The Emperor's Tomb

especially given that they were here illegally and at least two of them were armed.

“I’ll take care of the distraction,” Viktor said.

“I thought you might,” Malone said.

“I have a feeling you three don’t want me along anyway.”

No, Malone thought, he didn’t.

“I’ll be outside when you’re through with whatever you plan on doing. I’ll make some noise, but not enough to get arrested.”

Viktor shuffled off, dissolving into the crowd, working his way to the other side of the catwalk.

“We need to avoid the ramps,” Malone said. “Too obvious. Let’s use that ladder.” He gave a slight motion of his head to where a short length of chain blocked metal rungs. “Get down quickly and into that hole in the ground before the cameras regroup.”

Pau and Cassiopeia nodded their assent.

Malone carried the two flashlights inside a pack slung over one shoulder, colored in the army’s distinctive green with a red star. His gun remained nestled beneath his wet shirt.

A shout rose in the hall.

Malone saw Viktor flailing one arm in the air, and spewing out loud Chinese. It appeared he’d taken offense to something one of the visitors had either said or done.

Viktor shoved a man.

More words.

The crowd’s attention zeroed in on the disturbance, as did security. All six uniforms rushed toward the rapidly escalating situation.

Malone waited for the cameras to angle toward the excitement, then whispered, “Go.”

Cassiopeia hopped the short length of chain and climbed down.

Pau Wen followed.

Malone kept watch. No one seemed to pay them any attention. As Pau found the ground, he slid down the ladder behind him. Together they hugged the earthen wall and avoided the half-restored terra-cotta figures lining the way.

Cassiopeia entered the portal.

Before Pau disappeared inside, the older man grabbed one of the shovels. Apparently tools were needed, so Malone grabbed another and entered the dark space.

TANG WATCHED VIKTOR TOMAS ON ONE MONITOR AND PAU Wen and his two companions on the other. He’d inspected the library chamber thoroughly, prior to ordering its torching, and discovered that nothing of interest, besides the manuscripts, lay inside. Pau knew the manuscripts were gone, burned away—they’d discussed it on the phone—yet the first thing Pau had done on reentering China was head straight there.

Why?

“Order the building evacuated,” he said. “Station a man at all exits and several on the catwalks. Keep this camera focused on that opening. If anyone emerges, have them immediately arrested. If they become a problem, shoot them.”

He tightened his grip on the pistol.

“I’m headed there now. I want that building empty by the time I arrive, except for the foreigner who started the disturbance. Keep him inside.”

MALONE SURVEYED THE TIGHT SPACE, MAYBE TEN FEET SQUARE, the floor and walls rough bricks, the ceiling stout timbers, one section long ago collapsed.

“I first came in through the break in the top,” Pau said.

Three pedestal-like tables fashioned from stone stood empty, the floor littered with ash, the air thick with the smell of soot.

Something had definitely burned here.

“These tables were once covered with bamboo strips and silks, all with writings from the time of Qin Shi. His imperial library. Karl Tang ordered it destroyed two days ago.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Cassiopeia asked. “How could they be a threat to him?”

“Anything he cannot control is a threat to him.”

Malone heard the din of noise from outside begin to recede. He stepped to the exit and peered upward. “People are leaving.”

“I imagine Tang ordered that. Which means we have little time.”

“For what?” he asked.

“To leave.”

FIFTY-FOUR

NI WADED THROUGH A TANGLED MESS OF WET GRASS AND APPROACHED the second of the three low- slung structures. Rain continued to fall. Vegetation had long ago consumed the outer walls, leafy vines thick from ground to roof. Most of the windows remained intact, the panes smeared with a layer of wet grime. He spotted beetles and mosquitoes smashed thick into torn screens.

He approached the wooden door. No lock prevented access, as he’d been told, so he shoved it open. Rusted hinges fought back, then gave way. The door jogged enough for him to slip inside.

He forced it closed once more.

Light from the filthy windows was filtered a gray-brown. Shadows consumed the room, which measured perhaps five meters square, one wall collapsed onto itself, exposing the weather and what lay behind the building. Plows dotted the blackened earth floor, everything dusted with a wet layer of rust and soil. A mass of clay pots and jars, piled in pieces, rose against one wall. Cobwebs consumed the corners.

He eased himself through the break in the outer wall, back out into the rain. For what he sought lay outside.

He heard the voice on the phone, from earlier.

“I employed spies to monitor what Pau Wen did at the mound site,” the premier said. “He came to think that no one watched, and that may have been true of Mao and Deng, but not of me. I watched closely.”

“And what did you learn?” Ni asked.

“Pau found a way into the tomb mound. Which surprised me. Qin’s tomb was reported to contain large amounts of mercury. Yet he personally entered, staying inside for several hours one day, reappearing out of a hole in the earth near what would later become Pit 3. Strange occurrences likewise happened during the night for the next week, though no one officially reported anything.”

He wanted to know more.

“Men and equipment working in the dark. Workers present who were not part of the site’s labor force. One of the disadvantages of our form of government was that no one would have ever reported what they may have seen or heard. Pau was in charge and no one challenged him.”

“Except you.”

“I conducted a probe, but it was weeks later. We could not locate where Pau had disappeared into the ground. So much digging was occurring, the area ridden with deep gashes carved from the earth, it was impossible to know. But I did discover something else, years later. I was ordered back to the tomb mound by Beijing. This was after Pau had fled China. I was told to find a way inside the mound, and I did.”

“Why has no one ever spoken of this?”

“There is a good reason for the secrecy.”

He stared into the shadows that engulfed the dilapidated shanties. Trees blocked the sky allowing only thin fingers of light to poke through the canopy. Water, though, found a path and tapped the ground in a steady beat. The tomb mound started its rise less than fifty meters away. He was perhaps as close to the base as one could get. The fencing that had protected the front also ran behind the buildings, blocking any route upward.