Treasure of Khan (44 page)

P
ITT LISTENED, AND NOTED THAT
the rumble originated up the mountain rather than beneath the ground. It was a thundering noise that refused to wane, growing louder each second. The tone seemed to transform from a rumble to a rush as it drew closer. Everybody in the compound stared toward the main entrance, where the sound seemed to be heading. Unbelievably, the rushing noise grew still louder till it matched the roar of a dozen 747 jumbo jets blasting down a runway in unison.

Over the din, a pair of panicked shouts burst forth near the compound entrance. Unseen outside the walls, the two front-entry guards hurried to open the heavy iron gate. Their cries and bid to escape vanished under the crushing face of a giant wall of water.

A quarter mile upstream, the earthquake had triggered a deep chasm perpendicular to the riverbank. The raging river waters swirled in a confused vortex as the force of gravity led it in a new direction. Near the mouth of the aqueduct, the entire river shifted laterally, staking a new course alongside the elevated dirt road.

The river had rushed toward Borjin's compound before pooling in a large depression. A high berm, built as an equipment causeway between the road and the aqueduct, created an unintended dam within sight of the compound. The surging waters filled the depression, turning it into a large reservoir before the surplus flow began dribbling over the top. The overflowing water cut a crack in the dirt wall that quickly expanded to its base. In a flash, the entire berm collapsed under its own weight, releasing a surging wall of water.

The accumulated pool of icy black water burst toward the compound in a ten-foot-high wave. The front guards, oblivious to the approaching floodwaters until it was too late, were crushed by the wave as it smashed into the gate and gushed over the compound walls. The torrent lost little momentum before ripping away the front gate while also breaching a large hole through the wall above the aqueduct. The two swells of water merged forces inside the compound and surged toward the residence in a six-foot-high rolling wave.

Pitt gazed at the approaching wall of water and knew there was no chance of them outrunning it, especially Giordino and Wofford. Sizing up the surroundings, he saw one chance at survival.

“Grab hold of the columns and hang on,” he shouted.

The Doric marble columns supporting the portico were deeply fluted, allowing a firm grasp to be made on the vertically cut edges. Theresa and Wofford stretched their arms completely around a column and linked hands. Giordino reached a thick arm around his column, keeping the Makarov held tight in his other hand. Tatiana abandoned her fright of getting shot and fearfully wrapped her arms around Giordino's waist in the face of the watery onslaught. Pitt barely had time to lie flat, grab the column, and hold his breath before the deluge hit.

But the shriek of men's voices arrived first. Encircling the drive in stealth, the guards were caught flat-footed by the floodwaters. The men were swept off their feet and devoured by the wave as it rolled toward the residence. Pitt heard the agonized cry of one guard just a few feet away as he was propelled toward the house by the surge.

The wave followed the path of least resistance, rolling across the northern part of the compound and mostly bypassing the lab and garage. Accompanied by a deep rumble, the advancing wave slammed into the residence with a crash. As Pitt had hoped, the marble columns took the brunt of the impact, but his legs were still ripped off the ground and pulled toward the house. He gripped the column tightly as the initial surge passed over and then the forceful tug of the water gradually receded. The initial fear of being battered and washed away by the flood was supplanted by the shock of the icy water. The bitter-cold water sucked the air out of his lungs and stung his skin like a thousand sharp needles. Grabbing the column, he pulled himself to his feet, finding the floodwaters had dropped to thigh level. At the adjacent column, he saw Giordino pull Tatiana up from under the water, the Mongolian woman coughing and sputtering. A second later, Theresa and Wofford emerged at the next column, gasping from the cold.

The wall of water had barreled into the house on its quest for a new pathway down the mountainside. Though two feet of water swirled through a crater-sized opening that had been the front door, the bulk of the floodwaters had been repelled from the heavy structure. The tormented waters finally surged around the northern end of the residence, pouring over the back-side cliff in a wide waterfall. Faint screams echoed above the river's rumble from scattered men who had survived the impact only to be washed downstream. Nearby, a loud splash pronounced that the northern tip of the residence had crumbled under the force of the rushing waters.

The surge and current eased at the front of the house, and Pitt waded toward the others congregating at Giordino's column. He grimly noted the stiff bodies of several guards floating about the driveway. Reaching the column, he found Theresa staring at him through glazed eyes while shivering uncontrollably. Even the rock-like Giordino appeared numb, the effect of the gunshot wound with the icy immersion sending him on a path to shock. Pitt knew they would all be facing hypothermia shortly if they didn't escape the freezing water.

“We need to get to dry ground. This way,” he said, motioning toward the lab, which stood on a slightly elevated rise. Wofford helped guide Theresa while Pitt made sure Tatiana didn't stray from Giordino. He need not have worried, as Borjin's sister was quietly subdued from the icy bath.

The diverted river had settled into two main channels through the compound. The primary flow ran from the front gate to the northern edge of the residence, where the waters continued to gnaw at the collapsing walls. A secondary flow swirled toward the laboratory before angling back to the residence's portico. A portion of the waters rolled through the house, while the rest rejoined forces with the main flow wrapping around the side.

It was the secondary swirl that encapsulated Pitt and the others. He quickly guided the group out of the deepest section, but they still faced ankle-deep flows of the chilly water in all directions. Around them, shouts and yelling echoed across the grounds as the scientists tried to prevent the waters from flooding the laboratory. Inside the garage, somebody shouted as a car was heard starting up. Further chaos ensued outside. The guards' horses had escaped the corral during the earthquake and the frightened herd stampeded back and forth across the compound in nervous confusion.

Pitt had his own problems to contend with. Watching Theresa fall to her knees, he rushed to aid Wofford helping her up.

“She's fading,” he whispered to Pitt.

Pitt looked in her eyes and saw a vacant stare. The uncontrollable shivering had continued unabated, and her skin was pale and clammy. She was on the verge of hypothermia.

“We need to get her warm and dry, pronto,” Wofford said.

Standing in the middle of the flooded compound, their options were limited. They suddenly got worse when a vehicle in the garage came barreling out the bay doors with its lights ablaze.

Nearly a foot of water covered the ground around the garage, but the car plowed through it like a tank. Pitt watched anxiously as the vehicle turned in their direction, heading toward the residence's entry. The driver flashed on his high beams, then began weaving back and forth like a drunken snake. In less than a minute, the bright headlights flared across Pitt and the others and the driver suddenly ceased swerving and accelerated straight for their position.

The frozen group had stopped in a broad patch of open ground. There was nowhere to hide within easy reach. The black water swirling about their ankles prevented a quick escape, even had there been some nearby cover. Pitt calmly eyed the approaching vehicle, then turned to Wofford.

“Hold on to Theresa for a moment,” he said, slipping her arm off his shoulder. He then raised his .45 and took aim at the car's front windshield and unseen driver behind the wheel.

Pitt held the gun steady, his fingers tightening on the trigger. The driver ignored the threat, charging forward, while streams of water gushed off the front bumper and fender wells. As the car drew nearer, it gradually drifted to one side, then started to slow. Pitt held his fire as the car, a jet-black supercharged Range Rover, cut a wide turn, then sloshed to a stop just a few yards in front of him. Pitt adjusted his aim to the driver's side window that now faced him and took a step forward with the Colt extended at arm's reach.

The car sat idling for a moment, hissing small clouds of steam that bubbled up from the vehicle's hot underside. Then the black-tinted driver's window rolled quietly down to the sill. From the dark interior of the car, a familiar bespectacled face popped through the window.

“Somebody call for a taxi?” Rudi Gunn asked with a grin.

P
ITT PLACED
T
HERESA IN THE
backseat of the Range Rover as Giordino shoved Tatiana in, then climbed in beside Theresa. Wofford took to the front passenger's seat as Gunn turned the heater up high, quickly roasting the interior. Giordino stripped off Theresa's shoes and outer clothing, as his own shivering finally abated. The warm interior revived them all, and Theresa soon surprised everyone by sitting up and helping bandage Giordino's leg.

“Do we have you to thank for shaking up Borjin's abode?” Pitt asked of Gunn while he stood leaning on the driver's open window.

“Dr. von Wachter, actually. His seismic device is for real, and very user-friendly. I took a gamble and pressed the button and the next thing you know, instant tremor.”

“Without a moment to spare, I might add.”

“Nice shake, Rudi,” Giordino grunted from the backseat, “but we could probably have done without the ice-water bath.”

“I can't really take responsibility for the bonus elements of fire and flood,” Gunn replied with feigned humility.

Pitt turned toward the laboratory and noticed for the first time a billow of smoke and flames pouring out the second-story windows. Somewhere in the building, a broken gas line had ignited, sending a fireball through the structure. A disheveled band of scientists were desperately pulling out equipment, research materials, and personal belongings before the whole building went up in flames.

Rid of her chill by the car's warm interior, Tatiana suddenly regained her feistiness.

“Get out,” she hissed suddenly. “This is my brother's car.”

“I thought it a nice choice as well,” Gunn replied. “Remind me to thank him for leaving the keys in the ignition.”

Gunn opened the door and started to climb out of the driver's seat. “You want to drive?” he asked Pitt. “I'll climb in back with the wildcat.”

“No,” Pitt said, gazing toward the residence. “I want Borjin.”

“Go ahead,” Tatiana cursed, “so he can kill you dead.”

Giordino had enough. With a quick jab, he rocked Tatiana's jaw. The screeching died as she melted onto the seat unconscious.

“I've been wanting to do that for some time,” he said somewhat apologetically. He then turned to Pitt. “You'll need backup.”

“Not one with a bad wheel,” he replied, nodding toward Giordino's bandaged leg. “No, you'd better support Rudi in getting everyone out of here, in case there's more trouble. I just want to make sure that our host hasn't disappeared.”

“You can't last much longer in that icy water,” Gunn said, noting a shiver from Pitt. “At least take my coat,” he offered, slipping off his heavy jacket. “Not that you should cover up that fancy costume.” He grinned at the soggy orange
del
Pitt was wearing. Pitt stripped off the waterlogged outfit and gratefully zipped up Gunn's dry jacket in its place.

“Thanks, Rudi. Try to get off the grounds before the whole place slides off the mountain. If I don't find you within an hour, then hightail it to Ulaanbaatar without me.”

“We'll be waiting.”

Gunn jumped back into the Range Rover and jammed it into drive, sloshing toward the compound entrance. The original gate and a twenty-foot section of adjoining wall had been toppled by the floodwaters, littering the grounds with chunks of concrete and debris. Pitt watched as Gunn guided the Rover to the large gap in the wall, then bounced the four-wheel-drive vehicle over the debris until its taillights vanished outside the compound grounds.

Wading toward the dark and flooded residence, Pitt suddenly felt alone and very cold as he wondered what Borjin might have in store for him.

T
HOUGH THE WORST OF THE
flooding had subsided, there was still a half foot of water seeping though the residence when Pitt waded up the front steps. He stopped in front of the open front door, spotting a body lying facedown in the water, its legs wedged behind a large planter. Pitt moved closer and examined the man. He wasn't one of the gunmen Pitt had shot at but apparently another guard drowned by the floodwaters. Pitt noted that the man still clutched a wooden spear in one hand, his fingers clenched in a rigid grip. Pitt bent down and ripped the orange tunic from the man's body, then pried the spear from his left hand. He drove the spear tip through the armholes of the tunic and let it drape down as if hung from a hangar. A fool's bait, he thought, but it was all he had to counter those lying in wait inside.

Crouching at the doorway, he quickly slipped into the residence, rotating his .45 in an arc around the foyer. The entrance was empty and the entire house quiet, save for the steady rush of water cascading down a distant stairwell. The electricity had long since been extinguished, but a handful of emergency red lights dotted the hallway ceiling, powered by a remote generator. The lights provided little illumination, casting only patches of crimson shadows through the empty corridors.

Pitt peered down the three separate hallways. He could see out the open end of the northern corridor, where the gushing river was continuing to wash away the end of the wing. Borjin couldn't escape that way unless he had a kayak and a death wish, he thought. Pitt recalled Theresa indicating that the study was down the main corridor, so he slowly moved off in that direction.

Pitt hugged the side wall, his Colt aimed ahead in his right hand. He brought up the spear and tucked it under his elbow, bracing the tip at an outward and forward angle with his left hand. The ripped orange tunic, acting as Pitt's point man, marched a few feet ahead of Pitt, dangling in the center of the corridor.

Pitt moved slowly, shuffling his feet so as not to splash the water and provide an auditory warning of his arrival. He actually had little choice, as his feet were so numb from the frigid river water that he felt like he was walking on stumps. There would be no high-speed foot chases from him, as he fought to maintain a precarious sense of balance.

He moved with measured patience, passing by several small side rooms without entering. He would stop past each doorway and then wait several minutes to ensure no one crept up behind him. A fallen credenza and some broken statuettes blocked his path and he temporarily moved to the center of the hallway. Approaching the residence kitchen, he melded back to the side wall, letting the dangling tunic lead the way down the center of the corridor.

Numbed by the icy water, Pitt concentrated on keeping his visual and auditory senses on high alert. When his ears detected a faint swishing sound, he froze, straining to determine if the noise was something in his imagination. Standing still, he slightly jiggled the wooden spear back and forth.

The burst came from the kitchen, a deafening blast of automatic gunfire that echoed off the walls. In the faint red light, Pitt could see the orange tunic shredded by the burst, as the bullets continued their path and slammed into the corridor wall just a few feet in front of him. Pitt calmly swiveled his .45 toward the open kitchen door, took aim at the muzzle flash, and squeezed the trigger three times.

As the Colt's booming report receded down the hallway, Pitt heard a weak gurgled gasp wail from the kitchen. It was followed by the metallic clang of a machine gun banging against steel pans, then a loud splash as the dead guard tumbled to the floor.

“Barsijar?” shouted the voice of Borjin from down the hallway.

Pitt grinned to himself as he let the query be met with silence. He had the distinct feeling that there were no more henchmen between himself and Borjin. Dropping the spear and tunic, he moved aggressively toward the sound of Borjin's voice. His deadened feet felt as if they had lead weights tied to them. Almost hopping through the water, he brushed his free hand along the wall to keep balanced. Ahead of him, he could hear the splashing footsteps of Borjin suddenly dissipate at the end of the corridor.

A loud crash echoed from the side of the house as another chunk of the north wing crumbled under the river's surge. The whole residence shook under the rapid erosion, which ate closer and closer to the center of the house. Perched as it was on the side of a cliff, Pitt knew there was a real danger of the whole structure sliding down the mountain. But he dispelled any notion of turning and heading for the exit. Borjin was close now and he could take him alive.

Pitt moved quickly past a few small side rooms then hesitated as he reached the fire-blackened study. He shook off a freezing shiver from the cold and wet and willed himself to focus on the environment around him rather than his own discomfort. A steady murmur of rushing water had grown louder as he neared the end of the hall. Under the dim glow of an emergency light, he saw that it was the floodwaters cascading down a stairwell just past the study. Faint though they were, Pitt could also see a pair of wet prints leading into the dry conference room at the hall's end.

Pitt moved slowly past the stairwell and out of the draining water, thankful to at last remove his feet from the icy runoff. He cautiously approached the jamb of the conference-room door and peered inside. The late-rising moon had crept over the horizon and cast a bright silvery beam through the conference room's high glass windows. Pitt strained to discern Borjin's presence in the cavernous room, but all was still. He quietly stepped in, the muzzle of his Colt moving with his eyes.

Borjin's timing was impeccable. The Mongolian popped up from behind the end of the conference table while Pitt was facing the opposite side of the room. Too late, Pitt turned toward the movement as a loud twang erupted from the spot. Off balance and wheeling around on numb feet, Pitt fired a single shot toward Borjin but missed wide, the bullet shattering the glass window behind him. Borjin's aim was to prove more accurate.

Pitt saw but a fleeting glimpse of the feathered arrow before it struck his chest just below the heart, penetrating with a dull thud. It struck with a powerful impact, knocking him right off his feet. Thrown backward to the floor, Pitt caught a lasting image of Borjin standing with a crossbow cradled in his arms. The moonlight sparkled off his sharp teeth, which were bared in a satisfied, murderous grin.