He knew the score. Even if Tang prevailed and seized control of China, if the West had Sokolov, one bargaining chip would be replaced by another.
“I just hope Cassiopeia can hold out until we get there.”
TANG GLANCED OUT THE HELICOPTER WINDOW AS THE CHOPPER rose into the night air. He caught sight of flickering bursts of light from the Pit 3 building and realized the remaining cache of Qin Shi manuscripts was burning. Only a few moments would be required to vaporize every silk and turn brittle bamboo into ash. By the time any alarm was sounded, nothing would remain. The cause? Electrical short. Faulty wiring. Bad transformer. Whatever. Nothing would point to arson. Another problem solved. More of the past eradicated.
What was happening in Belgium now concerned him.
The copilot caught his attention and motioned to a nearby headset. Tang snapped it over his ears.
“There is a call for you, Minister.”
He waited, then a familiar voice said, “Everything went well.”
Viktor Tomas, calling from Belgium. About time.
“Is Vitt on her way?” Tang asked.
“She escaped, exactly as I predicted. However, she managed to knock me out cold before she left. My head aches.”
“Can you track her?”
“As long as she keeps that gun with her. So far the signal from the pinger inside is working.”
“Excellent forward thinking. Was she glad to see you?”
“Not particularly.”
“You need to know that Pau Wen is receiving a visit, as we speak. I ordered a strike.”
“I thought I was in charge here.”
“Whatever gave you that impression?”
“I can’t ensure success if you override me. I’m here, you’re not.”
“I ordered a strike. End of discussion.”
A moment of silence passed, then Viktor said, “I’m headed out to track Vitt. I’ll report when there’s a development.”
“Once you have the lamp—”
“Not to worry,” Viktor said. “I know. Vitt will not be left alive. But I do it my way. Is that acceptable?”
“As you say, you’re there, I’m here. Handle it your way.”
EIGHTEEN
CASSIOPEIA SLAMMED THE GEARSHIFT INTO FIRST, RELEASED the clutch, and charged the Toyota down the highway. Another two clicks and she was in third. She was unsure where she was headed, only that it was away from Viktor Tomas.
Did he really think she’d take him along?
She glanced in the rearview mirror. No cars in sight. A treeless landscape stretched out on each side of the road, and the only bumps breaking the green monotony were grazing cattle and the slender steeples of distant churches. She’d already determined that she was somewhere in north-central Belgium, since the country’s wooded valleys and high plateaus were confined to its southern portions. Near the German border she knew were bogs and swamps, none of which was visible here. Neither was the ocean, which bordered the extreme north.
She shifted into fourth, kept cruising, and glanced at the digital clock: 5:20 PM. The gas gauge read three-quarters full.
Awfully convenient.
Viktor sent the guard into her cell knowing that she’d overpower him, then waited, faking a call, for her to confront him.
She thought of Central Asia the last time Viktor was supposedly on her side.
“No way,” she said.
She locked the brakes.
The Toyota slewed side-to-side, clutching its way to a stop. Viktor had then played a role, flipping sides by the hour—with the Asians, then the Americans, then back. True, he’d ultimately ended on her side and helped, but still—what about today?
Viktor wanted her to take the car.
Okay, she’d take it, but not where he assumed. The Dries Van Egmond Museum in Antwerp was surely closed for the day. She’d have to wait until dark before retrieving the lamp.
And she could not lead Viktor there.
She shifted into first and drove on. Two kilometers later she came to an intersection. A sign informed her that Antwerp lay twenty kilometers west.
She sped in that direction.
NI DESCENDED FROM THE STAIRCASE AND FOLLOWED A SURPRISINGLY spry Pau Wen back into the courtyard, where his host clapped his hands three times. A door slid open and four young Chinese appeared, each wearing a gray jumpsuit and black sneakers.
One of the men he immediately recognized.
From the video.
“Yes, Minister,” Pau said. “He serves me.”
The compatriots moved with the firm steps of athletes, stopping before Pau in an attentive line, their eyes flat and hard, faces immobile.
“Four armed men are approaching through the front gate. You know what to do.”
They nodded in unison and fled the courtyard.
“I thought you lived alone,” Ni said.
“I never actually said that.”
He grabbed Pau’s arm. “I’m tired of your lies. I am not someone to play with.”
Pau clearly did not appreciate the assault. “I’m sure you are not. But while you are demonstrating your importance, armed men are approaching this house. Have you considered the possibility that you may be their target?”
He released his grip.
No, he hadn’t.
Pau motioned and they reentered the house, finding a small anteroom, bare except for a red oval rug and two black laquered cabinets. Pau removed a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the cabinets. Inside, hanging on silver pegs, were assorted handguns.
“Choose, Minister,” Pau said.
He reached for a Glock.
“The magazine is fully loaded,” Pau said. “Spares are in the drawer.”
He checked his weapon to be sure, then retrieved three magazines.
A gun in hand felt good.
Pau gripped his shoulder. “Let us send a message to Karl Tang that the coming fight will not be easy.”
CASSIOPEIA ENTERED THE OUTSKIRTS OF ANTWERP. SHE KNEW the city, having visited many times. The Scheldt River flanked one side, the other three protected by a series of boulevards whose names recalled Allied powers that fought for Flanders’ freedom in the First World War. Its historic center fanned out around a slim-spired cathedral, a Renaissance town hall, and a brooding castle. Not a tourist-thronged medieval theme park but a working, thriving city loaded with reminders from when it was one of the Continent’s most influential places.
She found the central railway station, an early 20th-century riot of marble, glass, and wrought iron, and parked a block away in a clearly marked illegal zone. If Viktor was tracking her by the car, the trail would end here. She hoped the local police would tow the thing quickly.
She stuffed the gun at her waist and allowed her open shirttail to conceal the bulge. Her mind and body were at the breaking point. She needed sleep. But she also had to rid herself of Karl Tang, at least until she was ready to negotiate.
She crossed the street and passed beneath a flurry of blooming trees, toward Antwerp’s zoo. Between the train station and the city’s natural history museum stretched a park overgrown with foliage. A quiet locale, particularly now as the zoo had closed for the day. She found an empty bench that afforded her a view of the parked car a couple of hundred meters away, with the added benefit of a tree trunk behind her.
She lay on the bench, the gun atop her navel beneath her shirt.
Darkness was at least three hours away.
She’d rest till then.
And watch.
NINETEEN
GANSU PROVINCE, CHINA
WEDNESDAY, MAY 16
2:10 AM
TANG STEPPED FROM THE CAR AND STUDIED THE WELL-LIT SITE. The portable rig supported a red-and-white derrick that towered forty meters. When he’d requisitioned the equipment from the oil ministry, he’d known that at least a 600hp mechanically driven plant, equipped with an inner circulation and water-cooling system, rated to at least 3,000 meters of drilling, would be required. Qu
ietly, he’d dispatched the proper rig overland to Gansu, where he’d once served in the provincial government. According to legend, this region had been the birthplace of Fú Xi, the mythical patriarch of all Chinese, and some recent excavations had confirmed that people had in fact lived here as far back as 10,000 years ago.
He’d slept during the ninety-minute flight, preparing himself for what lay ahead. The next forty-eight hours would be critical. Every move had to be made with no miscalculations, every opportunity maximized with no mistakes.
He listened to the grind of diesel turbines, electrical generators, and circulation pumps. Gansu was a treasure trove of natural resources, brimming with coal, iron, copper, and phosphorous. His ancestors had known that, too. Their records, some of which survived, some of which he’d stumbled onto in the newly opened chamber at Pit 3, noted extensive inventories of precious metals and minerals. He’d ordered this particular exploration in search of one of those resources—oil.