The Grave Robbers of Genghis Khan (29 page)

“Next to the billions you’re making from this criminal enterprise?” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “It’s chicken feed.”

“So it
is
about money.” Khan smiled. “I thought as much. Where I am involved, it’s always about the money. Sometimes it seems as if I’ve spent my whole life walking three steps behind my wealth.”

“Stop, I almost feel sorry for you,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “If you carry on like this, I shall have to take out my violin and play ‘Hearts and Flowers.’ ”

“How rude you are. Well then, let’s negotiate. I’m not an unreasonable man. Just an obscenely wealthy one. Only let’s drop the soppy, stern, limey voice, shall we? Perhaps I do owe you something more than our agreed fee. After all, it was your idea to drill down into the gap between the Eurasian tectonic plate and the African tectonic plate. So, how much? Shall we say another hundred million dollars?”

Nimrod hesitated for a few seconds, just long enough to read what was in Dr. Sturloson’s mind.

“Yes, of course, I see now,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “You’ve been dropping the Hotaniya crystals into the magma that’s produced by the subduction of one tectonic plate below another.
That
magma also flows into the planet’s surrounding mantle and produces the startling effect on all of the earth’s volcanoes. It is clever. Clever but completely reprehensible and horribly criminal. And you’ll probably get life in prison for this.”

Rashleigh Khan sneered. “What is this? An attack of nerves? A crisis of conscience? Guilt? Or have you just lost your mind?”

“Like I said, it would take much too long to explain.”

Nimrod read a little more of Dr. Sturloson’s mind. “And
that’s how you’re going to make money out of this? From owning the world’s entire supply of chocolate?” Nimrod shook Dr. Sturloson’s head and gasped. “I’m not often shocked, Mr. Khan. But this is shocking. I can’t believe anyone could be so selfish. Or greedy. Or trivial. That you should be prepared to risk millions of people dying of starvation
for chocolate
.”

“You know? Now that I come to think of it, that voice suits you better than the Icelandic quaver I’d gotten used to. I do declare I prefer it. There’s something annoying about anyone that can’t actually pronounce the word
actually
.” Khan shook his head. “And what do I care if millions of people starve?” He laughed cruelly. “Let them eat cake. The earth has an unsustainable level of population, anyway.”

“Think of the world’s children. What about them?”

“Children?” Rashleigh Khan’s face wrinkled with disgust. “Children? I hate children. Always did. What do I care about children? They’re nasty, horrible, greedy, dwarfish little creeps. Always whining. Always asking for more. ‘I want I want I want.’ Revolting. None of them has ever done a day’s work. Oh, no. They want stuff, but are any of them prepared to find a job in order to get it? Not a bit of it. They’re like locusts, I tell you. Parasites. It beats me why people have children. All they do is eat and consume and watch television and sleep until midday and live off the work of adult people. No, I hate children more than anything in the world. Besides the money, the reason I’m doing this is to spite all those horrible kids the world over.” He laughed a cruel little laugh.

Nimrod had heard enough. He made Dr. Sturloson tighten the wheel on the hatch and then throw the leather gloves into the back of the cave.

Rashleigh Khan laughed. “What is this? You really think that’s going to stop me?”

“It’s over, Mr. Khan,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “I just want you to know that before we take your helicopter and fly to the police station in Naples. I believe there’s a helipad on the city carabinieri roof, so that should make things nice and convenient for you. I know you value your own comfort and convenience above almost anything. Except money. And chocolate, of course.”

Rashleigh Khan turned away and pressed the button on the elevator door. “This conversation is over,” he said quietly. “And so are you, Dr. Sturloson. I do believe I will have some of my men come back down here and lower you very slowly, an inch at a time, into that magma shaft.”

“John,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “Take control of Mr. Khan, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What?” Rashleigh Khan looked above his head. “What is this? What is going on here?”

But it was too late. John dropped off the ceiling and slipped into the billionaire’s body and nodded back at his uncle.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in, sir.”

Quickly, he read Rashleigh Khan’s thoughts, which were all about Genghis Khan, and making money and yet more money, and chocolate, of course. Khan seemed to like that
more than anything. John had never before encountered anyone who seemed to like chocolate better than Rashleigh Khan. So much that he was quite prepared to —

“What?” he said out loud. “That’s disgusting.”

“I assume you’re referring to Mr. Khan’s scheme, John.”

“I am. Let me get this straight in my own mind. Well, in Rashleigh Khan’s mind. But you know what I mean, Uncle.”

“Yes, John.”

“Rashleigh Khan has three obsessions in life: making money, Genghis Khan from whom he believes he is descended, and chocolate. Which is why he already makes the most expensive chocolate in the world.”

“That’s right.”

“Having already tried and failed to buy up all of the major cacao tree plantations in the world, he did the next best thing: He bought the world’s entire supply of cacao beans, from which chocolate is made. But not content with this, he then set about with his plan to destroy all of the cacao trees in every plantation on earth, using the Hotaniya crystals to drastically affect the world’s weather.”

“That’s about the size of things, yes,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “It’s simple market economics. Having control of the supply, he then tried to drastically affect the demand.”

“And in this way, he planned to raise the price of chocolate from the current level of four thousand dollars a ton to four hundred thousand dollars a ton; so that a chocolate bar currently costing a dollar would in the future cost a hundred dollars. He was actually planning to have cameras installed in candy stores around the world so that he could
photograph the faces of kids who couldn’t afford to pay a hundred bucks for a chocolate bar.”

“Horrible.”

John shook Rashleigh Khan’s head. “But would anyone actually pay that kind of money for a chocolate bar?”

“I’m afraid that there’s no limit to what people will pay for things they like. Caviar is nothing more than lightly salted fish eggs. But it’s the scarcity that makes it expensive. Years ago, American bars used to serve it as a free snack to make customers thirsty. These days, it’s three hundred dollars for just an ounce and three quarters.”

“This whole scheme is the most evil thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it? But tell me, John. Dr. Sturloson — who, as you may have gathered, is the professor’s estranged wife — she has no idea how any of this can be prevented. Is there anything you can see in Rashleigh Khan’s mind that tells you exactly how this might be achieved? If any of this can be reversed?”

John thought for a moment, which is to say he looked through some of what was in Rashleigh Khan’s memory.

“There was something in the box that contained the Hotaniya crystals,” said John. “Something in the safe. A parchment. Only Khan hasn’t a clue what it means or how it works.”

“Well, let’s hope it
does
work. For all our sakes. Right you are, my boy. We’ll collect that parchment on the way to the police station in Naples.”

“But what are we going to tell them?”
“As Dr. Sturloson and Rashleigh Khan, we shall simply make a full and frank confession of everything. Make a clean breast of it. The whole dirty, rotten scheme.”

John hesitated as, for a moment, one of Rashleigh Khan’s own selfish thoughts managed to intrude upon his own.

“Do you think they’ll believe us?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “I speak fluent Italian. And I can assure you, John, that there’s nothing or nobody the police in Italy like more than a billionaire who walks in off the street and confesses to a major crime.”

J
ohn and Nimrod returned Dr. Sturloson and Rashleigh Khan to the
Schadenfreude
, where the billionaire immediately ordered his pilot to make ready the helicopter for a flight to Naples. Then they went back to the study to retrieve the parchment from the safe.

The combination was the date of Rashleigh Khan’s birthday, which was easy enough for John to recall. But the actual script on the ancient yellow paper was quite incomprehensible to both him and Rashleigh Khan. But luckily, Nimrod was able to understand it.

“I thought it would look a bit more Chinese,” said John. “But it doesn’t look even remotely Asian. Frankly, it looks more like Elvish.”

“Until Genghis Khan, the Mongols were illiterate,” said Nimrod, examining the parchment in Dr. Sturloson’s hand. “They had no writing. Now Genghis Khan recognized the importance of writing but he also recognized that the Mongols
could never have adopted Chinese script. Because they hated the Chinese. So Genghis had the Mongols adopt a style of writing that was an offshoot of Hebrew. And it’s still in use today in some parts of Mongolia. Which is how I can read it. And you’re right. It is like Elvish.”

On the short flight into Naples, Nimrod read the parchment over and over and had to rehearse what he was going to tell John about it several times before he felt able to mention to him what it contained.

“It was Genghis Khan himself who wrote this parchment,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “Being half djinn, I daresay he knew rather more about how to counter the probable effects of the Hotaniya crystals on a volcano than the Chinese emperor Xuanzong.”

He was silent for a minute while he thought about what he had learned from the parchment.

“Well?” asked Rashleigh Khan/John. “Does he say that there’s a way of reversing this catastrophe?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But it won’t be easy. It won’t be at all easy.”

“I thought not.”

Nimrod shook Dr. Sturloson’s head. “In essence, what’s written here is the Taranushi prophecy.” He read out half of what was written on the parchment. “ ‘For when a sea of cloud arises from the bowels of the earth and turns the lungs of men to stone, the wheat in the fields to ash, and the rivers to liquid rock, then only djinn who are twin brother and sister and true children of the lamp can save the world from
inflammable darkness and destruction. Just as the creation of the world was attended by the sacrifice of many human twins, so the saving of the world will require the sacrifice of one set of djinn twins.’ ”

“Oh,” said Rashleigh Khan/John. “I was afraid you might say something like that.”

“But at least Genghis Khan suggests just what that sacrifice might entail,” added Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “Which is bad, although not as bad as perhaps you might think, John, all things considered. I mean, it’s really bad, there’s no doubt about that. But it could just be worse.”

“So, let’s hear it.”

Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod told him what Genghis Khan had written.

Rashleigh Khan/John let out a loud sigh. “That’s just great,” he said. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so, John.”

“Well, that’s just great.”

John turned Rashleigh Khan’s head in the direction of Vesuvius, which now threatened the eastern part of Naples. There were, he knew, at least a million people living in the city before the evacuation, whose houses would be destroyed if the volcano blew its top the way it had back in
A.D.
79. He couldn’t let that happen.

“It does sort of make sense, rather, I’m afraid,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. “I wish I could say it didn’t. But it does. If I’m honest, I suppose I’ve always suspected that it would require something like this.”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” objected Rashleigh Khan/John.

“What you’re suggesting is way more than seems reasonable, Nimrod. At least to me. If I do this. If Philippa does this. Well, it’s the ultimate sacrifice is what you’re talking here, isn’t it? For us, anyway. And what’s more, you’ve had your life. We haven’t.”

Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod didn’t answer.

“Is everything all right, sir?” asked the pilot.

John wanted to tell him it wasn’t; he wanted to tell him to turn the helicopter around and go back to the yacht. After all, who would know that he wasn’t the real Rashleigh Khan? The life of a billionaire might be fun. But, of course, he didn’t.

“Yes, everything is fine, thank you,” said Rashleigh Khan/John. “All things considered.”

“It’s just, well, you don’t sound very much like yourself, sir,” said the pilot. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I have a summer cold,” said Rashleigh Khan/John, by way of explanation. “We both have. Don’t we, Doctor?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Sturloson/Nimrod. He was silent for a moment as he stared out at the Tyrrhenian Sea and thought of his niece and nephew and all they had been through together. He knew this meant the end of their adventures and he allowed himself to shed a small tear.

“Rashleigh?”

“Doctor?”

Nimrod collected himself and thought of something less sentimental to say, something practical. “I just wanted to say that we shall have to stay long enough at the police station to
make signed confessions. So I think it may be a while before you and I can return to the hotel in Sorrento.”

“The others will be starting to worry about us.”

“That can’t be helped. What’s important is that we leave these two characters behind bars. It doesn’t matter if they’re themselves again, even protesting their innocence and asking to speak to lawyers, provided the police have it all on tape.”

“Yes. I understand. I understand everything now.”

They landed on the roof of the police station in Naples and asked to speak to some detectives, who were surprised both by the manner of their arrival, and by their apparent willingness to confess to such heinous crimes. The Commissar himself came into the interview room and took their statements and, after several hours, the two signed their confessions and were led down to the cells at which point, Nimrod and John exited these mundane bodies. Immediately after this happened, Rashleigh Khan and Dr. Sturloson began, as Nimrod had predicted, to shout for lawyers and to protest their innocence and to demand bail.

“I’m not sure how an Italian court will view a defense of possession,” Nimrod said to John. “Then again, Mr. Khan might just argue that he should be regarded as a special case because he’s so rich. The
Animal Farm
defense. All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others. I believe that sometimes works.”

“I hope they throw away the key,” said John who, understandably, was feeling less than charitable as far as Rashleigh Khan was concerned. “I hope they sink his stupid yacht.

I hope they — I don’t know what I hope as far as what happens to Mr. Khan is concerned, but I hope it’s something really crummy.”

They floated out of the police station and down to the city’s ancient port.

“It’s a long way back to Sorrento,” said Nimrod. “Perhaps a little too far to float through air. I’d suggest the local Circumvesuviana train — the one we took before — only it’s probably not running because of the eruption. So we’d better take the ferryboat to the island of Capri, and change there for the ferry to Sorrento. You’ll like Capri. It’s one of the most beautiful islands in the world.”

John growled his doubt. In other circumstances, he might have enjoyed a trip to Capri; after all, it was where the Roman emperors had gone on vacation. But since learning from Nimrod what needed now to be done, he had quite lost his previous mirth and found that he cared nothing for the island’s famous beauty. Now all he wanted to do was return to Sorrento and enjoy one last night with Groanin and Philippa before doing — according to Nimrod’s interpretation of the parchment — what needed to be done, first thing the following morning.

It was dark by the time they got back to the Excelsior Vittoria hotel and reclaimed their bodies, after which they found Groanin, Philippa, and the professor on the balustraded terrace, again, almost as if they had not moved from the last time. The professor and Groanin were each facing a large cup of coffee. Philippa was nursing a soft drink and holding the binoculars.

“We’ve been watching the
Schadenfreude
,” said Philippa. “Waiting for something to happen. But apart from the helicopter taking off, so far nothing has.”

“That’s what you think,” said John, and confirmed what they all suspected — that it had indeed been Rashleigh Khan who had robbed the grave of Genghis Khan, and how the yacht was full of stolen treasures including the golden box containing the Hotaniya crystals.

“So how come the Mongolian death worm didn’t attack him?” asked Groanin. “Back on the plateau.”

“It did,” said John. “When I was inside his body, I learned that several of his men were killed before a thick fog descended on the plateau and they managed to make their escape.”

“Then who covered up the excavation?”

“I rather think that must have been the Darkhats?” said Nimrod. “The special clan of Mongol tribesmen who Mr. Bilharzia spoke of and who are dedicated to keeping the grave a secret.”

“We also found out why Rashleigh Khan is doing this in the first place,” said John. “And while I understood it during the time I was in his loathsome body and I was using his enormous financial brain, I really don’t think I understand it now because it’s all economics and stuff.”

Nimrod explained exactly how Rashleigh Khan had hoped to use a drastic alteration in the world’s weather in order to drive the price of the world’s chocolate supplies through the roof.

“The rich
are
different,” said Groanin. “Truly it is easier
for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for an obscenely rich so-and-so like Mr. Khan to behave like a decent human being.” He shrugged. “I suppose that’s how they got so rich in the first place.”

“Don’t talk to me about camels,” said Philippa. “If I never see another camel again, it will be too soon. I can still taste that Ozzy camel’s mouth. Which makes me think a piece of chocolate might be just the thing right now.”

Groanin noticed her eyeing the chocolate lying on the saucer of his coffee cup and handed it over. “Here,” he said. “Have it. This is dark chocolate. I never much liked dark chocolate. It’s much too bitter for me.”

“Thanks,” said Philippa, and ate it.

“Chocolate,” remarked the professor. “It doesn’t seem possible that someone should behave with such criminal disregard for his fellow human beings over something as mundane as chocolate.”

“I prefer milk chocolate myself,” admitted Groanin. “I say, I prefer milk chocolate. I don’t know what I’d do if it was more expensive.”

“None of that is important now,” insisted John. “What’s important is that we’ve stopped Rashleigh Khan from pouring yet more Hotaniya crystals into the borehole between the two tectonic plates in the Mediterranean Sea. And now we have to try to reverse this catastrophe. To turn the clock back to how things were when we arrived here in Italy.”

“If only such things as turning the clock back were possible,” said Nimrod. “Unfortunately, they’re not.”

Of course, if he had been aware of their previous adventure, their sixth together — which he wasn’t — then he would have realized that such things
are
possible, in which case, there would have been nothing of which he could have been aware because it would never have happened in the first place. Time is like that and it’s only the present you can ever be really sure of.

“So what are we going to do?” asked Philippa.

Nimrod nodded to John who proceeded to explain to his sister what needed to be done. To John’s surprise, she seemed quite prepared for what he told her. And, in the light of Charlie’s self-sacrificing and inspiring example, more than equal to what lay ahead.

“I told you before,” she said to him bravely. “If I’m dealt the same cards as Charlie, I hope I have the guts to do as much as he did.”

“I can help a bit,” said Nimrod. “But only you two can do this. I think that perhaps I’ve always known that you two were marked out for some sort of special mission.”

John nodded. “Then we’re agreed,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go back up Vesuvius and sort things out, if we can.”

“Yes,” said Philippa. “Agreed.” She shrugged. “I’m sort of glad, really. Honestly, I am. I mean, it’ll be hard. But so be it.”

“I’ve something to tell you, too, Professor,” said Nimrod. “Something that’s also rather hard to hear, perhaps. But all the same, I think you ought to know about it.”

Then Nimrod told the professor of how he and John had
made the acquaintance of the professor’s wife, and how she was now in a Neapolitan prison.

“Best place for her,” said the professor. “But, I am still married to the woman, so I suppose I’ll go to Naples and see what I can do for her. At least I will after we’ve been back up Vesuvius.”

“What about you, Groanin?” asked Nimrod. “Are you coming tomorrow?”

“Of course,” said the butler.

“You didn’t come the last time we decided to go up Vesuvius,” said Philippa. “You resigned.”

“Aye, and shall I tell you what that taught me? That you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I learned that I didn’t know how well off I really was with you and your brother and your uncle.”

“It could be dangerous,” said John.

Groanin laid a hand on John’s hand and then took Philippa’s in his own. “You honestly don’t think I’d let you do this by yourselves, do you? Not after everything that we’ve been through. Hot lava couldn’t stop me from coming this time. I say, hot lava couldn’t stop me from coming this time. Nor all the fire and smoke and ash that’s in the earth. And just remember this, you two: Fortune favors the brave.”