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“What’s it mean?”
“Just speculating. I’d say either Frank didn’t send the last three e-mails or he did and was trying to embed a distress signal.”
“I think that’s unlikely. Frank would have found a more clever code.”
“So that leaves us with the other option. He disappeared earlier than King believes.”
“And someone was posing as him,” Remi concluded.
THIRTY MILES NORTH OF
KATHMANDU, NEPAL
In the predawn gloom, the Range Rover pulled off the main road. Its headlights swept over green terraced fields as it followed the winding road to the bottom of the valley, where it intersected another road, this one narrower and rutted with mud. The Rover bumped along the track for several hundred yards before crossing a bridge. Below, a river churned, its dark waters lapping at the bridge’s lowermost girders. On the opposite bank the Rover’s headlights briefly illuminated a sign. In Nepali, it read “Trisuli.” Another quarter mile brought the Rover to a squat gray-brick building with a patchwork tin roof. Beside a wooden front door, a square window glowed yellow. The Rover coasted to a stop before the building, and the engine shut off.
Russell and Marjorie King climbed out and headed for the door. A pair of shadowed figures emerged from behind each corner of the building and intercepted them. Each man carried an automatic weapon diagonally across his body. Flashlights clicked on, panned over the King children’s faces, then clicked off. With a jerk of the head, one of the guards gestured for the pair to enter.
Through the door, a single man was sitting at a wooden trestle table. Aside from this and a flickering kerosene lantern, the room was barren.
“Colonel Zhou,” Russell King grunted.
“Welcome, my nameless American friends. Please sit.”
They did so, taking the bench across from Zhou. Marjorie said, “You’re not in uniform. Please don’t tell us you’re afraid of Nepalese Army patrols.”
Zhou chuckled. “Hardly. While I’m sure my men would enjoy the target practice, I doubt my superiors would look kindly on my crossing the border without going through proper channels.”
“This is your meeting,” Russell said. “Why did you ask us here?”
“We need to discuss the permits you have requested.”
“The permits we’ve already paid for, you mean?” replied Marjorie.
“Semantics. The area you wish to enter is heavily patrolled—”
“All of China is heavily patrolled,” Russell observed.
“Only part of the area in which you wish to travel falls under my command.”
“This has never been a problem in the past.”
“Things change.”
“You’re squeezing us,” Marjorie said. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were hard, mean.
“I don’t know that expression.”
“Bribery.”
Colonel Zhou frowned. “That’s harsh. The truth is, you are right: you have already paid me. Unfortunately, a restructuring in my district has left me with more mouths to feed, if you understand my meaning. If I do not feed those mouths, they will begin talking to the wrong people.”
“Perhaps we should be talking to them instead of you,” said Russell.
“Go ahead. But do you have the time? As I recall, it took you eight months to find me. Are you willing to start from the beginning again? You were lucky with me. Next time, you might find yourself imprisoned as spies. It could still happen, in fact.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Colonel,” Marjorie said.
“No more dangerous than illegally crossing into Chinese territory.”
