The Emperor's Tomb

Pau clearly did not appreciate the assault. “I’m sure you are not. But while you are demonstrating your importance, armed men are approaching this house. Have you considered the possibility that you may be their target?”

He released his grip.

No, he hadn’t.

Pau motioned and they reentered the house, finding a small anteroom, bare except for a red oval rug and two black laquered cabinets. Pau removed a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the cabinets. Inside, hanging on silver pegs, were assorted handguns.

“Choose, Minister,” Pau said.

He reached for a Glock.

“The magazine is fully loaded,” Pau said. “Spares are in the drawer.”

He checked his weapon to be sure, then retrieved three magazines.

A gun in hand felt good.

Pau gripped his shoulder. “Let us send a message to Karl Tang that the coming fight will not be easy.”

CASSIOPEIA ENTERED THE OUTSKIRTS OF ANTWERP. SHE KNEW the city, having visited many times. The Scheldt River flanked one side, the other three protected by a series of boulevards whose names recalled Allied powers that fought for Flanders’ freedom in the First World War. Its historic center fanned out around a slim-spired cathedral, a Renaissance town hall, and a brooding castle. Not a tourist-thronged medieval theme park but a working, thriving city loaded with reminders from when it was one of the Continent’s most influential places.

She found the central railway station, an early 20th-century riot of marble, glass, and wrought iron, and parked a block away in a clearly marked illegal zone. If Viktor was tracking her by the car, the trail would end here. She hoped the local police would tow the thing quickly.

She stuffed the gun at her waist and allowed her open shirttail to conceal the bulge. Her mind and body were at the breaking point. She needed sleep. But she also had to rid herself of Karl Tang, at least until she was ready to negotiate.

She crossed the street and passed beneath a flurry of blooming trees, toward Antwerp’s zoo. Between the train station and the city’s natural history museum stretched a park overgrown with foliage. A quiet locale, particularly now as the zoo had closed for the day. She found an empty bench that afforded her a view of the parked car a couple of hundred meters away, with the added benefit of a tree trunk behind her.

She lay on the bench, the gun atop her navel beneath her shirt.

Darkness was at least three hours away.

She’d rest till then.

And watch.

NINETEEN

GANSU PROVINCE, CHINA

WEDNESDAY, MAY 16

2:10 AM

TANG STEPPED FROM THE CAR AND STUDIED THE WELL-LIT SITE. The portable rig supported a red-and-white derrick that towered forty meters. When he’d requisitioned the equipment from the oil ministry, he’d known that at least a 600hp mechanically driven plant, equipped with an inner circulation and water-cooling system, rated to at least 3,000 meters of drilling, would be required. Quietly, he’d dispatched the proper rig overland to Gansu, where he’d once served in the provincial government. According to legend, this region had been the birthplace of Fú Xi, the mythical patriarch of all Chinese, and some recent excavations had confirmed that people had in fact lived here as far back as 10,000 years ago.

He’d slept during the ninety-minute flight, preparing himself for what lay ahead. The next forty-eight hours would be critical. Every move had to be made with no miscalculations, every opportunity maximized with no mistakes.

He listened to the grind of diesel turbines, electrical generators, and circulation pumps. Gansu was a treasure trove of natural resources, brimming with coal, iron, copper, and phosphorous. His ancestors had known that, too. Their records, some of which survived, some of which he’d stumbled onto in the newly opened chamber at Pit 3, noted extensive inventories of precious metals and minerals. He’d ordered this particular exploration in search of one of those resources—oil.

The ground upon which he stood had once supported one of China’s main sources. Unfortunately, Gansu’s wells had run dry more than 200 years ago.

The site superintendent approached, a man with a thin face, a high forehead, and strands of stringy black hair swept back. He worked directly for the Ministry of Science, sent here by Tang, along with a trusted crew. Gansu’s governor had questioned the unauthorized activity but was told simply that the ministry was exploring, and if all went well the results might prove economically beneficial.

Which was the truth.

Just more so for him than the governor.

“I’m glad you were nearby,” the superintendent yelled over the noise. “I don’t think I could have contained it much longer.” A smile came to the man’s thin lips. “We’ve done it.”

He realized what that declaration meant.