“And allowed Minister Ni to slip away,” Tang said.
“That’s not—”
CASSIOPEIA HUSTLED TOWARD THE STAIRS AND CLIMBED THE marble risers to the first-floor gallery. She crouched, keeping herself beneath the balustrade that protected the gallery from the hall beyond, and eased herself to the corner. A quick look confirmed that one man stood about a third of the way down, dressed in a woolen robe, holding a crossbow, his back to her.
Quietly, she shed Viktor’s fleece jacket.
She listened, hearing Cotton’s voice.
Then Tang’s.
Knife in hand, she crept forward.
TANG SAW VIKTOR APPEAR, SEEMINGLY FROM NOWHERE. HE wondered how long he’d been inside the hall. The man should actually be dead, along with Malone and Vitt.
Was anyone else here?
NI SAW THE FOREIGNER, THE SAME MAN WHO’D SAVED HIS LIFE inside Qin Shi’s tomb.
Was he friend or foe?
At the instant he decided foe, and was about to cry out an alarm, the man shouted Malone’s name.
MALONE WHIRLED.
Viktor was rushing toward him, then leaping forward, tackling him to the floor.
Malone lost his grip on the gun, but grabbed Viktor by the throat, raining down blows with his right fist, yelling, “Where is she?”
Viktor broke free, a mad glaze coating his eyes. “She’s far downstream. Gone.”
Malone lunged and slugged away in earnest, enjoying the thud of his fist hitting bone. Viktor retreated.
Lots of room existed for them to maneuver among the arches, the weaponry, and the braziers. He thought one of the swords might come in handy. Viktor seemed to read his mind, his gaze darting to lances displayed beside armor and shields. Viktor rushed forward, grabbing the bamboo hilt of a lance, brandishing its tip, keeping Malone at bay.
His breath came racked and shallow and his light-headedness returned.
His insides boiled like lava.
This man had been nothing but trouble on every occasion. Now Cassiopeia was dead, thanks to him.
“Aren’t you a tough guy with a spear?” he taunted.
Viktor tossed him the weapon, then grabbed another.
CASSIOPEIA HEARD THE FIGHT. SHE NEEDED TO POSITION HERSELF to help. That meant taking out the man she was creeping toward, whose attention was on the melee. She passed wall mirrors and a pair of cabinets displaying bronze, jade, and porcelain treasures. The morning sun filtered in through mussel-shell panes dotting the gallery’s length. She held the knife, but another option formed in her brain. To her right, displayed in a wall niche, were a dozen or so figurines. Human bodies with animal heads, arms folded across their chests. Maybe thirty centimeters high. She stepped close, stuffed the knife in her pocket, and grabbed one.
A dog-faced piece, heavy, with a thick rounded base.
Perfect.
She headed straight for her target.
One swing to the base of the neck and the man crumpled to the marble. As he fell, she relieved him of the crossbow. He’d have a headache later, but that was better than being dead.
She glanced down.
Viktor and Cotton faced each other in the center of the hall, each holding a lance. Ni still had the sword to Pau’s neck. No one seemed to have noticed what had happened one floor up. She stared across at the remainder of the first-floor arches and spotted no one.
She was alone, armed, ready.
TANG HAD INSTRUCTED ONE BROTHER TO POSITION HIMSELF in the upper first-floor gallery, crossbow ready. He should be stationed to his left, about halfway down toward the main entrance. Two other brothers waited to his right, within the ground-floor gallery, out of Ni’s sight.
As the fight continued in the center of the hall, he casually glanced right and caught sight of the two brothers.
A gentle shake of his head signaled,
MALONE KEPT HIS EYES LOCKED ON VIKTOR.
Pupils that smoldered like black embers stared back, and an ugly scowl twisted the face.
“Do you know how many times I could have let you die?” Viktor asked.
He wasn’t listening. Memories washed over him in sickening waves. All he could see was Cassiopeia being waterboarded, her body dropping into the river, Viktor taunting him on the video, appearing on the rocks, to blame for it all.
He lunged.
Viktor countered, deflecting the jab, sliding his lance across Malone’s, angling downward, then twisting back.
Malone held tight and deflected the maneuver.
Viktor’s brow was covered in sweat. Malone, too, was warm from the fires burning less than thirty feet away. He decided the braziers might present an opportunity, so he cowered back, dueling with Viktor, drawing his opponent closer. Each hearth stood on three-legged iron stands, elevated about four feet off the floor.
Just unstable enough for his purposes.
Viktor kept coming, following Malone’s lead.
NI PRESSED THE EDGE OF THE BLADE INTO PAU’S NECK. THE OLD man was not resisting, but the two brothers, though unarmed, worried Ni.
He kept his attention on them.
“You can both learn something from their courage,” Pau said.
Tang seemed to resent the jab. “I didn’t know that I lacked courage.”
“Did I tell you to kill Jin Zhao?” Pau asked. “He was a brilliant geochemist. A husband and grandfather. Harmless. Yet you arrested and beat him into a coma. Then you had him falsely convicted and shot while he lay unconscious in his hospital bed. Does that exhibit courage?”
Tang’s shock at the rebuke was obvious.
“When you trapped rats on Sokolov’s stomach and watched his agony, was that courage? When you destroyed Qin Shi’s library, how much courage did that require?”
“I have done nothing but faithfully serve you,” Tang declared.
“Did I tell you to burn that museum to the ground in Antwerp? One of our brothers died in that fire.” Tang said nothing.
“And you, Minister Ni,” Pau said. “How much courage is required to slit an old man’s neck?”
“Not much, so it should be an easy matter for me.”
“You sell yourself short,” Pau said. “In my home you faced the challenge of those killers. It is similar to what we are watching here, as two men confront each other. Both came here totally unaware of what awaited them. Yet they came. That is courage.”
CASSIOPEIA COULD SEE THAT COTTON WAS DRAWING VIKTOR toward the brazier. She debated whether
