"Charlie Chan - 7405 - The Temple Of The Golden Horde" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chan Charlie)

"Who would steal the scroll?" Chan broke in. "Such a unique document would be most difficult to realize a profit on."
"I can't imagine," Soong agreed. "Unless -"
Lieutenant Forbes walked to a large steel cabinet in the corner of his office. He opened the deep bottom drawer; and when he turned he held a large wooden chest about the size of a women's make-up case, and brass bound with a brass lock. "Is this your Golden Horde scroll, Mr. Soong?"
"Yes!" the philanthropist cried. "At least, it's the chest; the scroll was inside."
Soong hurried forward, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. Forbes shook his head, opened the heavy lid of the chest.
"We had to pick the lock to see what was inside," Forbes said. "But we didn't damage the lock."
Chan said quickly, "It was locked when found?"
"Locked tight," Forbes said. "It's a strong lock, too."
Soong lifted out two cylinders of ancient vellum rolled around two polished wood sticks.
He opened the scroll, studied it for a moment. "It's the Batu Scroll, undamaged!"
"Where was it found, Lieutenant?" Chan asked.
"On the Temple grounds about a half a mile from the temple at the edge of the ocean. It was in plain sight, and the spot was just about where Benny must have fallen in to be carried on the currents where we found his body."
Chan looked at Soong. "Are you sure the scroll is genuine - the original?"
"Absolutely. See, my mark is on it."
Forbes said, "So much for that robbery motive, Inspector."
"It would seem so," Chan agreed. "Theft does not appear to be the cause of Benny Chan's accident."
"A great weight lifted," C.V. Soong said. "I must admit I was concerned that my scroll had caused the death of the man who carried it. A relief to know that was not so."
"All four previous scrolls were sent in the same manner?" Chan asked. "By simple messenger, all in the open?"
Soong nodded, "I did not want to risk loss in the mail or by parcel service, and the Temple sent the same handyman each time. They assured me that because of his mental handicap he was the most reliable messenger, would never let the chest out of his sight, would be extra careful. There was no previous trouble."
"Then you were not concerned by the possibility of theft?"
For an instant, the philanthropist seemed to hesitate. Then he shook his head, "No, I wasn't, not really. In any event, the handyman seemed a most inconspicuous carrier."
Chan nodded without replying, and the philanthropist put the scroll back into its chest. He locked the chest, turned to the door.
"Will it now go to the Temple as arranged?" Chan said.
"I'll take it there personally in the morning," C.V. Soong said. "Thank you for finding it, Lieutenant, and it is always a pleasure to meet you again, Inspector Chan."
"The honor is mine," Chan said.
C.V. Soong bowed and left the office. Chan seemed to watch the door thoughtfully as it closed behind the philanthropist. Lieutenant Forbes watched Chan.
"You're still not satisfied it was an accidental drowning, Inspector? What more do you need to know? Nothing was stolen from Benny Chan. If someone had been after that scroll, we wouldn't have found it right there on the beach."
"Unless Benny Chan was also carrying something unknown," Chan said. "Perhaps unknown even to Benny."
"Like what?" Forbes said. "And wouldn't the killer have taken the scroll then for a cover?"
"That would seem logical, yes," Chan mused. "A visit to the Temple is indicated. If the Lieutenant would direct me?"
Forbes gave the detective directions to the isolated temple, and Chan went out into the night to his car.
As he drove off, the night fog of the Northern California coast thickened over the wooded land.
The fog drifted around the high iron gates of the isolated estate on Half Moon Bay, and nothing moved in the chill night as Charlie Chan parked. He got out, and in the distance through the bars of the gate he saw three buildings shrouded by trees. There was a small light in the one building nearest the sea, but the other two were dark.
The large main gate was locked, but Chan soon found the side gate in the high fence. It was unlocked. It creaked open on rusted hinges, and Chan slipped through into the silent grounds. He stood for a time listening in the thick mist, then began to walk silently up a curving gravel drive.
A half a mile in from the gate the first building loomed up through the night and fog - a silent, Chinese pagoda!
It was on a rise of ground facing the sea a few hundred yards away. Wreathed in the night mist, the curved pyramid of its red-lacquered roof towered three-stories high, and fierce dragon-heads snarled in silence from the curved-up corners of the high roof. Dark teak pillars held up the red roof of the open porch all around, and the outer walls were all teak and colored tile. There were no windows.
A circular, latticed gate guarded the entry portal. It wasn't locked, and Chan pushed it open and entered the dark gloom of tie interior. Sweet, thick incense greeted him, and as his eyes became accustomed to the dark inside, he saw a tall, bare altar that had been carved from a single giant boulder. It stood at the very rear of the high room, and still retained its natural shape. A row of tiny candles burned on either side, set in deep, dark blue containers and almost invisible - moving only faintly like the wind itself.
A live tree grew from a patch of bare earth behind the stone altar up through an opening in the ceiling, and paintings of harsh mountains stood on each side of the tree. Above it all was a vaulted dome painted a sky blue with painted white clouds, and a painted representation of Genghis Khan, and the single word - Tengri. Chan stared up at the strange altar and painted sky, and spoke softly to himself:
"Tengri, the blue sky of Genghis Khan."
The rest of the large room was absolutely bare, without seats of any kind, and magical circles painted on the bare wood floor as if the worshippers sat in circular groups. Magical symbols were drawn on all the walls, and two Shaman costumes hung near the stone altar, costumes not very different from those of Amer-Indian medicine men.
A Shamanist temple, for worshipers of the sky, mountains, rocks, forest and wind. Of the "spirits" present in these powers of nature who could be contacted only by the magic of the Shaman, the intercessor between the spirits of nature and the people. An ancient religion, primitive, and strange in modern America. Out of place in the modern world, barbaric superstition, and yet, as Chan stood alone in the dark temple he seemed to feel the powers of nature, hear the howl of the forest wind.
Wind somewhere that was almost a scream.
A demon of the wind, and a scream...
A real scream!
No wind, no demon - a human scream, and close by.
Chan turned in the dark temple and started to run toward the round entry portal. The scream was close out in the night, and not a scream, exactly, but more a wild cry of terror. A series of terrified cries, wild and almost hysterical, frantic and moving out there in the night as if someone was fleeing from a mortal danger.
Chan was half way from the altar to the entry portal when the almost-animal cries became very close, and echoed inside the temple itself. Chan stopped.


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