The Thieves of Darkness (44 page)

Simon and Michael both looked at Busch with dismissive eyes before Michael continued. “Well … I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“If there’s anything I can do…” Simon offered.

“Well, since you mention it.” Michael stepped back, lost in thought, until he refocused and could no longer restrain himself. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, genuinely confused.

“KC’s gone.”

“What?” Busch sat up.

“The chart and the rod?” Simon quickly asked.

Michael tilted his head. “She double-crossed me.”

Simon sat up in his bed, thinking. “Do you really think that?”

“She picked the lock to my hotel suite and snatched the leather tube while I was in the shower. And the map—well, I checked her room and it’s gone, too.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know what to think.” Michael shook his head. He was truly perplexed. He had been so filled with anger when he found that the rod was gone, he couldn’t think straight. He raced down to KC’s room to find her and the Piri Reis chart missing, sending him into an even deeper tailspin of confusion. But if she had double-crossed him, if she had stolen the two artifacts … the alternative was far worse.

Simon picked up the phone at the side of his bed and dialed nine. “Can you connect me to the Istanbul police?”

Michael and Busch remained silent, both realizing what Simon was doing.

“I’m calling about an arrest made earlier today outside the Blue Mosque.” Simon paused, listening. “No, sir. No, I don’t. I wasn’t aware.” Simon paused, listening intently, his face growing stern. “Of course, if I do you’ll be the first to know.” Simon hung up the phone as the person on the other end continued to grill him, ending the questioning midsentence.

He looked at Michael; he didn’t need to say a word.

“Do you think he kidnapped her?” Michael asked.

“No, not KC, she’s pretty hard to get the jump on. No.” Simon took a deep breath. “Iblis would want to control her. He must have her sister again.”

“Again? How can this happen again?”

“It’s not what you think,” Simon said ominously. “I think Cindy is working with Iblis; he seduced her.”

“What?” Busch said with disgust.

“Not in the sexual sense, but in every other way.” Simon paused. “They spoke, he showed her the map, told her all about it. I was barely awake, hiding behind closed eyelids, listening to everything he had to say. KC didn’t betray you, but her sister did. She betrayed everyone.”

KC
SAT UPON
a large bed in the back cabin of a luxurious private jet.

She had walked out of the Four Seasons Istanbul with the two leather tubes, one empty, the other containing the rod that she had taken from Michael’s hotel suite. She headed toward the open door of the waiting limo but paused before getting in. She glared eye to eye with the driver who stood beside the car, the visible pistol in his waistband causing her no fear. As the moment dragged on, a black Mercedes limo on the far side of the street rolled down its window to reveal Cindy sitting between two large men, Iblis’s men. KC needed no further prodding and entered the car.

The driver headed straight to Ataturk Airport, not a word spoken on the twenty-five-minute drive. They pulled up to the rear private terminal where a Royal Falcon business jet was parked, its engines idling, their exhaust shimmering the light around the wings.

The limo driver silently opened the door and motioned for KC to board. She headed up the gangway two steps at a time and into the luxury business jet. A blonde stewardess with a German accent directed her to the back of the plane. She entered a private bedroom filled with brushed-pine walls and a queen-sized bed, and before she could even turn around, the door was slammed shut.

It had been over half an hour, and no one had yet spoken to her.
She gripped the two leather tubes tightly in her hand, wondering where they had taken her sister this time, and thinking about how foolish they all had been to allow Cindy to be taken once again.

With a jolt, the jet began to taxi. The engines revved to a full-on scream and the jet took off like a bullet down the runway, jumping into the sky at an extreme angle. KC held tight to the bed, the centrifugal force forcing her into the mattress. She looked out the small portside window to see Istanbul vanishing into nothing more than twin peninsulas on vast bodies of water.

She thought of Michael and the anger and confusion he must be feeling at her sudden disappearance, having stolen that which they had fought so hard to keep away from Iblis. But it was her sister, it was her welfare that once again controlled KC’s life, as it always had. And as the jet continued to climb into the blue sky she realized she was leaving behind what she truly loved, her only chance at a real life. She knew there would be no coming back from wherever she was going, for there was little chance she would survive.

The door opened and Iblis stepped in. He looked at KC and smiled. His clothes were covered in dried blood, splatter marks dotted his face, his forearms looked as if they were covered in maroon paint. But his hands … His hands were surprisingly clean, contrasting with the rest of his macabre appearance. In his right hand he carried a small leather briefcase as if he were arriving for a business meeting.

“Where’s my sister?” KC exploded.

“She’s fine, KC. Relax,” Iblis said as he laid the case on the night table.

“Where is she?” KC demanded.

“She’s up front.”

“Let me see her,” KC said, her tone rendering an ultimatum.

And instantly, Cindy was standing in the doorway. She appeared out of nowhere, no worse for wear. Not a word was spoken, not a hint of emotion flowed between the two sisters as the seconds ticked by. All at once Iblis grasped the handle and closed the door, ending the uncomfortable moment.

Iblis stepped to KC and, without a word, took the tubes from her. His eyes flickered between her and the two cases. “Teacher always gets his way.”

He removed the lid of the first tube, reached in, and pulled out the rod. He handled it gently, studying the snake heads, ensuring the silver teeth were real. He marveled at the jewel-encrusted skin of its body before sliding it back into the tube. He looked down the tube and back up at KC with disappointed eyes. “What, no diamond necklace?”

KC turned away, looking out the window as the world grew smaller and smaller.

“Oops,” Iblis said in mock surprise as he removed the top of the second tube. “Something seems to be missing.”

KC looked up at him but remained silent.

“Where is it?” Iblis said matter-of-factly. “Come now, KC, let’s not play games when we are about to be traveling at thirty thousand feet.”

“I don’t have it.”

Iblis nodded, slowly at first, then picking up in speed with understanding. “Let me guess, someone took it from you?”

“I said I don’t have it,” KC repeated defiantly through gritted teeth.

“Which is why sometimes it’s best to have a backup, someone who can handle things in your absence.” Iblis opened the briefcase that sat on the nightstand and pulled the Asian Piri Reis map out of his bag, holding it out in admiration.

KC’s eyes began to burn with anger. She had suspected, she had known; no one else had been in the hotel room at the time the map went missing. But she had convinced herself otherwise, ignoring the obvious, all the while hoping that there was some explanation.

“I don’t think I would have convinced her so easily if you hadn’t disappointed her so much, if you hadn’t lied to her. Your sister has proven more reliable and trusting this week than you.”

The shock washed over KC’s face.

“Not a good feeling, huh? It’s always the ones we love who hurt us the most. Funny how real betrayal can only come from those we trust.”

“What did you do to her?”

“To Cindy? Nothing. I didn’t need to dangle the death of a loved one before her eyes; her principles are far less rigid than yours. Once she learned where the chart led, once I told her I worked for a very rich man, she was happy to help.”

“Happy?”

“Well, thirty million by age thirty, that was her motto. She wasn’t going to get there with the job she had, whether she lost it or not. I told her, showed her where I was keeping the map, just in case you or Michael actually succeeded in taking me out. She could show you or Michael where it was so you could steal it and she could then surreptitiously swipe it from you and deliver it and have that thirty million far sooner than she had ever hoped.

“But I think what really motivated her was the little secret I revealed. About the man I work for, the man whose office you tried to burgle. Turns out, that was all the real motivation she needed. When she learned of his success and wealth, well, your little sister, those are the things she holds most dear.

“In her young life, she never met him, though she spent her life wondering about him. But all you ever told her was that he was a criminal, that he was evil, repeating what your mother had told you, what she emphasized when his coffin was laid in the ground. But truth be told, the only thing in that box was his name, his past, and the charred body that he left behind when he escaped. All of which was buried away forever, disappearing under six feet of earth.”

KC sat there, the whine of the jet engine ringing in her ears as her world spun out of control. Her bearings were lost; her mind could hardly hold a coherent thought.

“My father is alive?” KC finally asked.

“Of course he is,” Iblis said with a smile. “Who do you think sent me all those year ago to train you?”

Michael withdrew two large documents from his briefcase, unfolded them to reveal two exact photo replicas of the map, and laid them on Simon’s bed. The first one was unmarked, the second annotated with English translations.

“Who did this?” Simon asked as he looked between the two charts.

“I took digital pictures of the map when I first found it, just in case.”

“Always thinking,” Simon said.

“I emailed them to my father in Boston; his law firm has access to translators. I’m sure he paid through the nose to get this turned around so quickly.”

Simon studied the map, his eyes intent, his fingers running about the picture as if he could feel the topography.

Busch burst into the hospital room; he held the GPS tracker in his left hand. “A private jet left Ataturk a half hour ago; it’s somewhere over eastern Turkey. Both tubes are on board. And get this.” Busch paused. “The plane is registered to a Philippe Venue.”

Michael turned to Simon. “Venue? The one who had you thrown in prison?”

Simon nodded.

“KC’s on that plane, isn’t she?” Busch asked.

“I would imagine with Iblis and Cindy.”

“Do you know where they’re going?” Michael asked.

Simon pointed to the center of the map and nodded. “Kanchenjunga. A mountain in the Himalayas, the third-highest peak in the world after Everest and K2. For many years it was thought to be the world’s tallest mountain.”

“What, did it get demoted?” Busch asked, half joking.

“It’s partly in Nepal, mostly in India, not far from Darjeeling. Do you know what the name Kanchenjunga means?” Simon asked rhetorically, his eyes fixed on the middle of the map. “‘The Five Treasures of Snow.’ Pretty apropos.”

Simon continued analyzing the annotated chart, reading the English translations, looking more closely at the marked route up from the Bay of Bengal through Bangladesh into India, his eyes growing wide with wonderment. He was lost in the map, as if Michael and Busch weren’t even there.

“I’m sure you’re finding this real interesting,” Busch said, seeing Simon’s concentration on the chart. “But I’m done being patient and you’re done being a patient. In Michael’s words, “What the hell is happening here?”

Simon looked up, his mind snapping back to the here and now. He took a moment, adding to the anticipation. “There are places in this world around which fables have grown, worlds of peace whose legends have been placed upon mantels and been held up as the ideals of the ultimate utopian existence. Places like Shambhala, Shangri-La, the Garden of Eden, Ney-Pemathang, Aryavarsha, Hsi Tien, Land of Living Fire. The Hindus called it Meru, their Olympus, said to be situated in the center of the earth. They say it was guarded by serpents who would kill those who tried to gain access to the realm of secret knowledge. They considered it the land of bliss. Some Hebrews spoke of a land called Luz, while the Cioces held tight to the legend of Stauricha.

“These worlds were thought to contain the mysteries of gods, the serenity of paradise. They were peaceful sanctuaries where the weather is perfect, society is kind and gentle, food is abundant, gold and jewels
exist beyond the imagination, and, greatest of all, life is eternal. But as these places exist in legend, so do their counterparts, lands of darkness, lands of evil.

“The Greeks call it Tartarus, a place even worse than Hades; the Hebrews, Gehenna or Sheol; for Islam it is Jahannam; in China and Japan it is referred to as Di Yu; the Buddhists and Hindus call it Naraka. The Maya called it Xibalba, while the Sumerians called it the Great Below—many names, but all representative of the underworld, all representative of what Christians call hell.

“This chart, drawn by Piri Reis”—Simon waved his hand over the picture—“was informed by much older maps, maps from forgotten history. And what it leads to, the place that Piri’s uncle Kemal Reis so feared being found, is a world that many have sought before. I don’t know if it is Shambhala, Shangri-La, or Aryavarsha, but it is there, unrevealed to the world for a reason. Piri Reis’s notes speak of his uncle’s sailing up the rivers of Bangladesh, into India, then trekking by foot to return a vast treasure to a world of treasures, a repository for the words of gods. The English translation of Piri’s notes says, ‘No holier place, no place filled with greater darkness. A world of gods and demons, suffering and joy, love and misery. An existence protected and in balance and never to be disturbed.’”

“A mountain place filled with treasure?” Busch cut in, his voice filled with cynicism. “Hell, they call it the Mountain of Five Treasures. Seems obvious. And Shambhala, Shangri-La De Da is there? This has escaped everyone’s notice, all the explorers, all the money-grubbing self-promoters, even the esteemed archaeologists? That makes no sense.”