The Emperor's Tomb

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.

With some things added.

He wished he still had his iPhone, but it had been confiscated, along with their weapons, when the guards searched them. Without it, he wasn’t absolutely sure—but sure enough.

The door opened.

A man entered, perhaps mid- to late fifties, taut cheeks pitted with scars, dark hair piled thick shading ears splayed outward.

A grave determination filled his eyes.

“I am Minister Ni Yong.”