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Catalina Syrah and Nicholas Bonhomme are back in action. She Rides with Genghis Khan mixes fact with fiction, building layer upon layer of nail-biting suspense as a modern day caravan winds its way along the ancient Silk Road. Treasured documents and secret histories guide them deep into the heart of Mongolia where they seek the burial site of Genghis Khan--one time ruler of the known world and presumed guardian of the all-powerful Buddha Jewel.
Chapter
1
Central
Intelligence Agency
Year:
2002
They called and
asked if she wanted to be a spy. “Why not?” she replied, assuming
her two year old application had finally made it to the top of the
pile.
Twelve hours later
Catalina Syrah was in Langley, Virginia, sitting at a conference
table with a dozen other recruits. A former Army sergeant stood at
the head of the table. He leaned over, hands spread flat, palms down,
sizing them up as he worked his way through the CIA training manual.
The man had a voice like an RPG on a winter’s night.
“First assignment
is a three-day survival exercise. We call it an exercise, but it’s
really a test. You screw this up and you’re outa the program. Even
the desk jockeys have to pass this.”
The sergeant
smirked.
“And you,” he
said, pointing at Catalina, “you need to be ugly, mean, and smart
to survive in the CIA. From your looks, you aren’t any of those.
Want to quit now or wait until you’re running around in the woods
with eight big fat oozing blisters on our feet, a dozen bug bites
that itch like fucking hell, scrapes on your face and arms, and
you’re so hungry you could eat poison-ivy berries? Beauty queen,”
he growled, kicking the leg of her chair. “I’ll bet you a hundred
bucks you’re gonna wash out. Whatdaya say?”
She didn’t say a
word, just took a hundred-dollar bill out of her pack and slapped it
on the table.
Eyes wide, the
recruits stared at her, then at the sergeant, then back at her again.
What’s it about
men? If you’re ugly, they make fun of you, and if you’re halfway
good-looking they think you’re a bozo. Some men are born assholes.
The next morning
four teams, with three recruits in each, were blindfolded and
deposited somewhere in the Virginia woods. Their assignment:
rendezvous at the Washington Monument at eight o’clock Tuesday
morning. They had no food, water, cell phones, tents, or other kind
of equipment. All they had were the clothes on their backs and the
shoes on their feet.
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