Chapter Eight

John was driving the SUV he’d picked her up in last night. It didn’t seem to have sustained any serious damage from the incident on the way from the airport. Just a slight dent on the bumper.

Eve had lay in bed last night, attempting to convince herself that John was right. That it hadn’t been a targeted attack on her, just an unlucky coincidence. Carjackers or kids. But she’d done a crappy job at that—her twisted mind coming up with increasingly unlikely conspiracy theories—so she’d changed her strategy and was trying not to think about it at all.

If she ever got a moment alone with him, she would get Zach’s take on what happened. Along with asking him what the hell he was doing here and why hadn’t he told her he was coming. She’d sent him a text last night, but he still hadn’t answered.

In the end, after much tossing and turning, she’d taken another sleeping tablet and consequently had slept in, finally waking at quarter to nine and had kept them all waiting. She’d foregone breakfast so she wouldn’t be late for her appointment, and her stomach rumbled.

Yuri, sitting in the seat behind her, next to Zach, tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, he handed her a bag. “I kept some breakfast for you.”

“Thanks.” He was being so…solicitous. It was grating on her nerves. She had a feeling he would like to continue the relationship they’d started—and ended—last summer. But she didn’t want to complicate matters during this expedition. Maybe choosing him as the second archaeologist on the team was a mistake. But he was the best “digger” she knew, and they worked well together, complemented each other. Eve did the research and analysis—the detective work—while Yuri had extensive field experience.

Much of what she was doing now was confirmation. She already had a good idea of what she was looking for and what she would find out today.

She nibbled on the bread roll and stared out the window of the SUV. Flat grasslands reached for miles in all directions, though in the far distance she could see mountains rising up from the plains. Occasionally they passed herds of goats and sheep, and small Mongolian horses, rough-coated and wild-eyed. Genghis Khan must have ridden over this very land. The sky overhead was a deep, overarching blue. This was the same Blue Sky that Genghis Khan had prayed to all those years ago. A shiver ran through her at the thought, and she sent up a prayer of her own.

Help me overcome my fears.

The road behind them was clear. No other vehicles to ram into them. Relaxing back in her seat, she cleared her mind and managed to gain the first measure of peace she’d had since Mr. Tuul had visited her two weeks ago.

Four hours later, John said, “There’s the monastery.”

A long wooden wall grew up out of the flat green plains with nothing around for miles. Behind it, the mountains, closer now, formed a hazy, gray backdrop.

John pulled to a halt outside the gates, and a moment later they opened from inside and he drove through. She’d seen pictures of this place, but what struck her most were the vivid colors—reds and blues and ochers. The building ahead of them was two stories with a curved roof, a terrace held up by red pillars, and red and blue walls. She got out of the car and stretched. They were in the courtyard with a scattering of sheep nibbling the short grass. The air was crisp and fresh, unexpectedly cold against her skin, considering it was the end of May.

The others had also exited the vehicle, and Zach came up beside her. Unfortunately, Yuri was right behind, so she didn’t have privacy to ask him what the hell he was doing here.

Two monks in red and purple robes, and yellow hats on their heads, walked serenely toward them. She’d never been a religious person, but she’d studied Buddhism for her work and she’d always been drawn to its tenets.

Do no harm.

If everyone lived by that belief, the world would be a better place. John walked toward the monks, gave a small bow—which they returned—and then spoke to them in Mongolian. She could speak greetings and say thank you, but anything more and she was lost.

She hoped the old monk hadn’t changed his mind. Or dropped dead on her. But John was smiling as he came toward her. “Batbayar is ready to see you but would prefer we kept it to just the two of us.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“They’ve offered to show the others around the monastery while you meet with him.”

She turned to Zach and Yuri. “You good with that?”

“I think I should be at the meeting,” Yuri answered with a scowl.

“I’ll tape it if he has no objections, and you can listen later.”

He still didn’t look happy but gave a short nod.

“I’m good,” Zach said. “I’ll take some pictures, if that’s okay?”

Of course, he was supposed to be a journalist. She’d almost forgotten. John spoke to the monks, and they nodded.

She fell in step beside John as they followed one of the monks across the courtyard into what looked like the main building. A huge airy room took up most of the ground floor. Eve toed off her shoes, as instructed, and stepped across the threshold. The ceilings were high and held up by wooden pillars painted dark red. The floors were polished wood, and the yellow and blue walls were decorated with colorful paintings. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of spicy incense. The sounds of the outside world were muted, and as she traversed the expanse of floor, a feeling of calm washed over her.

At the far end of the room, a man sat cross-legged on a woven mat, his head, in its yellow hat, was lowered, and for a moment she thought he was sleeping. But as they came to a halt in front of him, he straightened.

He didn’t look ninety; the skin of his face was unlined, his eyes clear. He spoke a greeting. She returned it and gave him a small bow.

“Thank you for meeting with me.” She took her phone out of her bag. “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”

John translated her words, but Batbayar smiled. “I speak English. I spent a number of years, a long time ago, in your country. And I have been looking forward to speaking with you. Please be seated, and yes, you may record my words.”

She sank to the floor, with John beside her. She supposed she didn’t need him now, but he didn’t seem inclined to leave.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she considered where to begin. “Why did you decide to speak with me now?” she asked.

“The time is right. I will not last many more years. Death comes to all of us, and I decided I needed to speak of the past to someone before I go. That way, my memories will not be forgotten.”

“But why me?”

“I have read all your papers with interest. You write of our country with love and you have a passion for the truth.”

“You know I’m looking for the Spirit Banner of Genghis Khan, but I assure you it will be returned to the people of Mongolia, when found.”

“It will go where it is needed.”

Very cryptic. She smiled. “So you were here in 1937 when the Soviets attacked the monastery?”

“I was ten years old. I’d lived in the monastery since I was five, when my parents were sent to a labor camp for some perceived crime against the state. The monks took me in. I was there the day the soldiers came. They killed the monks and assaulted the nuns. I remember I wanted to be brave, but instead I hid beneath the table in the kitchen and listened to the screams. They found me and I expected to die, but they let me live.”

“And you remember what happened to the Spirit Banner?”

“I do. It was taken from the monastery hours before the attack. The keepers of the Spirit Banner were different from the other monks. I didn’t understand back then, but later I saw that they were warrior monks. Protectors.” He glanced at John. “Your friend here could tell you about the warrior monks.”

“He could? Why?”

John shook his head. “Later.”

“When we got word that the soldiers were close, they took the Spirit Banner and left. I heard the monks talking. They were supposed to go to the monastery in Ulaanbaatar.”

“But we know now that it never arrived,” Eve said. “Have you any idea what happened? Why they didn’t get it there?”

“Maybe they never planned to go. Maybe they had another destination. I hid and watched them leave in the darkness before dawn. They headed north on horseback.”

She latched onto that point. She’d been searching along the direct route to the capital city, pretty much the route they had driven that morning, presuming that was the way they would go. Maybe she’d been looking in the wrong place. She’d also presumed they would be on foot. “Directly north?”

“Yes.”

“So the Soviets sent people after them?”

“The Soviets wanted the Banner. They saw it as a threat, a symbol the people of Mongolia would rally to, and they meant to destroy it. When they didn’t find it, they tortured the head monk, but he would not give them answers. But someone must have talked. Soldiers were sent after them. What happened next, I don’t know.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Perhaps the soldiers found them and the Spirit Banner was destroyed. Or perhaps it was hidden when the protectors realized they could not prevail. I do believe the warrior monks would have died protecting the Banner.”

Could that be the case? The soldiers had found them and destroyed the Banner. But she wouldn’t believe that. She much preferred his second theory.

“Do you believe the Spirit Banner is the embodiment of Genghis Khan’s soul?” she asked.

Batbayar snorted. “Of course not. But if enough people believe, then the truth becomes unimportant. There are certainly many secrets tied to the Banner. Secrets passed down from one protector to the next.”

“I don’t suppose you know any of those secrets?” Did she sound too hopeful? He’d already given her what she needed. This was extra.

He smiled. “As a child, I was fascinated by the spear. A thing of violence protected and venerated by people dedicated to a life of peace. I would pester the protectors with questions. I once asked them what those secrets were. They wouldn’t tell me except to say that when the time is right, the Spirit Banner will be reunited with Genghis Khan, and it will point the way.”

What the hell did that mean? The way to Genghis Khan, perhaps… The way to his tomb? “The way to what?”

“That they didn’t reveal. Perhaps it depends on who is looking. Now, I must pray.”

It was a dismissal. But she had gotten more than she’d hoped for, enough to move on. She rose to her feet. “Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope our talk helped and you will find peace in your search for truth. I sense much suffering in you, Dr. Blakeley.”

“You do?” And she thought she’d been doing such a good job of hiding it.

“You need to let go of your fear.”

“I’m trying.” She wanted nothing more than to leave her fear behind. Unfortunately, it seemed intent on following her. Maybe she should move into a monastery.

“Wisdom will come if your mind is calm and pure.” He bowed his head. “You will write and let me know how your search goes?”

“I will.”

Her mind was anything but calm; it buzzed with questions. But at least there was no room for fear. That had been pushed to a small corner of her mind by a rising sense of excitement. This was exactly what she’d hoped for. New information. A new place to look.

But what had he meant by the spear will point the way?

A monk met them at the door. He spoke to John, then John translated.

“He says they’ve set out lunch for us and we’re welcome to stay the night if we don’t need to get back to the city.”

She thought for a moment but didn’t want to waste a night when she had so little time. “Thank him for lunch. But explain that we need to get on our way, so we won’t stay tonight.”

He translated her answer, and the monk gave a small bow and led the way.

She wanted to drive north—if that was possible—and see the lay of the land. The route the warrior monks had taken when they left the monastery. That reminded her of something. She turned to John. “What did Batbayar mean when he said you could tell me about the warrior monks?”

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Why? But then he gave a small shrug. “When I was younger I thought I would become a monk. I trained in the monastery in China, where the warrior monks originate. Batbayar was my teacher for a while.”

“He was a warrior?”

“He still is. But in the end, that life was not for me. I left before I took my final vows.”

“Was it the warrior bit or the monk bit you didn’t like?” She could take a guess.

“Perhaps both.”

Why did she get the impression there was more to John Chen than he was letting on? But if that was the case, then he was on her side. He had likely saved her life last night.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t be called on to do it a second time.

…

She’d been fizzing with excitement since the meeting at the monastery. Whatever she’d found out had set her on fire.

It was as if she was coming to life. There was such a passion in her.

Zach recognized it because he felt the same way about his work.

She’d swapped places with him on the drive from the monastery and sat in the back next to Yuri. And they’d talked nonstop. Possible routes and miles per day and…

It was obvious there had been something between the two of them, and equally obvious that it wasn’t over as far as Yuri was concerned. It was none of Zach’s business as long as Yuri wasn’t a terrorist. And he didn’t think so.

Hell, he was no closer to finding any terrorists than when he’d started.

What the hell was he even doing here? He should be in London, persuading Brody to put him back on the case.

They’d taken a road leading north from the monastery and driven for another four hours until their way was blocked by mountains, and then they’d headed east until they hit a town big enough to have a hotel. John had gone in and booked their rooms, though Zach had to share with Yuri, since the place was so small. He hoped the guy didn’t snore.

The hotel was a pit, but it was a bed for the night. Yuri had showered as soon as they’d arrived, and then disappeared. He was probably trying to weasel his way into Eve’s room for the night.

There was a tap on the door, and he moved to his bag, slipped the pistol from the side pocket and down the back of his pants, pulled his shirt over the waistband. He crossed to the door, opened it, and there she was. Clearly not with Yuri.

She stalked past him and slammed the door, whirled around and stood with her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, it’s my room.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean. What are you doing here in Mongolia? With my team? And why didn’t you tell me you’d be here?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” She scowled and he went on. “Right now, you are my only lead, and I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“You think I’m working with these terrorists? That they paid me the money to…” She raised her hands palm up. “To do what exactly?”

He turned away for a moment, pressed his fingers to his forehead where a headache was forming. When he turned back, she hadn’t moved. “I don’t know. But no, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re working with the terrorists. All I do know is there’s a connection somewhere and I need to find it.”

She deflated at that. Her shoulders slumped and she sank onto the bed behind her, rubbing at her shoulder. “Did John tell you about what happened on the way from the airport last night?”

“Yes.”

She frowned at his answer. “And?”

“And what?”

“Jesus, you’re bloody annoying. Do you think the fact that someone tried to push us off the road is in any way related to your…connection?”

He sat down on the other bed, pulled the gun from his pants, and put it back in his bag.

She watched, the frown still on her face.

“I don’t like coincidences,” he said. “But I talked to the receptionist at the hotel, she spoke a little English, and she said recently there has been an increase in hijacks on cars coming from the airport. So that could be the case. It doesn’t make sense that anyone would pay you money to come here and then kill you just as you arrived.”

“Perhaps it was all a plan to get me here so they could kill me.”

He’d already considered that and dismissed the idea. “A lot of bother when it could have been arranged quite easily in Cambridge.” Though he supposed it might look less suspicious out here, it just didn’t feel right. An organization that would take out a Paris hotel would be unlikely to balk at taking out Eve in her hometown.

“Humph. Then maybe it’s someone else who wants me dead.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of.” She waved a hand at his bag. “I don’t suppose you have another gun?”

“No.”

“How about lending me yours?”

“Never going to happen. You know how to shoot?” It didn’t seem a likely hobby for a university lecturer.

“Noah taught me. After the kidnapping. Noah liked shooting. He said it was empowering.”

Made sense. “Are you any good?”

“A natural, apparently, but I don’t like guns, so I haven’t practiced in a while.”

“Last night was probably nothing, but best not to go wandering around alone. Stay in the hotel tonight.” Maybe it would be a good thing if Yuri shared her room. But he couldn’t bring himself to suggest it. Maybe he should offer to stay with her himself.

She sighed then got to her feet. “Dinner is in thirty minutes, then we’re having a meeting to discuss where to go next. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve showered.”

His cell phone rang just as the door closed behind her.

It was Tom Grady, a colleague from MI6.