. “But Dad and Aunt Phoebe! They don’t have the key, any key! And that way, the one they picked…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to dislodge the horrific visions.

“That way is worse. Much worse. They’re not going to make it!”

The river Caleb had seen in his vision wasn’t fresh water at all, but a highly contaminated mercury-enriched stream. An oily, silvery river of perfect calmness, shimmering deceptively, hiding its toxicity beyond a lustrous sheen.

Back before the shore of silt, small rocks and dry earth, their footsteps mapped their progress through the arched doorway from the room of spikes, where Caleb had carefully led the team around seven-foot long metal lances, spaced only feet apart. They had crossed diagonally, and uneventfully, to the northern side of the room to the open archway and the waiting beach. Chang’s men had found a grooved ladder on the western wall, just under the place where the floor had given way after they had tripped the weight sensor by tossing a heavy pack in the center of the floor. Once the floor had dropped, simply jamming a rifle into the visible gears at the lower corner prevented the floor from resetting and allowed them to descend.

They carried four flare guns and twenty-eight flares, hoping that would be enough. Caleb took a flashlight and played it over the river, the light skipping over its metallic appearance. Then he shined the light higher, the beam darting across the arched ceiling twenty feet above. Mostly earthy, their rooftop sported occasional stalactites hanging like swords.

More lights fanned out from the soldiers, finding the two gondola-like boats tethered with chains to iron posts thrust into the shore. Gazing at the river besieged by flashlight beams, Orlando whistled. “It looks like that cybernetic liquid alloy stuff in Terminator 2. Hope nothing pops out of there and slices us in half.” He turned to Caleb and Phoebe. “I think we should take this fine opportunity to psychically Mapquest the next leg of our journey.”

“Definitely,” Phoebe whispered, holding her hand over her mouth, coughing.

The tunnel ahead beckoned, shimmering in the flashlight beams before disappearing around a bend into darkness. It gave Caleb the impression of the start of a watery amusement park ride, like one he had taken Alexander on just last year at Busch Gardens. “Hold up,” he said. “Anyone think to bring gas masks?”

Sniffing the air, Chang motioned one of his guards who wriggled out of a backpack, opened it and began passing out masks.

Good old Chinese efficiency and preparedness, Caleb thought.

“This will be a very toxic stretch,” he said, pointing ahead, down the tunnel into the darkness. “Especially as we begin paddling, as the oars will stir up the mercury. It’ll combine with the air and get in our lungs, and depending on the levels, which I imagine are quite high, we’ll soon be suffering a host of nasty symptoms. Burning lungs, stinging eyes, coughing. It gets into the bloodstream quickly, impacting the central nervous system, and could cause paralysis and even death, given enough exposure.”

“Twenty masks,” Renee said, counting them.

I only hope Montross and Nina are likewise prepared, Caleb thought.

“We have extra,” he said. “Can we leave some for Montross and my son? If they come this way?”

Renee narrowed her eyes at him.

“Please.”

“Fine, drop three. Only because I think you may be right, and we may need your son.”

Orlando took a mask, making sure he got his before they were all accounted for, then moved closer to the edge to examine the boats. “Sturdy bastards. Looks like iron plating and reinforced wood. Very little decay. Maybe the mercury helped.”

“How did this water get so contaminated?” Phoebe asked.

“On purpose, I believe,” Caleb said. “He may have just been copying, but like Emperor Qin Shi Huang, Genghis Khan may have also come to believe in mercury’s alchemical powers. For centuries, mystics used mercury-also known as quicksilver-as a combining reagent to induce elemental changes, attempting to turn lead into gold for example, but it was also believed to be a source of a great many cures. And possibly, if mixed just right, an elixir for immortality.”

“No thanks,” Orlando said, fitting on his mask after coughing into his hand. “That’s the crap they used to put in dental fillings.”

Phoebe groaned through her mask. “Here we go. Conspiracy time. Let me guess, dentists are all part of some master plan to monitor our thoughts, weaken our resistance, make us sick-”

“Scoff if you like.” Orlando shined his light into his open mouth. “But I’m a brushing fanatic, not one cavity.”

“That’s because you’ve never been to the dentist.”

He smirked. “At least I’m confident that my mind is my own.”

“Trust me, no one else would want it.”

“Please shut up,” Renee snapped. “And let’s get moving.”

Afraid to move, Phoebe stared at the water. “So emperors actually tried drinking this stuff?”

Caleb nodded. “It was what killed Qin Shi, if the legends are true.”

“Enough talk,” Renee said with her mask on. “Get in the boats. Eight in each. Chang, you’re with us. And two of your men will row. You keep an eye on Qara. Caleb, Phoebe and Orlando, remote view the path ahead. I want no surprises.”

“Best to do it here, on the shore,” Caleb said, tightening his mask. Phoebe did the same.

“No, in the boat,” Renee replied. “I believe you will perform better in the thick of things. Urgency sharpens your need.”

“Aren’t you suddenly the expert?” Phoebe quipped.

“Get in, and get to work.”

They settled into the two boats. Caleb’s team left second, after the boat full of soldiers pushed off. Phoebe and Orlando sat on one side, at the stern, with Caleb and Qara facing them while Renee stood at the prow, her. 45 still in her hand, scanning the shadows ahead.

It all looked surreal and mythical: two gondolas carrying men and women wearing gas masks along a silvery river into a dark tunnel. Caleb thought it would have made a great Salvador Dali painting, an interpretation of Charon ferrying the dead into the waiting embrace of the Underworld.