Читать книгу: «False Horizon», страница 2

3

Inside the Blue Note, Annja was oblivious to the little Nepali man stationed outside with orders to report on her movements. She had other things to consider just then, like exactly how she was going to deal with the two men heading toward her table.

“Mike?”

But Mike only frowned. Annja glanced at him and then back at the hulking masses in front of her. They both stopped short of coming within range of a swift kick from Annja’s boots. That meant they had a situational awareness Annja recognized, marking them as seasoned professionals.

“Hi, Mike,” the one sporting a goatee said. “How ya been?”

Mike frowned. “I don’t know you.”

“Sure you do. You know our employer, Mr. Tsing. So if you know him, then you know us.”

Annja looked at Mike. “Who is Mr. Tsing?”

“A miserable bastard, apparently,” Mike said. He looked back at the huge men. “Why are you bothering me about this now? I told Tsing I needed a few more weeks to pay him back.”

“Pay him back?” Annja sighed. “What are you paying him back? What did you need money for?”

The goateed henchman smiled. “He wanted to buy a map. A fifty-thousand-dollar map.”

Annja’s eyes widened in alarm. “Fifty grand? What kind of map costs that much money?”

The goateed man pointed at her. “You see? That’s exactly what Mr. Tsing would like to ask our friend Mike here.”

“Since when does Tsing care what his money is used for as long as he gets repaid?” Mike asked.

“Since he found out you were blowing fifty large on a map,” the man said. “Now, you can come along with us quietly and without any trouble. Or we can beat you senseless and then take you to Mr. Tsing. Makes no difference to us.”

Annja smiled. “Suppose we don’t feel like seeing Mr. Tsing just now? What about you guys go back to him and say you couldn’t find Mike?”

“We already told him we had you two in sight. He’s very interested in seeing Mike and apparently he’s very interested in meeting you. Says he loves your show.”

“How did you know who I was?” Annja asked.

“We have ways of finding out who is on airline manifests. It comes in handy for Mr. Tsing to know when he has business associates coming to town. Or other people that he’s interested in meeting.”

“Great. A fan,” Annja mumbled. “That’s just what I need right now.” She looked at Mike. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Mike said. “Tsing told me I had all the time I needed to pay him back. This is as much a surprise to me as it is you.”

“Fifty grand? That must be some map.”

“It is.”

The goateed thug cleared his throat. “Are you coming with us or do we have to drag you out of here?”

Annja eyed him. She could easily draw her sword and cut both men down before they could blink. But she wasn’t sure that unsheathing her blade in a crowded restaurant was the best way of handling this. At least, not in view of everyone else in the joint. Maybe she would try her luck once they got outside and into some narrow alley. She imagined Mr. Tsing would infest some tiny haunt on the back side of Katmandu.

Mike nodded. “Fine, we’ll go with you to see what Tsing has to say. I like this place too much to cause trouble in here, anyway.”

“Smart,” the man said. “I’m sure he won’t keep you long. This is more of a social call than a collection call.”

“What a relief,” Mike said.

The two men led them out of the Blue Note. Annja looked around but saw little chance for action. Throngs of people swelled around them and the two henchmen bracketed Mike and Annja between them. The tide of the foot traffic carried them along.

Mike whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, I can handle Tsing.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. He’s a businessman. The last thing he wants is to spill any blood. He’d much rather make money.”

“And the map?”

“I believe it shows the true route to finding Shangri-La.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“An archivist for James Hilton.”

Annja glanced at him. “You mean the same James Hilton who wrote Lost Horizon?”

“The same.”

“But most people who read that book believed that Hilton based it on Hunza Valley in Pakistan,” she said.

Mike nodded. “Yep, and others think it’s actually in the Kunlun mountain range. But neither of those suppositions is correct.”

“And this map shows the way?”

“It’s true that Hilton visited Pakistan and particularly the Hunza Valley only a few years before Lost Horizon was published. But as for him basing the book on the area, that’s rubbish. Hilton knew what he’d discovered and didn’t wish for it to be torn apart by the curious.”

Annja saw the henchmen were steering them down a street with less traffic. They were on the outskirts of Thamel now. Ahead of them, more modern buildings loomed. They passed cell phone shops and nice restaurants.

“So, Hilton…lied?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mike said. “Throughout the early twentieth century and into the 1930s, there were many British explorers over in this region. It was a natural place to go to, given the British Empire’s India connection. Hilton and others like him made trips up to this part of the world and were fascinated by what they saw and perceived as both mystical and wondrous places.”

“So, if neither the Hunza Valley nor the Kunlun Mountains are the location, then where would it be?” Annja asked.

“That’s what the map will tell us,” Mike said. “But we need to get away from Tsing and his goons if we have any hope of discovering it.”

“Seems like Tsing is going to have a problem with that.”

“Who cares?”

Annja glanced at Mike. “I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of spending this entire trip being hunted by the likes of these two. And Tsing doesn’t sound like he’s the forgiving type.”

“He’s not.”

“So, suppose we see what he has to say before we decide to go about this in a different way?”

Mike smiled. “But if we decide to go that way?”

Annja winked. “Then it won’t be a problem.”

Mike nodded. “Good.”

The goateed man called a halt to their march. “Hold up here,” he said.

Annja paused and saw they were in front of a four-star hotel. From the circular roundabout, lush green plants shot skyward in front of the plate-glass windows. In front, several limousines pulled around.

Annja looked at their escort. “He lives in a hotel?”

“Top floor’s a penthouse,” the man responded. “But even still, we won’t tolerate any monkeying around here. Mr. Tsing owns the hotel and doesn’t want his guests disturbed.”

“Ever the gracious host,” Annja said.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” The man nudged her forward. “Walk into the lobby and head for the elevators. Remember we’re right behind you.”

Annja and Mike entered the hotel lobby. In any other part of the world, they might well have appeared underdressed given their immediate environment. But in Katmandu, they looked like any other well-heeled adventurous couple. And no one paid any attention.

Behind them, the henchmen came up close.

Annja and Mike stepped into the hotel elevators and waited as the men joined them. The goateed man stepped inside and slid a special key into the lock. Instantly, the doors slid shut, mirrored panels casting their reflections back. The huge men faced Annja and Mike.

“Won’t be long now. Mr. Tsing has just finished another business meeting so I don’t think you’ll have to wait.”

Annja felt the sudden sensation of her stomach dropping as the elevator shot skyward. Numbers flashed and she realized they were going much higher than she expected.

At last the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The goateed man nodded. “Out.”

Annja and Mike stepped onto a plush red carpet that muffled their footsteps. The dim light made her squint to make out the massive pair of oak doors in front of her.

“Mr. Tsing has an aversion to bright lights,” the man said. “He prefers the level of illumination always be kept dim to save his eyesight.”

“You guys wear night vision in here?” Annja asked. “It’s ridiculous how little I can see.”

“It doesn’t seem to bother Mr. Tsing,” the goateed man said.

“Well, as long as there’s that,” Annja said. She looked at Mike. “Have you been here before?”

“Nope. My meetings with Tsing always took place at his restaurant.”

The goateed man grunted. “Mr. Tsing uses the hotel for his most important meetings.”

“Guess I didn’t rate,” Mike said.

“Apparently,” Annja muttered.

The big henchman knocked once on the door, his knuckles creating a massive boom that echoed for a moment before dying in the artificial twilight. He looked back at Annja and Mike. “Behave yourselves when we go in.”

Annja smiled. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He frowned and started to say something, but then stopped as the massive doors swung back on well-oiled hinges. Inside, the gloom was even deeper than in the hallway. Annja could smell incense wafting from inside.

A form appeared next to the door and she saw that it was a woman. “Enter.”

The henchman led them into a large entry hall. Inside, the windows were open to the night air. Far below, Annja caught glints of the lights of the city twinkling around them.

And then another form appeared before her. “Annja Creed.”

She squinted and saw a thin rail of a man with heavy folds surrounding his eyes. But they gleamed with an almost imperceptibly acute sense of sight despite the relative darkness.

She smiled. “You must be Mr. Tsing.”

He bowed low. “I am.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Tsing grabbed her hand and then Annja felt the leathery touch of his lips on the back of it. There was the briefest flicker of moisture and she realized that he’d licked her skin. Resisting the urge to recoil and kill the little cretin, Annja took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Tsing straightened and then turned to Mike. “Mike. How very nice to see you again.”

“Rather soon, wouldn’t you say?” Mike replied.

Tsing shrugged. “Well, we have much to discuss. After all, our former arrangement seems hardly fair given the fact that I had no knowledge of what you intended to do with the money I provided.”

“What do you care what I do with it?”

Tsing glanced at Annja and then back at Mike. “I care very much what my money goes toward. Especially so if it appears I might make even more on a business proposition than what I first expected.”

Mike shook his head. “We have an arrangement already. There’s no need to discuss this any further.”

Tsing held up a crooked finger and waggled it in front of their faces. “That’s where you’re wrong, Michael. The underlying tenet of my business—one that you sought out of your own free will, I might mention—is that as the primary share-holder in your life, I can make and remake any arrangements as I see fit.”

Mike frowned. “And if I don’t like the new parameters of the deal?”

Tsing smiled. “I truly hope it won’t come to that.”

There came a high-pitched wailing scream from somewhere outside, and in the next instant Annja saw a flash as the bulk of a body tumbled past the windows. The scream died away in the night air. In her mind, Annja could imagine the body hitting the street far below and shuddered at the vision.

Tsing watched them both closely. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Another of my business partners saw fit to dispute my attempts at a more equitable financing arrangement.”

Annja frowned. “So you killed him.”

Tsing smiled. “I believe it will be ruled a suicide.” He clapped his hands. “But come in, let us sit down and see if we might avoid any such unpleasantries. I am very interested in hearing what you both have to say.”

Tsing turned and led them deeper into the suite. Annja and Mike had little choice but to follow.

4

Tuk watched the hotel from beneath the overhang of a small electronics boutique that specialized in global positioning systems and cell phones. He had trailed Annja and the men with her to this hotel with very little effort. When they’d emerged from the Blue Note, it had been an elementary matter to ease into the traffic slipstream and follow them to this destination.

But Tuk was not happy.

As the party had exited the Blue Note, his weathered face had creased and then flushed. He knew the men who escorted Annja Creed. The heavyset man with the goatee was known as Burton and the other man was called Kurtz. They were two of the worst enforcers working for Katmandu’s most illustrious crime syndicate run by Mr. Tsing.

Tuk had worked for Tsing in the past, when his personal circumstances had forced him to take jobs from such despicable people. Tsing’s treatment of Tuk bordered on abusive, and after he had withheld part of Tuk’s payment, the small man resolved never to work for him again, personal finances be damned.

Burton and Kurtz had especially insulted him by tossing him out of his last meeting with Tsing and threatening to kill him if he ever showed his face around there again.

Tuk thought about the miniature folding kukri he carried in his pocket and how he would dearly love to use the knife to end Tsing’s life and that of both Burton and Kurtz, if he was given half a chance to do so. He never used to carry a weapon, preferring instead to rely upon his natural stealth abilities to remove him from harm. When he worked for spies, there was never much danger to him. But working with criminals meant constant danger so Tuk had taken to carrying a smaller version of the curved blade favored by the Gurkhas, the famed Nepali warriors who often served in the British Army.

Why was Annja Creed meeting with Tsing? And just who was the other man with her that Tuk did not recognize? If he read the body language right, and he felt that he did, then Annja and the other man were not going with Burton and Kurtz willingly. Tuk also thought it doubtful that in the short span of time since Annja had left the airport that she had somehow managed to run afoul of Tsing.

That meant the other man must have been responsible.

But how?

Tuk’s brow furrowed as he thought about it. Tsing specialized in any manner of criminal enterprises, but drugs, prostitution and extortion were his favorites. Less lucrative was the loan sharking, but Tuk nodded to himself. Perhaps that was it. If the man was in debt to Tsing, then this would not end well.

Did that also mean that Annja Creed was in danger?

Tuk slid the small cell phone from his pocket and pressed the two on it. The phone dialed a number that did not display on the screen, which Tuk now shielded to keep it from revealing his presence. He put the phone to his ear and waited.

“Yes?”

“The woman—Annja Creed—is at the Fairbanks Hotel.”

“All right.”

“She was brought there under duress.”

“What do you mean?”

Tuk recounted what he had seen and waited for the man on the other end to comment.

“You’re certain of this?”

“I know Tsing,” Tuk said. “He is a worthless criminal who enjoys seeing people suffer.”

“You have history with him?”

“Yes.”

“I would have thought it foolish for anyone to cross you,” the man said.

Tuk inclined his head. “I appreciate your saying that, but it has happened ever since my lack of work with my former employers.”

“Understood.” The man paused. “And you say Tsing has the uppermost floor to himself?”

“It is my understanding that he lives there, yes.”

“You’ve been inside?”

“Never.”

“I need to know what is going on. Is it possible for you to get inside?”

Tuk frowned. This was going a bit further than he normally went. Surveillance was one thing. Actual infiltration was something else entirely. And it meant danger. Especially since Tsing, Burton and Kurtz all knew who he was. If they spotted him…

“I realize this is asking more than you are normally tasked with,” the man said. “But I will make sure you are properly compensated for your efforts. If you can get inside and make sure that Annja Creed is safe, I will pay you an additional fifty percent of your fee.”

Tuk’s heart raced. With that much money he could easily leave this life behind and retire out in the countryside. It was too good not to take the chance. And if he happened to get a shot at Burton or Kurtz, perhaps he could exact a small measure of revenge on them.

As if reading his mind, however, the man continued to speak. “Make sure no one sees you. It is absolutely vital that Annja Creed not know you are watching her. She is incredibly intelligent. Any hint of your involvement will inevitably cause her to start reasoning out my existence in this matter. And at this moment, I cannot afford for her to know I am here. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly.”

At that moment, Tuk heard a sudden scream and then a body crashed down across the street into a stand of trees. There was a sickening sound of impact and then nothing more. A few spectators started forward and then Tuk heard someone yell for an ambulance.

“What was that?” the voice on the phone said.

Tuk frowned. “If I know the man, and I do, it would appear that Tsing just had someone thrown off the roof of the hotel.”

“A woman?”

Tuk shook his head. “No. It was a man.”

“The same man who accompanied Annja Creed into the hotel.”

Tuk bit his lip. “I don’t know. It could have been, I suppose, but in the darkness I cannot tell.”

“She could be in danger,” the man said. “It’s vital you determine whether she is or not. If you think her life is in jeopardy, you must call me back as soon as possible.”

“I understand.”

The line disconnected and Tuk slid across the street. Already in the distance, he could hear the approaching sirens.

As he came abreast of the circular drive leading up to the hotel entrance, he paused and then moved to where the body lay. In the midst of the curious onlookers, he drew no attention to himself.

Crumpled in a bloody mangled heap was the body of the man who had just fallen. Tuk looked him over and saw that the pants were not the same color as those worn by the man who had accompanied Annja Creed.

That was good news.

He turned back to the lobby. A steady stream of onlookers was rushing out to see what had caused so much commotion. Entering the lobby now would make him stand out. He waited a few minutes until he saw a bellhop dragging a luggage cart behind him.

That was his chance.

Tuk sidled up next to the cart and walked smoothly into the lobby as if he belonged there. He had often found that confidence helped with his virtual invisibility. The cart also helped hide him behind the garment bags.

Tsing occupied the penthouse and gaining access to that area required a special key in the elevator. Tuk had no such key. That meant he would be forced to take the stairs.

He entered the elevator and pressed the topmost-floor button, holding it down to cause the elevator to run express to his destination. He regarded himself in the mirrored doors and smiled. All that money! It would be his if he could just live long enough to see this assignment finished.

As the numbers flashed by, Tuk thought about the relative peace he would soon enjoy. Long walks would be the greatest exertion he would face, but otherwise, he would leave behind all the congestion and urban decay. And he would be immensely grateful for it.

At last, the top floor came up and the elevator dinged softly before the doors opened. Tuk looked out to either side, but saw no one else in the hallway. He stepped out and let the doors close behind him.

Down the hall he saw the exit sign for the stairwell and headed for it. He hoped that it would also go up to the penthouse and roof. Surely Tsing’s men had used it to throw their unlucky prisoner over the top. Tuk would use it to gain access to the penthouse floor.

He pushed open the door carefully, and listened. As he had hoped, the stairs ran up as well as down. He stepped into the cool stairwell and quietly strode up the steps.

Two flights farther up, he saw an unmarked door and stopped. This was the penthouse level.

A small amount of space showed under the door and Tuk got down on his knees and bent his face until he could see under the crack. He paused and let his eyesight adjust to the darkness on the other side.

As far as he could tell, there was no one in the penthouse hallway.

Tuk raised himself and turned the doorknob slowly.

The door opened and Tuk slid through. He could smell the incense that Tsing always insisted be kept burning. Tuk’s nostrils flared in disgust. He hated everything about Tsing, and his preference for incense and anything vaguely mystical was in direct contrast to his barbaric ways.

But one thing that Tsing insisted on helped Tuk and that was the low light. He faded into the shadows near a potted giant fern next to the massive oak doors and sidled up as close as he dared to the main entryway. This would make for a decent observation post.

How long would he need to stay, though? The man on the phone had told him to make sure Annja Creed was safe. But how could he do that if he was out here? Tuk listened at the door in vain. The heavy wood barred any sound from passing through it. And unlike the stairwell door, there was no such space at the bottom of the entry doors to the penthouse.

Tuk realized with a start that he would have to enter the penthouse itself.

He examined the door in front of him. There would be people inside. At least five, he reasoned. Tsing, Burton, Kurtz, Annja Creed and the other man. There might even be more.

Tuk took a breath and examined the lock. He could force his way in, he supposed, but that would simply alert everyone to his presence. And the man on the phone had been most insistent that he remain utterly invisible to Annja Creed.

Tuk wasn’t sure how the woman would be able to piece together Tuk’s presence with the man on the phone, but he knew enough not to question such things. If the man on the phone demanded that Tuk remain invisible, then that was exactly what Tuk would have to do.

But how?

He heard a vague sound and realized almost too late that someone was approaching the door. He slid back behind the large fronds and then heard the telltale click of a lock being disengaged.

The door swung open.

Tuk held his breath.

A solitary figure swept out toward the elevator bank. A woman dressed in a long mandarin-style dress with a slit running up its side revealed a brief flash of skin as she passed the giant fern.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped inside. In the light of the elevator, Tuk could see the sharp lines of her Han ancestry. She had the look of lethal beauty about her.

The doors closed and Tuk stepped out from behind the fern just as he heard the doors to the penthouse swing shut. A soft gasp of air told him they must have had a delay to their closing to keep them from banging. Hydraulics? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that the pause in their closing gave Tuk the opportunity he needed.

He stepped into the penthouse.

Instantly, he moved to the hall table and sank down to his knees. It was essential he give himself enough time to take in all the ambient sounds of his new environment. If he moved too soon, he would risk being surprised by someone he hadn’t noticed.

But if he took too long, the woman might return at any moment and spot him.

Tuk’s heart thundered in his chest.

His ears perked up. Conversation. It came from a number of voices farther on in the penthouse. Tuk strained all his senses.

With a quick gulp of air, Tuk moved deeper into the penthouse.