The Emperor's Tomb (Cotton Malone 6)
“Then what will you do?”
“Assume control of the government. The premier is not long for this world, so it is logical that he would gradually pass control to his first deputy. That is when we will start our return to glory.”
“And unlimited oil will help that journey?”
Tang smiled. “I see Sokolov told you. Good. You need to know what you missed. And yes, the prospect of no longer having to prostitute ourselves to Russia, the Middle East, and Africa—to fear what America might do—just to ensure that our factories continue to produce, is worth the effort.”
“So going after that lamp in Belgium was all part of the grand display you and Pau devised?”
“Make no mistake, the lamp was important. But it also served as the perfect bait to lure you there. And you were supposed to die.”
“Instead, four other men died.”
Tang shrugged. “As you said, Pau killed them.”
“But you ordered the murder of the pilot.”
Tang said nothing.
“You have no conception of what troubles China.”
“But I do. This nation needs a firm hand.”
He shook his head. “You are a lunatic.”
His fate seemed sealed.
And more gunfire from the mountains signaled that Malone and Vitt were likewise in deep trouble.
CASSIOPEIA FELT THE BOARDS BENEATH HER FEET VIBRATE from the rush of water. Malone had gone across first, saying that if the bridge held him it would surely hold her. The extra weight had also broken the rhythm, reducing the nerve-racking sway. They were now suspended in open air, halfway across, with zero cover, moving from shadows to sunlight. She spotted a trail on the far side, leading across loose gravel into more trees. A figure, maybe five meters high, carved in the rock face beyond the trail—a Buddhist image—told her they were in the right place.
“This bridge has seen better days,” she said as Malone turned back toward her.
“I hope it has at least one more left.”
She gripped the twisted ropes that held the span aloft, forming a makeshift railing. No sign of any pursuers. But a new sound rose over the rushing water. Deep bass tones. Far off, but growing louder.
She caught the first glimpse of a shadow on a rock wall, maybe two kilometers away, where the gorge they were crossing met another running perpendicular. The distant shadow grew, then was replaced with the distinct shape of a helicopter.
And it wasn’t a transport. An attack aircraft, equipped with cannons and missiles.
“That’s not here to help,” she said.
Then she knew. The soldiers had herded them to this spot.
The pilot started firing.
TANG HEARD THE RAPID BURST OF CANNON FIRE AND KNEW what was happening. The Pakistanis had used one of their Cobras. He’d told them that an aerial intrusion into the mountains would not, at least this time, be viewed unfavorably. On the contrary, he wanted the task done right and thought the bridge might offer the perfect venue. He could only hope that Viktor had teamed with Malone and Vitt, and all three were crossing.
If not, the soldiers could finish the job.
“I will be the next premier of this nation,” he said to Ni. “China will retake its superior place in the world. We will also retake Taiwan, the southern lands, Mongolia, even Korea. We shall be whole again.”
“That kind of stupidity is what has brought us to where we are now.”
“And you are the brilliant leader who can save us? You could not even see that you were being manipulated. You are fatally naïve.”
“And the world will simply sit by and allow you to do as you please?”
“That’s the interesting part. You see, knowing that oil is infinite comes with a great advantage. Keep that information close, use it wisely, and we can orchestrate the collapse of more than one foreign power. The world fights over oil as children fight over sweets. They battle one another both physically and economically to satisfy their needs. All we have to do is direct the fight.” He shook his head. “The armies of the world will not be a problem for China. You see, Minister, a single piece of knowledge can be more powerful than a hundred nuclear weapons.”
He motioned for the door.
“Now, before you leave this world, the master thought you might like to see something. Actually, he thinks we both will find it of interest, since it is something I have not seen, either.”
“Then by all means. Let’s see what the Hegemon wants to show us.”
CASSIOPEIA DOVE BELLY-FIRST TO THE BRIDGE BOARDS, STARING past her feet at Cotton as a steady procession of cannon fire came their way. The helicopter roared toward them, its blades slicing through the limpid air. Rounds found the bridge, ripping wood and rope with a savage fury.
Anger filled her eyes and she found her gun, came to her knees, and fired at the copter’s canopy. But the damn thing was surely armor-plated and moving with the speed of a hummingbird.
“Get the hell down,” he yelled.
Another burst of cannon fire annihilated the bridge between them. One moment the wood-and-rope construction existed, the next it was gone in a cloud of debris. She realized the entire span was about to collapse.
He sprang to his feet.
No way he could get to her, so he wisely tried to negotiate the final six meters on his side of the divide, clinging to the ropes as the bridge dropped away beneath their feet.
The helicopter zoomed past, toward the opposite end of the gorge.
She grasped the ropes, too, and as the bridge separated, each half swinging toward different sides of the gorge, she clung tight and flew through the air.
Her body slammed into rock, rebounded, then settled.
She held on tight and risked a look to the other side. Slowly, Cotton was pulling himself upward, negotiating the remaining few meters to the top.
Rushing water and the thump of chopper blades filled her ears.
Another look across the gorge and Cotton had found the top, standing now, staring at her. She clung with both hands to the other half of the bridge as it dangled against the tawny face of the gorge. Clattering scree prevented any foothold.
The helicopter executed a tight turn within the gorge, arching upward, and began another run their way.
“Can you climb?” he screamed over the noise.
She shook her head.
“Do it,” he yelled.
She craned her neck his way. “Get out of here.”
“Not without you.”
The Cobra was little more than a kilometer away. Its cannon would start firing any second.
“Climb,” he screamed.
She pulled herself up, but the next handful of hemp she grabbed gave way.
She plunged downward.
Into the rushing river.
SEVENTY-SIX
NI FOLLOWED TANG THROUGH THE COMPLEX OF BUILDINGS. Galleries of red and yellow connected the various wings. Ornate pillars, their golden decoration uneffaced by time, held the high ceilings aloft. Incense burners and braziers warmed the halls. Finally, they entered a cavernous three-storied chamber.
“This is the Hall for the Preservation of Harmony,” Tang said. “The most sacred site for the Ba.”
It was different from the other buildings, even more elaborate, with alternating red and yellow galleries up three levels. A forest of pillars spanned its perimeter on three sides, with graceful arches in between. An arsenal of swords, knives, lances, bows, and shields decorated the ground level along the edges, and half a dozen copper braziers blazed with glowing charcoals.
Sunlight seeped from windows in the upper galleries. At the far end, on a
raised terrace, the wall, reaching up thirty meters, comprised hundreds of diagonal bins brimming with scrolls. Silver lamps dotted the remaining three walls between the levels, but remained unlit. Light came from electric lanterns dangling from the ceiling.
“Inside those shelves is the accumulation of our knowledge, written on silk, preserved for the Hegemon to consult,” Tang said. “Not translations or secondhand accounts. The actual words.”
“Apparently, the Ba is well financed,” he said.
“Though we are ancient in origin, we are recent in reincarnation. The eunuchs from the time of the last emperor, in the early part of the 20th century, ensured that we were properly endowed. Mao tried to appease them, but many brought their wealth here.”
“Mao hated eunuchs.”
“That he did. But they hated him more.”
“It’s a shame I won’t live to see you fail.”
“I don’t plan to fail.”
“No fanatic ever does.”
Tang stepped close. “You lost the battle, Minister. That’s what history will record. Just as the Gang of Four lost their battle. Several of them died from the effort, as well.”
Behind Tang, on the far side, a section of the towering wall hung open, the panel cleverly concealed among the shelves.
Pau Wen emerged from the doorway that the panel revealed.
“Ministers,” Pau called out. “Please, come.”
Ni saw that Tang did not appreciate the interruption, so he decided to twist the knife. “Your master calls.”
Tang glared at him. “That is precisely what is wrong with China. It has forgotten fear and respect. I plan to reacquaint the nation with both.”
“You may find it difficult, keeping a billion and a half people afraid.”
“It has been done before. It can be done again.”
“Qin Shi? Our glorious First Emperor? He barely ruled twelve years, and his empire disintegrated at his death.” He paused. “Thanks to a scheming eunuch.”
Tang seemed unfazed. “I will not make the same mistakes.”
They walked in silence across the long hall, perhaps fifty meters in length and half that wide. Short steps led up to a raised floor.