The Emperor's Tomb (15 page)

Ivan faced Stephanie. "You take over now? You think I allow that."

"Look," Malone said, answering for her. "If I go alone, I have a better chance of finding out what you want. You show up with the goon squad and you're going to get zero. Cassiopeia is a pro. She'll go to ground."

At least he hoped so.

Ivan jabbed a forefinger at Malone's chest. "Why do I trust you?"

"I've been asking myself the same thing about you."

The Russian removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and clamped one between his lips. He found matches and lit the smoke. "I not like this."

"Like I care what you like. You want the job done. I'll get it done."

"Okay," Ivan said as he exhaled. "Find her. Get what we want." He pointed toward the car. "Has navigation that can lead the way."

"Cotton," Stephanie said. "I'll arrange a little privacy. The Antwerp police are aware of what's happening. They just don't know where. I have to assure them there will be no property destruction, besides maybe a broken window or door. Just get her and get out."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"I realize it shouldn't be a problem, but you have a reputation."

"This isn't a World Heritage Site, is it? I seem to destroy only those."

"Just in and out, okay?"

He turned to Ivan. "Once I make contact, I'll call Stephanie. But I'm going to have to gauge Cassiopeia. She may not want partners."

Ivan raised a finger and pointed. "She might not want, but she gets partners. This matter is bigger than one four-year-old boy."

"That's exactly why you're staying here. First time those words are uttered and she's gone."

He did not plan to make the same mistake he'd made in Paris with Thorvaldsen. Cassiopeia needed his help and he was going to give it to her. Unconditionally and with full disclosure.

And Ivan could go to hell.

Chapter
Twenty-Three.

NI, STILL SHAKEN FROM THE ATTACK, WATCHED IN DISGUST. The fourth man, captured by Pau Wen, had been led from the house, beyond the gray walls, to a barn fifty meters behind the compound, among thick woods. Pau's four acolytes had stripped off the man's clothes, bound his body with heavy rope, then lifted him into the air, suspended from an L-shaped wooden crane.

"I have horses and goats," Pau said to him. "We use the hoist to store hay in the top of the barn."

The crane rose ten meters to a set of double doors in the gable. One of Pau's men, the one from the video, stood in the upper doorway. The remaining three men--each wearing a green, sleeveless gown--fanned the flames of a steady blaze below, using dried logs and hay as fuel. Even from ten meters away, the heat was intense.

"It has to be hot," Pau said. "Otherwise, the effort could prove fruitless."

Night had come, black and bleak. The bound man hung suspended near the top of the hoist, his mouth sealed with tape, but in the flickering light Ni saw the horror on the man's face.

"The purpose of this?" he asked Pau.

"We need to learn information. He was asked politely, but refused."

"You plan to roast him?"

"Not at all. That would be barbaric."

He was trying to remain calm, telling himself that Karl Tang had ordered his death. Plots, purges, arrests, torture, trials, incarcerations, even executions were common in China.

But open political murder?

Perhaps Tang thought that since the assassination would occur in Belgium, it could be explained away. The sudden demise of Lin Biao, Mao's chosen successor, in 1971 had never been fully documented. Biao supposedly died in a Mongolian plane crash while trying to escape China, after being accused of plotting to overthrow Mao. But only the government's version as to what happened had ever been released. No one knew where or how or when Lin Biao had died only that he was gone.

And he kept telling himself that the man dangling from the hoist had come to kill him.

One of the men motioned that the fire was ready.

Pau craned his neck and signaled.

His man in the barn rotated the hoist so that it was now no longer parallel but perpendicular to the building. That caused the bound man's bare feet to hang about three meters above the flames.

"Never allow the fire to touch the flesh," Pau quietly said. "Too intense. Too quick. Counterproductive."

He wondered about the lesson in torture. This old man apparently was a connoisseur. But from all Ni knew about Mao, the entire regime had been masters of the art. Pau stood motionless, dressed in a long gown of white gauze, watching as the bound man struggled against the ropes.

"Will you," Pau called out, "answer my questions?"

The man did not signal any reply. Instead he kept struggling.

"You see, Minister," Pau said, "the heat alone is excruciating, but there is something worse."

A flick of Pau's wrist and one of the men hurled the contents of a pail into the flames. A loud hiss, followed by a rush of heat, spewed the powder upward as it vaporized, engulfing the prisoner in a scorching cloud.

The man's thrashings increased wildly, his agony obvious.

Ni caught a scent in the night air.

"Chili powder," Pau said. "The hot plume itself causes incredible agony, but the lingering chemical vapor increases the heat's intensity on the skin. If he failed to close his eyes, he would be blind for several hours. The fumes irritate the pupils."

Pau motioned and another batch of chili powder was tossed.

Ni imagined what the prisoner must be enduring.

"Don't sympathize with him," Pau said. "This man is an associate of Karl Tang. Your enemy. I simply want him to tell us all that he knows."

So did Ni, actually.

The fire continued to rage, the flames surely beginning to scorch the man's feet.

The prisoner's head started to nod, signaling surrender.

"That didn't take long." Pau motioned, and the man in the barn rotated the body away from the flames. The tape was ripped from the man's mouth. An agonizing scream pierced the night.

"There's no one to hear," Pau called out. "The nearest neighbors are kilometers away. Tell me what we want to know, or back you go."

The man stole a few breaths and seemed to steady himself.

"Tang ... wants you dead. Minister Ni, too."

"Tell me more," Pau called out.

"He's going ... after the ... lamp. As we ... speak."

"And Cassiopeia Vitt?"

"She's going after ... it ... too. She was ... allowed to ... escape. Men are ... following."

"You see, Minister," Pau quietly whispered. "This is why torture has endured. It works. You learn a great many vital things."

The sickening feeling in his stomach grew. Were there no rules, no boundaries, to his morality? What had happened to his conscience?

Pau motioned again, and the prisoner was lowered to the ground. One of the robed men immediately produced a gun and shot the bound man in the head.

Ni stood silent, then finally asked, "Was that necessary?"

"What would you have me do? Release him?"

He did not answer.

"Minister, how will you lead China if you have not the stomach to defend yourself?"

He did not appreciate the reprimand. "I believe in courts, laws, justice."

"You are about to embark on a battle that only one of you will survive. No courts, law, or justice will decide that conflict."

"I was unaware that this would be a fight to the death."

"Has not Karl Tang just made that clear?"

Ni supposed he had.

"Tang is ruthless. He sent men to end the battle before it even began. What will be your response, Minister?"

The past few hours, in this no-nonsense place, had made him feel strangely vulnerable, challenging all that he thought he knew about himself. He'd never directly ordered the death of anyone--though he'd arrested many who'd eventually been executed. For the first time the enormity of what he was about to do weighed down on him. Perhaps Pau was right. Ruling China required strength. But he wondered. Could he kill with the same cool detachment Pau Wen displayed?

Probably not.

"We must go," Pau said. "It's only a short drive."

He knew where.

To the Dries Van Egmond Museum.

Before it was too late.

Chapter
Twenty-Four.

GANSU PROVINCE, CHINA

TANG OPENED THE TRAILER'S DOOR AND STEPPED OUT TO A moonless night, the stars blocked by clouds. The air here, hundreds of kilometers from the nearest city, was refreshingly clear. He flexed his legs. Old emotions boiled within him. He was close--so close--and knew it.

He thought of his father, his mother, naive souls who knew nothing of the world beyond their simple village. They'd lived surrounded by trees and terraced vegetable plots, tucked away on the slopes of a mountain. His only brother had died in Tibet, keeping rebels at bay. No one ever explained what had happened there. His parents never would have asked, and no records existed.

But it didn't matter.

Fight self. That's what Mao had preached. Believe in the Party, trust the state. The individual meant nothing.

His family had worshiped Mao. Yet his father had also held a great affection for Confucius, as had his father before him.

Only after Tang had left the village, specially chosen to attend secondary and higher education, had he come to realize the dramatic contradiction. His philosophy teacher at university had opened his eyes.

"Let me tell you about a man who lived in the state of Song and dutifully tilled his field. His efforts provided ample food for his family and his village. In the middle of the field stood the stump of a tree. One day a hare, running at full speed, bumped into the stump, broke his neck, and died. This was quite fortuitous, since the meat was greatly enjoyed by all. Thereupon the man left his plow and kept watch at the stump, hoping to obtain another hare in the same manner. But he never did, and both his family and the village suffered from his neglect. That is the flaw of Confucianism. Those who try to rule the present with the conduct of the past commit the same foolishness."

He listened to the distant rumblings of the derrick's generators. Dawn was not far away. He thought again of that teacher at Hunan's university, the one who asked him--

"What will you do upon graduating?"

"I intend to study in Beijing and obtain a higher degree in geology."

"The earth interests you?"

"It always has."

"You have spirit and promise. I've seen that these past three years. Would you perhaps consider something in addition to your studies, something that might answer those questions you constantly pose to me?"

In the days after, he'd listened as his teacher explained about the distant Shang dynasty, the earliest for which there was any documentary evidence, existing nearly 4,000 years ago. A highly developed state with a tax collection system, a penal code, and a standing army, it was ruled by an autocrat who styled himself I the single one man.

"That was significant," his teacher said. "The first time we know of one man assuming total power over many."

The Zhou dynasty succeeded the Shang and carried forward that autocratic ideal, expanding the ruler's authority.

"It was said that all the land under Heaven belonged to the king and all people on the shores were his subjects."

But governing such a large kingdom from one locale proved difficult, so the Zhou kings created feudalism--kinsmen who were bestowed limited sovereignty over portions of the domain, along with titles such as duke, marquis, earl, and baron.

"A system Western civilization would not envision for another thousand years."

Loyalty to the king was bound by blood rather than oath but, over time, the local lords began to establish their own fiefdoms. Eventually, these vassals revolted and eliminated the king of Zhou, demoting him to their equal.

"This led to the Spring and Autumn period, a chaotic war of all against all. Within two and a half centuries, 500 wars were fought among the feudal states. Eventually, everyone believed the state of Cu, which occupied the middle reaches of the Yangtze River, would emerge victorious. This fear led the smaller states to turn to the state of Qi for protection. With a strong military, sound economy, and able ruler, Qi was in a position to help. A mutual defense league was established and the duke of Qi was appointed Hegemon, or Ba of the league, charged with preserving the peace. And this he did."

He'd thought that apt since Ba meant "father, protector."

But it was how the protection had been accomplished that so interested him.

The entire population had been organized along military lines. Marketplaces were regulated, a monopoly established on coinage, salt and iron production placed under state control. The results were a strong army and a sound economy, which not only offered protection from enemies but also strengthened the power of the Hegemon.