Forbidden City. Alex Archer
“Annja?” The tense voice of Bart McGilley greeted her.
“Yes.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Is something wrong with this connection?”
“I can’t really talk now.” Annja watched the riders as they slowed. They wore tactical gear, combat harnesses festooned with equipment.
“Are you in trouble?”
“Maybe a little.”
“In California?”
“Yes.”
“I flagged Huangfu Cao’s file after you asked me to background him. I didn’t expect the Department of Natural Resources to call to check on you.”
“I called them in.”
“They said someone was killed.”
“This is so not the time to talk about this, Bart.”
“You’re all right?”
“For the moment.” The fact that Bart was worried about her made Annja feel good. She hadn’t made a lot of lasting friends with her unusual lifestyle. But Bart was one of the best. “I’m going to need a favor,” she whispered.
“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Bart asked.
“Actually, I think I did.” Annja thought about the sword slicing through the man hanging from the helicopter. She didn’t want to kill anyone, but when it came to preserving her life or the lives of others, she’d learned to accept that sometimes there was no other way. “But I think Huangfu’s men picked up the body.”
“What’s going on?”
The two riders milled around for a moment. They talked and moved their flashlight beams around.
“I don’t know,” Annja answered. “About that favor…”
“If I can.”
“I’m going to need an introduction to the local police departments.”
“They’ll probably know you from your television show.” Bart wasn’t a big fan of the series.
“Not that kind of introduction. The kind more along the lines of me not being a homicidal maniac introduction.”
“Why?”
“Three local guys are dead.”
“Did you kill them?”
“No.”
“Your buddy, Huangfu Cao, did.”
Irritation flared through Annja. She didn’t like making mistakes. “As it turns out, he wasn’t my buddy after all.”
“I told you to watch out for that guy.”
I really don’t need an “I told you so” while I’m up in a tree, she thought. “I was watching out for him. That’s why I’m not dead right now.”
Bart sighed. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”
“I know.” Annja also knew that Bart was engaged to be married. No date had been set and the engagement was relatively new. If things had been different, if she didn’t want to see the world as much as she did, if she were more certain that Bart wouldn’t want someone who was home every night, their friendship might have explored more of the attraction that put them in each others’ lives. But they were what they were.
“Do you have this number?” Bart asked.
“Yes,” Annja replied.
“Okay. Whoever you end up talking to, put him or her in touch with me. I’ll vouch for you.”
“Thanks, Bart.” Annja’s phone vibrated again. “I’ve got to go.”
“Call me when you can. And stay safe.”
Annja said she would, then picked up the incoming call. It was a local area code. “Annja Creed,” she whispered.
“Miss Creed,” a no-nonsense voice said, “this is Captain Andrews of the Eldorado National Park Ranger Station.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I’ve got men out searching for you. Two of them are at the GPS coordinates you sent when you called. You’re not there. If this is some kind of prank, you’re going to be prosecuted in federal court—”
“I moved since that last call.” Annja looked at the two men. “Have your men wave their flashlights.”
“What?” The ranger captain sounded exasperated.
“The men that were looking for me have already killed three people.” Annja spoke plainly. “I want to know these are your rangers.”
“Wait just a minute.”
An owl passed by, momentarily obscuring the moon. A feral cat cried out in the distance. Frogs in the nearby stream croaked.
The two men with flashlights waved them in the air.
Annja took her flashlight from her backpack and switched it on. “Tell your men to look north of their position. I’m in the trees.” Even though she was talking to the ranger captain, she still felt nervous. One misstep or a bit of bad luck could get her killed.
“All right,” Andrews growled in displeasure, “they see you. Climb out of the tree and stand with your hands over your head where they can see you.”
“It’ll take just a second to get my gear.”
“Leave your gear where—”
Annja broke the connection and slid the phone into her pocket. It vibrated as she recovered her rope and shoved it into the backpack. By the time she was climbing down, her flashlight held by Velcro straps on her backpack, the rangers had pulled their horses to a stop under the tree.
Both of them were young. One was clean-shaven and the other had a short beard and long hair. They introduced themselves as Dobbs and Carew. Neither of them put their lever-action rifles away.
Carew, the long-haired ranger, stepped down and separated Annja from her backpack. Then he asked for identification.
Annja complied, but the whole time she was distinctly aware that Huangfu or his men could have been only a short distance away with a sniper rifle. You’ve been reading way too many thrillers, she told herself ruefully. But the truth of the matter was that lately she’d been living a life not far off from those fictional heroes.
“Are you okay, Miss Creed?” Carew handed her identification back. He spoke in a pleasant baritone.
“Yes.”
“You’re not hurt?”
Annja shook her head. She wished she was back in her loft in Brooklyn. Before she’d left she’d just got the third season of Gilmore Girls on DVD and was looking forward to watching it. A bath, a glass of white wine, and an episode or two of the show and she could have slept like a baby.
Instead, her mind was filled with questions. She’d explored the belt plaque by touch but she still hadn’t gotten a good look at the piece.
“You said there was a helicopter?” Carew looked at her.
Annja met the ranger’s gaze. “There was. It left the area about ten minutes after I called you.”
Carew nodded. “You said the bodies of the three men this Huangfu fella killed were up near Volcanoville?”
“Yes.” Annja dreaded the next few hours. In her experience any time she dealt with law enforcement agencies she had to tell the same story over and over and over again.
“We’ve got a