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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.”
SIXTY-TWO
TANG LEFT THE SECURITY BUILDING AND HEADED STRAIGHT for the car he and Viktor had commandeered. He’d told Viktor to wait outside, and apparently he’d been smart enough to conceal himself when Ni and his men arrived. Two of Ni’s minions stood guard at the entrance to the building. He decided he should not be obvious in searching for Viktor, so he slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove away.
Movement in the backseat startled him.
Viktor’s face appeared in the rearview mirror. “I was wondering when you’d come out.”
“Minister Ni is looking for you.”
“I’m sure he is.”
He’d determined that Viktor’s usefulness was at an end. If Ni managed to capture him, it would not take long for him to talk. Chinese interrogation procedures were quite effective. Unlike the West, there was no hesitation to employ torture.
But there was the problem of Pau Wen. Where had the old man gone?
His phone rang. He’d reactivated the unit as he’d left the security building. He wheeled the car to the side of the road and answered, placing the call on speaker.
“I have returned,” Pau Wen said.
But he wanted to know, “You said that tomb contained lamps with oil. There was nothing there.”
“It once contained many lamps, all filled with oil,” Pau said. “But when I entered two decades ago, I removed all of the artifacts, including the lamps.”
“Where are you?”
Pau laughed. “Why would I answer such a question?”
“You’re inside China. I will find you.”
“I’m sure you saw on the cameras that the two brothers stationed to guard the library chamber left with me. That should be proof enough that you do not enjoy the total support of the brotherhood.”
“I have men enough to finish you.”
“But whom can you really trust? Who else is likewise deceiving you?”
“I must have that oil sample. You know that.”
“To get one of those lamps, you will have to deal with me.”
“You assured me that I would have a sample. It is imperative to our plan.”
“But it is not our plan any longer. You assumed control. It is now your plan. That was made clear the last time we spoke.”
He knew what to say. “How can we resolve this impasse?”
“Bao he dian,” Pau said.
He realized Viktor understood Mandarin perfectly and knew the translation.
The Hall for the Preservation of Harmony.
“There,” Pau said. “We will talk.”
“And you can kill me?”
“If I wanted you dead, you already would be.”
To prove the theory of abiotic oil, and free China from the bonds of imports, Sokolov had to be provided a verified sample of oil that had been extracted from the Gansu fields 2,200 years ago. Pau Wen was the only known source for that sample. Still—
“How will I know that the sample you provide is authentic?”
“I relocated everything from Qin Shi’s tomb. That required great effort. It would be inconceivable for me to alter anything I went to so much trouble to save.”
“Why did I never know this?”
“Because it was not necessary to tell you.”
“I’m on the way,” he declared.
“Then we shall speak again. There.”
The connection ended, and he closed the phone.
“I assume we’re both going?” Viktor asked.
The call had been troublesome on many layers, one of which told him that he still needed this foreigner.
At least for a while.
“That is correct.”
NI STUDIED THE TWO STRANGERS. THEIR PASSPORTS IDENTIFIED them as Cotton Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt, which his staff had verified to be true. Spies didn’t normally carry correct identification. They’d also been armed with two PLA sidearms, most likely secured from the helicopter that had flown them north from Lake Dian. A quick Internet vet had revealed Cassiopeia Vitt to be a wealthy woman, living in southern France, her father a self-made billionaire who left everything to his only child. Her name appeared in numerous news accounts from around the globe, most dealing with archaeological finds or some sort of threatened historical object that she’d either liberated or renovated.
Cotton Malone was a different story. A lawyer, navy commander, and former American agent working with the U.S. Justice Department. He’d retired two years ago and now owned a bookshop in Copenhagen, Denmark.
A cover?
Perhaps, but it seemed a bit obvious.
“I want to know about the pilot who flew you from Yunnan province,” he said in English.
“That’s easy,” Malone said. “His name is Viktor Tomas and he’s a pain in the ass. If you could arrest him that would be great.”
“I’d love to do just that. He killed one of our pilots.”
“Who was trying to kill us,” Cassiopeia said.
Ni glared at her. “He was an officer in the PLA, following orders. He had no idea who you were.”
“Viktor’s around here somewhere,” Malone said. “He works for Karl Tang.”
He sensed animosity. “You don’t care for this man.”
“He’s not on my Christmas card list.”
“Why are you two here?” he asked.
“Sightseeing,” Malone said. “It’s a new tour being offered by the PLA. You get a ride in one of your choppers, attacked by a fighter, they throw in a sneak peek inside an ancient tomb.”
Ni smiled at the humor. These two were no threat. At least not to him. “You were in the tomb, firing at Tang and his men?”
Malone eyed him. “Judging from your wet clothes and the grime that we all have all over us, you were there, too. ‘Hey, assholes.’ Remember that?”
“You gave me time to escape.”
“That was the whole idea,” Vitt made clear. “Though we didn’t know who we were helping.”
He decided to risk it. “This Viktor Tomas helped me escape.”
Malone seemed surprised. “Lucky you. Seems you’re on his Christmas card list.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“All depends on what side of the fence he’s on today.”
“Where is Pau Wen?” he asked.
“He’s gone,” Vitt said. “He disappeared in a tunnel on the way into the tomb. We have no idea where.”
“You, of course,” Malone said, “already knew that. He’s left here, hasn’t he?”
Ni noted that Malone possessed good instin
cts. But from a former agent, he would expect no less. “He drove away two hours ago.”
“Seems you have a multitude of problems,” Malone said.
“As do you.”
The door opened.
