“Let me guess,” Sam said. “Employed by King Oil.”

“Correct. But here’s the kicker. She was six months pregnant at the time. I’ve done the math. Her due date roughly coincides with the birth date of Russell and Marjorie.”

“It’s official,” Remi said. “I doubly don’t like Charlie King. He probably bought her.”

“A safe bet,” Sam agreed.

Selma asked, “What’s your next step?”

“Back to the university. We got a voice mail from Professor Kaalrami. She’s finished the translation of the Devanagari parchment-”

“Lowa,” Remi corrected. “She said it was written in Lowa.”

“Right. Lowa,” Sam replied. “With any luck, her colleague can shed some light on the tomb we found-or at least rule out a connection.”

“And what about Frank?”

“Assuming King’s behind his kidnapping, our only chance to get him back is leverage. If King thinks we have something he wants, we’ll be in a better position to bargain. Until then, we can only hope King is smart enough not to kill Frank.”

KATHMANDU UNIVERSITY

After making certain they were not being followed, Sam and Remi found a FedEx office and mailed the chest. It would take two days and six hundred dollars, the agent told them, but the package would be on a plane by early evening. A bargain, Sam and Remi decided, knowing the chest would be beyond Marjorie and Russell’s reach-provided it was, in fact, of interest to King. Anyway, they had neither the time nor the resources to devote to opening the chest. It was better off in the hands of Selma, Pete, and Wendy.

Sam and Remi reached the university campus shortly after one o’clock and found Professor Kaalrami in her office. After exchanging pleasantries, they settled around her conference table.

“This was challenging,” Professor Kaalrami began. “The translation took me nearly six hours.”

“We’re sorry it took so much of your time,” Remi replied.

“Nonsense. It was better than spending the evening watching television. I enjoyed the brain exercise. I have a written translation for you.” She slid a typewritten sheet of paper across the table to them. “I can confirm the essence of the document. It is a military decree ordering the evacuation of the ‘Theurang’ from the capital city of Lo Monthang, in the Kingdom of Mustang.”

“When?” asked Sam.

“The decree does not say,” said Professor Kaalrami. “The man we are going to meet after this-my colleague-may be better equipped to answer that. There may be some clue in the text that I missed.”

“This Theurang . . .” Remi prompted.

“Aside from it also being referred to as the ‘Golden Man,’ I’m afraid I found no explanation. But as I said, my colleague may know. I can tell you the reason the decree was issued: an invasion. An army was approaching Lo Monthang. On behalf of the Royal House, the leader of the Mustang Army-I gather the position is similar to that of a marshal or chief of staff-ordered that the Theurang be carried from the city by a special group of soldiers known as Sentinels. There is no description beyond that. Just their name.”

“Evacuated to where?” asked Sam.

“The decree does not say. The phrase ‘as ordered’ is used several times, which suggests the Sentinels may have received a separate, more specific briefing.”

“Anything else?” Remi asked.

“One item that caught my attention,” Professor Kaalrami replied. “The decree praises the Sentinels’ willingness to die in order to protect the Golden Man.”

“Fairly standard military language,” Sam said. “A pep talk by the general before-”

“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Fargo. I used the wrong word. The praise was not for their willingness to give their lives in the line of duty. The language used was one of certitude. Whoever wrote this document fully expected the Sentinels to die. None of them were expected to return to Lo Monthang alive.”

Shortly before two o’clock, the time Professor Kaalrami had arranged for them to meet with her colleague Sushant Dharel, they left her office and walked across campus to another building. They found Dharel-a pencil-thin man in his mid-thirties, wearing khaki pants and a short-sleeved white shirt-finishing a class in a wood-paneled classroom. They waited until all the students had filed out, and then Professor Kaalrami made the introductions. Upon hearing Kaalrami’s description of Sam and Remi’s interest, Dharel’s eyes lit up.

“You have this document with you?”

“And the translation,” Professor Kaalrami replied, and handed them over.

Dharel scanned both, his lips moving wordlessly as he absorbed the contents. He looked up at Sam and Remi. “Where did you find this? In whose possession was-” He stopped suddenly. “Forgive my excitement and my bad manners. Please, sit down.”

Sam, Remi, and Professor Kaalrami took chairs in the first row. Dharel pulled a chair from around his desk and sat before them. “If you would . . . Where did you find this?”

“It was among the belongings of a man named Lewis King.”

“A friend of mine from long ago,” Professor Kaalrami added. “It was long before your time, Sushant. I believe my translation is fairly accurate, but I could not give Mr. and Mrs. Fargo much context. As our resident expert on Nepalese history, I thought you might help.”

“Of course, of course,” Dharel said, eyes again scanning the parchment. After a full minute he looked up again. “Do not be offended, Mr. and Mrs. Fargo, but for the purposes of clarity, I will assume you have no knowledge of our history.”

“A safe assumption,” Sam replied.

“I should also admit that much of what I am about to tell you is considered by many as more legend than history.”

“We understand,” Remi said. “Please go on.”

“What you have here is known as the Himanshu Decree. It was issued in the year 1421 by a military commander named Dolma. Here at the bottom you can see his official stamp. It was common practice then. Stamps and seals were meticulously crafted and closely guarded tools. Often, high-ranking personnel-both military and governmental-were accompanied by soldiers whose sole purpose was to guard official seals. Given time, I can confirm or refute the provenance of this stamp, but at first glance I believe it to be genuine.”

“Professor Kaalrami’s translation suggests the decree was ordering the evacuation of an artifact of some kind,” Sam prompted. “The Theurang.”

“Yes, quite right. It is also known as the Golden Man. This is where history becomes muddled with myth, I’m afraid. The Theurang is said to have been a life-sized statue of a man-like creature or, depending on whom you ask, the skeleton of the creature itself. The story behind the Theurang is similar to that of Genesis from the Christian Bible in that the Theurang is said to be the remains of the earth’s . . .” Dharel’s voice trailed off as he searched for the correct phrase. “Life giver. The Mother of Mankind, if you will.”

“That’s quite a job title,” Sam said.

Dharel’s brows furrowed for a moment, then he smiled. “Oh, yes, I see. Yes, a heavy burden to carry, that of the Theurang. At any rate, whether real or mythological, the Golden Man became a symbol of reverence for the people of Mustang-and for much of Nepal, for that matter. But the legendary home of the Theurang is said to have been Lo Monthang.”

“This ‘birth giver’ moniker,” Remi said. “Is it believed to be metaphorical or literal?”

Dharel smiled, shrugged. “As with any religious story, the interpretation is in the mind of the believer. I think it is safe to say that at the time this decree was issued, there were more literal believers.”

“What can you tell us about these Sentinels?” asked Sam.

“They were elite soldiers, the equivalent of today’s Special Forces. According to some texts, they were trained from youth for one purpose: to protect the Theurang.”

“Professor Kaalrami mentioned a phrase in the decree-‘as ordered’-in relation to the evacuation plan the Sentinels were supposed to carry out. What are your thoughts?”