The Emperor's Tomb

SEVENTY-SEVEN

CASSIOPEIA HIT THE WATER HARD AND WAS SWEPT FORWARD with a rush from an overwhelming current, her body tossed about as if in a tornado. The water was cold, but that was the least of her problems. Breathing was her main concern and she managed to thrust her way to the surface, grabbing a quick breath through the foam before the water assaulted her again.

She had to stop moving forward. Eventually she would be propelled into rocks, breaking a bone, smashing her skull, if not killing her. Her ears were filled with a deep rumble and the swirl of a trillion bubbles. She’d yet to touch bottom.

She snagged another breath and caught sight of what lay ahead.

Boulders. Big ones. Their soaked profiles protruding from the surge.

She’d have to risk it.

In a wild scramble, she pawed at the water and tried to steer her course. Her body was tossed with no regard, the water oblivious to everything but gravity. A cloud of brown foam boiled against her face. She kept her arms extended, leading the way, feeling until her hands slammed into something hard.

But she did not bounce off.

Instead, she held tight.

Her head emerged.

Water thundered past her shoulders, but at least she wasn’t moving. She sucked several deep breaths, shook the blur from her eyes, and finally realized she was freezing.

MALONE FOLLOWED A TRAIL LINED WITH CHORTEN AND PRAYER walls. A sudden breeze brought the chilling breath of nearby glaciers. He trembled from both the brisk air and a nearly overwhelming intensity, fists closed tight, eyes moist with emotion.

How many more friends did he have to lose?

Gray rabbits scurried across the path, then dove into crevices. He could still hear the water tumbling behind him. The helicopter was gone. Viktor was presumably at the bottom of the gorge, doing whatever he thought he could do.

Damn that son of a bitch.

He hadn’t felt such rage since Gary was taken last year. He’d killed his son’s abductor without the slightest remorse. And he’d do the same to Viktor.

Right now he had to focus. Protecting Sokolov was the key. Helping Ni Yong, imperative. Obviously, Stephanie had considered both of those objectives important. Why else would she have used both him and Cassiopeia, and enlisted Viktor’s help. He’d wondered in Copenhagen why Stephanie had not been overly concerned about Cassiopeia’s predicament. And how she knew so much about abiotic and biotic oil.

Now he knew.

She had Viktor on the scene, supposedly looking after her. But had he been?

Stephanie, too, would have to face a few consequences when this was over.

He spotted a stone altar lit by two lamps and approached with caution. The trail ahead veered right and a sheer wall blocked what lay past the turn. Light splintered off the towering gray rock in shimmers and sparkles. He lived in fear of emotions, denying their existence, burying them under an avalanche of responsibilities. Yet in truth, he was utterly dependent upon them—a fact he’d never realized until far too late.

He’d miss Cassiopeia Vitt more than he ever imagined.

He’d loved her—yes, he had—but could never bring himself to utter the words.

Why the hell not?

A gong sounded in the distance.

Deep tones faded, and a great, empty, reverberating silence engulfed him.

NI WAS DETERMINED THAT HE WAS NOT GOING TO SHOW WEAKNESS. He would face these fanatics down to the end.

“The Soviets maintained,” he said, “that they could force the people to serve them. Even you, Pau, in Belgium pointed out that mistake.”

“The Soviets did indeed make many errors. We must avoid those.”

“But I will not allow China to lose its way,” Tang declared. “The West tries every day to promote its values and ideologies here, believing that we can be destabilized by some sort of marketing campaign. By democracy.”

“You have no idea the dangers we face,” Ni said. “We are not the China of Qin Shi’s day.”

“We are still Chinese,” Tang said. “Toppling our government, whether from outside or within, will be far more difficult than it was in the Soviet Union.”

Ni watched both Tang and Pau Wen. Men so deceitful were no different from the despots who’d come before them. China did indeed seem doomed to repeat one mistake after another.

He stepped away from the plinth and stared into the three other chambers, not as large as their underground counterparts in Xi’an, but roomy, each filled with grave goods.

Pau approached. “A few of the bronze vessels are filled with liquid. I broke the seal on one and savored an ambrosial aroma. The liquid inside tested for alcohol, sugar, fat—a buttered rum, from over two thousand years ago.”

Any other time he’d be impressed, but at the moment he was trying to determine how to avoid dying in a helicopter crash.

“Those bronze lamps,” Tang said. “There. Are they the same?”

Ni had already noticed them. Arranged around the walls on pedestals, on shelves, and on the floor. A dragon’s head on a tiger’s body, with the wings of a phoenix. Maybe a hundred of them. Just like the one he’d retrieved at the museum.

“They are the same as the one in Antwerp,” Pau said. “Each is filled with oil extracted from the ground in Gansu over two millennia ago. I kept one, as a keepsake, and took it with me to Belgium.”

“I need that oil sample,” Tang said.

“I’m afraid the emperor’s tomb is no longer pristine,” Ni said.

Malone and Vitt had told him what happened after he fled. About the fire and the smoke. He told Pau.

“Hopefully,” Pau said, “the damage was minimal. The mineral oil I left to shield the mercury would have caused no real damage. The mercury, though, is another matter. Its vapors will take time to flush away.”

“It matters not,” Tang said.

“Unlike you,” Ni said to Pau, “he seems to care little for the past.”

“A fault he will remedy. We shall discuss the matter.”

“There are many things we need to discuss,” Tang made clear. “Things you seem to have neglected to mention.”

Pau faced Tang. “Like why I killed the men you sent to my home?”

“That’s one.”

“We will talk. But know that I explain myself to no one.” Tang clearly did not appreciate the rebuke. “This more of the show?” Ni asked. “You two fighting.”

“No, Minister,” Pau said. “This disagreement is real.”

CASSIOPEIA’S GRIP WAS WEAKENING, THE FREEZING CURRENT lancing her joints with pain. For the third time in two days death seemed close. She doubted she would survive the ride downstream and, surely, at some point there’d be a waterfall to the valleys below. A cloud of brown foam engulfed her face and she shut her eyes to the onslaught.

Something firm gripped her right arm, from above, yanking her grip free from the rock.

She opened her eyes to see Viktor staring down at her. He was balancing atop a boulder, right hand locked on her arm. She reached out with her left hand and her body spun as she was lifted from the water.

He’d saved her life.

Again.

“Thought you weren’t going to do that anymore,” she said, catching her breath.

“It was either that or be shot by Malone.”

A chill swept through her, one she could not control. Viktor knelt close, both of them atop the rocks, and removed his jacket. He wrapped its thick fleece around her chest and held her close.

She did not resist.

She couldn’t.

The chills came uncontrollably.

Her teeth chattered and she fought to calm her nerves.

Viktor continued to hold her tight. “I tried to divert the soldiers until you and Malone were beyond the bridge, but I didn’t know about the chopper. It came quick, apparently knowing you’d have to negotiate the bridge. Tang planned well.”

“Where’s Cotton?” she managed to ask, hoping the cannon fire had not found him.

“I told him to go. That was after he decided not to shoot me. The chopper wanted to take me out, too, but couldn’t get a shot down here. So it left.”

She stared up into his eyes and saw both concern and anger. “How’d you find me?”

“When I saw you hanging on, that bought me enough time. I actually expected to find a few broken bones.”

“You and me both.”

She was steadying herself, the shakes fading. Glancing back she saw the risk he’d taken, step by step, fumbling across the exposed boulders. One slip and he’d have been swept away.

“Thank you, Viktor.”

“I couldn’t let you drown.”

She freed herself of his embrace and stood, but kept the jacket close. Water poured from her clothes. Her hands were blue from the cold. Direct sunlight could not, at this early hour, find its way down the perpendicular walls that towered above her. But she knew there was warmth, higher up. “We have to get to that hall.”

He pointed to the far bank. “There’s a trail that leads back up. Malone should be at the monastery by now.”

“You and he can make your peace, when this is over.”

“I doubt that will happen.”

“He can be reasonable.”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said.

“And what about you?”

He pointed out the safest path across the rocks to the bank. “It’s a good twenty minutes to the top. We need to hurry.”

She grabbed his arm. “I asked you a question.”

“Malone was right back in town,” he said. “I murdered that pilot for no reason other than to gain your trust.” He paused. “Like Malone says all the time, I’m a random asset. Another term for nobody. What about me, you asked? Who the hell cares.”

“Stephanie does. She sent you to get Sokolov.”

“And Ivan sent me to kill Tang. Yet here I am, saving your life. Again.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she released her grip.

And he leaped to the next rock.