The plane banked, lining itself up with the runway, and Annja was treated to a surprising sight. There on the side of a nearby hill was a huge portrait of Genghis Khan himself, staring up at them, welcoming them to the capital city of the country that he had, for all effective purposes, brought into being.

Annja took his presence as a good omen and felt some of the tension she'd been experiencing since the attack on Davenport's estate ease. She knew that if anyone could find the Khan's tomb it was her and, as the plane finished its turn, hiding the Khan from her view, she told him silently that they would be seeing each other soon.

The pilot did a nice job of putting the plane down on the runway with little more than a slight b.u.mp, and when the team disembarked they found Jeffries, Mason's second in command, waiting for them at the gate. He led them through the terminal, out a side door and onto a section of the runway itself.

The air was cold but not unbearable. Annja knew it would be far worse once they got up into the mountains, and she was suddenly glad for the cold-weather gear that Mason had obtained for her before they left. Jeffries led them on foot about three hundred yards east, almost to the edge of the airport, where the rest of their team was waiting with all the gear in a private hangar Jeffries had rented upon his earlier arrival. Just beyond, Annja could see the edge of an outdoor bazaar perched right next to the airport, and she was wondering idly if she'd have time to wander through it before they got under way when Mason called the group together for a discussion inside the hangar.

The team consisted of eleven individuals divided into three vehicles. The lead vehicle would carry one of the local guides, Nambai, and three members of Mason's security team: Jeffries, D'Angelo and Kent. Annja, Mason and Davenport were a.s.signed to the middle vehicle. The third truck would hold Cukhbaatar, their other local guide, and the final three security team members: Harris, Williams and Vale.

Annja was introduced to each of them one at a time by Mason. Some, like Jeffries and Kent, she'd met at the Davenport estate. The others pa.s.sed in a blur of faces and names. She did her best to lock each of them in her memory-D'Angelo, the dark-skinned Italian with the quick smile; Williams and Harris, the near-identical Brits with the thick accents and stoic demeanor; the fun-loving Vale. She was most interested in Nambai and Cukhbaatar, their guides. Nambai was a grizzled man in his late sixties who Mason claimed had explored more of Mongolia than anyone else. He'd made multiple journeys into the Restricted Zone, even when it had been under Soviet control, and Annja knew he was going to be an invaluable member of the group. Cukhbaatar, whom everyone almost instantly started calling Chuck due to their difficulty in p.r.o.nouncing his name properly, turned out to be Nambai's grandson, a strong young man in his early twenties.

Given what had happened at the Davenport estate, Annja wasn't surprised by the presence of the security-team members. Nor the fact that they would be traveling armed. What did surprise her was that she was the only one on the expedition, if you could call it that, with any formal archaeological training. She brought the issue up with Davenport.

"Think of this as a reconnaissance mission," he told her. "We're here to see if we can find the site in the first place. If we do, we'll bring in a full team and go over the place with a fine-tooth comb. But we have to find it first."

And we have to do it before Ransom does, Annja thought, but didn't say it aloud. There was no sense starting the obvious.

To that end, they had planned for quick movement and light travel. Helicopters were considered but ultimately rejected because their movements could be tracked too easily and there was a chance they couldn't get the proper flight permits in time. Davenport wanted everything on the up-and-up. As a result, they went with four-wheel-drive vehicles instead.

The trucks were Russian UAZ-469s, four-wheel-drive vehicles that looked like shorter versions of the Jeep Cherokee. They each held four pa.s.sengers, with racks on the roof to carry the gear. Annja hadn't been overwhelmed when she'd seen them, but Mason had a.s.sured her the simple design and lack of computerized parts made them the best vehicles for the steppes. Each of the trucks carried two spare tires and several cans of extra gasoline as added protection against their getting stranded far from civilization. They had enough food and water to keep them going for a week, if need be, though they fully expected to be able to trade with several of the nomadic communities they would pa.s.s through during their search. Each vehicle had a satellite phone so they could communicate with one another without stopping.

A large metal trunk had also been bolted to the inside of each of the vehicles and when Annja peeked inside one she found an a.s.sortment of weapons: several handguns, a few a.s.sault rifles that she recognized as being HK MP-5 submachine guns and the like. In the wake of Ransom's attack at the estate, Mason wasn't taking any chances.

Considering how quickly this had come together, Annja was impressed with the attention to detail. She was even more impressed with the way Mason made certain each and every member of their small team knew where they were headed and what the rendezvous points were should they become separated at any time en route to their initial destination at Shankh. It was clear Mason had led small-group operations before; all that military training and att.i.tude were hard to hide, even after a number of years in the private sector. Mason led the team the way an officer would lead a squad of special-operations men on a mission in enemy territory and it showed.

"Where'd you serve?" she asked him,

He flicked a glance in her direction, then went back to watching as the extra gas was being strapped to the rear doors of the trucks. "Is it that obvious?" he asked.

Annja saw no reason to lie. "Yes."

Mason shrugged. "I was 22nd SAS Regiment." And then, in case she didn't know what that was, he added, "British Special Forces."

Annja was fully aware the SAS were some of the best trained and experienced Special Forces soldiers in the world. It made sense that if Davenport was going to hire someone to protect him, he would hire the best. Annja guessed that there had been more than one problem in the past; otherwise, he probably would have been content with any of the half dozen or so security agencies that were typically used by the rich and powerful. Going out and hiring a freelance former SAS soldier wasn't something that you did every day-or lightly.

She watched him for another few seconds, wondering where he had been and what he had done while in the service. Wondered what it was that had made him leave it for civilian life. She'd come to enjoy his company over the past few days and knew in other circ.u.mstances she might consider going beyond the working relationship they currently had between them.

Growing up in an orphanage, she'd never been very close with anyone. She'd had her share of romantic encounters, but they were always of the ships-pa.s.sing-in-the-night kind; fun while they lasted, but then she was on to some new dig or a.s.signments and there wasn't room in her life for both a relationship and her career.

Later, once she'd become the heir apparent to Joan's mystical sword, she hadn't felt it was fair to drag anyone into a long-term relationship. Not when trouble seemed to find her at the drop of a hat.

Still, Mason might be an interesting diversion for a while.

First things first, Annja, her conscience said and her brain agreed. Maybe there would be time for something else later. Right now, they had a tomb to find.

She turned away to tend to her own gear.

18.

As the loading was being finalized and last-minute adjustments were made, the man who had been placed inside Davenport's operations more than three years earlier slipped away from the others. An outdoor bazaar was adjacent to the airport and he took advantage of the general noise and confusion to mask his pa.s.sage as he threaded his way into its depths. If anyone was following him, he was certain to lose them in the maze of stalls and shouting merchants.

When he was satisfied that there was no one behind him, he stepped out of the main thoroughfare and into a side street. He took a small, satellite phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.

It took a moment for the phone to connect. When it did, he heard Trevor Ransom's deep voice come over the line.

"What do you have for me?"

"Shankh," the informant told him. "They're headed to Shankh."

"Very well. Call me if you learn anything further but do not-I repeat, do not-jeopardize your position on the team."

"Understood."

The informant ended the call and pocketed the phone. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the alley and headed back the way he'd come.

T WO HOURS AFTER WO HOURS AFTER their arrival in Ulaanbaatar, the team was almost ready to head out. The trucks had been checked, the supplies divided and loaded on to the appropriate vehicles, and Annja had taken time to review the maps herself just in case something drastic went wrong. their arrival in Ulaanbaatar, the team was almost ready to head out. The trucks had been checked, the supplies divided and loaded on to the appropriate vehicles, and Annja had taken time to review the maps herself just in case something drastic went wrong.

But when it was time to leave, Mason wasn't anywhere to be found.

Davenport was just about ready to send out Williams and Harris to search for him when Mason wandered back inside the door of the hangar, something bright red held in each hand.

"Where'd you go? We've been looking for you," Annja asked as he walked toward her.

Mason grinned and tossed something underhanded in her direction. Annja caught it instinctively and looked down to see she was holding an ice-cold can of c.o.ke.

"Last cold one for a while. After this, it's nothing but yak milk and warm water."

She had to admit, it certainly hit the spot.

Mason finished his own soda in one long swallow, tossed the can in a nearby trash barrel and then shouted so the rest of the team could hear. "All right. Enough lollygagging! Mount up! It's time to get this show on the road."

And, with that, they were off.

They quickly left the airport behind and headed west on the main road out of Ulaanbaatar. Slush lined the roadside and here and there unseen potholes made the driving difficult, forcing them to go slower than planned. At first it seemed as if they would never leave the seemingly endless industrial areas and their thick, coal-fueled smog behind as they followed the track for the Transmongolian Railroad out of the city proper, but eventually the factories slipped behind them and they began to pa.s.s small villages and residential areas. Those of a more permanent status were farther back from the road, while the ones that were intended for a night, two at most, lined the immediate edges of the thoroughfare.

On either side of the road, large herds of sheep, goats and cows grazed idly, paying no attention to the cars moving past them, sometimes no more than half a dozen feet away. More than once they were forced to stop or maneuver around an animal that had decided the middle of the road looked like a great spot to stand.

The people they saw were friendly and seemed to be genuinely happy with their lot in life, at least as far as Annja could see. She knew the past few years had been hard for many of the locals. A harsh winter followed by a long drought had killed off a lot of livestock, and those who depended on the herds for their livelihood were still trying to recover what they had lost as a result.

A few hours into the drive, they left even the smaller towns behind and found themselves on the famed Mongolian steppes. High rolling hills covered by a carpet of dry gra.s.s stared back at them wherever they looked, an endless sea of tan stretching away in all directions. Even the road took on a brown cast as the pavement had run out long before and the path beneath them was reduced to a large track of hard-packed earth.

Annja knew it would look different in the springtime, full of color and life, but this late in the season only the occasional herd of wild horses, one of Mongolia's national treasures, broke up the sameness of it all.

With nothing to see and time to waste, Annja's thoughts returned to Mason. Seated in the pa.s.senger seat, she had plenty of time to watch him without being obvious about it. Her initial impression, that he was a good-looking man with a dangerous side, had certainly been confirmed during the past week, but she didn't have a problem with that. He drove surely, confidently, just as he did everything else. Competence and a clear understanding and acknowledgment of their own abilities were things she prized in a man. It was one of the reasons she was attracted to Garin, in an odd, unresolved way.

She had to admit that Mason's past intrigued her, which was something she wouldn't have expected. Maybe it was just the mystery and mystique that surrounded the famed SAS regiment or the similarity she found between that and her own unique journey as the bearer of Joan's sword. She wasn't sure; she just knew that she wanted to know more, to understand where he came from and what made him tick.