He remembered more of what Sima Qian had written.
Yet there was nothing.
He noticed ornamented pedestals dotting the walls at regular intervals and realized that lamps—like the one he’d sought from Pau Wen, the ones Pau had promised Malone and Vitt existed—would have rested atop to light the emperor’s way and nourish the spirits of the dead.
But there were no lamps.
Which meant no oil.
Nothing.
Only a blue-and-white urn, perhaps a meter wide and at least that tall in the center of the next chamber. He’d seen images of one before. An everlasting lamp, filled with oil, holding a wick afloat. He stepped close and peered inside, hoping that some of the ancient crude might remain, but the container stood dry.
Viktor advanced into the next chamber, the two brothers in tow.
Tang lingered, his mind alight with conflicting thoughts.
Qin Shi’s tomb had clearly been explored—enough that electricity had been run and lighting installed. This could not have occurred during the last decade. His ministry would have known of any such effort. Obviously, though, Ni Yong knew about what had happened here.
“Ni Yong,” he called out. “It is time to settle the matter between us.”
MALONE FROZE AT THE SOUND OF A VOICE, THE WORDS ricocheting through the silence like a gunshot. Cassiopeia reacted, too, and they both crouched to one side of the jade plinth, identifying that the voice had come from beyond the hall’s main entrance.
Was the Mandarin being spoken to them?
If so, they had no way of understanding.
“That wasn’t Pau Wen,” Cassiopeia whispered.
He agreed. “And we don’t have many options.”
They were positioned in the center of a hall, the plinth their only cover. He risked a glance and noticed shadows in the next chamber, perhaps thirty yards away. Doubtful he and Cassiopeia could make it back to the break in the wall through which they’d entered without being spotted.
He saw worry in her eyes.
They were trapped.
TANG ADVANCED TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE BURIAL CHAMBER and called out again, “Ni Yong, there is nowhere for you to go.”
From the open archway he studied the massive underground palace. The ceiling twinkled with thousands of lights, the floor a surreal three-dimensional map, sparkling with the shimmer of mercury from rivers, lakes, and seas. Now he understood why the government had resisted all requests to open the tomb. The site was bare. Except for a jade table, alive with carvings, in the center, where surely the First Emperor once lay.
The two brothers approached from behind.
“There are annex chambers,” one of them said.
He’d seen the dark doorways, too. “And there is another way out of here.” He pointed across the burial hall to a break in the marble wall on the far side, at least seventy or eighty meters away. “Where is Viktor?”
“Checking the annex rooms.”
He pointed at the distant exit. “Let us see if Ni Yong went there.”
NI SOUGHT REFUGE IN ONE OF SEVERAL ROOMS THAT OPENED off the three anterooms. No lights had been rigged here. He’d watched as Karl Tang and three other men marveled at what he’d already been stunned to see.
Though he was out of their immediate line of sight, there was simply no place to hide. The dim room he’d entered was bare except for a collection of murals. He’d heard Tang’s declaration and knew that he’d have to shoot his way to safety.
That’s what the premier had told him. Was this what he meant?
Unfortunately, Tang had not come alone. Could he take all four? It seemed to be the situation from Pau Wen’s residence all over again, except this time he possessed no savior.
He hoped the burial chamber would capture Tang’s attention long enough that he could slip out the way he’d entered. But before he could retrace his steps and make an escape, the doorway out was blocked by a man. Short, burly, fair-skinned, European, and holding a semi-automatic pistol.
Aimed his way.
The foreigner stood with his body backlit, spine straight, eyes locked ahead. Ni held his gun at his side, the barrel pointed to the floor.
He’d never lift it in time.
Two shots popped.
