The Spirit Banner (Rogue Angel, Book 22)
Alex Archer, Joseph Nassise
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Genghis Khan carved out a legacy of bloodshed and conquered kingdoms that has lasted almost eight hundred years. But while his name and deeds live on in the annals of history, his tomb has never been located… until now.
Not everyone is convinced that the diary and the map, said to lead to the great warrior's final resting place, are authentic. Archaeologist Annja Creed is among these doubters. The reality is that the body was lost to history. But despite her skepticism, Annja suddenly finds herself pulled along an increasingly complex trail of clues, each more remote than the last.
And as she and her companions race to their final destination, one thing is clear—the only tomb she may find is her own.
for her on the other side of the door, nor how they were armed. She was going to have to trust that her instincts and her speed were going to be enough. She pictured the room in her mind, noting the position of the furniture as it had stood when she'd been working there earlier, paying attention to what might provide adequate cover and what would not. When she was ready, she took a couple deep breaths to draw as much oxygen into her bloodstream as possible, drew back her right leg and kicked out
apprentice to Master Daratuk." "Ask him what happened here," Annja told Nambai. The boy's reply was a bit longer this time. "He says men came in a helicopter, questioned the lamas and then tore apart the buildings looking for something. When they didn't find it they questioned the lamas again, shooting them when they didn't like the answers." "Is Master Daratuk dead?" Annja asked, watching the boy's eyes carefully while Nambai translated her question. The split second hesitation before Chingbak
torches fell on a bas-relief carving above the lintel displaying the face of a Mongolian warrior. His eyes seemed to gaze down at them in judgment. So strong was the illusion that Annja half expected it to open its mouth and ask what they wanted. Beneath the figure was a set of Mongolian letters carved on an ivory disk about two feet in diameter, the white of the ivory contrasting sharply with the dark stone in which it was set. "What do you think that's for?" Mason asked. Annja shook her head;
slung beneath her, the only thing connecting them their mutual holds on each other's wrists. He looked up at her, the fear bright in his eyes. "Don't drop me," he said in a whisper. Annja couldn't even find the energy to speak against the pain roaring through her arms. She knew they couldn't stay like this for long… * * * I N THE HELICOPTER , Ransom leaned forward with eager anticipation. "Did you get them?" he asked. Santiago peered anxiously through the windscreen and then shook his head.
she thought she'd found a chink in his armor, he managed to get away. Every time he thought he was about to deliver a killing strike, she was no longer where he expected her to be. It went around and around like that for some time. Annja knew a longer conquest would favor her opponent. She could feel herself getting tired already, her muscles not responding as quickly to the commands her brain was giving them as they had at the start of the battle. Despite the difference in their ages, he fought