The Emperor's Tomb (Cotton Malone 6)
It happened fast. Two swipes, and his severed scrotum and penis were displayed.
He waited for the pain. He felt blood seeping from the wound, the skin burning, his legs shaking. But no pain.
He watched as the organs were laid on a silver tray, blood encircling the flesh like some presentation at a restaurant.
Then the pain arrived. Sharp. Bitter. Excruciating.
His brain exploded in agony. His body trembled.
The two men maintained strong grips. He kept his mouth closed. Tears welled in his eyes but he bit his tongue to steady his control.
Silence was the only acceptable response.
One day he would lead the brothers, and he wanted them to say that he’d accepted his initiation with courage.
Tang thought back to that day thirty-six years ago. He’d lain still while the wound had been wrapped in wet paper, layer upon layer, until the bleeding stopped. He’d fought the shock that swept through his nerves, keeping a loose hold on reality. The three days that followed tested him further with agony from thirst and the inability to urinate. He recalled hoping that liquid would flow on the fourth day.
And it had.
He stood in the quiet trailer, remembering, readying himself to leave the drill site. He seldom thought of that day anymore, but tonight was special.
His satellite phone rang.
He found the unit and noted the number displayed. Overseas. A Belgian country code. He knew the number well.
Pau Wen’s residence.
“I did exactly as you instructed,” he said as he answered. “I ordered the strike on Ni Yong, while he was there at your residence.”
“And I thwarted that strike, just as planned. Minister Ni was most grateful and now believes me to be his ally.”
“Where is Ni?”
“He will shortly be on his way back to China. With the lamp.”
“The lamp was to be mine.”
“It matters not anymore,” Pau said. “The oil is gone. Burned away.”
“You assured me the lamp would be safeguarded.” His voice had risen. “You told me that it would be turned over to me, intact, once Ni left Belgium.”
“And you were not to disturb Cassiopeia Vitt,” Pau said. “She was to bring the lamp to you.”
“She couldn’t be trusted.”
“So you stole her away and hoped to win your prize by force?”
“I did what I thought best.”
“And you were only to attack Ni Yong,” Pau calmly said. “Not kill me.”
He steadied himself.
“We killed three of the men you sent,” Pau said. “And captured the fourth. I questioned him. He was most uncooperative, but finally told me that he and the others were ordered to kill Minister Ni and myself. No one was to be left alive at my residence. He said your orders on that were clear. Of course, he was not a brother. Only paid to do a job, which he failed to do.”
The moment had come.
“You are the one no longer needed,” he told Pau.
“From that comment, I assume you have taken charge of the brotherhood? The Ba now answers to you?”
“As they have for the past decade. I am the only master they know.”
“But I am Hegemon. Their duly elected leader.”
“Who abandoned us, and this country, years ago. We no longer require your involvement.”
“So you ordered my death?”
“Why not? It seemed the right course.”
“I conceived this endeavor. From the beginning. You were but a young initiate, fresh to the Ba.”
“Is that when you found the Confucian texts at the terra-cotta warrior site?”
“What do you know of that?”
“The repository was rediscovered a few days ago. Your watch was found inside.”
“So I did lose it there,” Pau said. “I long suspected. But of course I intended on returning and examining that chamber further. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity.”
“Why did you remove only the Confucian texts?”
“To preserve them. If Mao’s research fellows and archaeologists had discovered them, they would never have survived. Mao despised Confucius.”
“The library is gone. Burned.”
“You are no better than they were.”
He resented the insolent tone. “I am not a young initiate any longer. I am first vice premier of the People’s Republic of China. Poised to be the next premier and president.”
“All because of me.”
He chuckled. “Hardly. You have been gone for a long time. We have implemented your plan without your assistance. So stay in your refuge, safe in Belgium. China has no use for you.”
“Your nemesis, though,” Pau said, “is returning home far wiser. Minister Ni now knows of the Ba. He may well prevent you from succeeding.”
“Ni is no match for me.”
“But I am.”
“There is no legal way for you to reenter China. No visa will be issued. On that, I have absolute control. The few brothers you have at your disposal there will be barred from returning, too.”
“Not everyone supports you,” Pau made clear.
He knew that could well prove true, but he was counting on success to win over any doubters.
“I have enough. Live short, Pau.”
He ended the call.
There was nothing more to say.
A lesson he’d been taught long ago, during his training to become a brother, came to mind.
Never signal your intentions.
He smiled.
Not necessarily.
THIRTY-FOUR
NI STROLLED THROUGH PAU WEN’S EXHIBIT HALL, WAITING for his host to return. When they’d arrived back at the compound, Pau had excused himself. On the drive from Antwerp, Ni had called Beijing and spoken with his chief assistant, telling him he wanted an immediate report on Karl Tang’s activities. Contrary to what Pau Wen might think, Ni had been watching Tang for some time, employing spies embedded deep within the first vice premier’s office. Still, never had anyone spoken of eunuchs or the Ba.
He already knew Tang had left the capital yesterday, ostensibly to meet with local officials in Chongqing, but the true purpose of his journey had been to oversee the death sentence of a man named Jin Zhao, whose treason conviction had recently been upheld by the Supreme People’s Court. He’d instructed his chief assistant to learn more about Zhao’s case, along with Tang’s interest in the man’s death.
The vibration of his cell phone startled him. His staff had been fast, as usual. He answered, hoping that Pau would be delayed at least a few minutes more since this conversation must be private.
“Jin Zhao was an experimental geochemist who worked under the Ministry of Geological Development,” his aide reported. “He supposedly passed sensitive information about oil exploration to the Russians.”
“What type of information?”
“The record is silent. State secret.”
&nb
sp; “And the Russian agent?”
“No mention.”
“Was the information actually passed?”
“No. An attempt thwarted, or so the trial record notes. However, the name you provided, Lev Sokolov, was also mentioned during the proceedings.”
He’d taken Pau’s advice and asked his office for a dossier on and current whereabouts of Lev Sokolov.
“He’s a Russian expatriate who worked with Jin Zhao at a petrochemical research facility in Lanzhou, a lab under the direct jurisdiction of the Ministry of Geological Development.”
Which meant Karl Tang controlled the facility.
“Were Zhao and Sokolov colleagues?”
“They were working on an experimental project relative to advanced oil exploration. That’s what the facility’s budget reveals. Beyond that, we learned no details.”
“Learn them,” he said. He knew there were ways, especially in his department.
He listened as he was told about Tang’s busy night, traveling from Chongqing to the terra-cotta warrior site. Interestingly, a portion of one of the display pits had been destroyed by a fire, preliminarily blamed on an electrical short. Tang had been gone when the destruction occurred, flown to an oil exploration site in northern Gansu. Nothing out of the ordinary there, as Tang oversaw the nation’s entire oil exploration program.
“He’s in Gansu now,” his aide reported. “We have no eyes or ears at that location, but it’s not necessary. We know his next destination. Lev Sokolov has been missing for the past two weeks. Tang’s emissaries found him yesterday in Lanzhou. The minister is flying there.”
“We have men in Lanzhou?”
“Five. Ready.”
He recalled what Pau Wen had said. Find Sokolov. He is the person who can explain the lamp’s significance. “I want Sokolov taken before Tang gets him.”
“It will be done.”
“I’m on my way back.” He already held a reservation on a flight leaving Brussels, which he’d confirmed on the ride from the city. “It will be fifteen hours or so before I’m there. Send whatever you learn on Sokolov and Zhao by e-mail. I’ll be able to access it while en route. I want to know how they are connected and why Tang is so intent on them both.”