The Emperor's Tomb

FIFTY-TWO

MALONE STARED DOWN THROUGH A WINDOW SMEARED BY RAIN at the tomb of Qin Shi. The green-forested mound rose like a boil from the flat brown landscape. He’d read about the site many times, a complex of underground vaults spread over twenty square miles, most of them unexplored. He’d even visited the terra-cotta warrior exhibition in London last year, but he’d never imagined that he might one day enter the tomb itself.

The helicopter approached from the south, swooping in over dun-colored hills at around a thousand feet. A steady downpour drenched the ground. More mountains rose to the west, the Wei River flowing to the north. About a mile away he caught a glimpse of the towering halls and other buildings that made up the museum site and a multitude of people with umbrellas, braving the rain.

“We’ll land north,” Viktor said through the headphones. “I’m told there’s a spot reserved for helicopters there.”

Malone preferred to carry a weapon and hoped that a locker he’d spotted earlier was accessible. When the latch opened he was instantly suspicious. Inside, four pistols were secured by clamps. He removed one and, remembering the last time he’d been inside a helicopter, with Viktor Tomas at the controls, he checked the magazine.

Fully loaded. Twenty rounds.

He removed a few of the bullets and examined them. No blanks.

He replaced the ammunition and handed Cassiopeia a weapon. He did not offer a gun to Pau Wen, nor did the older man ask.

He slid the semi-automatic pistol beneath his shirt. Cassiopeia did the same.

The rotors eased, and they gradually lost altitude.

TANG LEFT THE SECURITY BUILDING AND WAS HEADED FOR A waiting car when he spotted a military helicopter swooping in from the south. He wanted to go after Ni Yong, but he knew better.

“Keep the car ready,” he ordered.

Then he headed back inside.

NI STOPPED AT THE RUSTED FENCE THAT ENCLOSED A CLUSTER of dilapidated buildings. The premier had told him that the cottage-like structures beyond had been hastily built in the 1980s. To the premier’s knowledge, no one had been inside the enclosure for twenty years—and from the tall grass and vegetation that consumed everything, and gaping holes that dotted the thatched roofs, he could believe that claim. The buildings stood maybe a hundred meters from the base of the mound within the perimeter of an ancient wall that no longer existed.

He stared with a blend of fascination and wonder.

The premier had also advised him that Pau Wen was most likely headed inside the tomb of Qin Shi.

“How is that possible?” he’d asked.

“There are two ways inside. Pau Wen knows one. I know the other.”

CASSIOPEIA JUMPED FROM THE HELICOPTER ONTO THE SOGGY ground, followed by Cotton and Pau. As the blades wound to a stop, Viktor emerged from the cabin and asked, “You find the guns, Malone?”

“And this time they actually have bullets.”

“You’re big on grudges, aren’t you?”

No one had approached the chopper, and there was no vehicle in sight. They were probably a mile from the mound and half that distance to the museum complex. Another helicopter rested a hundred yards away.

“Friends of yours?” Malone asked

Viktor shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Security is a little lax,” Malone said.

“And we’re foreigners,” Cassiopeia pointed out.

“But you came in a PLA chopper,” Viktor said. “And that’s what matters.”

The rain fell in a steady pulse, resoaking Malone’s still-damp clothes. But at least the air was warm.

Pau Wen pointed toward the museum. “We have to go. The exhibits will soon close for the day.”

TANG STUDIED THE MONITOR, PLEASED THAT VIKTOR TOMAS had delivered Pau Wen, Cotton Malone, and Cassiopeia Vitt, exactly as promised. He was dividing his attention between the northern landing field and what Ni Yong was doing on the west side of the mound. His vantage point offered him the perfect perch, and he ordered the men working the cameras to not lose sight of either scene.

He’d assumed command of the museum security force knowing that no one would question his authority. Nor would anyone contact Beijing. The only person who could give him orders was the premier himself, and that was highly unlikely. The old man rarely concerned himself with politics any longer, and Tang had stopped paying attention to the premier’s daily activities. They simply did not matter.

Ni Yong and Pau Wen.

They mattered.

And he now had both men directly within his sight.

His gaze switched back to the screen with Ni Yong. He watched as Ni scaled a rickety steel fence and dropped to the other side. He needed to head that way and see what was attracting his nemesis’ attention. He’d been told there was nothing there, just a deserted storage area, yet that “nothing” was fenced, watched, and shielded by an order from the capital.

On the monitor he saw Pau and his three companions walk through the rain toward the Pit 3 hall. The same one where the imperial library chamber had been located. Where the watch had been found.

Interesting.