The Emperor's Tomb

“I know you may think me foolish. But believe me, I’ve hedged my bets. I’m not relying on Ivan 100 percent. Still—”

“You need a little more help.”

“Something like that.”

“I assume that means we have to find Sokolov before Ivan does. And Cassiopeia seems the fastest route in.”

She nodded. “Let’s play the Russian’s game and find her. If Ivan can stop Tang along the way, then that’s good for us. If not, I need your help getting Sokolov away from them.”

He knew the score. Even if Tang prevailed and seized control of China, if the West had Sokolov, one bargaining chip would be replaced by another.

“I just hope Cassiopeia can hold out until we get there.”

TANG GLANCED OUT THE HELICOPTER WINDOW AS THE CHOPPER rose into the night air. He caught sight of flickering bursts of light from the Pit 3 building and realized the remaining cache of Qin Shi manuscripts was burning. Only a few moments would be required to vaporize every silk and turn brittle bamboo into ash. By the time any alarm was sounded, nothing would remain. The cause? Electrical short. Faulty wiring. Bad transformer. Whatever. Nothing would point to arson. Another problem solved. More of the past eradicated.

What was happening in Belgium now concerned him.

The copilot caught his attention and motioned to a nearby headset. Tang snapped it over his ears.

“There is a call for you, Minister.”

He waited, then a familiar voice said, “Everything went well.”

Viktor Tomas, calling from Belgium. About time.

“Is Vitt on her way?” Tang asked.

“She escaped, exactly as I predicted. However, she managed to knock me out cold before she left. My head aches.”

“Can you track her?”

“As long as she keeps that gun with her. So far the signal from the pinger inside is working.”

“Excellent forward thinking. Was she glad to see you?”

“Not particularly.”

“You need to know that Pau Wen is receiving a visit, as we speak. I ordered a strike.”

“I thought I was in charge here.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“I can’t ensure success if you override me. I’m here, you’re not.”

“I ordered a strike. End of discussion.”

A moment of silence passed, then Viktor said, “I’m headed out to track Vitt. I’ll report when there’s a development.”

“Once you have the lamp—”

“Not to worry,” Viktor said. “I know. Vitt will not be left alive. But I do it my way. Is that acceptable?”

“As you say, you’re there, I’m here. Handle it your way.”

EIGHTEEN

CASSIOPEIA SLAMMED THE GEARSHIFT INTO FIRST, RELEASED the clutch, and charged the Toyota down the highway. Another two clicks and she was in third. She was unsure where she was headed, only that it was away from Viktor Tomas.

Did he really think she’d take him along?

She glanced in the rearview mirror. No cars in sight. A treeless landscape stretched out on each side of the road, and the only bumps breaking the green monotony were grazing cattle and the slender steeples of distant churches. She’d already determined that she was somewhere in north-central Belgium, since the country’s wooded valleys and high plateaus were confined to its southern portions. Near the German border she knew were bogs and swamps, none of which was visible here. Neither was the ocean, which bordered the extreme north.

She shifted into fourth, kept cruising, and glanced at the digital clock: 5:20 PM. The gas gauge read three-quarters full.

Awfully convenient.

Viktor sent the guard into her cell knowing that she’d overpower him, then waited, faking a call, for her to confront him.

She thought of Central Asia the last time Viktor was supposedly on her side.

“No way,” she said.

She locked the brakes.

The Toyota slewed side-to-side, clutching its way to a stop. Viktor had then played a role, flipping sides by the hour—with the Asians, then the Americans, then back. True, he’d ultimately ended on her side and helped, but still—what about today?

Viktor wanted her to take the car.

Okay, she’d take it, but not where he assumed. The Dries Van Egmond Museum in Antwerp was surely closed for the day. She’d have to wait until dark before retrieving the lamp.

And she could not lead Viktor there.

She shifted into first and drove on. Two kilometers later she came to an intersection. A sign informed her that Antwerp lay twenty kilometers west.

She sped in that direction.

NI DESCENDED FROM THE STAIRCASE AND FOLLOWED A SURPRISINGLY spry Pau Wen back into the courtyard, where his host clapped his hands three times. A door slid open and four young Chinese appeared, each wearing a gray jumpsuit and black sneakers.

One of the men he immediately recognized.

From the video.

“Yes, Minister,” Pau said. “He serves me.”

The compatriots moved with the firm steps of athletes, stopping before Pau in an attentive line, their eyes flat and hard, faces immobile.

“Four armed men are approaching through the front gate. You know what to do.”

They nodded in unison and fled the courtyard.

“I thought you lived alone,” Ni said.

“I never actually said that.”

He grabbed Pau’s arm. “I’m tired of your lies. I am not someone to play with.”