The Emperor's Tomb

The Cobra was little more than a kilometer away. Its cannon would start firing any second.

“Climb,” he screamed.

She pulled herself up, but the next handful of hemp she grabbed gave way.

She plunged downward.

Into the rushing river.

SEVENTY-SIX

NI FOLLOWED TANG THROUGH THE COMPLEX OF BUILDINGS. Galleries of red and yellow connected the various wings. Ornate pillars, their golden decoration uneffaced by time, held the high ceilings aloft. Incense burners and braziers warmed the halls. Finally, they entered a cavernous three-storied chamber.

“This is the Hall for the Preservation of Harmony,” Tang said. “The most sacred site for the Ba.”

It was different from the other buildings, even more elaborate, with alternating red and yellow galleries up three levels. A forest of pillars spanned its perimeter on three sides, with graceful arches in between. An arsenal of swords, knives, lances, bows, and shields decorated the ground level along the edges, and half a dozen copper braziers blazed with glowing charcoals.

Sunlight seeped from windows in the upper galleries. At the far end, on a raised terrace, the wall, reaching up thirty meters, comprised hundreds of diagonal bins brimming with scrolls. Silver lamps dotted the remaining three walls between the levels, but remained unlit. Light came from electric lanterns dangling from the ceiling.

“Inside those shelves is the accumulation of our knowledge, written on silk, preserved for the Hegemon to consult,” Tang said. “Not translations or secondhand accounts. The actual words.”

“Apparently, the Ba is well financed,” he said.

“Though we are ancient in origin, we are recent in reincarnation. The eunuchs from the time of the last emperor, in the early part of the 20th century, ensured that we were properly endowed. Mao tried to appease them, but many brought their wealth here.”

“Mao hated eunuchs.”

“That he did. But they hated him more.”

“It’s a shame I won’t live to see you fail.”

“I don’t plan to fail.”

“No fanatic ever does.”

Tang stepped close. “You lost the battle, Minister. That’s what history will record. Just as the Gang of Four lost their battle. Several of them died from the effort, as well.”

Behind Tang, on the far side, a section of the towering wall hung open, the panel cleverly concealed among the shelves.

Pau Wen emerged from the doorway that the panel revealed.

“Ministers,” Pau called out. “Please, come.”

Ni saw that Tang did not appreciate the interruption, so he decided to twist the knife. “Your master calls.”

Tang glared at him. “That is precisely what is wrong with China. It has forgotten fear and respect. I plan to reacquaint the nation with both.”

“You may find it difficult, keeping a billion and a half people afraid.”

“It has been done before. It can be done again.”

“Qin Shi? Our glorious First Emperor? He barely ruled twelve years, and his empire disintegrated at his death.” He paused. “Thanks to a scheming eunuch.”

Tang seemed unfazed. “I will not make the same mistakes.”

They walked in silence across the long hall, perhaps fifty meters in length and half that wide. Short steps led up to a raised floor.

“I was unaware that there existed a door in the wall,” Tang said.

Ni caught the irritation in the words.

“Only the Hegemon and a select few brothers know of this chamber,” Pau said. “You were not one of those. But I thought now a good time to show you both the Ba

’s most precious possession.”

MALONE STARED DOWN AT THE WATER, SPEWING BETWEEN ROCKS as it bounded down from the mountains.

He waited for her to surface.

But she never did.

He focused on the roaring gush, which surely carried in its formidable current silt and more rock along with a swish of foam. He wanted to leap after her, but realized that was impossible.

He would not survive the fall, either.

He watched, disbelieving.

After all they’d been through the past three days.

She was gone.

On the opposite side of the gorge movement caught his eye. Viktor emerged from the rocks and approached the cliff edge.

Malone’s anger boiled to rage. “You sorry bastard,” he yelled. “You set us up. You killed her.”

Viktor did not reply. Instead he was hauling up the remnants of the bridge, tying the rope he’d brought to its tattered end.

“Go,” Viktor yelled. “Get up there. I’ll go after her.”

Like hell, he thought.

He found his gun.

Viktor tossed the bridge back over the edge. The rope found the water, its end dipped into the churning river. His enemy stared across, as if to say, Are you going to shoot me or let met try to find her?

The helicopter was swooping around for another pass.

Malone leveled the gun.

Cannon fire roared through the gorge. A deadly hail of heavy-caliber rounds pinged off stone just yards away, approaching in an ever-widening storm.

He dove for cover as the chopper zipped past.

“Get up there,” Viktor yelled. “Ni and Sokolov need you.”

And Viktor started climbing down.

What he wouldn’t give for some rope of his own. He wanted to kill Viktor Tomas, but the bastard was right.