A Drop of Chinese Blood (19 page)

The man’s never heard of a dead end, I thought to myself.

“Even a dead end leads somewhere, nephew. Just not where most people want to go.”

“As long as we seem to have some time, why don’t we use it to mull over our problem? How do we handle Ding?”

“It’s your problem. Think about it all you want. Just watch where you’re going in the meantime.”

“It’s our problem, not only mine, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You want to figure out what’s going on, though you won’t admit it. Most of all, you want to know what has happened to Madame Fang, but you’re not sure if this trip will shed any light. Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you.”

“Over there, way, way over there!”

I braked suddenly. “What? Where?”

“A horse and a camel. Look at them. They’re in a meeting of some sort, probably a conspiracy. Look how the horse is nodding. They’ve agreed on something. They don’t mate, do they?”

Horse and camel were some distance away, and in the rapidly retreating light, I might not have noticed them. “I don’t think so. Since when did your eyes improve so much?”

“There is nothing wrong with my eyes. Keep driving, and not so fast. How much farther is it to this place?”

I looked down at the map and pretended to trace the route. “Another sixty kilometers. We’ll be there soon after sunset.”

“It’s already sunset, which means it will be pitch dark when we get there. The question is, will there be anything to eat? Do they have noodles in this country? They don’t have trees,” he said glumly, “they might not have noodles.”

4

A minute later the sun dropped from sight. A big sky like this apparently didn’t have to fool around with dusk. The one working headlight on the car revealed nothing but more dirt track. I made sure my aching shoulders were set confidently. There was nothing to be gained by letting my uncle realize we were lost.

“You may as well slow down before we drive over a cliff. Also, we might be better off not going in circles, which is what we started doing about twenty minutes ago.” He squinted at his watch and then out the window. “Now that it’s clear we’re not arriving on time, maybe your friends will send out a search party. They know this country better than do you. The average goat knows this country better than you do. Pull over.” He looked out the window. “What am I saying? There’s no lane, no road. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think even the stars bother with this place. The moon obviously doesn’t.”

I stopped the car and turned off the ignition. “If there isn’t anything to complain about, you invent something. Don’t worry, there are plenty of stars around here. They’ll be out in force soon. We can’t be far from the camp,” I said. “They’re expecting us. By now, Ding must wonder where we are.”

“We have no idea if Ding can even tell time!” He waved his watch arm in front of me. “We have to hope someone can and is wondering if we’ve been waylaid by bandits. Maybe they got drunk waiting for us. Maybe they’ve all gone to sleep already. Honk the horn.”

“What?”

“I said, honk the horn. Out here the sound will carry forever. They’ll hear it halfway to China. If they hear it in Gao’s place, they’ll put down bets on how long it is before we starve to death. Go ahead, honk the horn.”

It didn’t seem like such a bad idea. I honked the horn twice, two short bleats that the empty night swallowed whole. My uncle leaned over to the steering wheel.

“A pattern,” he said. “Give it a pattern.”

“A pattern?”

He leaned on the horn, three long blasts. “Like that.”

Twenty minutes later, two men on small horses rode out of the darkness. I rolled down the window. “Looking for someone?”

“The camp is a half hour away. Follow us.”

We set off at about five kilometers an hour. My uncle was silent the whole time. Thirty minutes later, we came to a gate across the road, which at this point wasn’t even a dirt track. One of the horsemen dismounted, opened the gate, and motioned I should drive ahead.

“How did you know it was us?” I asked as we pulled abreast of him.

“The horn. First it was confusing, two bleats, like someone trying to clear the road of sheep. Then we heard the three long blasts—figured it was Morse for the letter
O
.”

My uncle didn’t bother to smile.

5

“I’m staying here.” From the passenger’s seat, my uncle surveyed the camp, or what was visible of it. What was visible wasn’t much. A few traditional Mongolian gers on a hillside. Off to the right was a more substantial wood frame building of some sort; with no moon, it was too dark to be sure what it might be. Our guides’ horses stood quietly. On the wind blowing from our backs was the smell of open country at night. No asphalt or tires, no garbage, no gasoline. Just a fragrance of vast silence, the grass, and maybe a camel or two.

“Come out of the car,” I said to my uncle. “It’s refreshing in the night air. You ought to stretch your legs.”

“It’s refreshing in here. Probably safer, too. My legs aren’t complaining, and neither am I. Where is Ding?”

“I thought you liked it outdoors. Didn’t you live on a mountaintop for several years?”

“The outdoors is fine. This place is beyond outdoors. You go do what you have to do.”

“There aren’t any wolves, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Wolves don’t scare me, the only thing that does—”

A man emerged from the middle hut and shouted in a Beijing accent, “There’s a storm coming. Better not stand around and yap.” As soon as he ducked back in the hut, the wind picked up. A huge bank of clouds, glowing from within as if it carried its own light to see the way, swallowed the hills in front of us. It spilled down the slope, devoured the huts, and then the cloud light clicked off, turning the night black with rain.

“Shut the windows,”
I yelled at my uncle and made a dash in the direction of the hut where the man had appeared. The rain was deafening; it sounded like it would beat the car roof into scrap. I started to turn back to see if my uncle was all right, but a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into a large circular room with several iron-stead beds and brightly painted chests neatly arranged around the edge. One of the chests had a shrine with candles on it. The center of the room was occupied by a small iron stove, and beside it on a low red stool was a man with a face as round as a full moon. Unlike the moon, he also had hooded, dark eyes and a cruel mouth, as if he ate orphans. He stood up and stared at me.

“Actually,” he said, “there are wolves.”

“What?”

“You told your uncle that there are no wolves, but there are, plenty of them. They aren’t quite as savage as Russian wolves, but you wouldn’t want to run across a particularly hungry Mongolian wolf late at night. Nor a pack of them at any time of day, for that matter.”

“You mind if I go and get my uncle out of the car?”

“Wait until the storm blows over. He’ll be fine where he is. Wolves don’t know how to open car doors. You’re Major Bing, I take it.”

“Let me guess, you are Mr. Ding.”

The man’s mouth did something that I took to be a smile. “Amusing, yes? That our names rhyme?” He indicated I should take the chair beside him near the stove. “We have business. Better to do it right now.”

I waited until he sat, then did the same. “You have credentials of some sort? A secret handshake maybe? The chances of my running into the wrong contact out here is slim, but I don’t want to chance it. Slim odds are not no odds.”

“I have a tie with rutting deer on it, but it’s in my suitcase. Would you like me to get it?”

“No, that’s good enough for me. And your friend here?” I indicated the man who had grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. “He has a tie, too?”

“He wouldn’t know how to use one. Not around his own neck, anyway.”

The storm had nearly passed, and there was little sound except for a few late raindrops and the fire crackling in the stove. I decided it was time to take in my surroundings more closely. I would have liked a better view of the door, but my line of sight was blocked by a short, muscular man. He didn’t appear to have a neck, nor any thought of moving aside. The room was even bigger than it had seemed on first impression, but with two of them and only one of me, I didn’t think I could race around the center pole too many times before one of them nailed me. There were no windows to speak of, so jumping through one was not an option. The only thing left was sitting tight. Apart from my uncle’s foreboding remarks—and he made those all the time—I didn’t really have much reason to assume Ding would be a problem. I might have convinced myself completely if he hadn’t had teeth like a piranha.

“You had trouble finding us?” Ding poked at the fire with a stick. “These maps aren’t worth a damn. I think they’re meant to confuse outsiders. Well, you made it, that’s the main thing.”

The rain seemed to have stopped, and I couldn’t hear any more wind. “OK by you if I get my uncle now? He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Not quite yet.” Ding looked at the muscular doorman and nodded slightly. “But my colleague can go out and keep the old man occupied until we’re ready for him to join us.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. My uncle doesn’t do well with strangers.”

Ding’s mouth approximated the sound of a laugh. “They’ll get on with no trouble, you don’t need to worry.”

When we were alone, Ding reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown envelope, no tape. “These are your orders. If you want to go over them here, that’s fine with me. Or if you want to wait until later, that’s fine, too. There are some time constraints, however. This job has to be done, completely finished, in two days.”

“Then what happens?”

“Then we’ll see.”

Since I didn’t know what had to be done in forty-eight hours, it didn’t strike me as an insurmountable problem. Sometimes, jobs with short fuses turned out easier to handle. Lots of pressure to move, but little time to think and less time for long lines of authority to get wrapped around the ankles. At least it meant my uncle was wrong. Ding wasn’t going to bury us right away.

From outside I heard the car door slam. A moment later, my uncle stepped into the ger. He was laughing. “Off to a good start, eh, nephew?”

Ding stood up carefully. “Where is my colleague?” He reached under his jacket and came out with a pistol. For some reason I was relieved to see it was a Chinese model. I was even more relieved when Ding didn’t point it at me.

“He’s probably fixing his digestion around the corner,” my uncle said, ignoring the weapon in Ding’s hand. “He said something about mutton.”

Ding reholstered the pistol and sat down. “Pull up a stool, Inspector.”

My uncle sat.

“You don’t remember me?” Ding put the stick in the fire again and stirred the embers. “It wasn’t that long ago. Let me think.” His brows went into thinking mode. “All right, a few years. Ten? Let’s say ten.”

My uncle looked carefully at the other man’s face. He took in the jaw without obvious concern. “Never saw you before in my life.”

“Ah, you see? That’s because I don’t think we ever actually met. It was more like a long distance affair.”

My uncle closed his eyes. “If you say so.”

“Ding, I think we’re tired. And we could use some food.”

My uncle mouthed the word, “Noodles.”

“I have what I need for the job. How about you show us where we’ll be staying. If I have any questions, we can talk in the morning.” I heard a note of irritation creep into my voice.

Ding looked over at me as if he no longer knew who I was. “Staying? Here?” He looked at his watch. “That’s not what … well, you were late arriving, and the storm has probably made these damn ruts they call roads too muddy. You’ll get lost for sure trying to find the main highway back to the city. Give me a minute, I’ll have to go outside to make a phone call. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll send the little bear”—he stopped himself—“my colleague in to keep you company.”

“Be careful,” my uncle said as Ding opened the door.

Ding turned. “What?”

“Wolves,” my uncle said. “Mongolian wolves.”

6

“You know him? If you knew Ding, why didn’t you tell me?”

“One, what difference would it have made, and two, he says he knows me, that doesn’t mean I know him. He’s playing some sort of game. Let him.”

“What did you do to the little bear?”

“Me? Nothing. He said he felt a little queasy from dinner. We exchanged a few words, then he started turning green and disappeared around the corner.”

“Well, be careful what you eat at breakfast. We can’t be stopping every few miles. And no, I don’t know if they’ll have noodles.”

“Surely they have noodles. Once upon a time they looted any city they could find for two thousand kilometers in every direction. They must have brought back the local fare. How much mutton can one person eat?”

“I’m going out to get our suitcases. Do something with this stove or the fire will go out and we’ll be cold tonight. Which bed do you want?”

“Does it make a difference?” He tested one, then walked the long way around the tent to test the others. “No difference. None of them will do my back any good. I’ll take the one on the right. That way, when I lie on my right side, I’ll be facing the stove.”

There wasn’t any sense asking how that mattered. I retrieved the suitcases and had just locked the car when Ding materialized out of the dark.

“It wasn’t easy getting permission for you and your uncle to stay here tonight. Beijing wants the plan under way by tomorrow morning at the latest, and for that to happen you’ve got to be in Ulan Bator, not out here with the sheep. That means you’ll have to leave before dawn.”

“What about the quarry?”

“He’s here. We know he’s here.”

“And the seal?”

Ding paused. “It’s here.”

“You just don’t know where.”

Ding snarled. “We know where, we know who, and we know how.”

“You forgot the why. Why do you need me?”

“I don’t. Believe me, I don’t need you for anything, but someone back home thinks you have the magic touch. You have a golden résumé in Beijing, it seems. Too bad we’re not in Beijing.”

“Yeah, too bad.” I looked around. “So why did we have to meet all the way out here a hundred kilometers from electricity and running water? There isn’t any place in Ulan Bator, a nice restaurant maybe, where you could have handed me the envelope?”