York smiled. “Wish us luck, kid. We’re going to need it.”
#
A light dusting of snow covered the frozen ground. Kalista’s hands were numb with cold. Somewhere her slippers had been lost. Her exposed feet ached to the bone. Wanting to cry out against the pain, she forced herself lower in the brush and stayed as quiet as possible.
A figure entered the clearing from the northwest, dismounting swiftly and with purpose. She trembled. The horseman had found her. He and his giant steed were a stark contrast to a forest blanketed in white. Except for its ears, the horse was motionless. They swept back and forth constantly, listening to the night. The rider drew his sword. The ancient metal hummed. For a long moment, it was the only sound in the forlorn winter air.
So much of her strength had been used to get this far. And she was so hungry. Every muscle wrung tight, ready to spring her forward from the tall grass. She knew the horseman could sense her but fought the urge to flee.
He advanced toward her thatch of cover. His steps were careful but not fearful. He stopped several feet away. The snow crunched as he dropped to one knee. His eyes found her. Staring in silent challenge, they awaited an answer.
The horseman whistled.
The sound was like nothing Kali had ever heard and yet…it was familiar. She stirred in her sleep.
Low and beseeching, the whistle rose from where he crouched and lifted high into the atmosphere. The quiet night erupted with howls that resonated from the very earth and flew down from the heavens. It was the answer the horseman had been waiting for.
The howls swelled in intensity. The air clamored with their din. Kalista no longer feared the horseman. She felt nothing but hope, and stood to meet him. With one frozen step and then another, she approached the horseman. He did not rise.
He whistled again. His tenor joined the song, lifting it to new heights. A jolt of warmth trickled into her limbs. At the same time, tiny hairs on her skin stood in warning…
Kali awoke suddenly as if thrown from the dream and lunged frantically from the bed. The sheets ensnared her legs, trapping her between the bed and the floor. She struggled to her feet, kicking at the linens in frustration. She was cold, and her body trembled as if imprisoned in the dream. And she still heard the howls.
The hotel room was dark. Groggy and disoriented from sleep, Kali stumbled into the bathroom and switched on the lights. She twisted the hot water until it pounded from the shower head, sank to the bottom of the stall, and waited for reality to become clear again.
Her skin gradually warmed as it borrowed heat from the steaming water. The steadiness of its rhythm drowned out the echoes of her frozen nightmare. When she began to feel somewhat normal, Kali turned off the faucet. She peeled herself from the wet pajamas, leaving them in the tub.
She gradually became aware of the noise outside. The city was wide awake, locals well into the hustle and bustle of living. In a couple of hours, morning would be over. The room was dark because she had pulled the blackout curtains shut before going to sleep. She smacked her forehead, realizing she had overslept. It was a terrible start to the day.
Hoping a little sunshine would help put things back on track, she drew the thick curtains apart...and screamed. There was someone on her balcony.
As recognition overcame fear, the scream died before reaching the next octave. The intruder was the red-headed boy from the plane. His features were well hidden by the ball cap, but Kali saw when his surprise transformed into open admiration of her naked form. Grinning deliberately, he pointed to his wristwatch. Then he turned and leapt from the balcony in a display of unnatural grace.
Kali snatched the curtains closed and backed away from the window. She found every light switch until there wasn’t a dark corner left in the entire suite. Plopping at the edge of the bed, she rested her head in her hands, desperately needing to compose her thoughts. Too many strange things had happened in one morning.
She peeped through her fingers at the bedside table. Resting atop the cascade of elaborate brocade silk was a small brass dragon holding the face of a western clock in its mouth. In thirty minutes, Mack and Shannon would be waiting in the downstairs lobby. Kali shoved everything else to the back of her mind and thought only of the business at hand. Comfort won over fashion as she dressed in jeans and a white henley for the train ride. Quickly repacking her bags, she hurried to catch the elevator.
Mack was waiting with his mouth set in a grim line. “Good afternoon.”
“Hey, come on,” she said, thinking he was being sarcastic about her tardiness, “I’m two minutes early.”
Mack shook his head. “No. Really, it’s afternoon.”
“Oh, right.” Kali looked around the lobby. “Where’s Shannon?”
“She left early this morning, ranting about not having enough time to shop.” He glanced at his watch. “I called her twenty minutes ago but. . .” The sentenced trailed as something else caught his attention. Kali followed his gaze but saw nothing except businessmen and tourists. Frowning, he took her arm. “Come on. The cab is out front.”
Outside, she sat in the car while Mack and the driver loaded the luggage. There was no sign of Shannon. Mack climbed inside the cab appearing anxious and distracted. “Did you hear from Shannon?” Kali asked.
He tapped the glass to signal the cabbie they were ready to go.
She tried again. “What about Shannon? Where is she?”
Busy looking left, right, and behind as the car pulled away, Mack finally answered. “She’s meeting us at the station,” he said gruffly.
“Oh.” Uncomfortable with his restlessness, Kali racked her brain for small talk. “Wow. So we’re really in China, huh?”
“We won’t be for much longer.”
“Right. So how far is it to Mongolia?”
He took a break from the window and flicked his eyes in Kali’s direction. “Ten hours.”
Crapola
. Her jaw dropped. “Ten hours!”
“Yep.” He settled back against the seat, showing some signs of relaxing and remained pleasant for the rest of the ten minute ride to the train station. When the cab stopped, they grabbed the luggage and headed to the platforms. “She should already be here.” His cell rang as if on cue. Mack answered. It was Shannon.
Kali watched his face transition from tan, to crimson, to a lovely shade of violet. Mack gripped the phone so tightly, she feared he was in danger of doing it real damage. Though unable to make out any of what was said, she could tell the intern was speaking rapidly.
“Slow down. I can’t understand you.” Mack pressed a finger to his ear, blocking noise from the substation.
Kali checked her watch. In twenty minutes, the train would be leaving. The question was whether or not the three of them were going to be on it.
“Okay,” Mack was saying, “I’ll have to make another call.” He hung and immediately dialed another number. “There’s been a change of plans.” His eyes shifted toward Kali ever so slightly. “And I’m going to need your help.” He put the phone to his shoulder. “I need to see if I can change these tickets. I don’t think we’re going to make that train.”
Lips pursed in a thin line of anger, he went to find the closest ticket counter. His blond hair stood out distinctly in the ebony sea of locals. Kali easily followed him visually and noticed when he found the slowest moving line and put himself at the back of it. There was nothing to do except wait for him to come back. When he did, his sour mood had returned full force.
“Only one train leaves this station and travels to Mongolia.” He turned to the tracks, pointing at the steel serpent opening to accept passengers into the caverns of its belly. Peking letters were slashed in red paint, marking the sides of each door. “And that’s it right there.”
She looked at the train and then back at her boss. “Shouldn’t we be getting on it?”
He shook his head slowly. “We can’t leave without Shannon.”
“You don’t look upset, so I’m assuming we have at least one other option I don’t know about.”
“That’s why I hired you. C’mon.” He grabbed her elbow and ushered her away from the train. Gathering the bags again, Mack talked briskly as they walked. “There is another way. We may be able to catch a sleeping bus. It makes a scheduled journey to Mongolia once every two days. If we hurry, we’ll make it in time.” The two were practically jogging as he hailed a cab.
“Is Shannon meeting us there?”
“I hope to God she is,” he muttered. “We can’t fail at this.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this package to your buyer.”
Mack stared at Kali long and hard. Then he nodded. “You’re a good kid, Kali.”
Chapter 38
The bus was the saddest sight Kali had ever seen. Red paint once covered the exterior but was now a deteriorated patchwork of bubbled skin. In some spots, the paint fell away like scabs to reveal sores of rusted metal. Most of the windows were blacked out, and the roof sagged pitifully, ready to collapse at any moment. Mack and Kali halted in their tracks, wearing identical expressions of apprehension. She turned to her boss with pleading eyes.
Mack shook his head. “This is our only chance.”
He strode toward the bus and was halfway there before he must have realized Kali was not with him and came back for her.
“Maybe I lack imagination here,” she said when he was close enough to hear, “but I can’t fathom how that bucket of rust is going to get us to the mountains or across the desert.”
Without replying, Mack took Kali’s arm and dragged her forward. She was tempted to dig her heels in like a stubborn child but went along obediently. He was her boss. This was her job.
A small man dressed in blue jeans and a faded Lakers t-shirt came from behind the bus. The clothes were messy, wrinkled like after a week at the bottom of a full laundry basket. And three days of hair growth crawled across his face. Kali squinted, looking closer. She knew this man. He had been the head onscreen at The Wok and Roll.
Taking a drag on a thin cigarette, the man looked them over long and hard. “You have American money?”
Mack nodded. “Your English is good.”
The man shrugged, closing his eyes to savor the cancer-friendly fumes, and blew out a long stream of smoke. “Terrain is very dangerous. Bus go only one way.”
“Today, it goes both.”
“Why do you travel?” His words broke through the cloud in a puff.
“We agreed not to lament the details.”
“This road isn’t safe for outsiders.”
“We are well aware of the risks.”
What risks?
Kali almost said aloud.
“Your safety, I cannot guarantee. Neuri will move as shadows--”
Mack cut him off briskly. “I’m not interested in local legends.”
“Fine. I will need money now.”
“I made arrangements with Tsai. He gave me his word that everything would be in order.”
Looking past Mack’s shoulder to where Kali stood quietly, the man narrowed his eyes. “I see you were successful to secure the woman. Did you bring other item?”
“I have.”
The man’s face twisted angrily. His English went from good to perfect. “You were foolish to bring them together.”
“There were unavoidable circumstances. A sleeping bus was our only option, and we barely made it here in time. There was no opportunity to make other arrangements.”
The man in the Lakers jersey was not appeased. “This is not what was discussed. You leave yourself at an extreme disadvantage.”
A deep frown burrowed into Mack’s forehead. Kali looked between them, not understanding what the big deal was. The buyer wanted her here. And of course he was willing to pay big money for the statue. But this other guy was speaking as if her boss should have held something back for leverage.
Mack’s expression suddenly relaxed. “You are Tsai.”
“I am.”
Mack eyed him suspiciously. “What was with the thick accent?”
“We agreed not to lament details,” Tsai said smoothly.
“Fine. Are we keeping our deal or not?”
Tsai’s face was serene. An aura of smoke engulfed his lean form in thick swirls. “I will take your money.”
“Only half now. You’ll get the other half when I return.”
Kali was distracted by a flurry of movement from the corner of her eye. From her right, a withered old man approached their group. He was humpbacked and leaning heavily on a crutch. The old man hobbled more than walked, yet moved with a surprising amount of speed. Words she didn’t understand were pouring from his mouth as he shouted and flailed both arms about like a mad man. It got everyone’s attention. Tsai replied in the same tongue. The old man got angrier. His brown skin, weathered and creased with time, turned a peculiar shade of red.
Mack regarded Tsai impatiently.
Tsai bowed. “This is Mr. Ma, your bus driver. He hates Americans, so I didn’t tell him you were so. He wants you to go away.” Tsai listened as the old man continued his tirade. “He says he will not take you on this journey.”
“Now hold on a second--” Mack began.