The Emperor's Tomb

“This was taken inside the tomb, atop the plinth where Qin Shi would have lain.”

Ni studied the new image. Malone waited for a comment, but the man said nothing. Instead Ni brought the screen closer, switching back and forth between the two pictures. Ni laid the phone down and found his own, hitting one of the SPEED DIAL buttons and waiting for the connection to complete. When it did, he barked out commands in Chinese and waited. He offered a few more words, then ended the call.

Malone tried to assess Ni Yong, recalling what he’d read on the flight from Belgium. From his own experience he knew the Chinese were difficult to read. They practiced, almost as an art form, a strategy of deception, keeping not only their opponents but also their allies on guard. This man, though, was no low-level operative. Instead, he was the head of the most feared institution in all China. He could literally topple anyone at any time. Stephanie had told him that the United States considered Ni a political moderate in a nation of fanatics. Far more preferable to Karl Tang as the new leader. The Russians seemed to have a similar belief since they’d apparently ordered Viktor Tomas to look after Ni. But Stephanie had also noted that the State Department feared Ni Yong was not tough enough to master China.

Another Gorbachev, she’d said.

Ni’s phone chimed.

He tapped a button, waited a moment, then studied the screen. “When persons elevate to high office they bring things of value. These personal possessions are theirs alone. So to ensure that there is no misunderstanding as to origin, a photographic record is made by my department.”

“So you take with you only what you came with,” Malone said.

Ni nodded. “When you showed me that image it triggered a memory. In the presidential residence there’s a private study used only by the premier. The current occupant decorated the room with items brought when he assumed office nine years ago. Rosewood furniture, vases, scrolls, inlaid wood screens. I have been inside that room several times.”

Ni laid his phone down beside Malone’s. Though its screen was smaller than the iPhone’s, the image was nonetheless clear.

A silk map.

“This hangs on the wall there.”

Malone and Cassiopeia leaned close.

“They’re identical,” she said.

Malone instantly realized the implications.

“I’ve admired that map,” Ni said. “The premier told me the same thing, as Pau related to you. A reproduction that he had made from an ancient one he admired.”

“Tang and Pau are both eunuchs,” Malone said. “The Ba.”

And what was unspoken hung in the air.

What of the premier?

“I asked,” Ni said. “He says that he is no eunuch. He refused the operation.”

“You believe him?” Vitt asked.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“There’s something else,” Malone said, motioning to the phones. “Notice the border surrounding the map in the premier’s study.”

“Chinese numbers,” Ni said, pointing to the top left. “Three, four, six, eight, two, five, one, seven.”

Malone gently balanced his finger over the character that appeared two up from the left-hand vertical side. “Nine. Up here. On the top row. Two over. Four.”

He pointed to his phone and the image from Pau’s residence. “They are identical. But check this.” He flicked the screen with his finger and revealed the top of the plinth. “Different symbols in different places.”

He watched as Ni assessed the fact. “These are not numbers. They are characters.”

The thought seemed to occur to them all at once.

From an ancient one he once saw.

With changes.

“Pau has been in that tomb,” Malone said.

“So has the premier,” Ni added.

“Is that how those lights got there?” Malone asked.

Ni nodded.

Malone traced two lines in the air above the screen. One down from the four. Another over from the nine.

“It’s a grid,” he said, “created for their maps. Just like grids used on maps everywhere. They used four and nine. Lucky and unlucky. Pau showed me that in the library chamber. I’m betting that where those lines intersect is important.”

He lifted his phone and enlarged the relevant portion of the map. The lines did indeed intersect at a defined point. What had Pau said? A lonely locale in the western mountains. Denoted by three characters.

“I know what those mean,” Ni said. “Beside the capital.”

“We can’t see it on this tiny image on your phone,” Malone said. “But if someone looks at the photo you have, I’m betting those same three symbols will be in the same location.”

Ni placed another call, and it took only a few moments for the confirmation to be reported.

Dots were connecting in Malone’s brain.

Ni’s phone chimed again. He lifted the unit, tapped a button, and read.

Malone caught the consternation on the man’s face. He and Cassiopeia listened as Ni explained about a telephone call his people had intercepted just a short while ago, between Tang and Pau.