more to their cause. But a new threat had arisen, one that might foretell failure.
He stared around at the courtyard, reminded of what his grandfather had taught him about feng shui.
Where one chose to live had great importance. How one orientated one’s house could be even more important.
His grandfather had been wise.
He tried to take heed of that lesson and gather his thoughts back into order, telling himself to stay in control.
“Karl Tang recognizes China’s confusion,” Pau said. “He also understands the value of national pride. That is most important, Minister. Even as change occurs, no one can lose face, least of all the Party.”
“And this lamp is part of that plan?”
Pau nodded. “Tang is many steps ahead of you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“That explanation would take far too much time, just accept that what I am saying is sincere.” Pau’s callused hand reached out and touched Ni on the arm. “Minister, you must adjust your thinking. It is good that you learned of Tang’s interest and traveled here, but the threat to China is greater than you realize.”
“What would you have me do?”
He hated himself for even asking guidance of this thief.
“You are a man to be respected. A man trusted. Use that.”
He was not impressed by Pau’s flattery.
Truth would be better.
“A few hours after she left this house, Cassiopeia Vitt was taken prisoner by Tang. She managed to hide the lamp before being captured, and I know where. I planned to retake it myself, but the task should now belong to you.”
The extent of Pau’s deceit became clear. He’d played Ni from the start. And Ni did not like it. But since he had no choice, he asked, “Why is that lamp so important?”
“The fact that you do not know the answer to that question is proof of how far behind Karl Tang you truly are.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “How do I gain ground?”
“Retrieve the lamp, return to China, then locate a man named Lev Sokolov. He works for the Ministry of Geological Development, in Lanzhou, but he is presently in hiding. Tang abducted his son and is using the boy as leverage to obtain Sokolov’s cooperation. I am told Sokolov is the person who can explain the lamp’s significance.”
“Cooperation for what?”
“That is for you to discover.”
Though he sensed Pau Wen well knew. “My information network is extensive, especially regarding Tang. When I learned of his interest in the lamp, I came here personally. Yet not a hint of anything you have said has ever come to my attention.”
“Which should make you question your staff. Perhaps there is a spy among them? You will have the lamp soon enough. Return home and find Sokolov.”
“And what of those eunuchs who surround me? The ones you say I should fear.”
“They will show themselves.”
“Is Tang also in danger from them?”
“Obviously not.”
“How do I know who
Pau grinned. “Once, we would have a change of voice, an unpleasant falsetto. Beardless, we became soft and fat with little strength. As we aged, that weight shed and deep wrinkles appeared in our faces. The lack of testosterone also manifested itself in odd emotions—we were quick to anger and tears. None of that is true today. Modern supplements mask all side effects, especially if the man is not castrated until adulthood, which is generally the case. Know that it will be nearly impossible, without a visual inspection, for you to know.”
“Is Tang after Sokolov?”
Pau nodded. “With all the resources he can muster.”
Ni would have to verify everything he’d learned before becoming a convert. “Where is the lamp hidden?”
“Inside the Dries Van Egmond Museum, in Antwerp. It holds a private collection of art and furniture from the 17th and 18th centuries. Cassiopeia Vitt hid the lamp in a boudoir, on the third level, decorated in the Chinese style, that includes some unremarkable Ming porcelain. I have visited there myself. Perhaps she thought it would go unnoticed, at least for a few days. Or if it was noticed, the museum staff would safeguard it. Not a bad decision, considering she had so few options.”
Pau telling him the location seemed some verification that the older man was finally being truthful.
“I should go.”
“Before you leave,” Pau said, “I have one more thing to show you.”
He accompanied his host back into the house, following a long corridor to a black lacquered door. On the other side, a wooden staircase wound upward inside a rectangular tower. An open doorway appeared at the top of the stairs. Beyond shone the afternoon light, its warmth allowed in through bare window frames that wrapped all four walls.
“Stay here,” Pau said. “Just inside the doorway. That way we won’t be visible from outside.”
He wondered about the subterfuge.
“If you will glance around the corner,” Pau said, “there will be an excellent view of the front drive. Past that, at the highway, you will see a vehicle parked in the woodlands, perhaps half a kilometer away from the main entrance.”
He did as instructed, squinting in the bright sunlight and spotting a car, barely visible in the thick trees.
“Careless people,” Pau said, behind him. “They work for Tang. They watch this house. Not always. They come and go. But they have been here often the past two days.”
“Is that how you suspected Tang would come for the lamp?”
“It seemed logical.”
In the distant shadows he saw the front grille of another car brake beside the parked one. Two men exited each car, assault rifles being shouldered.
Fear pricked his spine.
The men advanced toward the gray walls, walking toward the open front gate.
“That’s somewhat unexpected,” Pau calmly said.
Men with guns were approaching, and all this man could say was
He was concerned.
Greatly.
SEVENTEEN
MALONE ASSESSED THE STARTLING INFORMATION STEPHANIE was providing.
“The Western mind-set,” she said, “is that oil is a fossil fuel. Remember, back in the 1960s, when all the Sinclair gas stations displayed a dinosaur as a trademark? There were TV commercials that showed dinosaurs dying, decaying, and turning into oil. Ask ten people where oil comes from and they all would say dead dinosaurs.”
He recalled the ads she was referring to, and he had to admit that he, too, had been indoctrinated. Oil was a fossil fuel, a finite resource.
“Imagine, Cotton, if oil is infinite. The earth produces it continually, as a
“Stephanie, what does any of this have to do with Cassiopeia?”
A chill had crept into the late-afternoon air. Ivan would return shortly, and they would all leave for Antwerp.
