The Emperor's Tomb (Cotton Malone 6)

She whirled.

Everything in the darkness seemed frozen.

Three meters away two forms appeared in the archway that led out to the hall. A third form materialized and blocked the other exit to her right.

Silhouettes of guns materialized, pointed her way.

“Lay the lamp down,” one of the two men said in English.

She considered shooting her way out, then decided that was foolishness.

She could not evade all three.

“The gun, too,” the voice said.

TWENTY-EIGHT

MALONE HEARD A VOICE JUST AS HE FOUND THE TOP OF THE stairs—a man talking about a lamp and a gun. Apparently, some of the six individuals who were inside had found Cassiopeia. He recalled from the map that the Chinese boudoir lay to his left, through a portrait gallery with a collection of miniatures, then one door down the hall.

He passed through the gallery, threading his way around dark shapes, careful not to bump anything. At a doorway leading out, a quick look confirmed that two men stood in the hall, facing into another room.

Both held weapons.

Elaborate paintings inside thick frames dotted the wide corridor. He noticed that the flooring was parquetry, which meant, unlike the marble he’d traversed so far, it would announce his presence. Since he needed to do something and there was no time for subtlety, he decided the direct approach would be best.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Both men whirled.

One of the men raised his gun and fired.

NI STOOD DOWNSTAIRS WITH PAU WEN. HE DID NOT LIKE ANYTHING about this situation. He was a high-ranking official in the Chinese government—a man beyond reproach, whose reputation meant everything—yet here he was inside a Belgian museum that had just been burglarized.

He heard a voice from up the main staircase.

Then another.

And a shot.

Pau said something to the third man—who’d returned a moment ago—then, with a flick of his wrist, dismissed him.

The acolyte darted up the staircase.

“This could escalate,” Pau said. “I confess that I thought no one would be here. Apparently, I was wrong. We must leave.”

More shots rang out.

“There’s quite a fight happening up there,” Ni said.

Pau grabbed his arm and they started for the terrace door. “All the more reason for us to leave. We can retreat to our previous position, away from the garden, and observe. My associate will do what he can to secure the lamp. He’s—”

“Expendable?”

“I was thinking capable. But he is certainly both.”

CASSIOPEIA HEARD A VOICE SAY “EXCUSE ME,” SAW THE TWO MEN react, and decided to use their moment of distraction to deal with the man to her right. She’d laid the lamp on the floor, but instead of relinquishing her gun, as ordered, she swung around and fired at the third man.

But the doorway was empty.

She scooped up the lamp just as the two men in the archway opened fire. If she didn’t know better she’d swear the voice had been Cotton’s. But that would be too fortuitous even to wish for.

More shots erupted, but they were directed away from her.

She decided that since the two were occupied, the third man presented the greater threat. So she darted to the doorway, peered into the next room, and caught no sight of movement. The room was loaded with dark silhouettes—furniture and wall hangings. Another exit opened ten meters away, with many places to hide in between.

All problems.

But she had no choice.

MALONE WAS STUCK IN A FIRESTORM. HE CARRIED A FULLY loaded Beretta but only one spare magazine, so he resisted the impulse to retaliate.

Luckily, he’d anticipated their attack and slipped into the next room, just as he’d diverted their attention from Cassiopeia. At least they were now focused on him.

Glass shattered as bullets found hard targets and wood splintered. To his left a vase added its coarse fragments to the ruin of porcelain on the floor.

Stephanie was going to kill him, but this wasn’t his fault. No one warned him that this could be a Shootout at the OK Corral reenactment.

He decided Enough and sent three shots in reply. At least now they knew he was armed. Movement confirmed they were shifting position. He fired two more rounds and fled his hiding spot, rushing down the hall, toward where the two men had first stood.

But they were gone, surely retreating toward the main staircase.

Time to find an ally.

“Cassiopeia,” he called out. “It’s Cotton.”

CASSIOPEIA HEARD MALONE CALL HER NAME, BUT SHE COULD not reply. The third man was close. She could feel his presence, within a few meters, hidden within the maze of furniture that stretched out before her. She’d utilized the gunfire’s chatter to steadily ease toward the archway that led out.

But her nemesis was probably doing the same thing.

She crouched behind a high-backed chair for cover and made it to the doorway, advancing with the lamp in one hand, the gun in the other. Coming around the way she was headed, she could catch the two men in a crossfire, Cotton on one side of the hallway, her on the other.

MALONE DARTED FROM ONE ROOM TO THE NEXT, CROSSING the hallway. The two men were ahead of him, or at least he thought so, and the gunfire had stopped.

Which was a problem.

Something popped, like metal bending.

A smell filled his nostrils.

He recalled the two containers that the first set of men had hauled inside. He’d wondered what they held. What had the lead man said?

Just in case.

He spotted a glistening ooze, reflected off the weak light from outside, seeping down the wooden floor toward him.

He caught a sweet odor.

Gasoline.

He realized what was coming and managed to drop back just as a woosh of air rushed his way, followed by the blinding light and intense heat of an erupting blaze.

TWENTY-NINE

NI AND PAU WEN FLED THE MUSEUM GARDEN, CROSSED THE rear drive and the graveled parking lot, and sought refuge in the shadows of the buildings of the next block over. The gunfire had stopped and Ni expected to hear sirens approaching. Surely someone had called the police.

“Should we not leave?” he asked Pau.

“We must see what happens.”

He stared back at the museum and caught a bright flash from the third-floor windows.

“It’s on fire,” he said.

Beams of light split the blackness as the museum’s third floor erupted into flames.

“This could be a problem, on a multitude of layers,” Pau said, his eyes locked on the destruction.

Ni didn’t want to hear that. “Care to explain?”

“Let us hope my brother can succeed. And quickly.”

CASSIOPEIA’S BONES AND MUSCLES TIGHTENED AS SHE REELED from the unexpected blast of heat. Her eyes burned from the burst of light the flames had generated. Spots dotted her vision and she struggled to see what lay before and behind her.