The Emperor's Tomb

“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.

SEVENTY-EIGHT

MALONE APPROACHED THE MONASTERY WITH CAUTION. HE’D rounded the bend in the trail and immediately studied the great pile of crenellated walls, all a purplish red, that formed a solid rampart, its parapets broken only by a single gate.

He stopped at the entrance, tiled in a golden yellow. Above the massive red-lacquered doors hung a tablet with symbols.

He’d seen it on both the silk map at Pau Wen’s residence and on the map the Chinese premier displayed.

Afang.

The name of Qin Shi’s palace. And also the symbol of the Hall for the Preservation of Harmony.