Blood of the Reich (25 page)

“It’s not warning we need.” He looked about. “It’s a crisp morning, breathing of winter, but the air is pleasantly clean, is it not? This is the best time in Lhasa, when the trees turn yellow and the first storms sprinkle the distant mountains with snow.”

Hood shifted, impatient. “Your soldiers took me and my companion, Beth Calloway, by surprise. It was embarrassing.”

Reting looked serene. “It was natural. Things happen as they’re meant to.”

What did
that
mean? “Perhaps then you can tell me what’s going on.”

The Reting arranged himself, his robes fanning like a dress, thinking about what to say. His air of gentle patience seemed alien after New York. In a world sliding toward war, he was eerily calm.

“Approximately one month ago, the British consul called on me in the Potala to report that a German delegation of SS men had left Calcutta without permission. Lhasa was their announced destination. Messages to that effect had arrived to the British legation via wireless from India. The consul suggested that I mobilize troops to stop the interlopers and turn them back toward the British Raj. He warned me they meant no good for Tibet.”

“So Raeder eluded you?”

“Oh no. We knew where he was at every moment and could have stopped him at any time. But a Tibetan Buddhist owes the weary traveler hospitality, and in any case I was curious who would be so bold as to approach our kingdom uninvited. So the English gave me the names of the Germans who’d been in Calcutta, and one of my scholars exclaimed at mention of one.”

“It was Keyuri who exclaimed about Kurt Raeder, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a scholar? A woman, in Tibet?”

“Miss Lin is an unusual young woman. Four years ago she elected to enter a Buddhist nunnery after serving on a Western research expedition.”

“The expedition was mine.”

“And both you and Kurt Raeder had been involved with her shortly after she had been widowed, she confided.”

Hood bowed his head. “Yes.”

“Her experience with Westerners had greatly troubled her. Part was their worldly ambition. Part was their ability to thrive and travel in a land so far from their own. Part was the strength of their desire: their madness, if you will. You are formidable. And restless.”

“We’re scholars too. But Raeder . . .”

Reting held up his hand. “It was Raeder who gave Keyuri the impetus to study legends of ancient Tibetan powers. She fears the West and wants my people to be ready to cope with it. So I spoke with her for many hours in private, getting her story and pondering what to do. The easiest thing would have been to turn the Germans back. But was it the wisest thing?”

“They’re Nazis, and Hitler preaches world domination.”

“Yes, but they’re skilled and unafraid of the legends that inhibit us. They’ve instruments to probe the earth that we don’t have. They are scholars of the Tibetan past and have the ability to understand technology that might elude us. So Keyuri suggested a solution. She proposed that we cooperate with these SS men.”

“But Raeder abused her!”

“Shambhala has long been rumored, but never seriously sought. We Tibetans know the difference between legend and history. Yet what if part of the legend is true? Could these ambitious Germans find it? And understand its secrets?”

“Understand only for Germany, I warn you.”

“Of course.” Reting looked mildly away, studying the paddling ducks. “Keyuri’s plan was to go with Raeder and see what he could find, learn what he could learn. She knows he’s still obsessed with her, because in the end he couldn’t have her heart. Our nun went to help the Germans and yet spy on them. To share in discovery, but bring it back to the Potala.”

“More intrigue than the Buddha taught.” Hood was wary of this game.

“These are perilous times. Will the coming storm reach my people? And if so, how will we shelter from it?”

“Maybe China can protect you.”

“China is our greatest fear of all.”

“Keyuri offered to Raeder to go along?”

“Of course not. He’d never expect her to after his treatment of her.”

Hood looked surprised.

“Yes, she showed me some of the scars,” Reting said. “We had to be cleverer than that. Instead, she betrayed the secret of his mission to the British, who immediately set out to find Shambhala for themselves, as we knew they would. Raeder also knew they would, and he arranged to ambush them north of Lhasa.”

“My God. You planned all this?”

“The British were unharmed, but their vehicles—the only ones in Lhasa capable of such a journey—were stolen. So was Keyuri, as the Tibetan with the most knowledge of what the Germans seek. So now they hunt the legend together.”

“You’re crazy! Raeder will eat her alive! You’ll never learn a thing about Shambhala the Germans don’t want you to know!”

“My nun is quite aware of this, but fortunately she has a solution.”

“Which is?”

“You.” He gave a slight smile.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been confined here while we give the Germans time to find what they’re looking for. With the motorcars, they quickly outran any feasible pursuit. But we’d heard you planned to fly here, and that gave us our solution. We want you to pursue Raeder by airplane, learn what he learns, deal with the Germans in whatever way you see fit, and bring Shambhala’s secrets, and Keyuri, back to the Potala. Beth Calloway has been promised sufficient fuel to return to China in return for helping us with this task. She’s been employed patching your flying machine.”

“Me, instead of the British or your own officers? I’m not a soldier.”

“No, but you have one attribute that recommends you to the Tibetan government and persuades us that you will do the right thing, which is to return to Lhasa with what you learn.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re still in love with Keyuri Lin.”

“She told you that?”

“You
told me that, by coming this far at all.”

Hood flushed. He realized that what the Reting said was true, and that the Reting had known this truth before he had.

Now he wanted one woman he was falling in love with to take him to another.

“There’s only room for two in Beth’s plane.”

“I hope that many survive,” the Reting said calmly. “Ah.” He stood, listening. “That’s Miss Calloway’s plane now. She’ll land just outside the palace grounds, and you’ll be on your way.”

24

Eldorado Peak, Cascade Mountains

September 6, Present Day

R
ominy and Jake started on a trail to Monogram Lake, took a fork toward Lookout Mountain, and climbed to the spot where it made sense to cut through the forest. This was not the most direct way—they could have plowed straight uphill from Hood’s cabin—but even the switchback misery of the Forest Service trail was better than scrambling across logs and breaking through the salal and sword fern of thick Cascade forest. Rominy wore the women’s boots Jake had provided—half a size too big, she estimated—and had cut off the oversized jeans at mid-thigh. It was nice Barrow had the gear, but after the revelation about the saliva and the Starbucks cup, Rominy was suspicious of his story. Had Jake learned her shoe size, too? Was he an investigative reporter or a stalker?

Had he deliberately disabled her cell phone?

If so, had he simply been buying enough time to sell her on this wild story? She also remembered his caresses and couldn’t believe her instincts were
that
wrong. Christ, he could kiss. He’d found her inheritance, too.

But the cash had been put in his heavier backpack, not hers.

Rominy had thought of trying to sneak the old .45 into her own pack for protection, but it was as inconspicuous as an anvil and she was doubtful it would even fire. Her Safeway skirt was packed away, her purse was in the truck, her identity stripped. Jake said he was taking the money for safekeeping. “Better than risk it lying around the cabin, just in case you
did
see someone,” which was not exactly reassuring. “Don’t worry, I’m trustworthy as a bank.”

“Like
that’s
reassuring, after the Wall Street meltdown.”

He laughed.

The money was in a zipper pocket of his backpack, about as fat as the other one that carried energy bars. Rominy thought about demanding to carry the cash, but he’d found the inheritance and she didn’t want an argument to break the mood of partnership. Instead she quietly did take one secret scrap along for herself, just so she did something Jake didn’t know about. She tucked the old Tibetan scarf with its invisible writing in her bra between her breasts. It wasn’t much, but it was something
she
did, not Mr. Reporter. She needed to regain a measure of control.

But she also wanted to get to the bottom of this crazy mystery, and so far they’d made a great team. So she’d play along, learn about her ancestor, and then if necessary run screaming for the cops.

Well, it was a plan.

Barrow was certainly fit. Not unusual in this part of the nation, but he soon had her panting as he chugged up the trail with the determination of the Little Engine That Could. Rominy had done her share of hiking—guys saw it as a cheap date—but her idea of alpine adventure was driving to the parking lot at Paradise on Mount Rainier and meandering with the mob through the wildflower meadows until pavement ended. If God had wanted people to walk on dirt trails, why had he provided asphalt? This path seemed to be made of equal parts mud, rock, roots, and brush, and was empty for good reason. There was no view, just monotonously steep forest rising above the Cascade River Valley. It was shadowy and still. Few birds lived in these deep woods.

“Did you bring a flashlight?” she finally remembered to ask.

“I’ve got two, plus GPS, working compass, climbing rope, Swiss army knife, and food for two days. We could invade Afghanistan.”

“You seem awfully prepared.”

“I was an Eagle Scout, remember.”

“Why aren’t I surprised?”

“Ski Patrol, lifeguard training, CPR, and ballroom dancing.”

She didn’t know if he was kidding. “Ballroom dancing, really?”

“I took some lessons.”

Intriguing. “I thought newspaper reporters hung around bars and stayed up late and ate bad food.”

“I
do
eat bad food. Haven’t you noticed?”

“But you know about wine and you have all this outdoor gear.”

“I’m a backpacker and camper, and I knew about Hood’s cabin. I just couldn’t get to it without your help. I’ve been preparing this for a long time, Rominy. I didn’t expect the car bomb. Or how clever you’d be.”

“I don’t feel clever. I feel bewildered.”

“Or how pretty.”

Male bullshit, but she liked it. Even now, huffing and sweaty, she felt a kind of satisfied tingle from their lovemaking. Why wasn’t anything ever simple? “What do you think we’ll really find? Did Hood come back from Tibet with some kind of treasure? Is that why he hid out here?”

“I hope so. Not for the money but for the story. I’ve already got a good story, of course: you, the bomb, the ancestor, and the safety deposit box. But I’ve got a hunch I still don’t have the
whole
story. And why are those skinhead goons after you? What happened to your relatives? Why did Ben Hood make this a game of Clue? I hope we’re hiking up to all the answers.”

“Each answer just seems like it poses new questions.”

“Kind of like life, isn’t it? Too many questions, and then you die.”

After two hours of steady climbing, Jake took a reading from his GPS, consulted his contour map, and announced it was time to leave the trail and strike due east—still up—on their own.

“Just make sure we can find our way back.”

“I’ve got a satellite to guide me. But if worse comes to worst, just head downhill. Eventually you should hit the Cascade River Road, if you don’t starve or get eaten by a cougar or a bear.”

“Thanks for that, Jake.”

Fortunately, the trees had already shrunk in size at a mile in altitude, so the downed logs were more hurdles than walls. It was slow going through huckleberry and silver fir, Jake shouting once in a while to warn any bears away from their plowing. Slowly they broke out into heather meadows with a view to higher peaks. Rominy caught her breath. A great rampart of rock and snow, glaciers hanging, loomed above a densely forested valley. Alpine meadows were a bright Irish green between the dark trees and the snow.

Jake looked from his Survey map to the horizon. “Dorado Needle, Triad, Mount Torment, Forbidden Peak.”

“Cheery.”

“And that one is Eldorado. Appropriate when looking for a gold mine, no?”

“Except El Dorado didn’t exist.”

“Or Oz, Shangri-la, or Camelot. Or did they?” He smiled, fetchingly.