The others cleared out of his way. Stepping forward, he reached out and moved his fingertips to the curved sides of the boat. Immediately he registered the same pressure, the same unique energy field as in the earlier relics. He swore now he could almost sense the color of the field. It was a term people like him used to describe the minute variations of electrical fields that defied adequate description.

Like trying to describe blue to a blind person.

Only, in this case, if he had to pick a color for this field, it would be black.

He stepped away and shook the tingle from his fingertips, shivering all over for a breath.

“Definitely the same,” he concluded.

Before anyone could comment, a piercing screech made them all jump. Sanjar’s falcon flew effortlessly through the tunnel and swept high into the room. Sanjar lifted his arm and the bird dove to a fluttering landing, panting through its open beak.

“Storm must be here,” Sanjar said, brushing dust from the falcon’s feathers. “We should be going.”

Another squawk erupted. This time it was from the team’s radio. Monk spoke with the pilot and got confirmation.

“He says we must get going now.” Monk pointed Duncan toward the box. “Close that up and let’s get moving.”

With Josip’s and Vigor’s help, Duncan secured the tarnished chest and hauled it up. It was damned heavy. If it was indeed silver, it was likely worth a small fortune.

Monk assisted him in getting the chest through the tunnel. Once back outside, Duncan understood the falcon’s sudden desire to rejoin its master. The starry night of earlier was gone. Black clouds roiled overhead. Sand blasted against the cliff. To the west, conditions looked even worse.

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The group hurried across the flatlands, following their crushed path back. They all shuttled sideways, putting their backs to the wind. Visibility was crap. Duncan carried the box under one arm and had a hold of Jada’s hand in the other. Ahead of him, Monk and Rachel helped Vigor, while Sanjar and Arslan supported Josip.

Finally they circled to the far side of the hill, out of direct assault by the storm. The pilot spotted them. He hopped out, opened the side door to the helicopter, and waved them to hurry.

Not that any of them needed the encouragement.

As a group, they ran for the shelter of the chopper’s cabin and clambered inside. Even before they had strapped in, the pilot had the bird lifting off.

Once the wheels were off the ground, the helicopter swung around and flew low across the salt flats, keeping to the shelter of the tall hill for as long as possible, putting as much distance as possible between them and the storm.

Everyone found seats, and harnesses clicked into place.

Finally, the helicopter shot higher, buffeted by the storm’s leading edge, and fled under full power. The bouncing and rattling jarred teeth and challenged the strength of their seat belts.

For a few more long minutes, no one spoke, and hardly anyone breathed.

Then the flight of the helicopter evened out as it escaped the teeth of the storm.

“Should be smooth sailing from here,” the pilot said, though his voice had a shaky edge that suggested their escape was closer than Duncan cared to think about.

They rushed through the night, the stars shining overhead again.

Duncan finally let out a long shuddering breath. “Well, that was fun.”

Jada looked at him aghast.

11:33 P.M.

As they flew back toward their base of operations, Vigor studied the tarnished silver box. It rested on the seat next to Duncan, who kept a palm atop it.

Vigor pictured what it held, but he wasn’t the only one wondering.

“There must be a clue contained within that boat,” Josip said. “Some indication where we must go next.”

Vigor pictured the eye sewn shut on the cover of the book—and the secrets it had hidden. “You are probably right. Once at your library, we’ll see what we can discover.”

Josip must have noted the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Just tired,” he lied.

“I wonder how many more caches of Genghis’s relics are out there,” Josip said. “Into how many pieces had the great khan been divvied?”

Vigor shifted in his seat, surprised that Josip was so dense. “There is only one more spot to go.”

Josip frowned at him. “How do you know—?”

Then understanding dawned in his eyes. He patted Vigor on the knee. “Your body may be tired, my friend, but not your mind.”

Monk stirred across the way, having eavesdropped on the conversation. “How about you explaining it to those who are tired in both body and mind?”

Vigor smiled with warm affection at him. “The box we found is silver.” He nodded to the chest at Duncan’s side. “But according to the Hungarian bishop’s account, the box at Attila’s tomb was iron.”

Josip sat straighter, thrilled. “Which means the final box, the one holding the greatest treasure of this hunt, will be gold.”

Monk got it. “Like the three original boxes of St. Thomas’s reliquary. Iron, silver, gold.”

Vigor nodded. “We are one step away from the lost tomb of Genghis Khan.”

Duncan patted the box with his palm. “That is, if you can solve the riddle of that boat made of bone.”

Vigor sighed, praying that God would keep him strong enough for this challenge.

If only for a little longer . . .

The pilot reported good news. “We’re back to where we started, folks. But we may need to batten down the hatches for the night. The weather coming is not going to be fit for man or beast.”

Vigor looked out toward the storm on the horizon. It seemed that the black blizzard hadn’t given up its chase and bore down on them with all its fury.

Knowing what was coming, the helicopter dropped quickly toward the rusted bulk of the ship, seeking its shelter. The giant vessel had clearly weathered such gales in the past and would do so again.

Vigor settled back, relieved.

Once we get underground, we should be safe.

16

November 19, 2:44 A.M. KST

Off the coast of South Korea

Seichan stood at the rail of the USS Benfold, a United States guided missile destroyer. She wore a borrowed parka, its fur-edged hood tossed back. She could not stand the confinement below any longer, with its cramped hallways, the press of bodies, the windowless chambers all painted the same drab colors.

She needed air, so she climbed topside.

The night was bitterly cold, the stars hard as diamonds; even the comet looked like a lump of ice dragged across the sky.




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