She pulled out her computer and flipped it open.
The next moment, she had drawn up the story of the Qinghai earthquake. The second story she accessed she saw the photo of Erin Sullivan. She was standing beside a monk and a Chinese soldier, and she was frowning as she stared down at the wreckage below her.
Catherine had thought she’d be older, but the woman looked to be close to her own age. She wasn’t over thirty, perhaps a little younger. She was tall, slim even in the bulky, cold-weather garments she was wearing. She had on a black, hooded jacket and matching pants and brown, fur-lined boots. A strand of copper red hair had escaped her hood and lay on her forehead above eyes that were large and a gray-green hazel. Not a beautiful woman, but she had an interesting bone structure and a full, wonderful mouth. Her expression was mature and intelligent and troubled as she looked down at the devastation in the valley below.
Who wouldn’t have been troubled? Catherine thought. Several thousand people had been killed in that quake. She quickly scanned the info about Erin Sullivan. She had been an Army brat who had traveled all over Europe and the Middle East with her parents. She had earned a scholarship to Stanford University, majored in languages and journalism, held several minor jobs in cities around Europe, and found a niche in a small television station in Calcutta, India. She had worked three years traveling for the station in Pakistan and Tibet, then had quit and become a freelance journalist. According to the story, she had traveled to the quake site on her own to write the story. Then she had stayed to help with the rescue that was being conducted by the monks of the area and the Chinese soldiers who had been sent from Beijing to help. They had needed all the help they could get because the soldiers had become disoriented and physically ill because of the altitude. Erin had worked in these mountains, and the altitude was no problem for her. Both the Tibetan monks and the Chinese soldiers had nothing but praise for her.
Clearly a remarkable woman. Why would someone want to target her?
“We are going to land.” The smiling, Asian flight attendant was standing beside her seat. “Please put away all electronic devices.”
“Sorry.” Catherine nodded, shut off her computer, and slipped it in her bag. She glanced out the window. They should be on the ground within a few minutes. She hoped Hu Chang would be there to meet her. She would see him walking toward her with a faint, mocking smile on that face that was totally ageless. She had questions to ask him that he might not answer. She could never tell if he would dance around or give her the simple truth. As if any truth was simple with a man so complicated.
“Just what the hell are you up to, Hu Chang?” she murmured.
DAKSHA
PALACE
TIBET
“Get
out
of here, Jafar.” Erin Sullivan’s voice was shaking as she gazed at the young boy in desperation and fear. She had been stunned when she had seen the boy slip over the windowsill into her bedroom only moments before. Stunned and sick with panic. “You should never have come. I’ll get out on my own.”
“I should have come. I was sent.” Jafar’s huge brown eyes were glowing in his small face. “I heard the calling, and I went to my father. He told me to follow the spirits. You can’t get across the mountains on your own. I will lead you from this dark place.”
His father had told him to come to this hellhole? Jafar couldn’t be over eleven or twelve years old, Erin thought, agonized. She had grown to know Jafar and his family during the weeks she had spent in his village, but she had not dreamed they’d sacrifice their son like this. Perhaps she should have realized it could happen. Like the rest of the people in his village, Jafar was full of dreams and the belief that good would always triumph in the end. Erin knew better. Not here, not anywhere where Paul Kadmus could reach out to crush and mangle. But she wouldn’t be able to persuade the child to leave her by using fear. The dreams were too strong, the belief too ingrained. She thought quickly, searching for a way that he would understand.
“Your father should not have sent you to me. I must fight this battle alone. My special spirit told me that’s the only way to gain a higher plane of enlightenment.”
He frowned. “But this is a dark place. We’ve heard stories that they hurt you here.
He
hurts you.” He looked at her face. “You have bruises.”
She couldn’t deny it. The ugly stories must have been driven from the palace like ice pellets in the wind. Find an excuse. “Suffering sometimes cleanses the soul.”
He was gazing at her doubtfully.
She changed the subject. “Jafar, how did you get past those soldiers and into the palace? Could you get out the same way?”
He nodded. “I crawled down a drainage pipe underneath the palace that goes from the compound wall to the courtyard. It leads toward the road that goes down the mountain. My father said the monks who settled in our village after Kadmus drove them out of this palace told him about it.” He smiled proudly. “I was like a shadow. No one saw me.”
She hoped to God no one had seen him. “You’re very clever, Jafar. I’m sure that you were just as invisible as you claim.”
“As invisible as Shambhala.” He nodded solemnly. “I can take you out of here the same way. Once we reach that far mountain, no one will find us.”
And the minute anyone discovered Erin was gone, Kadmus’s mercenaries would be after her, and the boy would be considered collateral damage. She had experienced just how brutal Kadmus could be. She couldn’t risk it. “No, I can’t go with you.” Her hands closed on his thin shoulders, and she looked him in the eye. “I thank you with my whole heart. You have been very brave, and you must tell your father that no one else from the village should come here. I will leave this place on my own.” She gave him a quick, hard hug. “You have to go now. Good-bye, Jafar, safe journey.”
He didn’t move. “But the spirits want you free. My father said that was true. He said you had helped our people to live, and now we must help you.”
“You have helped me. When I’m ready to go, you’ve told me how to leave this place.” She was searching frantically for a way to make him go. She didn’t know how much time she had before Kadmus would show up. She was allowed the freedom of the ancient palace on this barren mountaintop because he considered it a safe prison, but he never left her alone for long. “Go now, please, Jafar.”
He nodded slowly. “But I will return if you don’t come to us soon. I told you, the spirits sent me to lead you from this place. And I don’t think the spirits want you to be hurt. That’s the work of the demon who took you.” He turned and slipped out the window.
Erin crossed to the window, but he’d already disappeared.
Madness. Bravery. Sacrifice.
The cold was biting, and the distant mountain was shrouded in icy mist.
Let the boy reach the mountain. Let him get back to his village.
Oh, let him
live.
Then she heard the shot.
Her body jerked as if the bullet had struck her.
No. No. No.
“What did you expect, Erin?” Paul Kadmus was strolling out of the mist toward her from across the courtyard. He was carrying Jafar’s limp body. “If you wanted someone to save you, then you should have chosen someone besides this crazy kid.” He threw the boy’s body on the ground in front of her window. “But he’s probably the only male specimen in the mountains who would be willing to go up against me.”
There was a bullet hole in the center of Jafar’s head, and Erin couldn’t take her eyes from it. A few minutes ago, he had been vibrantly alive and now this …
“He wasn’t crazy,” she said dully. “He believed he was doing what was right. He had a calling. His people don’t consider age a factor in moving toward true enlightenment. I wasn’t going with him. I was afraid that you or your men would do this. You didn’t have to kill him, Kadmus.”
“No, it was a pleasure.” His face revealed the same fierce enjoyment as he looked up at her. Those craggy, high cheekbones and deep-set blue eyes were riveting, but even before she had realized what lay behind that face, she had never thought him handsome. She had always sensed the evil.
“You’re becoming used to the usual forms of torment, Erin,” he said mockingly. “I wanted to see your face when I gave you a new and different wound. Aren’t you tired of fighting me? This boy would never have had reason to die if you’d given me what I wanted.” His gaze went to the gold necklace around her neck. He said softly, “Tell me, Erin.”
“There’s nothing to tell you.” Her shaking hand instinctively went up to cradle the carved, eight-sided lotus that hung from the chain. “If you want this thing, take it. I don’t want it. I’ve told you before, you can pick one up like it at any market in Tibet.”
“Not like that one.” Kadmus smiled. “And I don’t want your pretty necklace. I want to know who gave it to you. I want you to take me to meet him.” His boot nudged the body of the boy at his feet. “And then we won’t have to kill any more of these simpletons who think you’re some kind of Mother Teresa. Wouldn’t that please you, Erin?”
“You’d still kill anyone who got in your way.”
“True. But they wouldn’t get in my way if they didn’t put themselves between you and me.” His gaze met her own over the boy’s body. “Where did you get that necklace, Erin?”
“I told you, I bought it at a market in Qinghai Province.”
He sighed. “I was hoping that the boy might be a breakthrough.” He turned on his heel. “But I’ll just have to think of something else that will bring about the same result.” He looked over his shoulder, and added quietly, “You do know it will be very bad for you tonight, Erin? I’m very angry that you’re being so stubborn.”
She tried not to show the tension his words brought. He always used the anticipation of pain to make the torture even more devastating. It was a small victory to not let him see that psychological whip had an effect on her. “I know,” she said steadily. “It won’t make any difference. The answer will be the same.”
She saw a flicker of anger cross his face. He muttered a curse, then strode across the courtyard. A moment later, he was lost behind the veil of icy precipitation.
Were they going to leave the boy lying there in the courtyard? Probably. Kadmus would like the idea of her seeing Jafar’s body every time she looked out the window. Because each time she saw that poor boy’s body, it would hurt her.
It
did
hurt her. But what did her pain matter, she thought impatiently. A child had died. A life had been taken. A soul had taken the next step.
Smother the pain.
Say good-bye.
Say a prayer for that brave boy who had died to try to free her.
The faith of his village was Buddhist, and she didn’t know any Buddhist rituals. But prayer was prayer.
“Please, God, take him,” she whispered. “Care for him. He was so good here with us for the little time we had him. You’re lucky to have him back. He gave his life to save mine. How often do you get someone who would do that? He deserves anything you can do for him.” The tears were stinging her eyes. “Good-bye, Jafar. You have a great spirit. Your parents would be proud of you. You’ll be with me always…”
She was wiping her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands as she turned away from the window. Kadmus would be coming soon, and he mustn’t see that she’d been weeping. It would be a triumph, and she wouldn’t allow the atrocity he’d committed tonight to give him that victory.
Start the mantra.
No triumphs tonight.
Close your eyes.
Go away from this place.
Suspend all hatred. It would get in the way.
Withdraw into yourself.
Nothing can really touch you.
She sat down in the chair facing the door and began to prepare herself for what was to come.
CHAPTER
2
HONG
KONG
Hu Chang hadn’t come to meet her.
Catherine smothered disappointment when she saw Sam O’Neill, Luke’s tutor, as she got through customs. “Hi, Catherine.” He took her carry-on case and duffel bag. “Good to see you. I hear you’ve had a rough week or so.”
“It wasn’t wonderful,” she said dryly. “None of them are. You know that, Sam.” Sam was a retired CIA agent and a fine teacher. He had been Catherine’s first choice as both a tutor and bodyguard for her son. “I got through it.”
“You always do.” He smiled as he led her toward the parking lot. “And very well, I’m sure. Venable knows how lucky he is to have you.”
“I’m a valuable commodity to him, but I’m not the only agent who can give him what he wants.”
“That sounded defensive.”
“Did it? How has Luke been doing?”
“Intellectually, superb. He’s learning in leaps and bounds. Of course, Hu Chang has a lot to do with that. He not only sparks and challenges, but he thinks outside the box and makes Luke come with him.” He grimaced. “I haven’t had much time for ordinary studies. Hu Chang has him in his lab most of the time. Luke’s becoming a chemical whiz.”
“Intellectually, superb,” she repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean? What are you leaving out?”
“Nothing. I’m Luke’s teacher, I’m used to judging his mental capability. I haven’t had the opportunity to monitor his psychological condition. You’d have to ask Hu Chang about that.” He saw her expression, and said gently, “I’m not dodging the question. From what I’ve seen of Luke, he’s seemed enthusiastic, happy, and full of life. Just what you’d want him to be.” He paused. “He asks about you. Not often. It just comes out of the blue sometimes. He asks if I’m sure you’re safe. And I’ve heard Hu Chang and Luke talk about you.”
“Are you trying to comfort me, Sam? I don’t expect Luke to worry and wonder about me. I wouldn’t want him to do that.” But she was grateful that Sam had confided those little signs that Luke had not forgotten her. “And Hu Chang cares about Luke or he wouldn’t bother teaching him. I should be grateful he’s dominating Luke’s every thought.” She heard the way that sounded, and said, “I
am
grateful.”