Page 72 of Circle of Death
Now we’re on horseback—me, Margo, and Maddy—heading up a steep slope covered with stubby grass and loose rock. I haven’t seen this kind of landscape for a long time. Not that it’s changed much. In fact, it feels eternal.
I grew up riding Mongolian horses like this—short and sure-footed, with large heads and long manes. The last time Margo was in a saddle was probably at her country prep school. For Maddy, it’s the first time riding an animal—anyanimal—and it shows. She’s been complaining the whole way.
“How much farther?” she whines. “I’m getting blisters on my butt!”
“Over up there mountain,” our guide calls back. Batuhan is about sixteen, riding in the lead. His English is iffy, but he knows the area. We found him yesterday feeding horses in a small corral about a mile from our landing zone. For more cash than his family probably makes in a year, he agreed to lead us to the site Diaz identified. It’s been two hours since we started following him up an ancient goat trail. And I have no have no idea what we’ll find at the end of it.
We’re on our own here, and totally out of touch with the rest of the world. No biosensor is going to register from six thousand miles away. No sense even trying. I asked Batuhan if he had a set of walkie-talkies. He was not familiar with the concept.
The trail is getting more vertical. I’m clenching my thighs tight against my horse’s sweaty flanks. Margo is riding ahead of me, right behind Batuhan. I turn around to check on Maddy. She’s leaning forward and clutching her horse’s thick mane for dear life. She looks miserable.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just turnedintohorses?” she asks.
Margo looks back, eyes flashing. “Easy for you two,” she says. “But some of us are stuck being human. So, no. I say we all suffer equally.” Fair enough.
“Also,” I add, “horses aren’t that high on the intelligence chart. Right now, we need fully functioning homo sapiens brains.” I pat my horse on the neck. “No offense.”
I considered doing this mission myself and sparing Maddy and Margo the discomfort. But I figure the combination of our powers gives us a better chance at success. Three sets of eyes are better than one. And if the Destroyer is really in New York, I feel better about having Maddy and Margo with me on the opposite side of the globe.
The trail curls up and around a huge rock formation. Past the next turn, I can see smoke rising up against the afternoon sky. Batuhan turns around, smiling with bright teeth. “Camp!” he says. “Brothers!” He told us that we’d be meeting up with his three older siblings somewhere on the mountain. Fine with me. Couldn’t hurt to have a little more local perspective. And maybe some extra muscle.
Batuhan uses his heels to nudge his horse into another gear. He looks up the trail and shouts out three words I don’t understand. His brothers’ names, I’m guessing.
“Batuhan!” Maddy yells. “For God’s sake, slow down!” Margo hangs back to let her catch up. I move in front just as our guide disappears around a huge rock.
A second of silence. A sharp scream.
My adrenaline shoots up. I slide out of my saddle and pull Margo and Maddy to the ground. I motion for them to stay low. I creep forward toward the edge of the rock. I can hear Batuhan wailing from the other side.
I come around the rock face. I’m in a small dirt clearing with a campfire smoldering in the center. Batuhan is on his knees next to a large boulder. I step forward and look over it. I see three sturdy Mongolian horses lying on their sides, jaws hanging open, not moving. Behind the animals, three young men.
All dead.
CHAPTER 87
BATUHAN IS ROCKING back and forth on his knees, wailing his brothers’ names. Margo kneels beside him and wraps her arm gently around his shoulders. He leans against her, sobbing.“Yaagaad?!”he moans.Why?!
I step slowly toward the bodies. When I hunted in these mountains, we were always told to watch for wolves. But wolves have been extinct for decades. Whatever killed these men didn’t leave a single mark. Their faces are contorted in horrid death grimaces, eyes open, staring toward the sky. But no drool or foam from their mouths. No stippling or discoloration of the skin. No footprints from intruders or evidence of a fight. Somehow, they just dropped where they were standing.
“Lamont!” Maddy calls down in a loud whisper. She’s on top of a huge rock overlooking the campsite, crouching to keep her profile low. I find a foothold at the base of the craggy formation and make my way up until I’m on my belly beside her. In a few seconds, Margo crawls up on my left.
Below us, hundreds of feet down, is a deep valley with a silvery river winding through it. On the far bank—totally out of place—is a huge three-story cement building with two large cones protruding from one side, belching steam. Nuclear exhaust stacks.
Looks like we just found the bomb factory.
Suddenly, I hear hooves pounding up the other side of the mountain. We all press our faces into the rock.
Sounds like somebody just foundus.
CHAPTER 88
I LIFT MY head and look down as a lone horseman comes over the crest from the other side of the mountain. He’s wearing a thick leather jacket and a fur hat. His right arm is crooked upward at a right angle. Fastened to his sleeve is a massive brown bird with a black hood over its head.
A falcon.
The man rides slowly across the clearing toward Batuhan. His horse skitters sideways at the sight of the dead animals. The raptor seems alert but calm. I can see its talons wrapped tight around the man’s leather gauntlet.
Batuhan stands up slowly as the man approaches. It seems like they know each other. The three of us slide down the rock face and land feet-first on the dirt. I’m ready for anything. Batuhan confronts the rider in a wailing voice.
