The age of Genghis Khan was filled with mysticism, and shamanism played an important role in the nomadic lifestyle. The grizzled shaman, who had a flowing beard and was dressed in caribou skins, danced and chanted around a large fire containing sheep bones. With a shrieking moan, he blessed the Khan's remains, imparting them from the land of the eternal blue sky to an afterlife of conquering the heavens.

When the service was completed, the granite sarcophagus was rolled into the mausoleum, then sealed with a six-ton slab of polished stone lowered by a crane. The spectators would later all swear they heard a distant clap of thunder at the precise moment the tomb was sealed, even though there was not a cloud in the sky. Genghis Khan was at rest again in his beloved homeland mountains, and his tomb would stand forever as a cultural mecca for tourists, historians, and all the peoples of Mongolia.

As the crowd began filtering out, Ivan Corsov and Alexander Sarghov approached from the rear, where they had been seated with the Russian ambassador.

"I see you are as adept at sniffing out historic treasures on land as at sea," Sarghov laughed, giving Pitt and Giordino a friendly bear hug.

"Simply a bonus for figuring out why somebody tried to sink the Vereshchagin," Pitt replied.

"Indeed. By the way, we still have our joint research project to complete on Lake Baikal. The Vereshchagin will be repaired and ready to go next season. I hope you both will join us."

"We'll be there, Alexander."

"Just as long as there are no more seiche waves," Giordino added.

Corsov sidled up, his usual ear-to-ear grin in full display.

"An impressive demonstration of undercover work, my friends," he said. "You should join the Russian Federal Security Service, there is a need for men of your talents."

"I think my boss might have a thing or two to say about that," Pitt laughed.

The president of Mongolia approached with a small entourage. Sarghov said a quick farewell, as Pitt slyly noted Corsov melding away into the exiting crowd. A short, polished man of forty-five, the president spoke nearly flawless English.

"Mr. Pitt, on behalf of the people of Mongolia I wish to thank you and your NUMA team for rescuing Genghis for all posterity."

"A giant of history deserves to live forever," Pitt replied, nodding toward the mausoleum. "Though it is a shame that the riches of the tomb have all been lost."

"Yes, it is a tragedy that the treasures of Genghis were dispersed to collectors around the world simply to enrich the pockets of Borjin and his siblings. Perhaps our country will be able to buy back some of the antiquities from our newfound oil revenues. Of course, the archaeologists all believe that a greater trove lies with Kublai Khan, whose grave Borjin was thankfully unable to find. At least Kublai and his treasure still reside undisturbed in Mongolia, buried somewhere beneath these hills."

"Kublai Khan," Pitt muttered, staring at the mausoleum of Genghis. On its granite facade, he noted an engraving of a lone wolf, whose outline figure was painted blue.

"Yes, that is the legend. Mr. Pitt, I wish to also personally thank you for exposing the corrupt activities of the Borjin family and helping put a stop to their lawlessness. I have initiated an investigation into my own government to determine the extent of the influence-peddling on their behalf. The remnants of their actions will be buried with the body of Borjin, I promise."

"I hope that Tatiana is proving to be a cooperative witness."

"Most assuredly," the president replied with a furtive grin. Tatiana, he knew, was being held at a less-than-comfortable security site. "With her help, and the continued assistance of your oil industry companions," he said, nodding toward Theresa and Wofford, "we shall be able to exploit the discovered oil reserves for the good of a new Mongolia."

"China isn't going to renege on acceding Inner Mongolia?" Gunn asked.

"It's too politically dangerous for them to do so, both internationally and within the confines of Inner Mongolia, whose occupants largely favored secession from China. No, the Chinese will be happy enough, as we've agreed to sell them oil at a favorable price. That is, until our pipeline to the Russian port of Nakhodka is completed." The president smiled and waved at the Russian ambassador, who stood a few yards away chatting with Sarghov.

"Just ensure that the oil revenues go to the people who need it most," Pitt requested.

"Indeed, we've taken a lesson from your own state of Alaska. A portion of the revenues will be distributed to every man, woman, and child in the country. The remainder will support the state's expansion of health, education, and infrastructure. Borjin has taught us that not a dime of profits will end up in the hands of an individual, I can assure you."

"That is good to know. Mr. President, I have one favor to ask of you. We discovered a plane crash in the Gobi Desert."

"My director of antiquities has already informed me. We'll be sending a research team from the National University of Mongolia right away to excavate the aircraft. The bodies of those aboard will be returned to their homes for proper burial."

"They deserve that."

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Pitt," the president said, as an aide tugged at his sleeve. He turned and started to walk away, then stopped.

"I almost forgot," he said to Pitt. "A gift from the people of Mongolia to you. I understand you have an appreciation for such objects."

He pointed down the hill to a large flatbed truck that had discreetly followed the funeral procession up the mountainside. A large covered object sat upright on the truck's bed. As Pitt and the others watched with curiosity, two workmen climbed up and pulled back the canvas covering. Underneath sat the dust-covered Rolls-Royce from Borjin's compound.

"Should make for a nice restoration project on the weekends," Wofford said, eyeing the decrepit car.

"My wife Loren will love that," Pitt replied with a devious grin.

"I'd love to meet her sometime," Theresa said.

"Next time you are in Washington. Though I take it you'll be working in Mongolia for some time to come."

"The company gave us three weeks of paid leave for our ordeal. We are both hoping to go home to rest and recuperate before Jim and I come back."

From the look she gave Giordino and the tone in her voice, it was clear that the "we" was not referring to Wofford.

"I don't suppose you could take it upon yourself to nurse a rabid old sea dog like Al back to health during that time," Pitt offered.

"I was rather counting on it," she said coyly.

Giordino, leaning on a crutch with his lower leg heavily bandaged, smiled broadly.

"Thanks, boss. I've always wanted to see the Zuider Zee."

As the friends parted company, Pitt strolled down the hill toward the flatbed truck. Gunn joined him as he approached the old Rolls.

"The Mongolian energy minister just told me that the price of oil is down another ten dollars today," he said. "The markets are finally accepting the news that the Avarga Oil Company has been put out of business for good and the destructive earthquakes are finished. Combined with the news of the oil reserves in Inner Mongolia, the experts predict that the price will soon drop to levels below those seen before the Persian Gulf disruption."

"So the oil panic has subsided and a global depression averted. Maybe the economic powers that be will finally learn the lesson and focus on developing renewable energy sources in earnest."