The Emperor's Tomb (Cotton Malone 6)

Though he sensed Pau Wen well knew. “My information network is extensive, especially regarding Tang. When I learned of his interest in the lamp, I came here personally. Yet not a hint of anything you have said has ever come to my attention.”

“Which should make you question your staff. Perhaps there is a spy among them? You will have the lamp soon enough. Return home and find Sokolov.”

“And what of those eunuchs who surround me? The ones you say I should fear.”

“They will show themselves.”

“Is Tang also in danger from them?”

“Obviously not.”

“How do I know who they are?”

Pau grinned. “Once, we would have a change of voice, an unpleasant falsetto. Beardless, we became soft and fat with little strength. As we aged, that weight shed and deep wrinkles appeared in our faces. The lack of testosterone also manifested itself in odd emotions—we were quick to anger and tears. None of that is true today. Modern supplements mask all side effects, especially if the man is not castrated until adulthood, which is generally the case. Know that it will be nearly impossible, without a visual inspection, for you to know.”

“Is Tang after Sokolov?”

Pau nodded. “With all the resources he can muster.”

Ni would have to verify everything he’d learned before becoming a convert. “Where is the lamp hidden?”

“Inside the Dries Van Egmond Museum, in Antwerp. It holds a private collection of art and furniture from the 17th and 18th centuries. Cassiopeia Vitt hid the lamp in a boudoir, on the third level, decorated in the Chinese style, that includes some unremarkable Ming porcelain. I have visited there myself. Perhaps she thought it would go unnoticed, at least for a few days. Or if it was noticed, the museum staff would safeguard it. Not a bad decision, considering she had so few options.”

Pau telling him the location seemed some verification that the older man was finally being truthful.

“I should go.”

“Before you leave,” Pau said, “I have one more thing to show you.”

He accompanied his host back into the house, following a long corridor to a black lacquered door. On the other side, a wooden staircase wound upward inside a rectangular tower. An open doorway appeared at the top of the stairs. Beyond shone the afternoon light, its warmth allowed in through bare window frames that wrapped all four walls.

“Stay here,” Pau said. “Just inside the doorway. That way we won’t be visible from outside.”

He wondered about the subterfuge.

“If you will glance around the corner,” Pau said, “there will be an excellent view of the front drive. Past that, at the highway, you will see a vehicle parked in the woodlands, perhaps half a kilometer away from the main entrance.”

He did as instructed, squinting in the bright sunlight and spotting a car, barely visible in the thick trees.

“Careless people,” Pau said, behind him. “They work for Tang. They watch this house. Not always. They come and go. But they have been here often the past two days.”

“Is that how you suspected Tang would come for the lamp?”

“It seemed logical.”

In the distant shadows he saw the front grille of another car brake beside the parked one. Two men exited each car, assault rifles being shouldered.

Fear pricked his spine.

The men advanced toward the gray walls, walking toward the open front gate.

“That’s somewhat unexpected,” Pau calmly said.

Men with guns were approaching, and all this man could say was unexpected.

He was concerned.

Greatly.

SEVENTEEN

MALONE ASSESSED THE STARTLING INFORMATION STEPHANIE was providing.

“The Western mind-set,” she said, “is that oil is a fossil fuel. Remember, back in the 1960s, when all the Sinclair gas stations displayed a dinosaur as a trademark? There were TV commercials that showed dinosaurs dying, decaying, and turning into oil. Ask ten people where oil comes from and they all would say dead dinosaurs.”

He recalled the ads she was referring to, and he had to admit that he, too, had been indoctrinated. Oil was a fossil fuel, a finite resource.

“Imagine, Cotton, if oil is infinite. The earth produces it continually, as a renewable resource. The Russians have long believed this.”

“Stephanie, what does any of this have to do with Cassiopeia?”

A chill had crept into the late-afternoon air. Ivan would return shortly, and they would all leave for Antwerp. He must understand the problem before then.

“Ever heard of the Dniepr-Donetsk basin in eastern Ukraine?”

He shook his head.

“In the 1950s the area was abandoned as a prospective place to drill. No potential for oil production was the conclusion of the survey team. We know this because an American well driller, a man named J. F. Kenney, was part of the team that studied the site with the Russians. No source rock for fossil fuels was located there.” She paused. “Today, that basin contains more than 400 million barrels of proven reserves, found deep underground. The man who determined that to be the case is Lev Sokolov. He was a Russian expert on the abiotic theory of oil.”

“How do we know that the survey team in the 1950s wasn’t just wrong, and there was oil there all the time?”

“It happened again. On the Kola Peninsula, in northern Russia. Another place that had no prospect of production—under the fossil fuel theory. Yet the Russians drilled down seven miles and hit methane gas. No one ever believed that methane would be found that deep in granite rock. The fossil fuel theory would never support the finding, but the gas was right where Sokolov predicted.”

“And now Washington is finally interested in all this.”

“With a vengeance. This could change the world balance of power, which explains why Karl Tang is interested. Ivan’s right. Tang’s a threat to us all. If he assumes control of China, the destabilization across the region, across the globe, will be enormous. Especially if he has unlimited oil at his disposal.”

“President Daniels wants Tang stopped?”

“Actually, Cotton, we want him dead.”

He understood the enormity of the statement. America did not officially assassinate people.

But it happened.

“And you’re hoping the Russians do the deed?”

She shrugged. “Enough that I forced myself into their business. Ivan wasn’t happy to see me. Bad enough that Sokolov was alive, he sure did not want us involved.”

“How did he know about me?”

“From those two couriers, is my guess. When the one brought that note to your shop, his men were watching.”

She’d left something out. “And where were you?”

“Watchin

g too. He informed me about your meeting at Tivoli only after you were already on your way there.”

“So you already knew some of what Ivan told you back in the café?”

She nodded. “I did. I figured we’d have a talk.”

“What did you know about Cassiopeia?”

“I had no idea she was being tortured.”

He believed her on that one.

“We’ve done the math, Cotton. If Tang becomes premier, he will undo fifty years of hard-fought diplomacy. He thinks China has been mistreated by everyone and he wants retribution. He’ll reassert Chinese dominance any way and every way he can. Right now, we keep China in line thanks to its foreign energy dependence. We maintain a sixty-day oil reserve, and Japan keeps a hundred. China has barely ten days’ worth. A naval blockade could easily choke the country into submission. Eighty percent of China’s imported oil passes through the Strait of Hormuz or the Strait of Malacca. Those are a long way from China, and we control both.”

“So they behave themselves, knowing what we could do?”

“Something like that, though the threat is never voiced. Bad form, when dealing with the Chinese. They don’t like reminders of weakness.”

He was glad not to be a diplomat.

“If Tang has unlimited oil available to him,” she said, “we’ll lose what little leverage we have. China practically controls the world currency markets now, and they are the number one lender to us. Though we don’t like to admit it, we need China. If Chinese oil wells flow forever, they’ll be able to expand their economy at will, force whatever policies they want, unconcerned about what anyone cares or thinks.”

“Which makes Russia nervous.”

“Enough that they just might take Karl Tang out.”

Okay, he was convinced. This was serious.

“I know you may think me foolish. But believe me, I’ve hedged my bets. I’m not relying on Ivan 100 percent. Still—”

“You need a little more help.”

“Something like that.”

“I assume that means we have to find Sokolov before Ivan does. And Cassiopeia seems the fastest route in.”

She nodded. “Let’s play the Russian’s game and find her. If Ivan can stop Tang along the way, then that’s good for us. If not, I need your help getting Sokolov away from them.”