Rogue Angel: Forbidden City

by Alex Archer

"So what do you read about in Scientific American?"

  Ishmael took out a bottle of white wine and showed it to her. "Emerging technology."

  Annja nodded at the wine. "What field interests you?"

  Ishmael poured the wine into a glass. The liquid carried a faint ruby tint. "Anything to do with information systems and covert security."

  "Spy toys," Annja said.

  Smiling, Ishmael took a bottled beer for himself. "You could call it that."

  "You're a bodyguard?"

  "Sometimes."

  "And when you're not?"

  "I'm something else."

  "All for Roux?"

  "Mr. Roux employs me upon occasion. So do others. I've reached a point in my life that I work pretty much for who I want to work with."

  They returned to the main cabin and ate.

  ****

  A few minutes later, Ishmael took out his cell phone and took a call. When he was finished he looked at Annja, who was looking over her notes about the belt plaque.

  "That was Mr. Roux."

  "He didn't want to speak to me?" Annja was surprised.

  "He wanted you to know he is going to arrive a couple hours after we get you home. He suggested you wait for him there."

  "Suggested? That doesn't sound like Roux. He's more the type to tell people what to do," Annja said.

  Ishmael shrugged and smiled a little. "Perhaps I'm more diplomatic than he is."

  "Did Roux tell you to keep me there?" Annja asked.

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because that's not something he can pay me to do."

  "And he knows that?"

  "Yes."

  Annja looked at the man. During the whole time she'd been around him, she hadn't picked up anything on him other than he was courteous, professional, and dangerous. She'd seen examples of the first two, but the third was an educated guess made from the way he moved and the way he watched everything.

  "Can I get you another beer?" Annja reached for his empty bottle.

  "That would be great." Ishmael took time to wipe the bottle free of fingerprints with his napkin, then handed it to her.

  Annja grimaced. She'd intended to hide the bottle and smuggle it off the plane in her backpack. Bart McGilley could have run the prints for her.

  "Mr. Roux mentioned that you were tricky. He told me about some coin you'd lifted his fingerprints from when you met in France."

  Annja shrugged. Then she went to get more wine and another beer for Ishmael.

  Giving up learning anything useful from Ishmael, she turned to her computer. She discovered another post from her contact.

  I've been searching all over for more information about that legend associated with the belt plaque you posted. Haven't been able to find much more, so don't be disappointed. I'm still looking.

  Annja read over the posting a second time and was disappointed. She'd been hoping for a new lead to chase. She was wondering what to do next when an instant message box suddenly popped up on the computer screen. It was from the Web site poster.

  Are you online?

  Annja responded immediately.

  Yes.

  I was about to post, saw you online and thought I'd IM instead. Okay?

  It's okay. I appreciate everything you're doing. This thing has been hard to research, Annja typed.

  That's probably because you're going through regular history and archaeological sites to try to find answers.

  Annja knew that was true. I am.

  I'm not. I've been noodling around in conspiracy sites, myths, and lore. Not exactly factual material.

  It was precisely the kind of research Chasing History's Monsters did. Annja sighed in displeasure. No matter how much she hated it, when a researcher went back far enough, there wasn't much that separated fact from fiction. Lore was an odd combination of "accepted as fact" truths and things half-remembered. Sorting through that kind of material was challenging.

  I didn't go there, she responded.

  I thought not. It's not everybody's cup of tea. Do you know who the Penglai are?

  Annja thought for a moment, coming up with only wisps of a clue. I think it's a city.

  There is a city, but the city took its name from a myth about Penglai Mountain. That's where the Eight Immortals were supposed to live. They were thought to be based on eight wise men and wise women. All of them were supposed to be forces of good.

  Penglai Mountain has existed as a myth since the Qin Dynasty.

  That puts us at two hundred and fifty years B.C. Annja thought. But Annja knew the time frame also tied in to the Scythian art.

  Emperor Qin Shi Huang sent several explorers looking for Penglai Mountain. The land was supposed to be totally white. Palaces were supposed to be made of platinum and gold. Jewels were supposed to grow on trees. And, of course, there was supposed to be the elixir of life that prevented anyone from growing old.

  I can understand how Emperor Qin could have been motivated, Annja typed.

  So can I. But you can find that information nearly anywhere. The thing that interested me was the theory of the Ninth Immortal.

  I'm intrigued, but I don't know how it ties in with the belt plaque.

  Supposedly while Emperor Qin's warriors were out searching, they sailed through a treacherous storm and ended up on a beach of white sand. After exploring for a time, they discovered they were on an uncharted island.

  Or they could have been mixed up and simply been lost, Annja thought, her natural cynicism kicking in.

  Any palaces of gold or platinum? she typed.

  No, but they did find what some people believe was the Ninth Immortal. The other Eight Immortals are viewed as forces of good.

  Heroes, Annja responded.

  Exactly. This one wasn't a hero. Everybody wanted to forget about him. This one was a villain.

  This one was Death.

  Chapter 19

  A chill ghosted through Annja and lightning flickered in the dark mass of clouds just below the jet. For a moment the computer screen was too bright to see. The message continued.

  The legend was that the survivor was Death. The warriors found him in a shipwreck just off the coast. They rescued him and took him back with them. When he regained consciousness, he claimed to have been the only survivor of the ship, and that he was a merchant.

  Was he the only survivor? Annja asked.

  No one else was found. Anyway, Emperor Qin's warriors took this guy back to the mainland and took him to the emperor's court. This guy called himself Sha Wu Ying, which means Dancing Shadow of Death.

  Meaning what? Annja asked.

  Meaning he was an assassin. Maybe the best ever. He offered his services to Qin and proved his worth by killing two of the emperor's enemies. I've only found a few stories about this guy, but they all agree that he was dangerous.

  What happened?

  Gradually, his fame grew. He decided to take on other clients, or maybe he had a love affair going on with one of the emperor's wives. I've found stories that suggest both. Emperor Qin tried to have him killed.

  That didn't work out?

  No. Have you read how Qin died?

  Annja pulled up another folder and reviewed her notes. Reading through them, she was surprised. He died from taking mercury.

  Right. Qin was obsessed with death. He kept sending people out looking for the elixir of life. Supposedly his court physician was giving him "immortality" pills. Historians figured they were mercury. But what if Sha Wu Ying arranged for the court physician to give Qin mercury knowing it would kill him?

  It's a fact that Emperor Qin was the target of several assassins.

  There was a guy named Zhang Liang who became the most dedicated assassin after Qin.

  Zhang had to flee the emperor's wrath. While he was running he met an old man who gave him a book. Supposedly, Zhang used the techniques in the book while he served as military advisor to Liu Bang and helped establish the Han Dynasty.

  But what does
that have to do with my Scythian belt plaque? Annja asked.

  Suppose instead of an old man giving the book to Zhang, it was actually Sha Wu Ying?

  Is there anything to indicate that's true?

  Nothing factual. But look at the evidence. Sha Wu Ying was a trained assassin. Probably means he had military experience, too. Zhang got that book on military strategy from someone. Someone who had reason not to want Qin in power.

  Doesn't mean it was Sha Wu Ying, Annja wrote.

  I know. Forgive me. My head's just buzzing with this stuff. I love it.

  Annja knew the feeling, but she was frustrated that her initial mystery seemed to be growing exponentially.

  From what I've been able to read between the lines, Sha Wu Ying became the head of a criminal cabal located on the Silk Road. His name became synonymous with death.

  And he founded an assassin's cult that hired out to warlords and lords of the court. Their symbol was the tiger carved on that belt plaque.

  Can you send me your research? Annja asked.

  Sure. I'd be happy to. Maybe you can do more with it than I can. At this point, I'm stuck. If something else breaks, I'll let you know.

  Annja logged off the page and opened her e-mail server to wait for the arrival of the documents at the address she'd given the anonymous poster. Her mind buzzed with everything she'd discovered.

  Why would Huangfu Cao want a belt plaque that might be connected to an assassins' cult? Was it a valuable artifact in its own right? Did the mysterious inscription on the back hold something more than just the curse?

  She set the computer aside while she returned to the galley for a bottle of water. One thing was certain – she hadn't yet found out everything she needed.

  ****

  "We're on the ground now."

  Annja looked up from the computer screen. She'd been going over the notes the poster had sent her. There weren't any real facts in the papers, just conjecture and supposition.

  Ishmael stood in the aisle and looked at her.

  Blinking, realizing only then what the man had said, Annja looked out at the tarmac. Bright sunlight beat down on the hangars and runways. They weren't at La Guardia. She didn't know where they had landed.

  I don't even know if I'm in New York. The realization exploded inside her. She'd been accepting everything Ishmael had told her.

  "Are you feeling all right, Miss Creed?" Ishmael looked at her with concern.

  "Where are we?" Annja shut down the computer and stowed it in her backpack. Fatigue ate into her bones. She wanted a shower and at least six hours in a real bed.

  "Long Island. A private airstrip."

  "Why did we land here?"

  "In case anyone was looking for you at La Guardia."

  "Is anyone looking?" Annja asked.

  "I've been tracking the story coming out of California. Sheriff Barfield would still like to talk to you, but the story has died down. I don't think anyone here will be looking for you."

  Annja followed Ishmael to the door, then down the steps.

  "Mr. Roux arranged a driver to take you back to Brooklyn, Miss Creed." On the tarmac, Ishmael guided her toward the car. "He's also offered accommodations at any hotel you'd care to stay at if you don't feel safe returning home."

  "That's fine. I'd rather be home." Her work often kept her from home. She liked being there when she could be.

  Ishmael opened the rear door of the waiting limousine and put her inside. "Good luck, Miss Creed."

  "You're not coming?"

  Ishmael hesitated. "Would you like for me to?"

  "No. I mean, I'm fine. I appreciate you taking care of me."

  "Mr. Roux told me you were independent."

  "I am. I actually figured I'd have to fight with you to get any privacy."

  Ishmael smiled and shook his head. "Not this time. It's been interesting meeting you."

  "Likewise."

  Ishmael closed the door, then spoke briefly with the driver and told him Annja's address in Brooklyn. He stood and waved as the limousine slid into motion.

  Chapter 20

  Annja sat in one of the chairs at the dining table and watched Roux. The old man stood at the stove and worked in his shirtsleeves with a confident air. His jacket hung from one of the dining room chairs.

  The aroma of food filled the loft and whetted Annja's appetite. As he worked, Annja related the story Sha Wu Ying.

  "Do you believe this person actually existed?" Roux asked.

  "The belt plaque is real."

  "The story about the City of the Sands could just be a fable."

  "Maybe. But you seem to be very interested in it," Annja said.

  Roux covered the skillet full of meatballs and turned his attention to the sauce simmering in another pan.

  Knowing he wasn't going to respond, Annja plunged ahead. "I was told that the carving on the belt plaque might tie in with a group of assassins that lived along the Silk Road. Warriors that Sha Wu Ying trained."

  Roux snorted. "Sha Wu Ying's 'warriors' were more thieves than assassins."

  "You seem to know a lot about them."

  "I do." Roux picked up his wine glass and gave the skillet a shake.

  "How long did you know Sha Wu Ying?" Annja thought the question was worth a try.

  "I never met him." Roux looked troubled. "But I've heard of him." Going to the refrigerator, he took out the bag of salad and poured it into a bowl. He started to set the table.

  Annja got up and took over, placing plates and silverware on the table. "What do you know that I don't?" she asked.

  Roux hesitated. "Sha Wu Ying built a city in the desert around Loulan City. I'd heard it was called City of the Sands, and it was reportedly filled with thieves."

  "Have you been there?"

  "No. It was lost. The desert reclaimed many things men had built out there. Civilizations were swallowed whole."

  "But the City of the Sands did exist?"

  "Yes. And several others besides. Most of them have had their bones picked clean by those who struggled to stay there and survive, but some are still there. Somewhere. Buried under tons of sand."

  "And the stories about Sha Wu Ying are true?"

  Roux shook the skillet again to roll the meatballs, then dropped spaghetti into boiling water. "Some of them are true."

  "What about the one that says Sha Wu Ying was immortal?"

  "I've never met a man who was immortal."

  Annja shot him a glance filled with doubt. "Oh, really."

  "I'm not immortal," Roux stated firmly, indicating the subject was closed.

  "What happened to Sha Wu Ying?" Annja asked.

  Roux shrugged. "I don't know. I'd heard he was killed."

  "By whom?"

  "Do you know what a fox spirit is?"

  Annja nodded.

  "By one of those."

  "Oh." Annja filed that away for reference. She needed to take a look at the fox spirit myth again to see if there was anything she'd missed.

  "Are you sure the City of the Sands was near Loulan?" Roux asked.

  "Yes. I've studied what little he's written about the area."

  "Then why hasn't more been written?"

  "Are you familiar with Chinese history?"

  Roux nodded.

  "Then you know the Qin Dynasty preceded the Han Dynasty."

  "Yes."

  "Emperor Qin was an ambitious man. He came to power when he was thirteen years old, then he set out to conquer the rest of China. At the time there were seven states that constantly warred and fought for trade. Qin created a massive army and led them into battle. Under the rules of warfare at the time, enemy prisoners were supposed to be taken care of. After one of the battles, Qin's army had ten thousand warriors to care for. He knew that would only slow them down while they raced across the countryside. He executed one of the prisoners himself, telling his men there would be no more prisoners. They killed their enemy to a man after that."

  "He changed the face of wa
rfare in China," Roux said.

  Annja nodded.

  "Being totally ruthless is, sometimes, the only way to win."

  "If you want to destroy something, yes."

  "You always want to destroy your enemy if there's a chance he'll rise up and put a dagger into your back."

  Then why haven't you killed Garin? The question came to Annja's mind but she didn't ask it. She knew she wouldn't get an answer. Despite the enmity that existed between the two men, she'd sensed there still remained some shadow of the mentor/student relationship that had been there first.

  "After Qin died in 210 B.C., he was succeeded by his second son."

  "The first son died?" Roux asked.

  "Fusu, the eldest son, was ordered by his father's will to commit suicide to make way for the second son, Huhai."

  "Why did Qin want his second son to rule?"

  "He didn't. The Imperial Secretariat, Li Si, conspired with the chief eunuch Zhao Gao to alter the emperor's will. They wanted Huhai to take control of the country because they could manipulate him. They stripped command from the army leader and had his family killed. They continued alienating the country until uprisings started."

  "Sounds like a recipe for failure," Roux said. "So the peasants revolted against Huhai."

  Annja nodded. "Zhao Gao forced Huhai to commit suicide – "

  "I guess if you've got a winning strategy, you stay with it."

  "It didn't help. He had Ziying, Fusu's oldest son, named as emperor and tried to win the people over. But it was too late. And Ziying had other plans. He killed Zhao Gao and surrendered the throne to Liu Bang, the general who had risen up to command the army against the emperor. But there was another general who wanted to be king."