Read Treasure of Khan Page 22


  Pitt smiled to himself at the unceremonious vehicles that made up the motorcade, a far cry from the ubiquitous black limousines found in Washington. A trio of clean but high-mileage Toyota Land Cruisers chauffeured the Chinese minister and his small cadre of assistants and security guards. The contingent was led by a Mongol security escort driving a yellow UAZ four-door jeep. Another UAZ jeep tailed the delegation, its left front fender battered by a prior traffic accident. The Russian-built UAZs, an offshoot of a military jeep, reminded Pitt of the boxy International Harvester four-wheel drives built in the U.S. back in the late 1960s.

  "That's our ride," Pitt said, referring to the battered UAZ at the rear.

  "I hope it's got a satellite radio and a nav system," Giordino replied.

  "I just hope it's got tires that were manufactured in this century," Pitt muttered.

  Pitt watched as the two men in the car casually got out and disappeared into the field of solar panels as the welcoming committee greeted the Chinese minister. With the delegation preoccupied, Pitt and Giordino moved undetected to the car and took the guards' place in the front seats.

  "Here's your nav system," Pitt said, grabbing a map from the dashboard and tossing it on Giordino's lap. He smiled when he noticed that the car didn't even have a radio.

  A few yards in front of them, Commerce Minister Shinzhe was making quick order of the welcoming committee. He briskly shook hands with the plant officials, then walked off toward some solar panels to hasten the tour. In less than ten minutes, he was thanking the officials and climbing back into his car.

  "He's sure got ants in his pants," Giordino said, surprised at the brevity of the tour.

  "Guess he's anxious to get to Xanadu. The tour of the solar energy facility is apparently not the highlight of his visit."

  Pitt and Giordino scrunched down in their seats as the motorcade looped around the facility and passed right by them on the way to the gate. Pitt then started the car and quickly caught up to the third Toyota in line.

  The caravan rumbled east out of Ulaanbaatar, curving past the Bayanzurkh Nuruu Mountains. Mount Bayanzurkh, one of four holy peaks that surround Ulaanbaatar like points on a compass, capped the range. The scenic mountain peaks gradually gave way to rolling empty grasslands that stretched treeless as far as the eye could see. This was the famous Asian Steppe of historical lore, a swath of rich pasture-lands that spanned central Mongolia like a wide, green belt. Stands of the thick summer grass rippled like waves on the ocean under a stiff breeze that blew across the open range.

  The lead vehicle followed an uneven paved road, which eventually turned to dirt, then transgressed into little more than a pair of ruts through the grassland. Driving at the back of the pack, Pitt was forced to navigate through a dirty haze kicked up by the other vehicles and magnified by the dust-laden winds.

  The caravan traveled to the southeast, bounding across the grass-covered hills for another three hours before ascending a small cluster of mountains. At a nondescript iron gate, the delegation turned onto another road, which Pitt noted was professionally groomed. The road climbed several miles up the mountain before skirting a ridge and approaching a fast-moving river. An aqueduct had been built off the river and the caravan followed the cement-lined waterway as it twisted around a tight bend and approached a high-walled compound. The aqueduct continued up to the compound, running underneath its facing stone wall near a single-arched entryway. Two guards wearing bright silk dels stood on either side of a massive iron gate blocking the entrance. As the vehicles slowed to a stop in front of the gate, Pitt contemplated their next move.

  "You know, we probably don't want to join the party for the grand entrance," he said.

  "You never were one to fit in with the crowd," Giordino remarked. "Do you know if the other Mongol escorts are aware that we replaced their pals for the afternoon?

  "I don't know. And I guess there is no sense in finding out."

  Giordino gazed toward the entrance, then squinted. "Car problems?" he asked.

  "I was thinking a flat tire."

  "Consider it done."

  Slipping out the passenger's door, Giordino crawled beside the front tire and removed the valve stem cap. Jamming a matchstick into the stem, he waited patiently as a rush of air whistled out of the valve. In a few seconds, the tire deflated to the ground and he screwed the cap back on. Just as he climbed back into the jeep, the iron gate was shoved open at the front of the line.

  Pitt followed the line of cars as they entered the compound but stopped at the gate as one of the guards gave him a cross look. Pitt pointed toward the flat tire and the guard looked, then nodded. Barking something in Mongolian, he motioned for Pitt to turn right after he entered the compound.

  Pitt made a show of limping slowly behind the other cars as he quickly surveyed the complex. The ornate marble residence was directly ahead, fronted by the manicured garden. Pitt had no idea what the real Xanadu looked like centuries ago, but the structure before him was spectacular in its own right. Plenty of pageantry was on display for the minister as a pair of escorts riding snow white horses led the procession to the front portico. A Chinese flag blew stiffly on a mast adjacent to an arrangement of nine tall wooden poles. Pitt noticed that a chunk of white fur resembling a foxtail dangled from each pole top. As the procession approached the residence, Pitt strained to identify Borjin among the greeting party on the porch but he was too far away to see any faces.

  "Any sign of Tatiana in the welcoming committee?" he asked as he began wheeling the car out of line and toward the building on the right.

  "There's at least one woman standing on the porch, but I can't make out if it is her," Giordino said, squinting through the windshield.

  Pitt guided the car toward the garage and drove through its open bay doors. The flat tire flopped loudly on the concrete floor as he brought the car to a stop beside a segregated bay flanked with tool chests. A grease-stained mechanic in a red baseball cap came running over, yelling and waving his arms at the jeep's occupants. Pitt ignored the man's ravings and flashed a friendly smile.

  "Pfffft," he said, pointing toward the flat tire.

  The mechanic walked around the front of the car and examined Giordino's handiwork, then looked through the windshield and nodded. He turned and walked to the end of the bay, returning a moment later with a floor jack.

  "Might be a good time to take a walk," Pitt said, climbing out of the car.

  Giordino followed him as they walked toward the open garage door, then stopped as if to mill about while waiting for the tire to be repaired. But rather than watch the mechanic, they carefully scrutinized the interior of the garage. Several late-model four-wheel drives were parked in front, while the rest of the building was filled with large trucks and some excavating equipment. Giordino rested his foot on a maintenance cart parked by the door and studied a dusty brown panel truck.

  "The enclosed truck," he said quietly. "Looks a lot like the one at Baikal."

  "Indeed, it does. How about the flatbed over there?" Pitt said, motioning to a cab and flatbed sitting nearby.

  Giordino glanced at the truck and flatbed, which were empty save for some canvas and ropes strewn over one side.

  "Our mystery prize?"

  "Perhaps," Pitt replied. He peered across the grounds and then at the building next to the garage.

  "We probably have some temporary immunity around here," he said, nodding toward the building. "Let's take a walk next door."

  Proceeding as if they knew where they were going, they strolled to the brick building next door. They passed a large loading dock and walked through an adjacent glass entry door. Pitt expected to find a reception area, but the entrance led instead into the middle of a large work bay that opened onto the empty dock. Test equipment machines and electronic circuit boards were scattered around several workbenches, being tinkered with by a pair of men in white antistatic lab coats. One of the men, who had small birdlike eyes set behind wire-rimmed glasses, stood and looked
at Pitt and Giordino suspiciously.

  "Stualét?" he asked, recalling the Russian word for "toilet" that he picked up in Siberia.

  The man studied Pitt for a moment, then nodded and pointed down a corridor that ran from the center of the room. "On the right," he said in Russian, then sat down and resumed his tinkering.

  Pitt and Giordino walked past the two men and turned down the corridor.

  "Impressive language skills," Giordino said quietly.

  "Just one of the nearly five words I know in Russian," Pitt boasted. "I just recalled Corsov saying that most Mongolians know a smidgen of Russian."

  They moved slowly down the wide tiled corridor, which stretched twenty feet across, and whose ceiling was nearly as high. Skid marks on the floor indicated the movement of large equipment up and down the corridor. The hallway was lined with large plate-glass windows that revealed the interior of the rooms on either side. Small labs, stockpiled with various electronic test and assembly equipment, occupied most of the building space. Only an occasional office and desk, decorated in Spartan blandness, broke up the technical areas. The entire building was strangely cold and silent, in part because only a handful of technicians appeared to work there.

  "Looks more like the back of a Radio Shack than an Exxon gas station to me," Giordino said.

  "It does give the appearance they are interested in something other than pumping oil out of the ground. Unfortunately, that may mean that Theresa and the others weren't brought here."

  Passing by the restroom, they continued down the corridor until it ended at a thick metal door that closed over a high floor sill. Glancing around the empty hallway, Pitt grabbed the handle and pushed on the heavy door, which opened inward. The thick door swung back slowly, revealing a vast chamber. The room occupied the entire end of the building, with a high ceiling that rose over thirty feet. Row after row of cone-shaped spikes protruded from the walls, ceiling, and even the floor, which lent the appearance of some sort of medieval torture chamber. But there was no danger from the spikes, as Pitt confirmed when he squeezed one of the foam-rubber cone tips between his fingers.

  "An anechoic chamber," he said.

  "Built to absorb radio-frequency electromagnetic waves," Giordino added. "These babies are usually the property of defense contractors, used for testing sophisticated electronics."

  "There's your sophisticated electronics," Pitt said.

  He pointed to the center of the room, where a large platform stood on stilts above the foam floor. A dozen large metal cabinets were jammed onto the platform next to several racks of computer equipment. In the middle of the platform was an open center section, where a torpedo-shaped device hung from a gantry. Pitt and Giordino climbed across a catwalk that led from the door to the platform.

  "This ain't the stuff of roughnecks," Pitt said, eyeing the equipment.

  The cabinets and racks contained over forty computer-sized modules linked together with several yards of thick black cable. Each rack had a small LED display and several power meters. A large box with dials marked ERWEITERUNG and FREQUENZ sat at the end, next to a monitor and keyboard.

  Pitt studied the markings on the equipment and raised a brow in curiosity.

  "My high school foreign language skills may be a little rusty, but those dials are marked in German. I believe that last dial translates to 'Frequency' "

  "German? I would have thought Chinese or Russian would be more in vogue."

  "Most of the electronics equipment looks to be of German manufacture as well."

  "There's some serious horsepower involved," Giordino said, counting the array of transmitter cabinets cabled in sequence. "What do you make of it?"

  "I can only guess. The large cabinets look like commercial-grade radio transmitters. The racks of computers must be used for performing data processing. Then there's the hanging tripod."

  He turned and examined the device dangling from the center of the platform. It consisted of three long tubes fashioned together and standing nearly ten feet high. The lower ends flared near the floor, bound with a thickly matted material. The opposite ends, standing well above Pitt's head, sprouted a thick bundle of cables, which trailed to the computer racks.

  "They resemble some sort of amplified transducers, though bigger than I've ever seen. It could be a beefed-up seismic-imaging system, used for oil exploration," he said, studying the tripod-shaped device that hung vertically.

  "Looks more advanced than any drill operation I've ever seen."

  Pitt glanced at several manuals and notebooks lying beside the equipment. He flipped through them casually, noting that they were all written in German. He opened what appeared to be the key operating manual and tore the first few pages out, stuffing them in his pocket.

  "A little light reading material for the ride home?" Giordino said.

  "Some practice for my German verb conjugations."

  Pitt closed the manual, then they both made their way back across the catwalk and exited the chamber. Walking down the hallway, they heard a sudden commotion coming from the lab at the far end.

  "The rat fink may have called the heat on us," Giordino said.

  "A good bet," Pitt said, scanning the hallway. He took a few steps back and opened the chamber door, then returned to Giordino. "Maybe we can try to sneak past them."

  They quickly moved up the hallway, then Pitt opened the door to one of the windowed labs and slipped in. Giordino followed behind, then closed the door and turned off the lights. As they stood out of sight from the hall window, they noticed an odd chemical smell permeating the room. Peering across the darkened room, Pitt made out a number of stainless steel vats, along with a table full of small brushes and dental picks.

  "I think they're taking the bait," Giordino whispered.

  The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing close and then passing by. Peeking through the glass, Giordino could see two men in silk uniforms marching toward the chamber door.

  "Find me a broom," he whispered to Pitt, then flung the door open.

  In a flash, he was running down the hall. But instead of heading for the exit, he ran barreling toward the two men. Like a charging linebacker delivering a blindside hit, he plowed into the backs of both men as they were peeking through the chamber door. The collision reminded Pitt of a bowling ball striking a pair of pins to pick up a spare. The two men went sprawling into the chamber, flying face-first onto the padded floor. Before they knew what hit them, Giordino had popped up from the ground and yanked the chamber door shut behind them. Pitt arrived a second later with a mop he found by the bathroom and broke off a four-foot section of the handle. Giordino rammed the stick through the door handle and wedged it tightly against the side frames.

  "That should give us a head start," Giordino said, rubbing his shoulder in pain.

  Pitt smiled at hearing shouts from the men, their voices muffled to a whisper by the sound-deadening materials inside the chamber. They began moving down the corridor when Pitt suddenly stopped by the room in which they had hidden.

  "Just curious," he said, flicking the lights on and reentering the lab.

  "Remember the cat."

  Pitt circled the room surveying the steel vats, which were filled with a clear fluid that smelled of formaldehyde. He stopped in front of one of the vats, gazing at a shiny object that lay in a tray at the bottom. Finding a pair of tongs, he pulled out the item and dried it off on a towel.

  It was a pendant, made of silver formed in an ornate diamond shape. A falcon or eagle with two heads was engraved on the top edge, above a lustrous red stone that sparkled from the center. A finely detailed inscription in Arabic lettering circled the bottom. It had an ancient and imperial look about it, as if it was commissioned for a woman of high royalty.

  "An artifact conservation lab mixed in with an electrical engineering facility?" Pitt asked. "An odd combination."

  "Maybe he just likes to collect coins. How about we get out of here before our friends remember they are carry
ing guns?"

  Pitt slipped the pendant into his pocket, then shut off the light and followed Giordino down the corridor at a fast clip. Reaching the large bay at the end, they zipped through the exit door as the white-coated engineer stared at them in surprise.

  "Thanks for the pit stop." Pitt smiled, then disappeared out the door.

  Outside, the winds had gradually increased, buffeting the compound with gusting swirls of thick dust. Pitt and Giordino stepped back into the garage, finding the mechanic wrestling some frozen lug nuts to get the front wheel off. Pitt moved to the doorway and looked across the lawn toward the main residence. He could just barely make out the two Mongolian escorts talking casually on the porch. Two other men stood on either side of the doorway that led into the residence.

  "If they didn't let our Mongol cohorts in the front door, then I don't think they are going to let us stroll right in," he said.