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“Because in draining the world of floods, Da Yu created arable land. He taught the people how to farm and raise animals. He taught them rituals of divination and sacrifice. We believe Yu was the beginning of what today we would call civilization.”
“But why was Brian so curious about the Xia if they lived on the Yellow River?” David asked.
The vultures didn’t know.
By the time Hulan arrived at the site, David was more than a little drunk. The vultures were his comrades now, and they patted him on the back and shook his hand and made a few more off-color remarks before sending him away with Hulan with the admonition that “strong branches tremble when the petals shake.”
David’s wife was not amused.
DAVID AND HULAN WALKED THROUGH THE RAIN ALONG THE TRAIL toward the Wu house. “I’ve been thinking about Lily’s mutilations,” David said, “and wondering if they’re purely unique to this killer or have some specific reason behind them—say punishment for Wu Huadong’s drowning.”
“Ma said Lily couldn’t have been involved in Wu’s death.” Hulan dodged a puddle, then edged back next to David.
“But what if the scholars’ teasing accusations that Lily sent Wu to look for the tripod in the whirlpool turned out to be true?” David adjusted the satchel strap on his shoulder. “What if Brian and Lily were both responsible? Someone out there could be sending a very potent message, only no one’s understanding it.”
“Actually, David, I understand it quite well. The All-Patriotic Society lieutenant said the group would make me pay for killing that woman in Tiananmen Square. The best punishment would be to discredit me by proving that I’m incompetent.”
He was astounded by the leap her mind had made. “Why? And how?”
r /> “Lily died on my watch.”
He stopped. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hulan, honey”—he tried to sound reasonable—“I don’t think anyone around here knows that happened.”
“Because they don’t have television? They do have an All-Patriotic Society chapter. You’ve seen the signs in town, haven’t you? Word travels.”
“But you said yourself that what was done to Lily was completely unlike anything you’d seen before. That blood coating—”
“Exactly! The mother in the square was going to cut off her daughter’s hand. Now Lily’s feet are amputated. The smearing of the blood is a literal message to me—that the cult is holding me responsible for the bloodshed.”
“If that’s so, then what about Brian? The modus operandi appears completely different—from the way Brian and Lily were killed to the way their bodies were disposed of—but as you told everyone in the guesthouse, their deaths were not random acts. Do you really think there could be more than one murderer in Bashan killing foreigners?”
She slogged through another puddle, listening.
“If you accept that fact, then Lily’s death can’t have anything to do with what happened in Beijing,” David continued, “because Brian was killed long before you ever knew about that rally, probably before it was even planned. What ties Brian and Lily together is Site 518. When we find their killer, you’ll see that this will boil down to greed—the theft of artifacts, not some larger conspiracy involving you and the All-Patriotic Society.”
He had hoped his analysis would convince her, but she said, “I still think the link is the cult.” She could be so stubborn.
“Can we both keep open minds until we get more facts?” he asked. “We’ll know a lot more after Pathologist Fong does his autopsy. When will he get here?”
“Soon. I have him flying in by helicopter. I’ll meet with him when we get back to the guesthouse.”
There she was again purposefully pushing David away from her inquiries. Maybe if he got her more involved with his, she’d be more open to accepting his help. They didn’t have much time before they reached the Wu property, so he quickly filled her in on what he’d learned at the dig. When he finished, Hulan asked the question that had been gnawing at David. “But why didn’t Ma or Ho tell you this before? Surely they knew about the auction.”
“They had to know,” he agreed. They talked a little longer but came no closer to an explanation; then David said, “I think I should go to Hong Kong tomorrow and try to block the auction of the ruyi and whatever other Site 518 artifacts are set to go on the block.”
“Fong ought to be done with his examination by then. You could fly down to Wuhan in the helicopter with him, then catch a plane to Hong Kong,” Hulan offered helpfully. It seemed a logical and simple plan.
They arrived at the clearing where the Wu house stood. If anything, it looked more desolate than yesterday. Rain poured off the roof and ran across the barren land and over the precipice to the river below. A rocky outcropping hung out over the house; just under the ledge a giant boulder seemed ready to dislodge itself and crush everything below it. On either side of the house were natural stone formations that resembled Grecian columns, only where the friezes and cornices might have been were two large stones smoothed by aeons of wind and rain.
Hulan knocked on the door and called out, “Wu Xiansheng, Wu Taitai.” They heard movement inside and a grating sound. The door opened slightly, and a thin-faced woman peeked out.
“Wei?”
“Wo jiao Liu Hulan. Zhe shi Stark Lushi,” Hulan explained, pointing first to herself and then to David. “We want to talk to you about your husband.”
