The mothers and fathers had started arriving a few hours ago, pushing their way closer to the now empty square. All had been warned off, told to leave, and most had. But a few, like the mother he now confronted, refused.
“You must leave this area,” he told her again, his voice gentle.
She studied his uniform. “Captain, my son would be about your age. He has been here since the beginning. When I heard what was happening I had to come. Surely, you understand. Let me look for him.”
“The square is empty,” he said. “He is not here.”
“There are bodies,” she said in a voice cracking with emotion.
And there were. Stacked like wood, out of sight, a mere hundred meters away. One reason his men had been ordered here was to keep everyone away from them. They would be discarded after dark, taken away and buried in a common pit so no one could count the dead.
“You must leave,” he ordered again.
She thrust out an arm and shoved him aside, walking ahead, past the point that he’d ordered his men to defend. She reminded him so much of his own mother, who’d taught him how to swim, to roller-skate, to drive a truck. A loving soul who cared only that her four children grow old.
Before he could stop the woman, another soldier, a captain, like him, leveled his rifle and fired.
The bullet thudded into the mother’s spine.
Her body lurched forward, then slammed face-first to the pavement.
Anger surged through him. Ni aimed his rifle at the soldier.
“You warned her not to advance. I heard you. She ignored you. I was following orders.”
The captain stared down the gun, not a hint of fear in his eyes.
“We don’t kill unarmed women,” Ni slowly declared.
“We do what we must.”
That captain had been right.
The People’s Liberation Army did whatever it had to, including killing unarmed men and women. To this day no one knew how many had died in Tiananmen Square, or in the days and weeks after. Several hundred? Thousands? Tens of thousands?
All he knew for sure was that one woman had lost her life.
A mother.
“We were foolish,” the premier said. “So many stupid things we did for Mao.”
FORTY-FOUR
LANZHOU, CHINA
TANG WAS PLEASED THAT THE FACILITY HAD BEEN SECURED. He’d ordered his men to take charge of the petrochemical laboratory, sending home all non-essential personnel and otherwise restricting access. Luckily, just a dozen people worked in the building, mostly clerks and assistants, and only one of the lab’s two research scientists was still alive.
Lev Sokolov.
The Russian expatriate had been brought from the city yesterday, after a doctor had tended to his wounds. The rats had left their mark, both physically and mentally. Killing Sokolov was not out of the question, but not before Tang learned what he needed to know. Jin Zhao had been unable to reveal anything except that Lev Sokolov had found the proof.
But what was it?
Sokolov stood with one arm wrapping his gut, guarding the bandages that Tang knew were there. Tang motioned to the stainless-steel table and the sealed container that rested on top. “That is a sample of oil extracted yesterday from a well in western Gansu. I had it drilled at a spot where the ancients drilled in the time of the First Emperor.” He caught recognition in Sokolov’s face. “Just as Jin Zhao instructed. I assumed you knew. Now tell me what you found. Zhao said you located a marker.”
Sokolov nodded. “A way to know for sure.”
