by Steve Berry
The unexpected flash left black spots winking in and out, but as his vision settled he saw through the rising clouds of gray-black fog two figures at the far side of the chamber running toward the break in the wall.
“We can’t stay here,” Viktor said.
Tang knew the smoke was toxic and its first wisps were only a few meters away, so he retreated from the archway.
Another crack resounded through the chamber and lights began to explode. He heard an electrical surge and something popped behind him in a shower of sparks.
The junction box into which the cable from outside fed power.
“They’re shorting out,” Viktor yelled.
Then the world went black.
Cassiopeia kept running, sensing that the electrical current surging through the mercury had finally backtracked through the lines.
The last thing she saw before all the lights extinguished was the wall, about ten meters away.
She stopped short and heard Malone do the same.
“We have to go,” he whispered.
She exhaled. “Find the wall. The exit was about twenty meters to the right.”
“We might have a minute or so of good air this far over, but we need to hurry.”
Darkness was absolute. She could not even see her hands. Carefully, she groped the air and found the wall with the tip of her gun. The flashlight was still in her pocket, but all that would provide was a perfect target for a spray of bullets through the fog.
“Go,” Malone whispered. “Fast.”
Beams of light erupted from the far side of the hall, the rays threading a path through the cloud, now maybe six feet above the floor and rising.
The beams found the wall and started searching left and right.
For them.
“They have to be there,” Tang said.
All three of them used their lights to scan the far side of the chamber for the two figures. The beams were weak, but strong enough.
“Find that opening,” he ordered. “That’s where they were headed.”
The beams continued their dance. One of them located the break in the wall—and then, to its right, a figure.
Heading straight for it.
“There,” he said. “Shoot.”
“Hit the ground,” Malone yelled, knowing what was coming.
The beam had located Cassiopeia just as she’d made it to safety. He decided not to give anyone a free shot.
He took aim across the room and fired at the center of the three lights.
Tang heard the bullet slam into the brother. The man was thrown back by the impact, his light zigzagging in the darkness, his body thudding to the bricks.
Tang immediately retreated behind the archway, as did Viktor on the other side. The mercury cloud was advancing toward them, now only meters away.
They had to leave.
But first.
Cassiopeia saw one light fall and two others disappear, most likely seeking cover. She sprang to her feet, found the break in the wall with her hand, and slipped inside, a thick slab of stone between her and any more bullets.
Malone, though, was still out there.
“Are you in?” she heard him ask.
“I’m here. Your turn.”
The lights were starting their search again, focused on the opening. But they were noticeably weaker from the fog, which she saw was thickening and advancing toward their end of the hall.
Another thirty seconds and it would be here.
The lights moved away and lowered.
Both locked on Malone.
“There he is,” Tang said to Viktor. “Shoot him now.”
Their guns banged.
Malone spotted the dark cloud, less than ten feet away. He flattened himself to the floor just as guns fired from the other side of the hall.
He held his breath and the lights stayed just above him.
Standing, even crouching, would be fatal.
But he needed to go.
Now.
Cassiopeia aimed around the stone door and emptied her magazine across the room, firing at the lights.
“Get your ass in here,” she yelled to Malone.
Malone realized that it wasn’t quite that easy. The beams had retreated from sight with Cassiopeia’s barrage, which he assumed was the whole idea, but it also plunged the scene before him back into absolute darkness. He knew the opening was about eight feet to his right. Still, he had to feel his way across the wall, heading for the sound of her shots.
Repeated clicks indicated that her magazine was drained.
He found the opening, hopped inside, and exhaled.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” he said.
Tang realized that Cotton Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt were gone, escaped into the far exit. The fog was nearly upon them, so there was no way to pursue them through the chamber.
He dropped back, as did Viktor.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have two brothers waiting for them when they emerge from the ground.”
SIXTY
Ni climbed from the well and checked his watch. Nearly six pm. He sucked a few lungfuls of warm, moist air. The rain had stopped.
He replaced the iron plate in the well.
Tang would surely be exiting soon, so he needed to leave. His adversary had come prepared, but so had he.
He found his cell phone and hit a speed-dial key. The number dialed and the connection was made. “I want you here, on site, in the next fifteen minutes.”
He’d brought twelve of his investigators with him, transporting them in a separate helicopter that would have arrived about half an hour after his. They’d been instructed to wait a few kilometers away until contacted.
“We’re on the way.”
“Meet me at the security center, at the administrative buildings, east of the museum.”
He ended the call and headed off.
Malone led the way as he and Cassiopeia scampered through the tunnel, back toward where they’d entered. He knew that there were four right angles to traverse, two remaining as they’d already once turned left, then right. He avoided all the doorways leading out, careful to retrace the path they’d used to enter. He’d be damn glad when sky once again loomed overhead.
He still held his gun, which contained a few rounds. Cassiopeia’s was exhausted. They both toted flashlights.
“I appreciate what you did back there,” he said.
“Least I could do.”
“You realize Viktor was on the other side of one of those flashlights.”
“We also know that neither one of us was shot.”
He stopped. “You can’t be serious. You actually think he helped?”
“Cotton, I don’t know what to think. This whole thing seems one double cross after another. All I know is that a four-year-old boy is gone and I can’t get anywhere close to finding him.”
He saw the exasperation in her eyes, and awaited another verbal assault. Instead she drew close and kissed him.
Tender. Sweet. Not a question, more a statement.
“Viktor’s not you,” she said.
“You think I’m jealous?”
“I think you’re human.”
He was uncomfortable as hell. Feeling emotions was one thing, revealing them was quite another. “We need to get out of here.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
They negotiated the final two turns. He spotted a splash of light in the tunnel ahead. The gash in the library floor. They stopped beneath the hole and glanced up three feet.
“I’ll go first,” she said.
Before he could object, she leaped up, secured a grip, and leveraged herself through the hole.
Halfway, she was yanked upward.
A man dropped through the opening and landed on his feet.
He wore the uniform of museum security and carried a gun, pointed straight at Malone.
“I believe they want you to come up,” Cassiopeia said from above, “quick
and quiet.”
Tang stepped out of the car that he and Viktor had driven from the well site back to the security office. They had quickly found their way out of Qin Shi’s subterranean world and fled the fenced enclosure. The two dead brothers had been left underground. There was little that could be done with their bodies, especially considering the site was now contaminated with mercury vapors.
Ni Yong was his immediate concern.
He’d had the perfect opportunity inside the tomb—privacy beyond measure—to end the problem.
But he’d blown the chance.
Or more accurately, Viktor had blown the chance.
He kept his displeasure to himself. An easy matter to deal with this foreigner when the time was right.
“Wait out here,” he told Viktor.
He stormed back inside the air-conditioned security building. His clothes were filthy, his hair disheveled, his throat filled with the taste of musty air.
The men inside snapped to attention.
“In Pit 3, an hour ago, did an old man exit the enclosure?”
The supervisor barked out instructions and another man tapped a computer keyboard, apparently locating videotapes for the relevant time and place. He watched as one of the monitors came to life with Pit 3—the warriors standing silent guard, the chariot, the horses, the gash in the earthen wall. The view was an angled shot from what appeared to be an interior roof camera. He watched as an older man stepped from the black yaw leading into the library chamber, followed by the two brothers he’d left on guard. One held a gun and was directing Pau to a nearby ladder, where all three climbed to the catwalk. Another monitor switched feeds to show the exterior of the Pit 3 museum and the three men leaving the building.
He’d not seen Pau Wen in over twenty years, since just before Pau fled the country, but little had changed. Still the same long face, round eyes, and high forehead. The hair remained sparse, only now it was grayer. One of the brothers kept a gun pointed at his prisoner, and Tang watched as they slowly walked across the empty plaza.
“Where are they going?” he asked.
The supervisor nodded to the controller and the feed was switched to another camera.
“We followed them for a few minutes,” the supervisor said. “Then captured this.”
Tang saw that Pau and the brothers were now in the car park. People were still there, crowding onto tour buses and leaving in vehicles. He watched as Pau and the brothers approached a light-colored sedan. No one now held a weapon. Each of the brothers offered Pau a warm embrace, then all three left in the car.
He kept his face expressionless.
No one said a word.
“Two more individuals, a man and woman, should have emerged from the same underground room in Pit 3,” he said.
The supervisor quickly nodded and snapped his fingers. Keyboard taps brought the correct images onto a monitor.
“When the two men you stationed left,” the supervisor said, “I sent two of our men to keep watch.”
At least someone had performed his job. “That was the correct thing to do.”
The man bowed at the compliment and motioned for the video to be played. Tang watched as one of the museum security men emerged from the library chamber, followed by a man and woman, then another security guard with a gun drawn. Of course, if the two brothers had maintained their post Cotton Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt would be dead, and the problem they posed would be solved.
“Where are they now?” he asked.
“In custody.”
“Take me to them.”
He turned to leave.
The door swung open and Ni Yong barged inside, followed by ten armed men.
“In the name of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection of the Communist Party of China, I am taking control of this facility.”
SIXTY-ONE
Cassiopeia sat with her legs propped on the table and watched Cotton. He, too, was reclined in one of the metal chairs, his legs crossed, eyes closed. The room they’d been led to at gunpoint was windowless, bringing back memories of her cell in Belgium.
“Another fine mess we’re in,” he muttered.
“At least nobody will know you set one of the greatest archaeological finds of all time on fire.”
He opened his eyes. “Nobody likes a smart-ass.”
She smiled. “You think this room is wired?”
“I hope so. Hey, whoever is listening, I’m hungry. Bring us some food.”
His eyes closed again. Interesting how he was the only man who actually made her feel uncomfortable—which, in a strange way, made her comfortable. There was nothing to prove with him, nor did he compete with her. He was just himself. And she liked that.
“Nice move with the lights,” she said.
He shrugged. “I kept thinking about Tivoli. There’s a fire-breather there that I’ve seen a few times. I was talking to him one day and he told me how he uses mineral oil for all his effects. Of course, he doesn’t set fire to it atop mercury.”
“That tomb is going to be toxic for a while.”
“What does it matter? Nobody’s going to know. Either Pau looted the tomb, or it was already looted when he went inside. Either way, the Chinese don’t want anyone going in there. And lucky us, we’ve managed to get ourselves wedged between two political giants in a private civil war.”
She knew him better than he’d like to admit and she could see that his mind was working. “What is it?”
He opened his eyes again and she caught the twinkle. “Who says there’s anything?”
“I do.”
“Why’d you kiss me?”
He was stalling, and she knew it. “I wanted to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sure it is.”
Why she’d kissed him was a mystery to her as well, except that she’d simply wanted to. Hell, somebody had to make the first move. But now was not the time to jog across that emotional minefield. “Answer me. What does that photographic memory of yours see?”
“I wish eidetic meant photographic. That would be a lot easier. Instead, my crazy brain loves to remember every useless detail.” He closed his eyes. “And that’s the problem. I need some time to sort through them.”
Ni stood toe-to-toe with Karl Tang. They were roughly the same height and he knew their ages were close, Tang a year or two older. He realized that this was a public place, brimming with eyes and ears, and how he and Tang performed would be the subject of much banter.
“You do not command me,” Tang made clear.
“I’m here on direct order of the premier. You may call his office and verify, but I assure you that he has authorized this action. And he, Minister, does command you.”
Tang’s clothes were as filthy as his own, both of them wet, dirty, and angry.
“Am I the subject of an investigation?” Tang asked.
Ni wasn’t going to fall into that trap. “I don’t reveal that information, even to the first vice premier.”
Tang seemed alone. Everyone else in the room wore museum uniforms. Ni had checked outside for the foreigner who’d saved his life in the tomb, but had failed to spot him anywhere. He’d wanted to question that man.
“You and I should speak,” Tang said. “Privately.”
He quickly considered the pros and cons and decided the advantages outweighed any pitfalls. His gaze locked on the superintendent, who motioned to a door on the far side, to the right of the video screens.
He and Tang retreated inside the windowless space and closed the door.
“You should be dead,” Tang said to him, eyes on fire with hate.
“That’s twice you’ve failed to kill me. You will not win this fight.”
“I already have.”
He did not like the confident tone. “I could have you arrested.”
“For what? You have proof of nothing. And if you’re counting on Pau Wen, good luck. He’s as untrustworthy as they come.”
“And if we removed
your trousers, what would we find?”
“That I possess courage,” Tang said.
“You’re proud of what you are?”
“I’m proud of what I will do.”
He knew his situation was perilous. No proof existed that Tang had done anything wrong, and revealing him to be a eunuch would accomplish nothing. To level a charge and not be able to prove it would only destroy his own credibility. His department flourished simply because it made good decisions. He knew that many in the government were waiting for a catastrophic failure, and an opportunity to end the autonomy that made his probes so successful.
“There’s a pilot dead in Yunnan province,” he said to Tang. “Shot down by a foreigner flying one of our helicopters. You authorized his flight.”
“I did authorize the helicopter. To stop Pau Wen from illegally entering the country. But I never authorized the killing of a pilot. Do you have evidence to the contrary?”
“When I find that foreigner I will.”
Who could well have been the same man in the tomb. The man who’d saved him. Tang obviously had no idea that his supposed ally was anything but.
Or did he?
He decided not to say anything about what had happened. If the man who’d helped him was indeed playing both sides, Ni might require his assistance again. If the whole thing had been a ruse, then silence was even better.
“This is you against me,” Tang said. “The winner claims China.”
“I know the stakes.”
Tang’s eyes burned with hate. “Know that you will not live to see me win.”
His enemy opened the door and left, walking in silence past the others, out of the building.
Ni stepped back into the room and said, “I want to see everything Minister Tang saw and I want to know everything he was told.”
Malone visualized the top of the jade plinth clearly in his mind. A three-dimensional map of Qin Shi’s empire, framed by a border of symbols. Both he and Cassiopeia had been reminded of the silk hanging inside Pau Wen’s residence.
It’s a reproduction of something I once saw. An ancient map of China.