The breasts were definitely enhanced on the stick figure.
‘Assuming these were mountains, which — after a very spirited discussion — is what Professor Hu and I did, we had to figure out what mountains they were.’ Lourds waved at their surroundings. ‘Lots of mountains in China.’ He paused. ‘But not many that featured a tortoise and a woman.’ He quickly explained about the origins of the mountain names.
‘Now that we’ve found the mountains, what are we looking for?’ Rory asked.
Lourds pointed to a small symbol on the map. ‘This. A structure located somewhere off this pass.’
‘What is it?’
‘I have no idea. That’s just part of the adventure.’
Less than an hour later, the Sherpas reached them. The group was friendly and used to outsiders coming to the mountains to climb. Most of them spoke rudimentary English.
Lourds explained the map to Gelu, the oldest member of the group. He was a short, stocky man with weathered, dark features, iron gray hair, and a scar along his left cheek. He liked to laugh and joke a lot, and was a consummate storyteller. For a time, in the lee of the stone and out of the wind, they swapped tales because business was something to be approached slowly.
He studied Lourds’s map for a moment. ‘I know this place. Very old place.’
‘How old?’ Excitement filled Lourds.
Gelu shook his gray head. ‘Long, long time ago. This place has seen many people live and die. It is home to Tibetan monks who renounce the world.’
‘Monks that renounce the world?’ One of the BBC guys, Thompson, looked totally lost. ‘For generations? Dude, monks don’t reproduce. How are they going to keep people in some nearly forgotten temple? They’d die out from attrition.’
Lourds chuckled, and Gelu barked laughter. ‘Many monks renounce world. Some say to study better. Others say so they not have to work.’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes we bring them food. Monks not grow much up here.’
‘I’d say not.’ Lourds glanced at the white landscape.
‘Snow not fill belly.’
‘What’s the name of the place?’
Gelu shook his head. ‘Monk’s temple. That’s all I know. If you like, we can guide. Keep you safe during journey. We know way.’
Lourds knew from personal experience that the Sherpas didn’t make much from their guide work. He also knew the group would be safer in the Sherpas’ hands this far up in the mountains.
‘If you have the time, Gelu, I would like that.’ Lourds would pay them himself.
Gelu nodded and smiled. ‘Sure, sure. Make time. Keep you safe. Maybe take more food to monks?’
‘We’re going to resupply only a little farther on. We can get food for them then.’
Gelu clapped Lourds on the shoulder. ‘The gods will surely favor you.’
9
Colonel Davari disliked the restaurant as soon as he laid eyes on it. From a tactical point of view, it was too open. Only glass walls separated diners from passersby walking along Wien Street. A coolheaded sniper could take out nearly half a dozen people before they knew they were being gunned down.
He also disliked the restaurant because it was so ostentatious. The black interior, the elegantly clothed servers, and the expensive ambiance all screamed decadent Western civilization.
Today he dressed the part of a European, in a dark suit without the keffiyeh, his hair and beard freshly cut at the hotel barber’s, and swathed in cologne.
A maître d’ met him at the door. ‘May I help you, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Davari spoke German with an accent, as well as Romanian, and a handful of other languages. ‘I am looking for Herr Von Volker. I am to be his guest.’
The young maître d’ checked an electronic list at his podium. ‘Yes, sir, Herr Von Volker is dining with us tonight, and is already here. If you’ll follow me, please.’
Davari followed the maître d’ across the floor, ending up where he least wanted to be: at one of the tables in front of one of those windows.
‘Herr Von Volker, your guest has arrived.’
The Austrian held a mobile to his face and listened, turning his head just enough to make eye contact with Davari. Von Volker was a big man with sandy blond hair going gray at the temples. His eyes were light blue and moved constantly.
Feeling even more irritated at the man for so casually dismissing him, Davari sat and waited. A server arrived to take his drink order: a water, and he had to select from a dozen different kinds. By the time the glass showed up at the table with a lemon wedge stuck to the rim, Von Volker was pocketing the mobile.
‘I do apologize, Colonel.’ Von Volker sipped his glass of champagne. ‘Sometimes business waits for no man.’
‘I understand. I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice.’ With effort, Davari thought he managed to sound sincere.
‘It’s my pleasure. The food here is excellent. If you’d like, I’d be happy to order for you.’
‘If you insist.’ Davari wasn’t there for the meal, but a soldier learned to eat whatever he could whenever possible.
The server returned, and Von Volker spoke quickly in German before turning back to his guest.
‘I understand there was a problem during your last stop.’ Von Volker’s clear blue eyes held Davari’s.
‘Evidently our security has not been as tight as we had wished.’
‘I’ll bet that made the old man angry.’
Rage coursed through Davari, and he barely restrained himself. The Ayatollah wasn’t a figure to be mocked. ‘When you speak of that man, speak with respect.’
Von Volker shrugged. ‘It’s just a figure of speech. I intended no harm.’
Davari didn’t believe the Austrian. Von Volker thought he was clever and untouchable, but he was no fool. While he’d walked to the table, the Quds colonel had identified five bodyguards sitting at different tables around them, and three more were questionable.
But it was Von Volker’s ego that would get him into trouble. He sat in front of the window, requiring only one skilled sniper to assassinate him, in spite of his protection.
A small, covered plate arrived at the table. The server removed the lid to reveal hot sausages, the steam from them floating into the air.
Von Volker pointed to the plate with his fork. ‘I know you can’t eat them because of your faith, but I do love them.’
‘Please. Enjoy yourself.’ The meal just underscored the separation between them.
The Austrian pierced a sausage and put it on his plate, cutting it into bite-sized pieces. He showed no hesitation about eating in front of a stranger. Of course, as one of the leaders of the Austrian People’s Party, Von Volker probably ate with strangers more often than he ate at home. In addition to the day-to-day business of politics, there were also the necessary meetings with ‘invisible’ constituents.
And then there was the illegal business Von Volker conducted. Companies hidden within companies running hired mercenaries that supplied the Islamic Republic of Iran with nuclear material and weapons of late. Publicly, Von Volker chastised the Ayatollah’s cabinet for their repressive regime, while at the same time lobbying for Iran to have access to nuclear technology for power and peaceful pursuits.
No one in the Western world believed Iran would stop there. Davari knew they wouldn’t. He’d already seen many of the plans.