The Emperor's Tomb

Though a career military man, he’d never actually been under fire. Plenty of training, but the utter confusion of this situation smashed any practiced response he might have offered.

This was insane.

He rolled twice toward a heavy wooden armchair and overturned it so that its thickest portions would offer cover.

He saw a shadow play across the room. The man in the courtyard was advancing.

He came to his knees and sent three rounds through the latticework.

Flesh and bones thudded to stone.

Bullets instantly came in response.

The two from the front door had arrived.

He fired twice in their direction then bolted for the exterior lattice doors, crashing through, his arms forcing splintered wood away as his eyes searched for more danger.

The courtyard was empty.

The man with the automatic rifle lay on the pavement, downed not by two bullet holes, but by an arrow that protruded from his spine.

Ni heard movement behind him and knew what was coming so he sought cover behind a stone planter. Another chattering of gunfire sent a burst of bullets zipping through the courtyard, a few finding the huge glass jar—which shattered, sending a cascade of water and goldfish to the pavement.

He knew little about the remainder of the house, except the exhibit hall, whose door loomed ten meters away. If he could make it there, perhaps he could flee through one of its windows.

But any hope of salvation was dashed when a man appeared, pointing a rifle straight at him.

With two in the house and one dead a few meters away, all four assailants were now accounted for.

“Stand,” the man ordered in Chinese. “Leave the gun on the ground.”

The two remaining assailants emerged from the house.

He laid the pistol down and rose.

Goldfish slapped their way across the wet stones in desperation. He understood their horror. His breathing was labored, too.

He assessed the three. All Chinese, wiry and strong. Hired help. He employed several thousand just like them, throughout China.

“Have you already killed Pau?” he asked.

“You first,” the one man said, shaking his head.

Two swishes preceded the thud of arrows sucking into flesh. Two of the men began to realize that a shaft with feathered ends had pierced their chests. Before they could draw another breath, their bodies shrank to the ground, their guns falling away.

Three men in gray jumpsuits materialized from the sides of the courtyard, each holding a stretched bowstring, an arrow threaded, ready to fire, aimed at the final attacker.

“You may be able to shoot one, two, or maybe all three,” Pau’s disembodied voice said. “But you will not stop us all.”

The man seemed to consider his options, decided he did not want to die, and lowered his rifle.

Pau and the fourth man stepped from the exhibition hall. Two of Pau’s men assumed control of the last intruder, leading him away at arrow-point.

“Were you planning on letting them kill me?” Ni yelled at Pau.

“Every trap needs bait, Minister.”

He was furious and raised his weapon, but Pau simply ignored him and motioned. The two other men laid aside their bows and quickly gathered the fish from the pavement, disappearing back into the house.

“I raised those goldfish since birth,” Pau said. “I hope the shock will not kill them.”

He could not care less. “Do you realize what just happened? Those men came to kill me.”

“Which was the possibility I mentioned before they arrived. Tang apparently sent them to eliminate us both.”

He tasted the acrid flavor of adrenaline in his mouth. His heart pounded. “I must return home.”

“What of the lamp?” Pau asked. “I thought you wanted it.”

“It’s not as important as what awaits there.”

“Don’t be so sure. I think the answers you seek are here, and I know exactly how to obtain them.”

TWENTY-ONE

GANSU PROVINCE, CHINA

3:20 AM

TANG SAT ALONE. HIS HELICOPTER HAD LEFT TO REFUEL AT AN airport fifty kilometers to the south. He’d need full tanks, ready to fly, in four hours. That’s when he’d deal with Lev Sokolov.

The portable buildings used by the drilling crew as sleeping quarters were located a quarter of a kilometer from the derrick, and the superintendent had offered his trailer. The room was neat, the hot plate and refrigerator clean, a few plastic dishes stacked beside a microwave oven. Not his usual accommodations, but perfect for the next few hours. He wasn’t sleepy, as the short nap on the flight from the museum had been adequate. He welcomed the solitude, and pondered the fact that everything around him had once been a thriving part of Qin Shi’s First Empire.

Incredible what they had achieved so long ago.

His ancestors had invented the umbrella, the seismograph, the spinning wheel, porcelain, the steam engine, kites, playing cards, fishing reels, even whiskey.

But salt.

That was the most amazing leap of all.