"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? 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 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." 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 pa.s.sed 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-gla.s.s 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 m.u.f.fled their footsteps. The dim light made her squint to make out the ma.s.sive 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 ma.s.sive 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 ma.s.sive 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 ill.u.s.trious crime syndicate run by Mr. Tsing.

Tuk had worked for Tsing in the past, when his personal circ.u.mstances 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 d.a.m.ned.

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, prost.i.tution 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 s.h.i.+elded 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?"