‘Upon entering Shaolin, Bodhidharma, now called Ta Mo by the Chinese, observed that the monks were too weak to meditate. He taught them three series of exercises, which marked the beginning of Shaolin Temple Kung Fu, which means “hard work and perfection.” These techniques were later refined into fighting methods to repel attacks from local bandits. Eventually more temples were built, each run by several Shaolin Masters—experts in training of the mind, body, and spirit.’

‘You’re a Master?’

‘Grand Master. I began my training as a boy in the Shaolin Temple at Sung San Mountain, then began Pak Mei Kung Fu training in the Gwong How Temple when I was twenty. Ours is a style that incorporates both Shaolin and Taoist practices, allowing the warrior to move from a relaxed movement into explosive power.’

‘How long have you been teaching Jake?’

‘Five years. Now Jacob is teaching me.’

They follow a subterranean passage, then turn right into an alcove. A steel door slides open as they approach, revealing a narrow, subterranean flight of stone steps leading below.

Immanuel follows the slight Asian down the spiraling stairwell, which is lit only by an occasional oil lamp mounted on the limestone wall. ‘The decor was your brother’s idea,’ the Tibetan says. ‘It sets the proper mood.’

They descend two stories, the temperature within the stairwell dropping noticeably. Immanuel rubs goose bumps from his exposed forearms. ‘Must be one hell of an air-conditioning bill. Whoa …’

The stairwell abruptly ends, depositing them on the top of a snowcapped mountain. The peaks of the Himalayas loom in every direction, crowding infinity itself. As Immanuel steps off the last stair and into a three-foot-high snowdrift, the stone corridor behind him disappears, camouflaging the entrance to the immense subterranean holo-suite.

‘Jesus, it’s freezing.’ Through teary eyes, Immanuel can see his breath. ‘Okay, now what? Hope you guys created a ski lodge somewhere nearby, my balls have turned blue.’

Ignoring him, Chong trudges through the knee-deep snow across the summit.

Immanuel follows, his lungs heaving, his bare feet numb. After several minutes they come to the entrance of a cave.

Seated outside the cave in the snow, his legs tucked into a lotus position, is Jacob. He is bare-chested, wearing only the bottoms of his black kung fu garb. His eyes are closed.

The skin covering his chiseled muscles is a healthy pink.

‘Is he crazy … never mind, I already know.’ Immanuel’s teeth chatter. ‘Wake him up before he freezes to death. It’s gotta be below zero out here, er, in here.’

‘With wind chill, it is minus eighteen degrees Fahrenheit. Touch his skin.’

Immanuel reaches out and grips his twin’s shoulder—shocked to find it warm, almost hot to the touch. ‘He’s burning with fever!’

‘It is not fever, at least not a fever generated by sickness.’

‘I don’t understand. How long has he been out here?’

‘Just under four hours.’

‘Four hours? How—’