The Emperor's Tomb Part 3

He handed her the package.

"Maybe I'll drop by your shop again," she said, adding a smile.

"You do that."

He watched as she sauntered off, merging with the crowd, walking leisurely, not a care in the world.

Tang closed his eyes and allowed the drone of the helicopter's turbine to calm his nerves.

He checked his watch.

9:05 PM here meant 2:05 PM in Antwerp.

So much was happening. His entire future was being determined by a collision of circ.u.mstances, all of which had to be tightly controlled.

At least the problem of Jin Zhao had been resolved.

All was finally a.s.suming its a.s.signed place. Thirty years of dedication about to be rewarded. Every threat had either been eliminated or contained.

Only Ni Yong remained.

FOUR.

ANTWERP, BELGIUM.

2:05 PM.

Ni Yong settled into the black lacquered chair, a Qing-period reproduction. He was familiar with the elegant lines and beautiful curves, this one an excellent example of pre18th century Chinese craftsmanship, the quality and accuracy of its joinery so precise that nails and glue were unnecessary.

His austere-looking host rested in a cane armchair, his face longer than most Chinese, eyes rounder, forehead high, the spa.r.s.e hair slightly curled. Pau Wen wore a jade-colored silk jacket and white trousers.

"Your home is elegant," Ni said in their native language.

Pau nodded at the compliment, accepting the praise with the humility expected of a man nearing seventy. Too young to have been with Mao in 1949 when the People's Revolution swept Chiang Kai-shek and his Nationalists onto Taiwan, Ni knew that Pau's role grew during the 1960s and remained important even after Mao died in 1976.

Then, ten years later, Pau left China.

Ending up here, in Belgium of all places.

"I wanted my residence," Pau said, "to remind me of home."

The house, located a few kilometers outside Antwerp, appeared on the exterior to be a simple structure of high gray walls, with multi-tiered roofs, flaring eaves, and two towers that incorporated all the fundamental elements-enclosure, symmetry, hierarchy-of traditional Chinese architecture. The inside was bright, airy, and reflected the colors and styles of cla.s.sic decor, though all the modern conveniences-air-conditioning, central heat, a security system, satellite television-were present.

Ni was familiar with the design.

A siheyuan.

The ultimate symbol of Chinese wealth-a multifamily residence with a central courtyard enclosed by four buildings, usually embellished with a garden and deck. Once the homes of n.o.bles, now they were affordable only to Chinese military, Party hierarchy, or the abominable new rich.

"This," Ni said, "reminds me of a residence I visited recently in the northeast, owned by a local mayor. We found two hundred and fifty gold bars hidden inside. Quite a feat for a man who barely made a few thousand yuan a year. Of course, being the mayor, he controlled the local economy, which the area's business owners, and foreign investors, apparently recognized. I arrested him."

"Then you executed him. Quickly, I'm sure."

He realized Pau would be familiar with the Chinese judicial system.

"Tell me, Minister, what brings you to Europe, and to me?"

Ni headed the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection of the Communist Party of China. Directly under the National Congress, on the same level as the all-powerful Central Committee, he was charged with rooting out corruption and malfeasance.

"You are not an official I would want as an enemy," Pau said. "I have been told that you are the most feared man in China."

He'd heard that label, too.

"Others say you may also be the most honest man in China."

He'd heard that description, as well. "And you, Pau Wen, are still one of our citizens. You never relinquished those rights."

"I am proud of my Chinese heritage."

"I've come to reclaim some of that heritage."

They sat in a drawing room that opened toward an inner courtyard dotted with flowering trees. Bees flitted from one fragrant bloom to another, their buzzes and the fountain's gurgle the only disturbances. Gla.s.s doors and silk curtains separated them from an adjacent study.

"Apparently," Ni said, "when you left the homeland, you decided that some of our artifacts would come with you."

Pau laughed. "Do you have any idea what it was like when Mao was alive? Tell me, Minister, in your exalted position, as keeper of the Party's conscience, do you have any conception of our history?"

"At the moment, only your thievery concerns me."

"I have been gone from China nearly three decades. Why is my thievery only now becoming important?"

He'd been warned about Pau Wen, a trained historian, skillful orator, and master at turning adversity into advantage. Both Mao and Deng Xiaoping had made use of his talents.

"Your crime has only recently come to my attention."

"An anonymous informant?"

He nodded. "We are fortunate to have them."

"And you make it so easy. You even have a website. All they do is forward an e-mail, with no name or address, loaded with accusations. Tell me, are there any repercussions for filing a false report?"

He wasn't going to fall into that trap. "On the walk in from the front gate I noticed a pottery horse from the Han dynasty. A bronze chime bell from the Zhou period. A Tang dynasty figurine. All originals, stolen by you."

"How would you know that?"

"You were the overseer of a number of museums and collections, an easy matter for you to appropriate whatever you may have desired."

Pau rose. "Might I show you something, Minister?"

Why not? He wanted to see more of the house.

He followed the older man out into the courtyard, which triggered memories of his own family's ancestral home in Sichuan, a province of jade-green hills and well-tended fields. For 700 years Nis had lived there, within a copse of bamboo that outlined fertile rice paddies. There'd been a courtyard in that house, too. One difference, though. It wasn't bricks, but pounded earth that had paved that s.p.a.ce.

"Do you live here alone?" Ni asked.

So large a house would demand constant care, and everything appeared immaculate. Yet he'd seen or heard no one.

"More of that investigator in you. Asking questions?"

"It seems a simple inquiry."

Pau smiled. "My life is one of self-imposed solitude."

Not really an answer, but he'd not expected one.

They wove a path around potted shrubs and dwarf yews and approached a tall black door, with a red disk, at the courtyard's opposite side. Beyond lay a s.p.a.cious hall, supported by ma.s.sive pillars that stood beneath green-colored fretwork. One wall displayed bookshelves, another hung scrolls of Chinese script. Soft light permeated window papers. He noticed the careful woodwork, the silk hangings, curio cabinets, hardwood tables, the objects displayed as if in a museum.

"My collection," Pau said.

Ni stared at the trove.

"It is true, Minister. You saw valuable objects of art when you entered my home. Those are precious. But this is the real treasure." Pau motioned and they walked farther into the room. "Here, for example. A glazed pottery model. Han dynasty, 210 BCE."

He studied the sculpture, fashioned out of a lime-colored stone. The figure of a man turned a crank handle for what looked like a rotary mill.

"It shows something quite remarkable," Pau said. "Grain was poured into an open receptacle on top and the mill winnowed what was inside, separating the husks and stalk. This type of machine was not known in Europe until nearly two thousand years later, when Dutch sailors imported it from China."

Another pedestal displayed a ceramic figure on horseback, with a stirrup lying beside. Pau caught his interest.

"That's a Tang dynasty piece. 6th to 7th century CE. Notice the warrior on the horse. His feet are in stirrups. China developed the stirrup centuries ago, though it did not make it to Europe until their Middle Ages. The concept of a medieval knight, on horseback, armed with lance and shield, would not have been possible but for the Chinese stirrup."

He gazed around at the artifacts, maybe a hundred or more.

"I collected these from village to village," Pau said, "grave to grave. Many came from imperial tombs located in the 1970s. And you're right, I did have my choice from museums and private collections."

Pau pointed to a water clock that he said was from 113 BCE. A sundial, gun barrels, porcelain, astronomical etchings, each invention evidence of Chinese ingenuity. One curious item caught Ni's attention-a small ladle balanced on a smooth bronze plate upon which he noticed engravings.

"The compa.s.s," Pau said. "Conceived by the Chinese 2,500 years ago. The ladle is carved from magnetic lodestone and always comes to rest facing south. While Western man was barely capable of existing, the Chinese learned how to navigate with this device."

"All of this belongs to the People's Republic," Ni said.

"To the contrary. I saved this from the People's Republic."

He was tiring of the game. "Say what you mean, old man."

"During our glorious Cultural Revolution I once watched as a 2,000-year-old corpse, discovered in perfect condition at Changsha, was tossed by soldiers into the sun to rot, while peasants threw stones at it. That was the fate of millions of our cultural objects. Imagine the scientific and historical information lost from such foolishness."

He cautioned himself not to listen too closely to Pau's talk. As he'd taught his subordinates, good investigators never allowed themselves to be swayed by an interrogee.

His host motioned to a wooden and bra.s.s abacus. "That is 1,500 years old, used in a bank or an office as a calculator. The West had no idea of such a device until many centuries later. The decimal system, the zero, negative numbers, fractions, the value of pi. These concepts-everything in this room-all were first conceived by the Chinese."

"How do you know this?" Ni asked.

"It's our history. Unfortunately, our glorious emperors and Mao's People's Revolution rewrote the past to suit their needs. We Chinese have little idea from where we came, or what we accomplished."

"And you know?"

"Look over there, Minister."

He saw what looked like a printer's plate, characters ready to be inked on paper.

"Movable type was invented in China in 1045 CE, long before Gutenberg duplicated the feat in Germany. We also developed paper before the West. The seismograph, the parachute, the rudder, masts and sailing, all of these first came from China." Pau swept his arms out, encompa.s.sing the room. "This is our heritage."

Ni clung to the truth. "You are still a thief."

Pau shook his head. "Minister, my thievery is not what brings you here. I've been honest with you. So tell me, why have you come?"

Abruptness was another known Pau trait, used to command a conversation by controlling its direction. Since Ni was tired of the banter, he glanced around, hoping to spot the artifact. As described, it stood about three centimeters tall and five centimeters long, combining a dragon's head on a tiger's body with the wings of a phoenix. Crafted of bronze, it had been found in a 3rd century BCE tomb.

"Where is the dragon lamp?"

A curious look spread across Pau's wrinkled face. "She asked the same thing."

Not the answer he expected. "She?"

"A woman. Spanish, with a touch of Moroccan, I believe. Quite the beauty. But impatient, like you."

"Who?"

"Ca.s.siopeia Vitt."

Now he wanted to know, "And what did you tell her?"

"I showed her the lamp." Pau pointed at a table toward the far end of the hall. "It sat right there. Quite precious. I found it in a tomb, from the time of the First Emperor. Discovered in ... 1978, I believe. I brought the lamp, and all these items, with me when I left China in 1987."

"Where is the lamp now?"

"Miss Vitt wanted to purchase it. She offered an impressive price, and I was tempted, but said no."

He waited for an answer.