“I believe they want you to come up,” Cassiopeia said from above, “quick and quiet.”
TANG STEPPED OUT OF THE CAR THAT HE AND VIKTOR HAD driven from the well site back to the security office. They had quickly found their way out of Qin Shi’s subterranean world and fled the fenced enclosure. The two dead brothers had been left underground. There was little that could be done with their bodies, especially considering the site was now contaminated with mercury vapors.
Ni Yong was his immediate concern.
He’d had the perfect opportunity inside the tomb—privacy beyond measure—to end the problem.
But he’d blown the chance.
Or more accurately, Viktor had blown the chance.
He kept his displeasure to himself. An easy matter to deal with this foreigner when the time was right.
“Wait out here,” he told Viktor.
He stormed back inside the air-conditioned security building. His clothes were filthy, his hair disheveled, his throat filled with the taste of musty air.
The men inside snapped to attention.
“In Pit 3, an hour ago, did an old man exit the enclosure?”
The supervisor barked out instructions and another man tapped a computer keyboard, apparently locating videotapes for the relevant time and place. He watched as one of the monitors came to life with Pit 3—the warriors standing silent guard, the chariot, the horses, the gash in the earthen wall. The view was an angled shot from what appeared to be an interior roof camera. He watched as an older man stepped from the black yaw leading into the library chamber, followed by the two brothers he’d left on guard. One held a gun and was directing Pau to a nearby ladder, where all three climbed to the catwalk. Another monitor switched feeds to show the exterior of the Pit 3 museum and the three men leaving the building.
He’d not seen Pau Wen in over twenty years, since just before Pau fled the country, but little had changed. Still the same long face, round eyes, and high forehead. The hair remained sparse, only now it was grayer. One of the brothers kept a gun pointed at his prisoner, and Tang watched as they slowly walked across the empty plaza.
“Where are they going?” he asked.
The supervisor nodded to the controller and the feed was switched to another camera.
“We followed them for a few minutes,” the supervisor said. “Then captured this.”
Tang saw that Pau and the brothers were now in the car park. People were still there, crowding onto tour buses and leaving in vehicles. He watched as Pau and the brothers approached a light-colored sedan. No one now held a weapon. Each of the brothers offered Pau a warm embrace, then all three left in the car.
He kept his face expressionless.
No one said a word.
“Two more individuals, a man and woman, should have emerged from the same underground room in Pit 3,” he said.
The supervisor quickly nodded and snapped his fingers. Keyboard taps brought the correct images onto a monitor.
“When the two men you stationed left,” the supervisor said, “I sent two of our men to keep watch.”
At least someone had performed his job. “That was the correct thing to do.”
The man bowed at the compliment and motioned for the video to be played. Tang watched as one of the museum security men emerged from the library chamber, followed by a man and woman, then another security guard with a gun drawn. Of course, if the two brothers had maintained their post Cotton Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt would be dead, and the problem they posed would be solved.
“Where are they now?” he asked.
“In custody.”
“Take me to them.”
He turned to leave.
The door swung open and Ni Yong barged inside, followed by ten armed men.
“In the name of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection of the Communist Party of China, I am taking control of this facility.”
SIXTY-ONE
CASSIOPEIA SAT WITH HER LEGS PROPPED ON THE TABLE AND watched Cotton. He, too, was reclined in one of the metal chairs, his legs crossed, eyes closed. The room they’d been led to at gunpoint was windowless, bringing back memories of her cell in Belgium.
“Another fine mess we’re in,” he muttered.
“At least nobody will know you set one of the greatest archaeological finds of all time on fire.”
He opened his eyes. “Nobody likes a smart-ass.”
She smiled. “You think this room is wired?”
“I hope so. Hey, whoever is listening, I’m hungry. Bring us some food.”
His eyes closed again. Interesting how he was the only man who actually made her feel uncomfortable— which, in a strange way, made her comfortable. There was nothing to prove with him, nor did he compete with her. He was just himself. And she liked that.
“Nice move with the lights,” she said.
He shrugged. “I kept thinking about Tivoli. There’s a fire-breather there that I’ve seen a few times. I was talking to him one day and he told me how he uses mineral oil for all his effects. Of course, he doesn’t set fire to it atop mercury.”
“That tomb is going to be toxic for a while.”
“What does it matter? Nobody’s going to know. Either Pau looted the tomb, or it was already looted when he went inside. Either way, the Chinese don’t want anyone going in there. And lucky us, we’ve managed to get ourselves wedged between two political giants in a private civil war.”
She knew him better than he’d like to admit and she could see that his mind was working. “What is it?”
He opened his eyes again and she caught the twinkle. “Who says there’s anything?”
“I do.”
“Why’d you kiss me?”
He was stalling, and she knew it. “I wanted to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sure it is.”
Why she’d kissed him was a mystery to her as well, except that she’d simply wanted to. Hell, somebody had to make the first move. But now was not the time to jog across that emotional minefield. “Answer me. What does that photographic memory of yours see?”
“I wish eidetic meant photographic. That would be a lot easier. Instead, my crazy brain loves to remember every useless detail.” He closed his eyes. “And that’s the problem. I need some time to sort through them.”
NI STOOD TOE-TO-TOE WITH KARL TANG. THEY WERE ROUGHLY the same height and he knew their ages were close, Tang a year or two older. He realized that this was a public place, brimming with eyes and ears, and how he and Tang performed would be the subject of much banter.
“You do not command me,” Tang made clear.
“I’m here on direct order of the premier. You may call his office and verify, but I assure you that he has authorized this action. And he, Minister,
Tang’s clothes were as filthy as his own, both of them wet, dirty, and angry.
“Am I the subject of an investigation?” Tang asked.
