The Kingdom by Clive Cussler Page B

knows how to reach us. Any more questions?”
    “I don’t like this,” Russell said.
    Marjorie added, “We’re just trying to help.”
    “And we’ve thanked you. Now you’re testing our limits of politeness. Why don’t you two run along. We’ll call if we get into trouble we can’t handle.”
    After a few moments’ hesitation, the King children turned and walked back to their Mercedes. They pulled out and slowly passed Sam and Remi, staring hard at them through Russell’s rolled-down window before accelerating away.
    “If looks could kill,” Remi said.
    Sam nodded. “I think we may have just seen the true faces of the King twins.”

7

CHOBAR GORGE, NEPAL
    They set out shortly before four the next morning, hoping to arrive at the gorge before sunrise. While they had no idea how strictly the Chobar Caves’ no-trespassing rule was enforced—or whether the area was even patrolled by the police—they didn’t want to take any chances.
    At five, they pulled into Manjushree Park and found a spot under a tree not visible from the main road. Headlights off, they sat in silence for two minutes, listening to the tick-tick-tick of the Nissan’s engine cooling down, before climbing out, opening the tailgate, and gathering their gear.
    “Did you really expect them to tail us?” Remi asked, settling her pack over her shoulders.
    “I don’t know what to think anymore. My gut tells me they’re bad to the core, and I know without a doubt King didn’t ask them to help us. He ordered them to keep an eye on us.”
    “I agree. Hopefully, your heart-to-heart with them will do the trick.”
    “Bad bet,” Sam said, and slammed the tailgate.
     
     
    Led by the glow of the rising sun, they walked down to the bridgehead. As advertised on their map, twenty yards to the east of the bridge, behind a copse of bamboo, they found the trail. With Sam in the lead, they headed upriver.
    The first quarter mile was an easy hike, the path three feet wide and covered in well-groomed gravel, but this soon changed as the grade steepened. The trail narrowed and began going through a series of switchbacks. The foliage closed in, forming a partial canopy over their heads. To their right and below, they could hear the river gurgling softly.
    They reached a fork. To the left, the trail headed due east, away from the river; to the right, down toward the river. They paused only a few moments to double-check their map and Sam’s iPhone compass, then took the right-hand path. After another five minutes of walking, they came to a forty-five-degree slope into which rough steps had been cut. At the bottom, they found themselves facing not a trail but a rickety suspension bridge, its left side affixed to the cliff by lag bolts. Vines had overrun the bridge, so tightly twisted around the supports and wires that the structure looked half man-made, half organic.
    “I have the distinct feeling that we’re looking down the rabbit hole,” Remi murmured.
    “Come on,” Sam said. “It’s quaint.”
    “With you, I’ve come to equate that word with ‘hazardous.’”
    “I’m crushed.”
    “Can you see how far it goes?”
    “No. Keep ahold of the cliff side. If the span goes, the vines will probably hold.”
    “Another lovely word, ‘probably.’”
    Sam took a step forward, slowly shifting his weight onto the first plank. Aside from a slight creaking, the wood held firm. He took another cautious step, then another, and another, until he’d covered ten feet.
    “So far, so good,” he called over his shoulder.
    “On my way.”
    The bridge turned out to be a mere hundred feet long. On the other side the trail continued, spiraling first down the slope, then up. Ahead, the trees began thinning out.
    “Round two,” Sam said to Remi.
    “What?” she replied, then stopped short behind him. “Oh, no.”
    Another suspension bridge.
    “I sense a trend,” Remi said.
     
     
    She was right. On the other side of the second span they found another