Strangely, the rooms were empty.
He remembered more of what Sima Qian had written. And there were marvelous tools and precious jewels and rare objects brought from afar. The rooms and alcoves should be filled with silk fabrics, garments, ceramics, headdresses, crowns, belts, ornaments, bronze and tin funerary objects, lacquerware, wooden figurines—everything the emperor would have needed in his afterlife.
Yet there was nothing.
He noticed ornamented pedestals dotting the walls at regular intervals and realized that lamps—like the one he’d sought from Pau Wen, the ones Pau had promised Malone and Vitt existed—would have rested atop to light the emperor’s way and nourish the spirits of the dead.
But there were no lamps.
Which meant no oil.
Nothing.
Only a blue-and-white urn, perhaps a meter wide and at least that tall in the center of the next chamber. He’d seen images of one before. An everlasting lamp, filled with oil, holding a wick afloat. He stepped close and peered inside, hoping that some of the ancient crude might remain, but the container stood dry.
Viktor advanced into the next chamber, the two brothers in tow.
Tang lingered, his mind alight with conflicting thoughts.
Qin Shi’s tomb had clearly been explored—enough that electricity had been run and lighting installed. This could not have occurred during the last decade. His ministry would have known of any such effort. Obviously, though, Ni Yong knew about what had happened here.
“Ni Yong,” he called out. “It is time to settle the matter between us.”
MALONE FROZE AT THE SOUND OF A VOICE, THE WORDS ricocheting through the silence like a gunshot. Cassiopeia reacted, too, and they both crouched to one side of the jade plinth, identifying that the voice had come from beyond the hall’s main entrance.
Was the Mandarin being spoken to them?
If so, they had no way of understanding.
“That wasn’t Pau Wen,” Cassiopeia whispered.
He agreed. “And we don’t have many options.”
They were positioned in the center of a hall, the plinth their only cover. He risked a glance and noticed shadows in the next chamber, perhaps thirty yards away. Doubtful he and Cassiopeia could make it back to the break in the wall through which they’d entered without being spotted.
He saw worry in her eyes.
They were trapped.
TANG ADVANCED TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE BURIAL CHAMBER and called out again, “Ni Yong, there is nowhere for you to go.”
From the open archway he studied the massive underground palace. The ceiling twinkled with thousands of lights, the floor a surreal three-dimensional map, sparkling with the shimmer of mercury from rivers, lakes, and seas. Now he understood why the government had resisted all requests to open the tomb. The site was bare. Except for a jade table, alive with carvings, in the center, where surely the First Emperor once lay.
The two brothers approached from behind.
“There are annex chambers,” one of them said.
He’d seen the dark doorways, too. “And there is another way out of here.” He pointed across the burial hall to a break in the marble wall on the far side, at least seventy or eighty meters away. “Where is Viktor?”
“Checking the annex rooms.”
He pointed at the distant exit. “Let us see if Ni Yong went there.”
NI SOUGHT REFUGE IN ONE OF SEVERAL ROOMS THAT OPENED off the three anterooms. No lights had been rigged here. He’d watched as Karl Tang and three other men marveled at what he’d already been stunned to see.
Though he was out of their immediate line of sight, there was simply no place to hide. The dim room he’d entered was bare except for a collection of murals. He’d heard Tang’s declaration and knew that he’d have to shoot his way to safety.
This must be a private affair. Between you and Tang.
That’s what the premier had told him. Was this what he meant?
I will not involve anyone else, or allow you to do so.
Unfortunately, Tang had not come alone. Could he take all four? It seemed to be the situation from Pau Wen’s residence all over again, except this time he possessed no savior.
He hoped the burial chamber would capture Tang’s attention long enough that he could slip out the way he’d entered. But before he could retrace his steps and make an escape, the doorway out was blocked by a man. Short, burly, fair-skinned, European, and holding a semi-automatic pistol.
Aimed his way.
The foreigner stood with his body backlit, spine straight, eyes locked ahead. Ni held his gun at his side, the barrel pointed to the floor.
He’d never lift it in time.
Two shots popped.
TANG STUDIED THE FLOOR AS HE CAREFULLY ADVANCED TOWARD the hall’s center. He’d just crossed a narrow causeway that spanned what was surely the China Sea. In Qin Shi’s time that would have been the empire’s eastern boundary. The “sea,” an area maybe twenty meters long by that many wide, shimmered with quicksilver. He was initially concerned about toxicity, but he noticed that a thin layer of mineral oil had been applied over the mercury.
Someone had thought ahead.
That was not an ancient innovation.
He knew that mineral oil only came about when petroleum was first distilled into gasoline—in the West’s 19th century—a long time after Qin Shi. He’d also noticed the sodium-vapor lamps, their bulbs not of the size and shape currently in use. These were older. Larger. Warmer. He estimated their age at maybe twenty-plus years, and wondered about the last time they were lit.
The detail of the topographic floor map was amazing, the rising topography of the south and west illustrating mountains that gradually flattened into fertile plains. Forests were represented by trees carved from jade. More rivers of mercury snaked a path among temples, towns, and villages. He assumed the plinth in the center stood where the imperial capital had been located at the time of Qin Shi, not far from present-day Xi’an.
Two pops disturbed the silence.
Gunshots. Behind him.
From where Viktor had gone.
He stopped his advance, as did the two brothers.
Another pop sounded.
He turned and rushed back toward the shots.
MALONE WATCHED AS THE FIRST VICE PREMIER, KARL TANG, and two other men fled the burial chamber. He’d recognized the face from photos Stephanie had provided. Viktor had surely known that his boss would be nearby, which explained both the other helicopter and why he’d so generously offered to create a diversion.
“That was close,” Cassiopeia said.
If the three men had found the table, avoiding them would have been impossible. He and Cassiopeia would have been exposed, and he’d already decided to kill the two minions and deal with Karl Tang separately.
“Who’s shooting?” Cassiopeia asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just glad they are.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
NI HEARD THE TWO SHOTS AS THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY FIRED at him. But the bullets zoomed over his head and pinged off the walls, causing him to duck and shield his head. Clearly the man had readjusted his aim just prior to pulling the trigger, intentionally aiming high.
He was not going to be so generous. He leveled his gun and squeezed the trigger.
But the man was gone.
His bullet, like the two before, found only stone, ricocheting off the walls, causing him now to drop to the floor.
He sprang to his feet, without using either hand for leverage, and bolted for the exit. A quick peek around the doorway’s edge and another bullet came his way, reeling him back against the wall. Why was the man shooting at him, yet not wanting to hit him? And why was a foreigner here with Tang?
He recalled what the premier told him. The fighter did not crash. It was shot down by a helicopter, piloted by a foreigner, authorized to fly by Minister Tang.
Was this the man?
TANG FLED THE MAIN HALL AND REENTERED THE FIRST ANT
ECHAMBER. Viktor appeared from one of three darkened archways that led out, his back leading the way, gun pointed behind him.
“I found Minister Ni,” Viktor said.
Tang motioned for the two brothers to take positions left and right. Both brandished their guns, while he held a semi-automatic.
“Is there any other way out?” Tang asked.
Viktor shook his head. “Only through here.”
MALONE WATCHED THE UNFOLDING SCENE WITH INTEREST.
“What do you think is happening?” Cassiopeia asked.
She hadn’t been privy to Stephanie’s briefing, so he explained. “The man there, in the center, giving orders, is Karl Tang.”
He caught a glimpse of a fourth man now inside the antechamber. Viktor. He should have known.
“You think it’s Pau Wen they are after?” she asked.
“Could be. But he seemed to have anticipated this warm reception.”
“That means somebody else is down here. Somebody Karl Tang doesn’t like.”
“Which makes that person our ally.”
“So let’s help.”
CASSIOPEIA GRIPPED THE GUN, READYING HERSELF. MALONE slipped to one side of the plinth, she to the other. Luckily, the jade table had been positioned diagonally, which offered them more protection.
Malone stood.
“Hey, assholes,” he called out.
Tang, Viktor, and the two men whirled.
Malone sent a bullet their way, obviously not to hit anybody but to attract their attention. Which worked. All four retreated from view, two firing rounds as they disappeared from sight.
Both she and Malone hugged the plinth.
“I hope whoever we just helped appreciates it,” she said.
NI HEARD SOMEONE CALL OUT, THEN HEARD THREE SHOTS fired. He advanced into a smaller, dimly lit space that opened between him and the brightly lit antechamber. He pressed his spine to the wall directly adjacent to the doorway and peered around the corner. Tang and two other men were standing as he was, against the wall for the entrance into the burial hall.
He did not see the foreigner and watched as one of the men swung around and shot through the archway into the burial chamber.
Then another did the same.
Something had commanded their attention, away from him.
He decided to take advantage of the situation.
He aimed and fired.
TANG WAS STARTLED BY THE SHOT FROM BEHIND.
One of the brothers cried out, then shrank to the floor.
The man writhed in pain.
Tang turned to see Ni Yong fleeing one of the darkened doorways, rushing into the next anteroom. He swung his gun around and fired, but Ni vanished through the archway, finding sanctuary on the other side.
Where was Viktor?
The wounded brother continued to moan in agony, exposed on all sides.
Only one thing to do.
Tang shot him in the head.
“DAMN,” MALONE SAID. “DID YOU SEE THAT?”
“They shoot their own,” she said.
“Which means they’ll have little respect for us.”
NI WASTED NO TIME. AS SOON AS HE’D SQUEEZED THE TRIGGER, he rushed for the exit, finding safety just before Tang could respond. He bolted into the next anteroom, keeping near a far wall, away from the vulnerable middle, fleeing toward the main doors. If he could make it into the passage leading back to the well, darkness would be his ally.
He slipped into the last antechamber.
He hugged the wall and stole a quick glance behind, catching a glimpse of Tang and the other man as they entered the room he’d just left.
One of them fired.
He ducked, then sent a response, using the moment to slip through the black crease between the partially opened main doors. Once on the other side of the entrance, he was safe from bullets. He could not waste a moment. In the blackness, beyond the lights, he’d be okay.
He turned to flee, but a man blocked his way.
The foreigner who’d shot at him earlier and intentionally missed.
“You don’t know me,” the man said, a gun in hand, pointed straight at him. “But I’m not your enemy.”
The stranger stepped farther from the darkness into the light. Definitely European. Ni burned the face into his memory.
The man handed Ni his weapon, gripping it by its short barrel.
“Knock me silly with this gun, then get the hell out of here.”
He did not have to be told twice. He accepted the gun and slammed its metal butt into the man’s temple.
He then tossed the gun aside and fled into darkness.
TANG EMERGED FROM THE DOUBLE DOORS AND SPOTTED VIKTOR lying on the pavement, his gun a few meters away. His gaze raked the darkness ahead, but he heard and saw nothing.
Ni was gone.
Viktor was picking himself off the floor, rubbing his head. “I was waiting for him, but the bastard was quick. He slammed me in the head.”
Tang had no time for excuses. With no way to safely pursue, he aimed into the blackness and laid down a spread of four shots, swinging his arm from right to left, one wall to the other.
Bullets pinged in the darkness.
Retorts banged off the walls, hurting his ears.
“He’s gone,” Viktor calmly said.
He lowered the gun. “We need to go back inside. Malone, Vitt, and Pau Wen are still there.”
MALONE HEARD FOOTSTEPS, HEADING AWAY, AND SURMISED THAT the two men and Viktor had fled. He had no idea what lay on the other side of the archway for the burial hall’s main entrance.
But now was the time to act.
Heading back to the secret panel through which they entered was too risky. Far too much real estate between here and there. So he motioned to Cassiopeia and together they abandoned the plinth, traversing the ninety feet to the entrance arch in just a few seconds. Luckily, the floor topography was mainly plains and ocean, over which extended a narrow walkway that allowed them to run a majority of the way.
The dead man lay still, blood pouring from his two wounds.
Malone risked a look inside the next chamber and spotted three men, Viktor and Tang among them, reentering at the opposite end, heading straight for them. Cassiopeia was watching, too, and together they decided a retreat was in order.
But first he fired a round that sent the three men scattering.
Cassiopeia led the way as they retraced their path to the center plinth. They made it there just as two more rounds came their way.
Apparently, their pursuers were not going to leave.
They hugged the far side of the plinth.
“You realize we have nowhere to go,” Cassiopeia said.
“That thought has occurred to me.”
FIFTY-NINE
NI STOOD. HE’D DOVE DOWN, LYING FLAT AS KARL TANG FIRED into the darkness, using one of the bulky incense burners for cover. He’d laid still as bullets cascaded off the walls, then watched as his three assailants disappeared back into the tomb. The man he’d knocked unconscious clearly worked for Tang, but he also apparently possessed a separate agenda.
But who’d called out, then fired from the burial chamber? Should he help them? What could he do, beyond place himself back in jeopardy.
Getting killed would solve nothing.
He had to leave.
MALONE CAUGHT THE SHADOWS REAPPEARING IN THE ANTECHAMBER. He’d heard four rounds fired and wondered what was happening. But apparently one problem had either been solved or was no longer a concern. Instead—
“Our turn,” he said.
He spotted heads peering around the archway, reconnoitering the burial chamber.
“Can we draw them out?” Cassiopeia whispered from the other side of the plinth.
“They’re not sure we’re still here. They see that hole in the wall behind us, too. We could be in there, as far as they know.”
Unfortunately, their haven was a hundred feet away, the space in between wide open except fo
r a few pillars, none of which would provide much cover.
His mind rifled through the possibilities.
Not many.
He studied the tripod of lights that illuminated the plinth. His gaze drifted down to a river of mercury flowing a few feet away—a representation, he surmised, of the Yellow River spanning the ancient empire from east to west. He recalled again what Pau Wen had read to them yesterday. Using quicksilver, they made the hundred rivers of the land, the Yellow and Yangtze, and the wide sea, and machines kept the waters in motion. Were the reservoirs connected? Regardless, what he had in mind should work.
“Get ready to move,” he whispered.
“What are you going to do?”
“Create a problem.”
TANG SPOTTED SHADOWS ON THE CENTER PLATFORM.
Someone was there. Two forms.
One on either side of the jade table that stood at a diagonal to the hall. His gaze raked the remainder of the chamber and confirmed that there was no other place to hide.
So where was the third person who should be here?
“Kill both of them,” he ordered. Then, to Viktor, he made clear, “And this time I want them dead. We need no further distractions.”
Viktor seemed to understand that things had not gone right and nodded. “We’ll take care of them.”
MALONE SAW THE BARRELS OF TWO GUNS, ONE POSITIONED AT either side of the archway.
Both fired.
Bullets popped off of jade.
Time to act.
He dropped back on his butt, lifted his right leg, and slammed the sole of his shoe into the tripod supporting the electric lamps. The spindly metal toppled, bulbs exploding in a shower of sparks and heat that ignited the mineral oil. He knew fire-breathers and special effects experts preferred mineral oil since it possessed both a high flash point and a low burning temperature. It didn’t take much for it to ignite, nor did it last long once aflame.
Like magician’s flash paper, it produced a spectacular effect.