Alex Archer - False Horizon

Tsing occupied the penthouse and gaining access to that area required a special key in the elevator. Tuk had no such key. That meant he would be forced to take the stairs.

He entered the elevator and pressed the topmost-floor button, holding it down to cause the elevator to run express to his destination. He regarded himself in the mirrored doors and smiled. All that money! It would be his if he could just live long enough to see this assignment finished.

As the numbers flashed by, Tuk thought about the relative peace he would soon enjoy. Long walks would be the greatest exertion he would face, but otherwise, he would leave behind all the congestion and urban decay. And he would be immensely grateful for it.

At last, the top floor came up and the elevator dinged softly before the doors opened. Tuk looked out to either side, but saw no one else in the hallway. He stepped out and let the doors close behind him.

Down the hall he saw the exit sign for the stairwell and headed for it. He hoped that it would also go up to the penthouse and roof. Surely Tsing’s men had used it to throw their unlucky prisoner over the top. Tuk would use it to gain access to the penthouse floor.

He pushed open the door carefully, and listened. As he had hoped, the stairs ran up as well as down. He stepped into the cool stairwell and quietly strode up the steps.

Two flights farther up, he saw an unmarked door and stopped. This was the penthouse level.

A small amount of space showed under the door and Tuk got down on his knees and bent his face until he could see under the crack. He paused and let his eyesight adjust to the darkness on the other side.

As far as he could tell, there was no one in the penthouse hallway.

Tuk raised himself and turned the doorknob slowly.

The door opened and Tuk slid through. He could smell the incense that Tsing always insisted be kept burning. Tuk’s nostrils flared in disgust. He hated everything about Tsing, and his preference for incense and anything vaguely mystical was in direct contrast to his barbaric ways.

But one thing that Tsing insisted on helped Tuk and that was the low light. He faded into the shadows near a potted giant fern next to the massive oak doors and sidled up as close as he dared to the main entryway. This would make for a decent observation post.

How long would he need to stay, though? The man on the phone had told him to make sure Annja Creed was safe. But how could he do that if he was out here? Tuk listened at the door in vain. The heavy wood barred any sound from passing through it. And unlike the stairwell door, there was no such space at the bottom of the entry doors to the penthouse.

Tuk realized with a start that he would have to enter the penthouse itself.

He examined the door in front of him. There would be people inside. At least five, he reasoned. Tsing, Burton, Kurtz, Annja Creed and the other man. There might even be more.

Tuk took a breath and examined the lock. He could force his way in, he supposed, but that would simply alert everyone to his presence. And the man on the phone had been most insistent that he remain utterly invisible to Annja Creed.

Tuk wasn’t sure how the woman would be able to piece together Tuk’s presence with the man on the phone, but he knew enough not to question such things. If the man on the phone demanded that Tuk remain invisible, then that was exactly what Tuk would have to do.

But how?

He heard a vague sound and realized almost too late that someone was approaching the door. He slid back behind the large fronds and then heard the telltale click of a lock being disengaged.

The door swung open.

Tuk held his breath.

A solitary figure swept out toward the elevator bank. A woman dressed in a long mandarin-style dress with a slit running up its side revealed a brief flash of skin as she passed the giant fern.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped inside. In the light of the elevator, Tuk could see the sharp lines of her Han ancestry. She had the look of lethal beauty about her.

The doors closed and Tuk stepped out from behind the fern just as he heard the doors to the penthouse swing shut. A soft gasp of air told him they must have had a delay to their closing to keep them from banging. Hydraulics? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that the pause in their closing gave Tuk the opportunity he needed.

He stepped into the penthouse.

Instantly, he moved to the hall table and sank down to his knees. It was essential he give himself enough time to take in all the ambient sounds of his new environment. If he moved too soon, he would risk being surprised by someone he hadn’t noticed.

But if he took too long, the woman might return at any moment and spot him.

Tuk’s heart thundered in his chest.

His ears perked up. Conversation. It came from a number of voices farther on in the penthouse. Tuk strained all his senses.

With a quick gulp of air, Tuk moved deeper into the penthouse.

Tsing ushered Annja and Mike into a grand living room. Annja could make out a large wraparound leather sofa that faced windows looking out over the city of Katmandu. The pervasive scent of incense hung heavy over the entire penthouse and Annja quickly realized that the sickly sweet smell was too cloying for her.

“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Tsing said. He reclined on the farthest portion of the couch and pulled his feet up under him. “I really don’t want this to be an adversarial relationship. Everyone always makes out so much better when things are nice and civilized, don’t you think?”

Annja raised her eyebrows. “Since when is tossing someone off a roof nice and civilized?”

“It’s not,” Tsing said. “And it’s a reminder that as cordial as I’m being right now, that mood can quickly turn. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Noted,” Annja said. “Now what is this all about? Even if Mike did borrow money from you, he certainly hasn’t reneged on that deal, has he?”

“No,” Tsing replied. “He has not. And, in fact, I fully expect him to repay me as he promised. But that’s not really the issue.”

Mike said nothing so Tsing continued. “What this is about is what he used my money to purchase. And I know full well what it was.”

“What?” Annja asked.

“A map that shows the way to Shangri-La.”

Mike frowned. “How did you find out?”

Tsing smiled. “You might say that I’ve had an almost obsessive interest in locating it for the majority of my life.”

“Really?” Mike said.

“And I know what the rumors are and who has what for sale. As I said, my obsession with the place has led me to have quite the network of contacts.”

Annja shook her head. “If that’s the case, then why didn’t you just buy the map yourself before Mike came to you?”

Tsing shrugged. “Sometimes people can be particular about who they happen to deal with. And I’m afraid that my reputation tends to precede me. I, of course, made overtures to purchase the map earlier. But the seller refused, saying that he would not do business with me.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t end up taking a dive off the roof,” Annja said.

Tsing smiled. “Violence is always a means to an end. But there are often better alternatives. If he would not sell to me, then it was merely a matter of arranging for someone else to buy it. In this case, I made sure that your friend Mike here found out about it.”

Mike frowned. “You baited me?”

“As much as my reputation precedes me, so, too, does yours. You are one of the few professors who have not gone along with the more outlandish theories of where Shangri-La truly is. I have known of you for some time now. I’ve bided my time. Waited. And when you learned about the map, I knew you would come here and seek to buy it.”