Reign of Coins (16 page)

I said nothing, determined to remain neutral in every aspect…including my facial expression, breathing, etc.

“Okay…that’s fine. But I want both of you to consider a few things tonight and get back with me when you’re ready to tell me more.” He moved toward the door, casually glancing over his shoulder as he continued to address us. “We don’t want your coin, William. All we want is the map—or, if you can get it, Mr. Khan’s damned mantle itself. We don’t know how it works, or even care to find out at this point. We just want to make sure it stays out of Morrow’s hands, and for that matter Kaslow’s hands. If you come in contact with either item, William, I want you to contact me immediately. You don’t even have to go out of your way—just do the thing you normally do to get your coins, and I’ll bet my ass you
will
find the mantle.”

“Anything else?” I wondered if he had any inkling someone like Sulyn was in possession of the map.

“I need someone to keep you in line, William, so my final words are for Alistair.” His deep brown eyes were aglow. On fire, definitely, though I couldn’t tell if it was due to anger, excitement, or a mixture of both. “Christian Morrow has been connected to terrorism in the Middle East for years, and was already a sympathizer against the U.S. before he entered Georgetown. Maybe it had something to do with his father’s murder in Cairo by our French allies…maybe not. In any case, his education was funded in large part by the Syrian faction he has channeled illegal arms to for the past dozen years.”

He waited on a reaction from my boy. Alistair nodded subtly, perhaps picturing the handsome man with the cruel smile and frigid eyes as the bright and cheerful pupil he once knew.

“Many thousands of innocent victims—mostly unarmed villages deemed ‘in the way’ of this group’s expansion efforts are the direct result of his influence in obtaining these weapons,” added Cedric. “All of his past crimes will seem like a small drop in a bucket if he succeeds in delivering this so-called mantle to the team of Syrian scientists waiting for it. It once raised a nomadic ruler to become the greatest conqueror of his time. Harnessed to modern technology, who knows what it can do now?”

Cedric opened the door and prepared to step out, cautiously glancing to either side of the hallway. If I trusted him more, I could’ve told him he wouldn’t face the same fate as Sam Daniels. I honestly didn’t believe Viktor Kaslow would strike at the InterContinental as he had at the Royal Garden. For one thing, the voyeurism through my eyes ceased the moment I laid eyes on the rubber stamp waiting for us. As if Kaslow only wanted to feel my reaction, his presence left me…. Perhaps my nemesis savored the moment for all it was worth and decided to save additional torment until our next encounter.

Just to be safe, I hurried to take a whiff as Cedric surveyed the hallway. He may have royally pissed me off, and I still worried about Roderick’s warning that my former field boss might seek to execute me before this latest misadventure ended. But, I still liked the guy…twenty years of good camaraderie counted for something.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Cedric looked amused as he caught me looking over his shoulder.

“Making sure you’re okay…that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

He laughed and pulled back his summer evening jacket to reveal a small handgun. Normally, I would’ve laughed at the size…but it was a Herstal, and likely loaded with armor-piercing bullets. I doubted anyone could kill an immortal born from the power of the Tree of Life’s crystals. But, a Herstal would probably knock the sucker out long enough to escape. I’ll bet Kaslow hadn’t considered something like that…yet.

“You take care of Alistair and yourself, William,” he said, closing his coat to conceal the weapon that surely hadn’t been brought into China legally. “And, don’t believe everything people tell you about the agency. We don’t all hate you and we certainly don’t want you erased from this lifetime. You know how to reach me…take care.”

I watched Cedric move down the hallway, seemingly without a care, until he disappeared from view. Then I listened…. I listened for a good five minutes after the elevator claimed its lone passenger and headed down to the lobby. Despite no other signs of danger, I knew I’d keep a strong vigil and wouldn’t sleep again for the second straight night.

Chapter 17

Friday afternoon, ten minutes past one o’clock.

Waiting for Sulyn’s people to pick us up in front of
Café Grey
turned into a nerve-wracking experience, and a questionable scheme at best—cooked up the night before by my boy and his new gal pal. Cedric Tomlinson and Viktor Kaslow’s effortless destruction of our false sense of secrecy and control became the impetus for coming up with a new plan.

Personally, I thought the taxi instructions I gave Sulyn last night, just before we parted ways, were sufficient. Kaslow would likely track our whereabouts anyway. If we wanted anything fancy to throw him off, we needed to plan for that opportunity exceptionally well. I seriously doubted there would be a single ‘do over’ if we screwed up.

As it turned out, nearly every silver and dark luxury sedan we saw coming up the street brought us to the curb, only to watch the cars pass by each time. Finally, a light blue Mercedes pulled twenty feet ahead of us and stopped when it was out of the line of traffic. The limousine driver from last night stepped out and waved to us.

“Sulyn sent me to pick you up—come hurry!”

He opened the back passenger door and motioned for us to move quickly. Alistair and I surely looked like typical tourists, dressed in khaki shirts and shorts, wearing sun hats and the darkest shades we could find in the InterContinental’s gift shop. We scurried to where he stood and climbed into the backseat.

Despite our conspicuous attire, I was reasonably certain neither Morrow’s immortal henchman or the CIA would move to apprehend or kill us. Not yet. It made more sense to find out exactly what we knew, or where we were going first. I had plans to get creative with that aspect once we traveled on water instead of land.

“I am Jeong Chan Lee, but you may call me Stephen if you like,” said our young driver, once on the thoroughfare. “Sulyn is waiting for you at the boat.”

His generous smile wasn’t there last night. Maybe the
guis
in the warehouse district worried him. Old superstitions die hard…especially when continually fed by oddities like myself.

“We were under the impression that you, or someone else working for Ms. Cheung, would park the car and motion toward the courtyard in front of the building for us to come to you,” said Alistair, sounding perturbed. “That was supposed to happen more than half an hour ago. Were you not aware of those instructions?”

The kid’s smile disappeared, and regardless of whether or not it was his fault, the cheerful disposition changed to someone about to get his last meal on death row. Likely the instructions got messed up at another link along the chain of communication, and he unwittingly ended up holding the bag.

“Forget about it,” I said, offering what I hoped was a good-natured smile for my boy and this kid who apparently liked the name ‘Stephen’ over his ancestral one. “Where’s this boat?”

“It is docked at Tolo Harbour,” he said, the light returning to his countenance. “It is not far.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Stephen.”

“And, what if we are now being tailed by someone with ill intent?” Alistair shot me a worried look. His response came off less discreet than I’m sure he realized. Our driver looked uneasy again.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Ali, I didn’t sense Kaslow’s glowering gaze from anywhere nearby,” I whispered, as he should have done. “So, it leaves a possible tail from someone in the agency, or possibly someone else working for Christian Morrow if the deal he has with our Russian buddy isn’t an exclusive arrangement.”

“Well, that’s just frigging great!”

It could’ve turned out much better if you had left things well enough alone, my boy.

I didn’t bother telling him this. Instead, I focused on the fact that killing either of us jeopardized locating the mantle. At least in terms of finding it before Morrow’s meeting with the Syrians the next afternoon.

Some of you may be disappointed that Sulyn’s boat wasn’t a modern ‘junk’ docked in the harbor. Instead, a yacht awaited us. A sixty-footer by my estimation, it would be a fabulous ride for a New Year’s party. I figured it would suffice for an afternoon treasure hunt, as well.

Dressed casually in white shorts and a conservative burgundy blouse, this latest ensemble accentuated Sulyn’s curves. It didn’t go unnoticed by Alistair, whose sour mood immediately lifted when she waived to us and called to him by name. She stood on the deck next to a pair of males who were either crewmembers or the overbearing bodyguards she complained about yesterday.

“Hello Sulyn!” he called to her, motioning for me to keep up as he ran to the boat. Good thing we’re planning on returning to the States in a few days, or Alistair’s flame for Ms. Golden Eagle might become past tense.

“Are you ready for a little sight seeing on our way to find the cave?” she asked, once we joined her aboard the ship.

“Absolutely,” I said. The churning butterflies were getting worse. “Would you mind if I take a look at the map before we get started?”

She and Alistair eyed me suspiciously, as if I didn’t trust her to captain this expedition. That wasn’t it at all. I wanted to get my bearings straight, and I planned to suggest a few extra side trips to muddle the map’s true destination.

“Sure.” Her lovely smile faded slightly. She carefully pulled out the leather document from her purse and handed it to me. “I looked it over last night. It leads to a famous landmark not far from here, along the northern shore of Tolo Channel.”

“So, the cavern is located somewhere inside Wong Chuk Kok Tsui?”

I was surprised Alistair knew of this place, which I had viewed from the decks of two ships during my previous visits to Hong Kong, under its British occupation. A slight nervous snicker escaped my throat as I considered how the area had always captured my imagination, largely since the cape’s famous ‘Devil’s Fist’ in the shallow water always reminded me of the Homeric tales of ancient giants rising out of the sea.

But, I’d never felt my coin calling from the unique sedimentary rock formation. Nor had I felt it anywhere near this particular spot…until our flight veered near it four days ago. I felt it strong then, but thought it could be anywhere in the South China Sea—perhaps in the deeper waters north of the channel’s cape.

As I took a moment to study the map, I recognized a few features and in particular the directional markings. Some details were taken from older maps and transposed onto this ‘newer’ version. It made sense in light of the strange dream I had a few nights prior, where it appeared the cavern held the steamer chest containing the coin and the mantle for some time. I originally thought the map was created no earlier than the advent of World War II. But recognizing the cartographer influencing the design told me the map could be five hundred years old.

“This has obviously been in your family longer than your grandfather’s lifespan,” I said, being careful to watch the condescending tone my son recently warned me about. “The map bears the characteristics of a Jorge Alveres creation. Yet, from what I gathered yesterday in your grandfather’s presence, I would doubt it’s original to when Jorge mapped the coast and islands surrounding Hong Kong in 1514.”

“I have heard of this Mr. Alveres,” she said, wearing a look of admiration for the first time in our acquaintance. “I’ve always thought the map looks older than my grandfather’s assessment. There is a rumor of several caves along the coast that have long belonged to my family. For centuries commodities were moved from the caves to the mainland and then back again. The cave we seek may be the oldest, and if it is the one my father spoke of when I was a little girl, it was first used by my ancestors in the fifteenth century.”

“I don’t think we should head directly for the destination outlined in the map,” I said, quietly, drawing sharp looks from them both. “Alistair told me that he advised you during your phone conversation last night of the recent threats we have encountered this week. Just so you know, we are being tracked right now. It could be Morrow’s people or it could be the American government. We need to throw them off the path by visiting a few similar sites from the surrounding area, both before and after we visit Wong Chuk Kok Tsui.”

She looked dismayed, as if I’d royally screwed up her plans for the afternoon. But then she began to smile. Sulyn motioned to a member of the yacht’s staff to come to her, and she whispered something that sounded a little like Mandarin to the older gentleman. He looked at me suspiciously for a moment before bowing to her and rounding up the rest of the crew. Immediately, they moved to their stations and prepared to get the ship moving.

“We will take a tour of the islands just north of the channel beyond Wong Chuk Kok Tsui and then make a stop there on our way back,” she said.

Even though this wasn’t how she wanted to spend the afternoon, she was giving her best effort to adopt the revised route with some enthusiasm. Luckily, Alistair approved of what I was going for and added two thumbs up for the charade I had in mind. But we weren’t done with the planning.