Forbidden City

“ I didn’t kill them.”

“I know, but some of the other stuff you’ve gotten involved with lately, it hasn’t gone so well for the show. I mean, you have to admit some of it’s been pretty weird.”

“Weirder than trying to find a Wendigo in Colorado last month?”

“Hey, we were following up sightings.” Doug sounded defensive.

“I think I remember hearing that Kristie wanted a skiing vacation.”

Doug coughed to buy himself time. It was one of his lamest tactics. “There were stories about a Wendigo.”

“There was Kristie on skis.”

“Kristie skiing down the mountainside escaping an evil Wendigo,” Doug exclaimed.

“That’s funny. I don’t remember seeing the Wendigo.”

“We’re not here to talk about Kristie. I don’t produce her. I produce you. I have to report to people on what you do. If you get involved in something that reflects in a negative fashion on the show—”

Annja cut Doug off. “As I recall during the meeting last month, the ratings were up, advertising was up, and we had more accounts lining up to do business with us than we had spots to give.”

Doug fell silent for a moment. “Yeah, well, all that’s true, and I just want to keep it that way. We don’t need any adverse publicity.”

“In fact,” Annja went on, deciding to unleash a full salvo and put an end to the debate, “I think this is the perfect time to discuss renegotiating my contract.”

“You already have a contract in place.” The exasperation was back in Doug’s voice.

“The contract we put into place was based on numbers that have almost doubled since we inked that deal.”

“You know, you sound really tired.” Doug suddenly sounded nervous. “I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Doug.” Annja decided to let him off the hook. She liked Doug and she knew how to work him to get what she needed. Maybe she didn’t negotiate skiing vacations, but she often got the show to pay for international trips to places she wanted to go to do legitimate archaeological assignments.

“So we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.”

“Are you in any kind of trouble?”

“No.”

“The police don’t think you killed anybody, do they? I mean, you’ve killed people before.”

“Only when I had to.” Annja didn’t like talking about that.

“I know. Man, look at the time. I should really let you get some sleep. If you need anything, give me a call.”

“I will.” Annja broke the connection. Her eyes felt heavy. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw the deputy only a short distance behind.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax, but she knew it wasn’t over. Not as long as she had the belt plaque and Huangfu wanted it.

F ROM THE VERY BEGINNING , Huangfu had hated Georgetown. The population consisted of a thousand citizens, more or less, and the community was tightly knit. Even though it was a tourist town, strangers stood out.

The way things had unfolded in Volcanoville, he knew he couldn’t return to the room he’d taken in the bed-and-breakfast. In fact, those premises had already been invaded by the sheriff’s office. But he’d been careful. Their crime scene investigators would find no fingerprints in the room, and the things he’d left behind would lead nowhere.

He’d ordered one of his men to dump the helicopter near Sacramento to lay down a false trail and lead the police to think they’d fled the area. The other four men remained with him in the hills overlooking Georgetown.

His men were, like him, well trained at hiding in plain sight. The countryside provided ample cover.

He hunkered down beside a tree and used digital binoculars capable of high magnification. He was dressed in black camouflage, complete with a Neoprene mask that left only his grease-paint covered face open.

The man next to Huangfu tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the western road. Shifting the binoculars, Huangfu spotted Annja Creed’s rented SUV entering the town.