The Lost Spear Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Chapter One of The Lost Tomb

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by N.J. Croft. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Preview of The Lost Tomb © 2019 by N.J. Croft

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  [email protected]

  Edited by Liz Pelletier

  Cover design by Bree Archer

  Cover photography by

  bukitdamansara, AlexStar, and pniesen/GettyImages

  Andrey_Kuzmin/Shutterstock

  SergeyNivens/iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-915-7

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition August 2019

  “In 1937, the soul of Genghis Khan disappeared from the Buddhist monastery in central Mongolia along the River of the Moon below the black Shankh Mountains where the faithful lamas had protected and venerated it for centuries.”

  Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World by Jack Weatherford

  Prologue

  3 Months Ago

  Why now?

  Agent Lauren Parker pulled the car up outside the Hotel Flores, slammed her foot on the brake, and twisted in her seat to face Zach. “The timing is shit. I hate coincidences. Tell me you don’t think this is a huge fucking coincidence?”

  Last night they’d been ordered to back off. Until they got the go-ahead from their boss, they were not to take the investigation further. Not only that, but they weren’t to speak about it to anyone.

  And yet here they were, in Paris, about to meet a man who’d said he had information, and he would only talk to Zach. Nobody else. And she didn’t like it.

  He gave a loud sigh. “Look, you don’t need to be part of this. You can wait outside. Plausible deniability.”

  “Right. And then who’ll watch your back?”

  Because that’s what partners did. But she was risking her career. Hell, they both were, but Zach didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d asked her to trust him. And she did. Mostly. But he wanted this too much. He believed something big was coming, an attack that could change the world. And only he could stop it. Delusions of grandeur? Maybe.

  She switched off the engine. Outside, the rain lashed down out of a gray sky, punctuated by the occasional flash of lightning. Very fitting for her mood. She climbed out of the car and handed the keys to the valet. A uniformed doorman waited beside the car with an umbrella and walked them to the door.

  As they entered the reception area she turned for one last try. “You’re certain you want to do this?”

  “Yeah, I’m certain.” Now he sounded pissed off, probably because it was far from the first time she’d asked.

  “There’s still time to go through the proper channels.” She didn’t know why she was pushing it. Except she had a bad feeling—the churning in the gut sort of bad feeling. Like something was alive in there and trying to claw its way out.

  “Relax,” Zach said, and she growled. He’d been her partner at MI6 for three years. He should have learned by now that relaxing was not her strong point. “Nothing is going to go wrong,” he continued.

  She snorted. “Yeah, says the man who recently predicted the end of the world as we know it.”

  “Not the end, maybe. Just a change of management.”

  Her partner had a theory. When he’d first run it past her, she’d been skeptical. He’d convinced her in the end. If she stepped back, looked at the bigger picture, the patterns emerged.

  And the sheer enormity of that picture terrified her.

  Over the last decade there had been an escalation of seemingly unrelated terrorist attacks. Except Zach didn’t think they were unrelated. He believed there was someone, whether an individual or an organization, at the center of it all, orchestrating a plan. Like a spider at the center of a web, spinning it ever wider, sucking people in from all areas of society—government, military, big businesses—using terrorist activities to break allegiances and forge new ones, putting pieces in place.

  But in place for what? What was the ultimate goal?

  As he made to move forward, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “How well do you really know this guy? You trust him?”

  He turned to her; one eyebrow raised. “Well enough. And I don’t trust anyone.” He paused as if rethinking what he’d said. “Except for you, of course.”

  She snorted. “Thanks.”

  The reception area was a vast expanse of white marble and dark red velvet, and the cloying scent of flowers perfumed the air. It radiated a sense of prosperity, and Lauren rolled her shoulders, forcing her tense muscles to relax. “Hey, this place is nice. Perhaps we should book a room.”

  Zach smiled, softening the harsh features of his face. “Perhaps we should.”

  For the last six months, they’d been skirting around a growing attraction, both aware it was there, but neither ready to change the status quo. Now was not the time. Likely never.

  “The bar’s over there,” she said, waving a hand. She wanted to get this over with. “I wish I had a gun.” They weren’t here in any official capacity—which meant they were both unarmed, which made her twitchy as hell.

  “You won’t need a gun,” Zach assured her.

  The bar was in semi-darkness—atmospheric, she supposed, the walls more dark red, the furniture mahogany. Very tasteful. Not her thing at all. There were a total of twelve people sitting at various points around the room. Most of them alone.

  “There he is,” Zach said, nodding toward a solitary man sitting in a booth near the opposite end of the bar. His hands were clenched together in front of him, his head turned away so she couldn’t make out any identifying features.

  Zach was already on the move and she hurried to catch up. But her feet slowed as they got closer. Something didn’t feel right. She glanced at Zach, but he was totally focused on the man at the table.

  As they came to a halt in front of him, the informant raised his head. Mid-thirties, with short, dark hair and pale skin, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His gaze settled on them for a brief moment, then flicked aside to look behind them. Toward the entrance.

  She peered over her shoulder, but the space was empty, and she turned back.

  He licked his lips. A glass sat on the table in front of him and he picked it up with a trembling hand then swallowed the contents in one gulp.

  “Liam? What’s wrong?” Zach asked.

  At least he recognized something was wrong. Badly wrong. Lauren had met with informants before, and they were invariably nervous. But this went beyond mere nerves. The man appeared ter
rified.

  “I think someone followed me here.”

  He looked past them again, focused on something behind her, eyes widening, and her skin prickled all the way down her spine.

  She turned slowly. A woman stood at the entrance to the bar. Then she was walking toward them. Her face expressionless, her body oddly bulky beneath a dark coat.

  Time slowed. All sounds faded except for the hammering of Lauren’s heart. She saw every detail; the woman was short, with shoulder-length black hair, dark brown eyes, and olive skin. Her left hand slipped inside her coat.

  Lauren dived toward Zach. Saw the shock blossom on his face. Shoved him hard. He reached for her but was already falling backward in slow motion. A flash of intense white light. A roar filled the room. Punched forward by an invisible fist, she flew through the air, then crashed to the floor. For a moment, she lay still, suspended in time. No pain. But something had broken inside her and she couldn’t move.

  Screams filled her ears. A thick, bitter stench clogged her nostrils and her face was wet. She blinked her eyes open to chaos and flames as something tore through the air toward her.

  Then darkness.

  Chapter One

  Don’t look back.

  Doctor Eve Blakeley concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, on ignoring the prickle that shivered down her spine, on resisting the urge to halt in her tracks, to turn around and face whatever was causing the sensation.

  Not real.

  She made it a habit to run the almost five miles to work each morning. A habit she’d picked up from her ex-husband. One of the few things she had taken away from their six years of marriage—a love of running, an ability to hit a target with a handgun every time, and three children.

  Running was the best therapy she knew. Usually. But this morning she couldn’t shake her demons. They were somewhere behind her, keeping pace, waiting to…

  She’d thought she’d been improving; twelve years was a long time, and she should be over the kidnapping by now, but for the last few days she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that someone was watching. Every muscle tensed, waiting for the bullet to rip into her, slam her to the ground, the nightmare to begin.

  Not happening.

  Her route to the university took her along the River Cam. There were always plenty of people, dog walkers, and runners like herself. It was peaceful, beautiful, the river slow-moving, the sky blue, the spring air warm on her skin. The birds were singing.

  Everything was bloody perfect.

  But the ball of dread was growing in her stomach, and she swallowed down the fear crawling up her throat. Finally, she stopped, whirled around, and stared.

  Nothing.

  There was never anything. Sometimes she despised the person she had become. That she allowed herself to be so affected by what they had done to her, that she gave them power. She hated that.

  She started running again. Reciting stuff in her mind to keep focused, and she arrived at the university without incident. Of course she did, because there was nothing to be scared of. Nothing real.

  As she walked through the courtyard, a sense of peace washed over her. She loved this place. It wasn’t the life she had envisioned. Growing up, she’d imagined herself traveling the world to far-flung places, finding exotic relics and artifacts…having adventures. But life had a way of stepping in without warning and changing a person’s direction.

  All the same, she was happy. Mostly. She had a fabulous job she loved at one of the best universities in the world. She lived in a beautiful place with her three gorgeous children. And a long way away, she had an ex-husband who, while not exactly a major presence in their lives, was at least on amicable terms and paid his child support on time. Which reminded her—she needed to get a hold of him and remind him to call their daughter next week—it was Harper’s eleventh birthday.

  She showered and changed before heading for her office. She had a nine thirty lecture, then she was free to do research for the rest of the day.

  Janis, her assistant, glanced up as she entered the outer office. “Mr. Tuul is here to see you, Eve.”

  “He is? Was he scheduled?”

  “No. He apologized but would like five minutes of your time. He knows you have a nine thirty lecture but hopes you can fit him in first.”

  “Of course I can.” Mr. Tuul was the representative of The Mongolian Historic Society, the organization that funded her research. They gave enormous contributions to the university. She was hardly likely to tell him to go away and come back when she had more time.

  “Good,” Janis said, “because I put him in your office.”

  “Thanks.”

  She had a nice office. Small, but with a window overlooking the courtyard below. A large mahogany desk, lots of bookshelves, and two chairs. Mr. Tuul stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring down, but he turned as she entered. He was over six feet tall with short black hair. She’d always imagined Genghis Khan would look just like him. The Mongolian warrior was supposed to have fathered many, many children during his conquests; maybe Mr. Tuul was a descendant.

  While he was clearly Mongolian, she had never heard a hint of an accent in his perfect English. And he wasn’t the sort of man you could ask personal questions. Today, he wore his usual impeccable dark gray business suit. He stepped toward her and held out his hand. She took it, and they shook briefly.

  “I apologize for my impromptu visit,” he said. “I planned to make an appointment, but I’ve been called away and needed to talk to you before I left.”

  He did? She hoped he wasn’t pulling the funding. There was no reason. Her research was going well. “Would you like a seat?” She waved her hand at one of the chairs. “A coffee?”

  “Thank you, your assistant already offered. But I won’t take up too much of your time.” He sat down, rested his hands on his lap.

  Eve perched on the chair on the other side of the desk. “How can I help you?”

  “Dr. Blakeley, we would like to make you an offer.”

  She relaxed back in her seat and smiled. “That sounds interesting.”

  “In your last paper, you claimed you are close to discovering the location of the Spirit Banner of Genghis Khan.”

  That had been the focus of her research for a number of years. The Spirit Banner was a spear bound with horsehair, and some believed it to be the repository of Genghis Khan’s soul. Its last known resting place had been a Buddhist monastery in central Mongolia, but it had disappeared in 1937 during the Soviet reign of terror.

  “I believe I’m very close.” She was just awaiting one more piece of information, then everything would fall into place.

  “We would like you to make a trip to Mongolia. You will take a team to find the Spirit Banner. We will of course pay for all expenses, and a preliminary amount has already been transferred into a new account. Use it as you see fit.”

  For a moment, her pulse sped up, and she actually considered the idea. But only for a moment. She hadn’t done field work in twelve years. The idea made her stomach clench.

  When she remained silent, he continued, “And there is an additional incentive. If the Spirit Banner is found, then we will fund a further expedition to find the tomb of the great Genghis Khan.”

  Wow. Now that was a much bigger deal. The location of the tomb of Genghis Khan was one of the best kept secrets in centuries. And one of the things any archaeologist would literally kill to find.

  “We have recently come upon certain information, which we believe, in conjunction with your methods, will enable you to identify the site.”

  Her heart was racing now. She tried to keep her face as expressionless as his but was sure he could see the excitement shimmering in her eyes. “What information?” Eve’s methods used a mixture of detective work and imaging techniques to locate areas of archaeological interest. So what new information had they found?

  “It involves a talisman we know to be buried alongside our great leader. Find
the Spirit Banner and the information and the funding is yours.”

  Of course she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even go for a run without suffering a near panic attack. But God, she wanted to go. “I can’t. I’m afraid I don’t do field work. I have too many family commitments.” That was the excuse she always gave people. Blame it on her poor children. “But I could coordinate the expedition from here.” If they put someone else in charge, she would die. This was the culmination of everything she’d worked for.

  He studied her for a moment. “I’m sorry. But that would not be possible. We need someone on location. If you change your mind, let me know. You have one week to accept, or we will make alternative arrangements. After that you will have a week to find the Spirit Banner and another week to discover the location of the tomb.”

  The burial site had been a secret for eight hundred years, so why the sudden urgency? “That doesn’t seem like much time.”

  “There are reasons, which at the moment, I’m not at liberty to disclose, but if you succeed, that will change and you will know everything.” He rose to his feet. “And whatever your decision, we’ll continue to fund your research here. Provided you’re willing to share the results of your work with whoever heads the expedition. Now I’ll leave you to your work. Good day.”

  And he was gone.

  She stared at the door, teeth clenched, a sick dread churning in her stomach, anger burning inside her.

  Fear and anger, her constant companions.

  Who would they put in her place? To use her hard work. To get all the glory.

  Bastards.

  Chapter Two

  Zachary Martin hated hospitals. Hated the smell and the sick people and the miasma of death that lingered around the place. And he’d been coming here far too often over the last three months.

  He paused at the nurse’s station. “Is it okay if I go in?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” They were used to him coming at unusual hours.

  Lauren had a room in the ICU to herself. She lay on the bed, eyes closed, wires and tubes leading from her to various machines. They were all that were keeping her alive.