BATANG

7:00 AM

TANG STOOD AT THE WINDOW AND SHADED HIS EYES FROM A bar of golden sun cresting over the eastern peaks. He nursed a cup of sweet black tea, scented with cardamom. He half expected to hear the romantic wail of a conch shell, its rising tone like a foghorn, echoing off the cliffs. A brother had once, each day at dawn, blown that siren from the monastery walls.

He glanced down at the street.

Batang was coming alive, a trickle of people slowly becoming a stream. Most wore wool gowns with red waistbands and saffron caps, ankle-length with high collars, which offered protection from a wind that leaned into the building and rattled the wooden walls. He knew the weather here was fickle, particularly this time of year. Though high in altitude, the late-spring air would be surprisingly warm, heated by UV rays that the thin atmosphere did little to negate.

Viktor was downstairs eating. Two hours ago he'd received word through his satellite phone that Ni and Sokolov had left Yecheng, in custody. He'd ordered the chopper to deliver his prisoners then come for him at seven thirty. He'd been pleased to hear that Malone and Vitt had been captured and, he assumed, were now dead.

All of the elements were finally dropping into place.

He breathed in the warm air, redolent with the smell of oily butter lamps. Outside the panes, the dull crystal ting of bells could be heard.

The door opened.

He turned and said to Viktor, "It's time for me to leave. The helicopter will return shortly."

On the bed lay equipment that Viktor had brought with him earlier. Some rope, a backpack, flashlight, knife, and fleece-lined jacket.

"The walk up to the hall is a little over an hour," Tang said. "The trail starts west of town and winds upward. The hall lies on the other side of the ridge, just past a suspension bridge. Buddhas carved into the rock, beyond the bridge, mark the way. It is not hard to find."

"What happened in Yecheng?"

"It's not important."

Viktor Tomas was apparently still concerned about Cassiopeia Vitt. Strange. To him, women were nothing but a distraction. Men like Viktor should feel the same way. Odd that he didn't.

Viktor gathered up his gear, slipping on a leather jacket.

"Take that trail," Tang said. "Make sure no one from here follows. Arrive at the hall unnoticed and enter with caution. I'm told there are few there, so you should be able to gain entrance easily. The main gates are left open."

"I'll cover your back," Viktor said. "But, Minister, you have a more immediate problem."

He didn't like the words or the tone. "Why do you say that?"

"Because Malone and Cassiopeia Vitt just drove into town."

CASSIOPEIA ADMIRED BATANG. WHITEWASHED ADOBE WALLS, red moon and sun designs above the doors, firewood and dung bricks piled on the roofs--all typical for the area. A mixture of Mongols, Chinese, Arabs, and Tibetans who, unlike the populations of their respective countries, had learned to live together. They'd just driven nearly two hours through a skeletal landscape, stripped to its rocky bones, across a rough road.

"My gut is still reeling from those rations," Malone said as they stepped from the Rover.

Along the way they'd found some food in the vehicle, rock-hard bars of cookie crumbs and milk powder mixed with what she thought was lard. Tasted like sweet cardboard. Her stomach was also upset from the bars and the jostling. Strange she'd get motion sick--one of those weaknesses she did not like to display or discuss--but firm ground felt good.

"Ni said the monastery is west of town," she said. "We're going to have to ask its location."

Guarded faces watched both her and Malone. Glancing up, she spotted two ravens tumbling over each other in the morning sky. The air had definitely thinned and to compensate she'd found herself breathing faster, but she told herself to stop, as that would solve nothing.

"Asking doesn't seem like a good idea," Malone said as he stood near the hood.

She agreed. "I don't think they get a lot of foreigners like us here."

TANG KEPT AWAY FROM THE GRIMY WINDOW, LOOSE IN ITS frame.

"Seems you were right about Malone," he said to Viktor. "He is a man to be respected."

"So is she."

He faced Viktor. "As you keep reminding me."

Frustratingly, his need of this foreigner seemed to never end. "I'm going to leave. Occupy those two until I am away from town."

"And what am I to do after I occupy them?"

"Make sure they head up into the mountains. Soldiers are there we can now use."

"And are those soldiers there for me, too?"

"Hardly. Since you know about them."

But he wondered if Viktor believed him. Hard to know anything about this guarded man. Always, something more seemed to percolate inside him. Like now. He'd come into the room knowing Malone and Vitt were here, yet he'd held that information until he was ready to reveal it.

Thankfully, by nightfall he would be rid of this man.

Along with all the others.

MALONE HEARD THE SOUND AT THE SAME TIME AS CASSIOPEIA. The rhythmic thump of rotors. Low, steady, hypnotic, like a heartbeat.

"That's a chopper," he said.

"Coming closer."

He strained into the ever-brightening sky and saw the craft, swooping in from the north, miles away. The helicopter cleared the peaks, then headed for a meadow of edelweiss beyond the edge of town. A distinctive green color and red star emblazoned on its side made clear its owner.

The People's Liberation Army.

"It's for Tang," a new voice said.

Malone turned.

Viktor stood ten feet away.

TANG FLED THE HOTEL THROUGH A REAR DOOR. ITS PROPRIETOR had been most accommodating, the few hundred yuan Viktor provided quelling any questions. He passed a carpentry shop, wood spinner, key maker, and tailor shop, following a rear alley that led straight to a meadow north of the town limits. Colorful edelweiss could be seen at the far end of the alley.

He heard the helicopter draw closer.

Malone and Vitt still being alive was a problem. They had been unknowns from the start, used for an advantage, but now they were drawing too close. And time was running out.

He found his phone and dialed his office, thankful for satellites unaffected by mountainous terrain. His chief aide answered immediately.

"Tell our friends in Islamabad that I want them to do as I asked."

"They are waiting to hear."

"Make sure they understand success is all that counts. Nothing less. Assure them I will not forget the favor."

"Still only one target?"

"No. Three. And I want them all eliminated."

Chapter Seventy-TWO

MALONE STUDIED VIKTOR. A COIL OF ROPE OVER ONE SHOULDER, backpack on the other, a thick jacket zipped in front. "Where are you headed? As if I have to ask."

"What are you doing here?"

Cassiopeia stepped forward. "Tang has Ni and Sokolov."

"He already knows that," Malone said. "You're a busy guy. First, you kidnapped Cassiopeia, tortured her, let her escape, then allowed us to fly into a Chinese ambush. After that, you disappear and allow us to nearly get killed two more times. Now you're here."

"You're still alive, aren't you? I saved your sorry hide in that tomb."

"No. You saved Ni. That's part of your mission."

"You have no idea about my mission."

Malone saw the chopper rising into the morning sky. "Tang's leaving?"

"I have to go," Viktor said.

"So do we," Cassiopeia said.

"The Russians want to make sure Ni Yong is the next premier of this godforsaken place," Malone said. "And they want Sokolov back."

"Get real, Malone. You think they're the only ones who want that? Why do you think Stephanie Nelle was in Copenhagen? I'm working for her. She knew I had Cassiopeia. She okayed it. She wanted you involved. I'm not the manipulator here, I'm just a pawn on the board. As are you two."

The realization struck him hard. Stephanie had played him. Believe me, I hedged my bets. I'm not relying on Ivan 100 percent.

Now he knew what she'd meant.

"I'm just doing my job," Viktor said. "Do yours, or get the hell out of the way."

Malone grabbed Viktor's arm. "You risked Cassiopeia's life for this game."

"No, actually Stephanie did that. But lucky for us you were around to save the day."

He shoved Viktor back.

The coiled rope dropped from his shoulder at the same time Viktor's other arm slipped free of the backpack.

But Viktor did not retaliate.

"You enjoy killing that pilot?" Malone asked. "Blew him out of the sky. Was that part of your mission, too?"

Viktor stayed silent.

"You're a murderer," Malone said. "You killed that pilot for no other reason than to suck us in. To prove to us you were on our side. Then, as soon as we get to the tomb, there you are, trying to kill us again. One of those flashlights searching through that fog was yours."

Anger flared in Viktor's eyes.

"Did you enjoy torturing Cassiopeia? Taunting me with what was happening. You pour the water yourself?"

Viktor catapulted himself into Malone, pounding them both onto the Range Rover's hood. The street around them cleared as they rolled down to hard earth. Malone freed himself of the grip and sprang to his feet, but Viktor was faster, already up, planting a kick to the stomach.

The breath left him.

He recovered and swung, catching Viktor in the chest with a sweeping jab. He struggled with the thin air, breathing in heavy gasps, the exertion taxing his lungs, the world spinning. The lack of oxygen, combined with Viktor's blow, stunned him more than he'd expected.

He caught hold of himself, focused, and advanced.

Viktor stood his ground, but Malone was ready, dodging one blow, then another, ramming his right fist into Viktor's gut. He followed with two more blows. Like slugging stone, but he did not relent. An uppercut to the jaw and Viktor teetered on weak knees, then fell. He waited to see if Viktor would stand, but he remained down.

He sucked deep breaths. Damn this altitude. He turned and started back toward where Cassiopeia stood.

He never saw what hit him, but it was solid and delivered square across his spine. Pain doubled him over, his knees buckling. Another blow to his shoulders drove him forward, and he hit the pavement, then rolled, Viktor on top, grabbing two handfuls of his jacket, yanking him up.

"STOP," CASSIOPEIA YELLED.

She'd watched as Viktor had grabbed a shovel propped beside one of the shop doors and blindsided a retreating Malone. Then he'd followed the blow with another. Now he straddled a clearly woozy Cotton, ready to slam the back of his head into the pavement.

"Let him go," she said, staring hard into Viktor's angry eyes.

His breaths came quick and hard.

"Let him go," she said again, her voice lower.

"I told you next time it would be different," Viktor muttered as he released his hold and climbed off.

The spectators drifted off. Fight over. No police were in sight. She doubted this town employed any. Viktor moved toward his backpack, reshouldered it, then looped his left arm through the rope coil.

Cotton was reaching for his spine, still on the ground.

"Tang has ordered an attack on you," Viktor said. "From the Pakistanis. The border is up there on the route to the monastery. There are soldiers, waiting."

"You realize that he's probably ordered that attack for you, too," she said.

"The thought occurred to me. That's why I'm going up first. I'd prefer that neither one of you follow, but you're not going to listen to me, are you?"

"You're going to need some help."

"Malone was right. I risked your life too many times."

"And you also saved it."

"I'm not doing it again."

"Risking? Or saving?"

"Neither one, and since I know you won't stay here, the trail west of town leads to a suspension bridge. Beyond are some carvings that point the way to the hall. Wait an hour. That should give me time to do something. Maybe I can lead them off." Viktor pointed at Cotton. "He's not going to be ready to go till then anyway."

He started to leave.

She grabbed his arm and felt him shudder. "What are you going to do?"

"Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He gestured with his head toward Cotton.

"Why didn't you just tell me in Belgium that you were working for Stephanie?"

"It's not my way."

"Torturing me is?"

"Don't think I enjoyed that. I had no choice."

She saw the pain in his eyes and wanted to know, "Are you loyal to anything?"

"Myself."

But she wasn't fooled. "There's more to you than you want anyone to know."

He gestured again. "A lot like him."

Then she realized. "You wanted a fight here, didn't you?"

"I had to delay your departure. Tell him I regret the cheap shot, but it seemed the only way to slow you down."

"Are you here to kill Tang?"

"There are a lot of people who would be pleased with that. I had the chance, just a short while ago, to shoot him down."

"Why didn't you?"

"Too soon. I need to know what's up there in those mountains. Ni is up there. I have to get him out."

"What are you going to do with Sokolov?"

He did not answer her.

"You going to kill him?"

More silence.

"Tell me," she said, her voice rising.

"You're just going to have to trust me."

"I do."

"Then we'll be fine."

And he left.

Chapter Seventy-THREE

NI ADMIRED HIS PRISON. THE BEDCHAMBER WAS SPECTACULAR. Marble columns sprouted upward toward a coffered ceiling, bas-relief dragons twisting from bottom to top. Frescoes on the walls depicted an emperor's journey, one wall showing him leaving his palace, the procession unfolding through the mountains along two more, and ending on the fourth at a cluster of buildings streaked with purple, gray, and shades of ocher, rising from the shoulder of the mountain.

Here. This exact place.

As depicted by the artist, and as Ni had seen flying in on the helicopter, glaciers brooding above a barren valley.

He and Sokolov had been flown straight from Yecheng. They'd been treated well, escorted from a landing pad outside the walls by two younger men adorned in woolen robes, their hair wound on top, secured with red tassels, red woven sashes wrapping their waists.

A butter lamp the size of a washbasin and fashioned of beaten copper burned in one corner, scenting the room. Windows hung open, cool air seeping inside, mellowing the flame's hypnotic influence. Occasionally, the distant bellow of a yak could be heard. He realized there was no danger of him escaping since the windows opened into a courtyard within the outer walls.

Sokolov sat in one of several lacquered chairs, the furniture exquisite in both detail and design. Expensive rugs cushioned the marble floor. Apparently, the Ba believed in living comfortably.

The door opened.

He turned to see Pau Wen.

"I was told that you had returned to China," Ni said to the older man.

Pau wore a golden-yellow robe, an interesting choice in color since Ni knew it symbolized the throne. Two more younger men stood behind Pau, each carrying a loaded crossbow, held ready.

"Minister Tang is on his way," Pau said.

"For me?" Sokolov asked.

Pau nodded. "Your revolutionary discovery is vital to what he has planned."

"How do you know of my discovery?"

"Because Karl Tang is a brother of the Ba."

He recalled the phone conversation and the split between Pau and Tang. "You lie well."

Pau seemed to absorb the insult. "I have been of the brotherhood nearly my entire adult life. I was subject to the knife at age twenty-eight. I rose to Hegemon by age forty. Never doubt, though, that I love China. Its culture. Its heritage. I have done all I can to preserve it."

"You are a eunuch, as deceitful as all of them who came before you."

"But there were many of us who did great things, who performed our duties with skill and honor. In fact, Minister, history shows that there were far more of those than of the other."

"And which one are you?" Ni asked.

"I am no monster," Pau said. "I have willingly returned home."

He was not impressed. "And why is that?"

"To see who will lead China."

"That seems already decided."

"Your cynicism is self-defeating. I tried to warn you of that in Belgium."

"Where's my son?" Sokolov asked. "I was told he was here."

Pau motioned and the two brothers standing behind him parted. Another brother strode forward holding the hand of a small boy, perhaps four or five, the same hair and face as Sokolov. The boy spotted his father and rushed forward. They embraced and Sokolov began to rattle off words in Russian, both of them sobbing.

"You see," Pau said. "He is fine. He has been here all along, well cared for."

Sokolov was not listening, smothering the boy with kisses. Ni, unmarried, could only imagine the agony the father had endured.

"I have gone to a great deal of trouble to lure everyone here," Pau said.

That he did believe. "And what will that decide?"

"The fate of China, as has happened many times through the centuries. That's what has made our culture so special. It is what set us apart from all others. No emperor ever ruled solely because of his bloodline. Instead it was the emperor's responsibility to set a moral example for both his government and his people. If he grew corrupt, or incompetent, rebellion has always been regarded as a legitimate recourse. Any peasant who could gather an army could found a new dynasty. And that happened many times. If prosperity came from his rule, then he was deemed to have gained the 'mandate of Heaven.' His male heirs were expected to succeed him, but they, too, could be overthrown if judged unfit. The mandate of Heaven not only must be maintained, but must be earned."

"And the Communist Party earned theirs'?"

"Hardly. They manufactured it. But that illusion has become all too obvious. They forgot both their Legalist roots and Confucian morals. The people long ago judged them unfit to rule."

"And you now have raised the army to overthrow them?"

"Not me, Minister."

Out the window he heard a helicopter approaching.

"That is Tang," Pau said. "Finally, he arrives."

MALONE SAT PROPPED AGAINST THE RANGE ROVER'S TIRE, RUBBING his back. He recalled clearly what had happened last year in Central Asia, when he and Viktor had first squared off, and what Stephanie had said.

Viktor, if you ever get tired of freelancing and want a job, let me know.

Apparently, Viktor had taken the offer to heart.

He resented what Stephanie had not told him, but liked the fact that Ivan certainly didn't know Viktor was working every side.

Served the smug SOB right.

The street had returned to normal, the locals resuming their routines.

"That hurt," he muttered. "How long has he been gone?"

Cassiopeia knelt beside him. "Nearly an hour."

Malone's head had cleared from the dizziness, and though his spine was sore he was otherwise okay.

He stood in a half crouch.

"He said to wait an hour before we followed."

He glared at her. "He say anything else?"

"He was sorry for the cheap shot."

He glared at her.

"And for us to trust him."

"Yeah, right."

"I think he's trying to help."

"Cassiopeia, I don't know what the man is trying to do. We know the Russians want Sokolov back, but you have to realize that, if necessary, they'll kill him to keep him from the Chinese, or the Americans."

"If Stephanie is yanking Viktor's chain, she wouldn't want Sokolov dead."

"Don't sell her short. She wants him alive, but she doesn't want the Chinese to have him, either."

"You realize that Stephanie probably knew I was being tortured," she said. "Viktor was hers."

"No, she didn't. She told me she only knew Viktor nabbed you after he made contact with me. I told her about the torture."

He saw the frustration in her eyes. He felt it, too.

She told him about the Pakistanis whom Tang had involved, waiting for them in the highlands.

He forced himself to his feet. "I'll take my chances." He glanced around. "We need to find the route up."

"Not a problem."

"Let me guess. Viktor told you that, too."

Chapter Seventy-FOUR

TANG ENTERED THE MAIN COURTYARD. EVERGREENS PLANTED during the Ming dynasty rose from breaks in the pavement. Colossal gates, which to him had always seemed to require giants to move, hung open, their doors carved with neolithic images that spoke of adventure and ruggedness. The flagstones beneath his feet had been laid centuries before, many engraved with poems, which gave the glazed structure at the courtyard's center its name--Huan yong ting, Pavilion Encircled by Songs. Water flowed in a carefully mapped course along a man-made stream, spanned by several rounded wooden bridges.

Above each of the multistoried buildings enclosing the space, an upturned eave reached out. At the corners, slender wooden pillars polished with layers of red paint and lacquer shone like glass. For centuries brothers had resided here, divided by a hierarchy defined by age and status. A place once innocent of electricity, far more suitable for birds than people, it had been transformed by the Ba into a sanctuary.

The helicopter was gone.

Only his footsteps, the trickle of the water, and a metallic din of chimes disturbed the serenity.

Two brothers waited at the end of the courtyard, up a terraced stairway, each dressed in a wool gown with a red waistband. Their hair was shaved short in front but plaited in back. Olive-black eyes barely blinked. He strode straight toward a veranda supported by more pillars painted blood red and decorated in silver and gold. He climbed three-quarters of the way up, stopping at the base of the third terrace. Behind the brothers opened double doors, flanked on either side by two massive elephant tusks.

Pau Wen stepped from the portal.

Finally, they were face-to-face. After so many years.

Pau descended the steps.

Tang waited, then bowed. "Everything went according to your plan."

"You have done well. The end is now in sight."

He enjoyed the feeling of pride. He handed Pau the watch from the imperial library chamber. "I thought you would like this back."

Pau accepted the gift with a bow. "My thanks."

"Where is Ni Yong?"

"Waiting. Inside."

"Then let us finish this and begin a new day for China."

"IT'S AWFUL QUIET UP HERE," MALONE SAID.

Their trek, so far, had been uneventful.

An ocean of jagged, snowy summits engulfed them. What had he once read? A land of black wolves and blue poppies--ibex and snow leopards. Where fairies congregated, he recalled another observer noting. Possibly even the inspiration behind James Hilton's Shangri-la.

No sign of Viktor yet, or of soldiers.

Little sound besides the scuffle of their feet on the rocky trail.

In the distance rose hardscrabble hills, washed with green and streaked in red. Herds of livestock and nomad tents flying yellow flags dotted the slopes. Down in one of the gorges he spied the decaying carcass of a donkey that had slipped to its death.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, ahead and above them.

He kept walking, as if unaware, and whispered to her, "Did you--"

"I saw it," she muttered.

Four men.

The trail ahead led into a stretch of poplars. Cassiopeia led the way.

"Get ready to move," he breathed, his hand reaching for the gun beneath his jacket.

He heard the crack of a weapon, then a bullet zipped by.

TANG ENTERED THE ROOM AND STARED AT NI YONG. PAU WEN had already removed Sokolov and the boy. Hopefully, a father-and-son reunion would calm the Russian and ensure his cooperation.

"Our battle is over," he said to Ni.

"And how will my death be explained?"

"A tragic helicopter crash. You were in Xinjiang province investigating more corruption. Isn't that what you do?"

"My staff knows where I was going and why."

"Your staff will either cooperate or be silenced."

"And what of the police in Yecheng? The two pilots on the plane I commandeered in Xi'an? They know things."

He shrugged. "All easily eliminated. Did you think me so stupid? I knew you were monitoring my satellite calls. We used that as a way to send messages. Did you enjoy the debate between Pau and myself?"

Ni shrugged. "Hardly a dramatic feat for two such accomplished liars."

"I was kept informed of everything you did. That is how I knew you were headed for Belgium."

"And the attempt on my life there?"

"That was real. I was hoping to end the problem. But you apparently were able to avoid the men I sent."

"Actually, Pau Wen saved my life."

Had he heard correctly? Pau? Viktor had been unable to learn what had happened at Pau's residence since he'd been in Antwerp, dealing with Cassiopeia Vitt. None of the men he'd sent had ever reported back, and Pau had, characteristically, offered nothing. He would have to speak with the master about the matter. For now he made clear, "The Hegemon is not afraid to shed blood. If he intervened, then there was good reason."

"Spoken like a true Legalist. Congratulations, Minister, on your victory. History will note you as the man who finally destroyed China."

MALONE DOVE TO ROCKY GROUND AND SOUGHT WHAT COVER the sparse poplars offered. Cassiopeia did the same and they belly-crawled across sharp gravel, finding a boulder large enough to provide them both protection.

More shots came their way.

"This is getting serious," Cassiopeia said.

"You think?"

"They're not Chinese," she said. "I caught a glimpse. Definitely Pakistanis. They seem to know where we're headed."

"That thought occurred to me, too." So he had to add, "I told you he was trouble."

She ignored him.

"We have to go that way." He pointed behind them. "And those soldiers are close enough to do some damage."

"We have to trust he'll handle it," she finally said.

"That was your call, not mine. You go first. I'll cover."

He gripped the Chinese double-action pistol.

Cassiopeia prepared herself, too.

Then she scampered off toward a stand of junipers.

NI GLARED AT KARL TANG.

Though Tang had tried hard to conceal it, he'd caught the surprise when he'd explained that Pau Wen had been the one to stop the gunmen. Perhaps there had been more to their debate than staged drama?

"We have led you like a bear on a leash," Tang said. "You listened in on our calls, and we fed you exactly the information we wanted you to know. You traveled to Belgium, then to Xi'an, and finally here, all at our invitation."

"Does that we include the premier?"

"He is of no importance. An old man who will soon be dead."

That prospect saddened him. He'd come to admire the premier, a moderate who'd done much to temper communist fanaticism. Not a hint of scandal had ever touched him.

"Pau Wen is our master," Tang said. "The brothers, myself included, have all pledged our allegiance. We thought a perceived war between Pau and me would lull you into a false sense of security. I do have to say that this was to have played out differently. You were to die in Belgium."

"And Pau never mentioned that he killed all four men?"

Tang's face was like stone. "Whatever he did was correct."

"Surely Cassiopeia Vitt and Cotton Malone were not part of your plan."

He shrugged. "The master required the use of her and Malone to return to China."

A distant crack echoed out the windows.

Then more.

"Gunfire," Tang said. "For your allies."

"Vitt and Malone?" He kept his tone casual, though he was deeply concerned.

"They escaped Yecheng, but now they will die here, in the mountains, like you."

Chapter Seventy-FIVE

CASSIOPEIA WAITED FOR COTTON TO REACH HER. HE'D COVERED her retreat with some well-placed shots.

He arrived and they both raced forward, using more trees as protection. Sharp bursts of rifle fire accompanied them, and bullets pinged around them. Their cover vanished as the trail twisted out of the trees. To her right she saw more sheer canyons lined with shadows. They paralleled the trail's loose edge, careful with each step. A brilliant sun blazed on the far side of the gorge, dulled only by black mountain slate. Thirty meters below, water the color of road dust rushed and tumbled, tossing foamy spray high into air. They clambered up a steep embankment, past scree slopes of collapsed moraines.

She spotted the bridge Viktor had mentioned.

Ropes ran from crossbeams anchored into stone piles on either side of the gorge. The piles weren't much, just rocks, one atop the other, brushwood in between acting as mortar. A footwalk of boards held aloft by hemp stretched thirty meters across the river.

Intermittent gunfire echoed in the distance.

She glanced back.

No soldiers.

More shots chattered.

"Maybe he's leading them away," she said.

No comment, though she could see he was skeptical. He stuffed his gun into a pocket.

She did the same, then stepped onto the bridge.

NI HEARD MORE FARAWAY SHOTS.

"You will have a grand state funeral," Tang said. "It will be quite the spectacle. You are, after all, a respected man."

"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 naive."

"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.

Chapter 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.

"I was unaware that there existed a door in the wall," Tang said.

Ni caught the irritation in the words.

"Only the Hegemon and a select few brothers know of this chamber," Pau said. "You were not one of those. But I thought now a good time to show you both the Ba's most precious possession."

MALONE STARED DOWN AT THE WATER, SPEWING BETWEEN ROCKS as it bounded down from the mountains.

He waited for her to surface.

But she never did.

He focused on the roaring gush, which surely carried in its formidable current silt and more rock along with a swish of foam. He wanted to leap after her, but realized that was impossible.

He would not survive the fall, either.

He watched, disbelieving.

After all they'd been through the past three days.

She was gone.

On the opposite side of the gorge movement caught his eye. Viktor emerged from the rocks and approached the cliff edge.

Malone's anger boiled to rage. "You sorry bastard," he yelled. "You set us up. You killed her."

Viktor did not reply. Instead he was hauling up the remnants of the bridge, tying the rope he'd brought to its tattered end.

"Go," Viktor yelled. "Get up there. I'll go after her."

Like hell, he thought.

He found his gun.

Viktor tossed the bridge back over the edge. The rope found the water, its end dipped into the churning river. His enemy stared across, as if to say, Are you going to shoot me or let met try to find her?

The helicopter was swooping around for another pass.

Malone leveled the gun.

Cannon fire roared through the gorge. A deadly hail of heavy-caliber rounds pinged off stone just yards away, approaching in an ever-widening storm.

He dove for cover as the chopper zipped past.

"Get up there," Viktor yelled. "Ni and Sokolov need you."

And Viktor started climbing down.

What he wouldn't give for some rope of his own. He wanted to kill Viktor Tomas, but the bastard was right.

Ni Yong and Sokolov.

Find them.

TANG ENTERED THE WINDOWLESS CHAMBER, ITS SPACE DIVIDED into four rooms. Pau Wen had stepped inside first, followed by Ni Yong. Two brothers waited outside, each carrying a crossbow.

Soft lights illuminated rose-red walls, the ceiling a deep blue and dotted with golden stars. The center chamber was dominated by a bronze plinth upon which lay a jade burial suit.

He was stunned by the sight, and now understood why the First Emperor's tomb had been bare.

"I rescued Qin Shi," Pau said. "Unfortunately, the jade altar upon which he lay was too large to transport. It obviously had been constructed within the mound. But this I could retrieve." Pau pointed to the artifact. "The head and face masks, jacket, sleeves, gloves, pants, and foot coverings were tailored for the occupant. Which meant Qin Shi was no more than a hundred seventy-five centimeters tall and quite thin. So different from the image of a towering, portly man history has created." Pau hesitated, as if to allow his words to sink in. "Two thousand and seven pieces of jade, sewn together with golden thread."

"You counted them?" Ni asked.

"This is the most important archaeological find in all Chinese history. The body of our First Emperor, encased in jade. It deserves careful study. We estimate about a kilogram of golden thread was utilized to bind the stone. This suit would have taken artisans about a decade to produce."

Tang wanted to know, "You plundered the entire site?"

"Every object. Here it all rests, in safety, inside a makeshift dixia gongdian. Not quite a traditional underground palace, but sufficient."

The remaining three chambers brimmed with funerary objects. Bronze sculptures, copper vessels, lacquered wood, and bamboo ware. Objects of gold, silver, and jade. Musical instruments, pottery, and porcelain. Swords, spearheads, and arrows.

"Two thousand one hundred and sixty-five items," Pau said. "Even the bones of the builders and the concubines. I made a complete photographic record of the tomb. The exact location of everything is precisely documented."

"How gracious of you," Ni said. "I'm sure historians will one day appreciate your diligence."

"Does sarcasm make you feel superior?"

"What am I supposed to be? Impressed? You are a liar and a thief, just like I said the first time we met. Along with being a murderer."

"Do you realize what Mao would have done with this?" Pau asked, motioning to the jade suit. "And the incompetents who ruled after him. None of it would have survived."

"The terra-cotta warriors have," Ni said.

"True. But for how long? The site is deteriorating by the day. And what is being done? Nothing. The communists care nothing for our past."

"And you do?"

"Minister, my methods may have been unconventional, but the results are clear."

Ni stepped close to the plinth.

Tang kept back, himself drawn to the surreal image--like a robot lying there, stiff, unbending. But he was growing impatient. He wanted to know why Pau had killed the four men in Belgium and allowed Ni to survive. Why had the master lied to him about the oil lamps in Qin Shi's tomb?

"Did you open the suit?" Ni asked.

Pau shook his head. "That did not seem right. Qin deserves our respect, even in death."

"How many hundreds of thousands died so he could rule?" Ni asked.

"That was necessary in his time," Pau said.

"And it still is," Tang felt compelled to add.

"No," Ni said. "Fear and oppression are no longer viable mechanisms. Surely, you can see that we have progressed beyond that. Two-thirds of the world practices democracy, yet we cannot embrace even a few of its qualities?"

"Not while I am in charge," Tang declared.

Ni shook his head. "You will find, as our communist forefathers learned, that force is only a short-term solution. For a government to survive, it must have the willing support of the people." Ni's face tightened. "Has either of you ever visited the petition office in Beijing?"

"Never," Tang said.

"Every day hundreds of people from all over the country are there, waiting in line, to register complaints. Nearly all of them have been victimized. Their son was beaten by a local official. Their land was taken by a developer, with the local government's help. Their child was stolen."

Ni hesitated, and Tang knew he was allowing that charge to hang in the air.

"They are angry at local officials and are convinced that if only someone in the capital hears their case, then their wrongs will be addressed. You and I know they are sadly mistaken. Nothing will ever be done. But those people understand basic democracy. They want the ability to address their government directly. How long do you think we can continue to ignore them?"

Tang knew the answer.

"Forever."

Chapter Seventy-SEVEN

CASSIOPEIA HIT THE WATER HARD AND WAS SWEPT FORWARD with a rush from an overwhelming current, her body tossed about as if in a tornado. The water was cold, but that was the least of her problems. Breathing was her main concern and she managed to thrust her way to the surface, grabbing a quick breath through the foam before the water assaulted her again.

She had to stop moving forward. Eventually she would be propelled into rocks, breaking a bone, smashing her skull, if not killing her. Her ears were filled with a deep rumble and the swirl of a trillion bubbles. She'd yet to touch bottom.

She snagged another breath and caught sight of what lay ahead.

Boulders. Big ones. Their soaked profiles protruding from the surge.

She'd have to risk it.

In a wild scramble, she pawed at the water and tried to steer her course. Her body was tossed with no regard, the water oblivious to everything but gravity. A cloud of brown foam boiled against her face. She kept her arms extended, leading the way, feeling until her hands slammed into something hard.

But she did not bounce off.

Instead, she held tight.

Her head emerged.

Water thundered past her shoulders, but at least she wasn't moving. She sucked several deep breaths, shook the blur from her eyes, and finally realized she was freezing.

MALONE FOLLOWED A TRAIL LINED WITH CHORTEN AND PRAYER walls. A sudden breeze brought the chilling breath of nearby glaciers. He trembled from both the brisk air and a nearly overwhelming intensity, fists closed tight, eyes moist with emotion.

How many more friends did he have to lose?

Gray rabbits scurried across the path, then dove into crevices. He could still hear the water tumbling behind him. The helicopter was gone. Viktor was presumably at the bottom of the gorge, doing whatever he thought he could do.

Damn that son of a bitch.

He hadn't felt such rage since Gary was taken last year. He'd killed his son's abductor without the slightest remorse. And he'd do the same to Viktor.

Right now he had to focus. Protecting Sokolov was the key. Helping Ni Yong, imperative. Obviously, Stephanie had considered both of those objectives important. Why else would she have used both him and Cassiopeia, and enlisted Viktor's help. He'd wondered in Copenhagen why Stephanie had not been overly concerned about Cassiopeia's predicament. And how she knew so much about abiotic and biotic oil.

Now he knew.

She had Viktor on the scene, supposedly looking after her. But had he been?

Stephanie, too, would have to face a few consequences when this was over.

He spotted a stone altar lit by two lamps and approached with caution. The trail ahead veered right and a sheer wall blocked what lay past the turn. Light splintered off the towering gray rock in shimmers and sparkles. He lived in fear of emotions, denying their existence, burying them under an avalanche of responsibilities. Yet in truth, he was utterly dependent upon them--a fact he'd never realized until far too late.

He'd miss Cassiopeia Vitt more than he ever imagined.

He'd loved her--yes, he had--but could never bring himself to utter the words.

Why the hell not?

A gong sounded in the distance.

Deep tones faded, and a great, empty, reverberating silence engulfed him.

NI WAS DETERMINED THAT HE WAS NOT GOING TO SHOW WEAKNESS. He would face these fanatics down to the end.

"The Soviets maintained," he said, "that they could force the people to serve them. Even you, Pau, in Belgium pointed out that mistake."

"The Soviets did indeed make many errors. We must avoid those."

"But I will not allow China to lose its way," Tang declared. "The West tries every day to promote its values and ideologies here, believing that we can be destabilized by some sort of marketing campaign. By democracy."

"You have no idea the dangers we face," Ni said. "We are not the China of Qin Shi's day."

"We are still Chinese," Tang said. "Toppling our government, whether from outside or within, will be far more difficult than it was in the Soviet Union."

Ni watched both Tang and Pau Wen. Men so deceitful were no different from the despots who'd come before them. China did indeed seem doomed to repeat one mistake after another.

He stepped away from the plinth and stared into the three other chambers, not as large as their underground counterparts in Xi'an, but roomy, each filled with grave goods.

Pau approached. "A few of the bronze vessels are filled with liquid. I broke the seal on one and savored an ambrosial aroma. The liquid inside tested for alcohol, sugar, fat--a buttered rum, from over two thousand years ago."

Any other time he'd be impressed, but at the moment he was trying to determine how to avoid dying in a helicopter crash.

"Those bronze lamps," Tang said. "There. Are they the same?"

Ni had already noticed them. Arranged around the walls on pedestals, on shelves, and on the floor. A dragon's head on a tiger's body, with the wings of a phoenix. Maybe a hundred of them. Just like the one he'd retrieved at the museum.

"They are the same as the one in Antwerp," Pau said. "Each is filled with oil extracted from the ground in Gansu over two millennia ago. I kept one, as a keepsake, and took it with me to Belgium."

"I need that oil sample," Tang said.

"I'm afraid the emperor's tomb is no longer pristine," Ni said.

Malone and Vitt had told him what happened after he fled. About the fire and the smoke. He told Pau.

"Hopefully," Pau said, "the damage was minimal. The mineral oil I left to shield the mercury would have caused no real damage. The mercury, though, is another matter. Its vapors will take time to flush away."

"It matters not," Tang said.

"Unlike you," Ni said to Pau, "he seems to care little for the past."

"A fault he will remedy. We shall discuss the matter."

"There are many things we need to discuss," Tang made clear. "Things you seem to have neglected to mention."

Pau faced Tang. "Like why I killed the men you sent to my home?"

"That's one."

"We will talk. But know that I explain myself to no one." Tang clearly did not appreciate the rebuke. "This more of the show?" Ni asked. "You two fighting."

"No, Minister," Pau said. "This disagreement is real."

CASSIOPEIA'S GRIP WAS WEAKENING, THE FREEZING CURRENT lancing her joints with pain. For the third time in two days death seemed close. She doubted she would survive the ride downstream and, surely, at some point there'd be a waterfall to the valleys below. A cloud of brown foam engulfed her face and she shut her eyes to the onslaught.

Something firm gripped her right arm, from above, yanking her grip free from the rock.

She opened her eyes to see Viktor staring down at her. He was balancing atop a boulder, right hand locked on her arm. She reached out with her left hand and her body spun as she was lifted from the water.

He'd saved her life.

Again.

"Thought you weren't going to do that anymore," she said, catching her breath.

"It was either that or be shot by Malone."

A chill swept through her, one she could not control. Viktor knelt close, both of them atop the rocks, and removed his jacket. He wrapped its thick fleece around her chest and held her close.

She did not resist.

She couldn't.

The chills came uncontrollably.

Her teeth chattered and she fought to calm her nerves.

Viktor continued to hold her tight. "I tried to divert the soldiers until you and Malone were beyond the bridge, but I didn't know about the chopper. It came quick, apparently knowing you'd have to negotiate the bridge. Tang planned well."

"Where's Cotton?" she managed to ask, hoping the cannon fire had not found him.

"I told him to go. That was after he decided not to shoot me. The chopper wanted to take me out, too, but couldn't get a shot down here. So it left."

She stared up into his eyes and saw both concern and anger. "How'd you find me?"

"When I saw you hanging on, that bought me enough time. I actually expected to find a few broken bones."

"You and me both."

She was steadying herself, the shakes fading. Glancing back she saw the risk he'd taken, step by step, fumbling across the exposed boulders. One slip and he'd have been swept away.

"Thank you, Viktor."

"I couldn't let you drown."

She freed herself of his embrace and stood, but kept the jacket close. Water poured from her clothes. Her hands were blue from the cold. Direct sunlight could not, at this early hour, find its way down the perpendicular walls that towered above her. But she knew there was warmth, higher up. "We have to get to that hall."

He pointed to the far bank. "There's a trail that leads back up. Malone should be at the monastery by now."

"You and he can make your peace, when this is over."

"I doubt that will happen."

"He can be reasonable."

"Not when it comes to you," he said.

"And what about you?"

He pointed out the safest path across the rocks to the bank. "It's a good twenty minutes to the top. We need to hurry."

She grabbed his arm. "I asked you a question."

"Malone was right back in town," he said. "I murdered that pilot for no reason other than to gain your trust." He paused. "Like Malone says all the time, I'm a random asset. Another term for nobody. What about me, you asked? Who the hell cares."

"Stephanie does. She sent you to get Sokolov."

"And Ivan sent me to kill Tang. Yet here I am, saving your life. Again."

She didn't know what to say, so she released her grip.

And he leaped to the next rock.

Chapter Seventy-EIGHT

MALONE APPROACHED THE MONASTERY WITH CAUTION. HE'D rounded the bend in the trail and immediately studied the great pile of crenellated walls, all a purplish red, that formed a solid rampart, its parapets broken only by a single gate.

He stopped at the entrance, tiled in a golden yellow. Above the massive red-lacquered doors hung a tablet with symbols.

He'd seen it on both the silk map at Pau Wen's residence and on the map the Chinese premier displayed.

Afang.

The name of Qin Shi's palace. And also the symbol of the Hall for the Preservation of Harmony.

The gates were open, seemingly inviting him inside, so he stepped onto a six-person-wide, stone-paved avenue. Three more elaborate gates gave way to a courtyard surrounded by multistoried buildings and colonnaded porches. Ornamental trees, shrubs, flowers, and the trickle of water through a man-made stream created a feeling of peace.

But he realized this place was anything but untroubled.

A figure of a deity with multiple arms and several faces rose before him. At the far end, up three narrow terraces, past a veranda, a set of doors hung open, guarded by ivory tusks, the space beyond well lit.

He still hadn't seen anyone.

He kept the gun at his side, finger on the trigger, fighting violent heartbeats and a faint feeling from the thin air. Then he heard a sound. Laughter.

A child.

Speaking in Russian.

He scanned the courtyard and identified the source. To his right, one floor up, through an open window. Sokolov and his son? He had to find out.

CASSIOPEIA CLIMBED THE TRAIL, ZIGZAGGING UPWARD, TOWARD where she and Cotton would have arrived if their river crossing had not been interrupted. Trees provided handholds, their gnarly roots gripping the earth with rigid tentacles.

The exertion restored her body. Viktor led the way but occasionally glanced back, keeping watch on her. He'd held her tight on the river. Too tight. She'd sensed his emotions, knew that he cared, but like herself and Cotton, he kept far more inside than he ever allowed out. The murder of that Chinese pilot seemed to bother him. Unusual. Men like Viktor rarely analyzed their actions or expressed regret. A job was a job, ethics be damned. At least that was the way Viktor had always treated things. She believed him on Sokolov. Stephanie would want the Russian alive. Ivan, though, was another matter. He would want Sokolov silent.

Her wet clothes, stained brown from the silty water, hung heavy, dust from the trail clinging to her as if magnetized. She'd lost her gun in the fall and noticed that Viktor carried only a knife, so they were headed into God-knew-what unarmed.

They found the top of the trail and passed rock carvings and an altar. Around a bend they spotted the purplish mass of the monastery, perched high, overlooking a natural amphitheater of cliffs and valleys.

And heard a gong.

NI EASED HIMSELF CLOSE TO A DISPLAY OF BRONZE SWORDS. THE slim-faceted blades shone in the incandescent lights, their edges and tips sharp.

Do something.

Even if it's wrong.

Pau turned toward Tang, and Ni used the moment to grip one of the weapons, instantly wrapping his arm around Pau, bringing the blade to the older man's throat, flat edge to the skin--for the moment.

"This will easily slit your throat," he said in Pau's ear.

Tang reacted to the threat by summoning the men outside. Two brothers rushed in and leveled their crossbows.

"Tell them to lay down the bows and leave," Ni commanded Pau. "It won't take much to cause you to bleed to death."

Pau stood still.

"Tell them," he said again, and to emphasize the point he twisted the sword ninety degrees, bringing the sharp edge to the skin.

"Do as he says," Pau commanded.

Both brothers laid down their weapons and retreated.

MALONE ENTERED ONE OF THE BUILDINGS THAT LINED THE courtyard and ascended a staircase one level. At the top, he inched his way down a wide corridor to an intersection. Carefully, he peered around the corner and spotted a younger man in a woolen robe standing guard outside a closed door. He estimated that the room would face the courtyard at the location of the open window.

Twenty feet lay between himself and the apparently unarmed guard. He decided a direct approach was best, so he tucked the gun into his back pocket and readied himself.

One.

Two.

He rushed around the corner and charged. Just as he'd assumed, the sudden sight of someone caused a momentary delay in reaction, enough for Malone to coldcock the guard with a fist, slamming the back of the man's head into the stone wall.

The man collapsed to the floor.

Malone checked to be sure. No weapon. Interesting. Perhaps they weren't thought necessary behind the impressive fortifications that encased this complex.

He found his own gun, checked behind him--all quiet--and slowly opened the door.

TANG WONDERED WHAT NI HOPED TO GAIN. THERE WAS NOWHERE to go. "You cannot escape."

"But I can kill your master."

"I do not fear death," Pau said.

"Neither do I. Not anymore. In fact, I would rather be dead than live in a China ruled by you two."

He silently congratulated himself on his forethought. All he had to do was coax Ni back out into the hall.

There, he could end this problem.

MALONE SAW THE LOOK OF RELIEF ON LEV SOKOLOV'S FACE, SAW the boy curled in his lap.

"Malone," Sokolov muttered. "I wondered what happened to you."

He crossed the empty bedchamber and stole a quick look out the window. The courtyard remained quiet. "How many men are in this place?"

"Not many," Sokolov said. "I have seen only a few. Tang is here, though."

"Where's Ni?"

"They separated us about one half hour ago." The boy stared at him with hard eyes.

"Is he okay?" he asked Sokolov.

"He seems fine."

"We have to go, but he must remain quiet."

Sokolov whispered to the boy, and several nods confirmed that the lad understood. Malone motioned and they left the room, with him leading the way down to ground level.

Heading toward the gate out required a crossing of the open courtyard.

He studied the upper galleries. Seeing no one, he gestured and they hustled forward. They passed through a lower gallery, negotiated one of the arched wooden bridges over the man-made stream, and sought a momentary refuge in a gallery on the courtyard's opposite side.

So far, so good.

NI REALIZED THAT THE LONGER HE LINGERED WITHIN THIS confined space, the greater the risk. He had no idea how many brothers were waiting outside. More than he could handle, that was certain. But he was determined to act.

"Move out of here," he told Tang.

His adversary drifted toward the door.

"Careful, Minister," Pau whispered. "He seems to want you out there."

"Shut up."

Yet Pau was right. He'd seen the same thing in Tang's eyes. But he could not stay here. What had the premier said to him? One's life can be weightier than Mount Tai or lighter than a goose feather. Which will yours be?

"Move," he ordered Pau.

Slowly, they inched their way out into the hall. His gaze raked the galleries, searching for threats, while simultaneously watching the three men only a few meters away.

So many places to hide.

And he was totally exposed, on a raised platform, an old man the only thing standing between him and death. "There is nowhere to go," Tang calmly said.

"Tell anyone in those galleries to show themselves," he said to Tang. To emphasize the point he pressed the blade into Pau's throat, and the old man flinched. Good. About time he experienced fear. "Tell them yourself," Tang said.

"Show yourselves," he called out. "Now. Your master's life depends on it."

MALONE HEARD A SHOUT.

As did Sokolov, who cradled the boy in his arms, keeping his face buried in his shoulder, holding tight.

"That sounded like Ni," he whispered.

"Something about showing themselves or their master will die," Sokolov interpreted.

He allowed a soft exhale to escape his lips while he considered his options. He spotted an open doorway a few feet away. He grasped Sokolov's arm and led him into the building. Another long corridor lined with doors spread out before them. He crept to one of the doors and slowly released its latch. Inside was a small windowless chamber, perhaps eight feet square, filled with oversized pottery, perhaps for the courtyard.

Wait in here, he mouthed to Sokolov.

The Russian nodded, seemingly saying, You're right, we can't leave him.

"I'll be back, hide behind some of this stuff."

"Where's Cassiopeia?"

He couldn't tell him what happened. Not now. "Just stay quiet. You'll be fine."

He closed the door, fled the building, and headed straight for the open doorway at the far end of the courtyard, where voices could still be heard.

TANG WAS ENJOYING THE MOMENT.

Ni Yong was trapped.

Only nine brothers manned the monastery. Two were here, one more watched over Lev Sokolov. The remaining six were scattered throughout the complex, awaiting his command.

MALONE ENTERED.

Beyond the open portal, he found a vestibule, and then an assembly hall, majestic in dignity, topped by a roof of more gleaming yellow tiles. The glow from six braziers, arranged three to a side, splashed the colorful walls with a fiery brilliance. Displays of armor and weaponry lined the perimeter. At the opposite end he saw five men.

Pau, Tang, Ni, and two others.

Ni held a sword to Pau's throat.

They stood before shelving of diagonal bins, stuffed with rolled manuscripts. Thousands of them, rising fifty feet. He kept to the shadows, confident that nothing had betrayed his presence. He noticed that lesser rooms and pavilions formed a closed perimeter around the ground floor, screening out the world. Light streamed in from the upper colonnades, which apparently were lined with windows.

Outside, a gong rang again.

He used the armor and weaponry for cover. His gaze raked the upper two stories of galleries. He thought he caught movement, but wasn't sure.

He had to help Ni.

One of the braziers burned a few feet away, just outside the gallery where he was hiding. He advanced and shielded his body with the huge copper vessel, its heat intense, glancing left and behind to see if any danger existed.

Nothing.

"Minister Ni," he called out. "It's Cotton Malone. I have you covered with a gun."

NI COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS GOOD FORTUNE AND CALLED OUT, "It is good to hear your voice."

He saw Malone emerge from behind one of the braziers, gun pointed his way.

"Now I can slit your throat and be done with it," he whispered in Pau's ear. "Your lies are over."

"Have you found the courage to take a life?"

"Yours would not be a problem for me."

"Choose wisely, Minister. Much is at stake."

The blade rested tight to the skin, an easy matter with one swipe to sever the old man's throat. He stared at Karl Tang, wishing it was him, not Pau, who faced the sword.

That decision would be an easy one.

And he noticed something in Tang's eyes.

"He wants you to do it," Pau whispered.

Chapter Seventy-NINE

CASSIOPEIA AND VIKTOR ENTERED THE MONASTERY AND FOUND a central courtyard. Everything was quiet except for voices rising from an open set of double doors at the far end. With caution, they advanced in that direction, staying within the colonnades. Once there, Viktor pressed himself to the building's wall and carefully peered past the doorway.

"Malone is in there," he whispered.

Together they crept in, staying within a vestibule that led into what appeared to be a grand hall. Cotton stood about halfway toward a raised portion at the opposite end, facing Tang and two brothers, along with Pau Wen. Ni Yong stood behind the older man, holding a sword to Pau's neck.

They hid behind a thick pillar and watched.

Tang was talking to Cotton, but what was happening above grabbed Cassiopeia's attention. A man in the first-floor gallery, tucked within one of the arches, held a crossbow. The angle made it impossible for Cotton to see the danger directly above him.

"He doesn't know," Viktor whispered.

"Let's tell him."

He shook his head. "We need to keep the element of surprise. You take that guy out. I don't see anyone else up there."

She could not argue with the plan.

He motioned behind them, to the left. "That way. Cover our backs."

"What are you going to do?"

He did not answer her, but she didn't like what she saw in his eyes. "Don't be foolish," she said.

"No more than I have already been? Tang will be off guard when he sees me. Let's use that."

She wished they had a gun. "Give me your knife." He surrendered the blade. "It won't be any good to me."

"Cotton probably thinks I'm dead." He nodded. "I'm counting on that."

MALONE BREATHED IN THE WARM AIR, HEAVY WITH THE SMELL of charcoal. He kept himself fifty feet from where the others stood. The upper galleries were a problem, which was why he hugged the right edge of the hall, from where he could clearly see the left galleries and anyone above him would have to show themselves in order to obtain a clear shot. Ni also could keep a watch.

"I managed to avoid the welcoming committee you sent," he said to Tang, trying to steal a glimpse above.

"And what of Ms. Vitt?"

"Dead. On your orders." He made no effort to disguise his bitterness. He also realized Tang surely wanted to know something else, so he said, "Your man Viktor may still be alive, though."

Tang said nothing.

"Where's Sokolov?" Malone asked, buying more time. "He's here," Ni said. "With his son."

"And will he get a sample of oil? One that can prove it's infinite?"

"I see you, too, know what is at stake," Pau said.

"You wanted me to see that map in your house, didn't you?"

"If you had not noticed, I would have made sure you did."

"Were you the one who set Qin Shi's tomb on fire?" Tang asked.

"That was me. Kept you from killing us."

"And allowed Minister Ni to slip away," Tang said.

"That's not--"

CASSIOPEIA HUSTLED TOWARD THE STAIRS AND CLIMBED THE marble risers to the first-floor gallery. She crouched, keeping herself beneath the balustrade that protected the gallery from the hall beyond, and eased herself to the corner. A quick look confirmed that one man stood about a third of the way down, dressed in a woolen robe, holding a crossbow, his back to her.

Quietly, she shed Viktor's fleece jacket.

She listened, hearing Cotton's voice.

Then Tang's.

And allowed Minister Ni to slip away. That's not--"Malone." Viktor's voice.

Knife in hand, she crept forward.

TANG SAW VIKTOR APPEAR, SEEMINGLY FROM NOWHERE. HE wondered how long he'd been inside the hall. The man should actually be dead, along with Malone and Vitt.

Was anyone else here?

NI SAW THE FOREIGNER, THE SAME MAN WHO'D SAVED HIS LIFE inside Qin Shi's tomb.

Was he friend or foe?

At the instant he decided foe, and was about to cry out an alarm, the man shouted Malone's name.

MALONE WHIRLED.

Viktor was rushing toward him, then leaping forward, tackling him to the floor.

Malone lost his grip on the gun, but grabbed Viktor by the throat, raining down blows with his right fist, yelling, "Where is she?"

Viktor broke free, a mad glaze coating his eyes. "She's far downstream. Gone."

Malone lunged and slugged away in earnest, enjoying the thud of his fist hitting bone. Viktor retreated.

Lots of room existed for them to maneuver among the arches, the weaponry, and the braziers. He thought one of the swords might come in handy. Viktor seemed to read his mind, his gaze darting to lances displayed beside armor and shields. Viktor rushed forward, grabbing the bamboo hilt of a lance, brandishing its tip, keeping Malone at bay.

His breath came racked and shallow and his light-headedness returned.

His insides boiled like lava.

This man had been nothing but trouble on every occasion. Now Cassiopeia was dead, thanks to him.

"Aren't you a tough guy with a spear?" he taunted.

Viktor tossed him the weapon, then grabbed another.

CASSIOPEIA HEARD THE FIGHT. SHE NEEDED TO POSITION HERSELF to help. That meant taking out the man she was creeping toward, whose attention was on the melee. She passed wall mirrors and a pair of cabinets displaying bronze, jade, and porcelain treasures. The morning sun filtered in through mussel-shell panes dotting the gallery's length. She held the knife, but another option formed in her brain. To her right, displayed in a wall niche, were a dozen or so figurines. Human bodies with animal heads, arms folded across their chests. Maybe thirty centimeters high. She stepped close, stuffed the knife in her pocket, and grabbed one.

A dog-faced piece, heavy, with a thick rounded base.

Perfect.

She headed straight for her target.

One swing to the base of the neck and the man crumpled to the marble. As he fell, she relieved him of the crossbow. He'd have a headache later, but that was better than being dead.

She glanced down.

Viktor and Cotton faced each other in the center of the hall, each holding a lance. Ni still had the sword to Pau's neck. No one seemed to have noticed what had happened one floor up. She stared across at the remainder of the first-floor arches and spotted no one.

She was alone, armed, ready.

TANG HAD INSTRUCTED ONE BROTHER TO POSITION HIMSELF in the upper first-floor gallery, crossbow ready. He should be stationed to his left, about halfway down toward the main entrance. Two other brothers waited to his right, within the ground-floor gallery, out of Ni's sight.

As the fight continued in the center of the hall, he casually glanced right and caught sight of the two brothers.

A gentle shake of his head signaled, Not yet.

But soon.

MALONE KEPT HIS EYES LOCKED ON VIKTOR.

Pupils that smoldered like black embers stared back, and an ugly scowl twisted the face.

"Do you know how many times I could have let you die?" Viktor asked.

He wasn't listening. Memories washed over him in sickening waves. All he could see was Cassiopeia being waterboarded, her body dropping into the river, Viktor taunting him on the video, appearing on the rocks, to blame for it all.

He lunged.

Viktor countered, deflecting the jab, sliding his lance across Malone's, angling downward, then twisting back.

Malone held tight and deflected the maneuver.

Viktor's brow was covered in sweat. Malone, too, was warm from the fires burning less than thirty feet away. He decided the braziers might present an opportunity, so he cowered back, dueling with Viktor, drawing his opponent closer. Each hearth stood on three-legged iron stands, elevated about four feet off the floor.

Just unstable enough for his purposes.

Viktor kept coming, following Malone's lead.

NI PRESSED THE EDGE OF THE BLADE INTO PAU'S NECK. THE OLD man was not resisting, but the two brothers, though unarmed, worried Ni.

He kept his attention on them.

"You can both learn something from their courage," Pau said.

Tang seemed to resent the jab. "I didn't know that I lacked courage."

"Did I tell you to kill Jin Zhao?" Pau asked. "He was a brilliant geochemist. A husband and grandfather. Harmless. Yet you arrested and beat him into a coma. Then you had him falsely convicted and shot while he lay unconscious in his hospital bed. Does that exhibit courage?"

Tang's shock at the rebuke was obvious.

"When you trapped rats on Sokolov's stomach and watched his agony, was that courage? When you destroyed Qin Shi's library, how much courage did that require?"

"I have done nothing but faithfully serve you," Tang declared.

"Did I tell you to burn that museum to the ground in Antwerp? One of our brothers died in that fire." Tang said nothing.

"And you, Minister Ni," Pau said. "How much courage is required to slit an old man's neck?"

"Not much, so it should be an easy matter for me."

"You sell yourself short," Pau said. "In my home you faced the challenge of those killers. It is similar to what we are watching here, as two men confront each other. Both came here totally unaware of what awaited them. Yet they came. That is courage."

CASSIOPEIA COULD SEE THAT COTTON WAS DRAWING VIKTOR toward the brazier. She debated whether to intervene, but she commanded only one arrow. The robed man unconscious on the floor beside her carried no more.

Revealing her presence now would be counterproductive.

She had one shot, so it had to count.

MALONE KNEW HE WAS CLOSE TO THE HEAT. HE COULD HEAR snapping coals behind him as he fended off another thrust from Viktor's lance.

He needed a moment, so he swept his spear around in a wide arc, which forced Viktor to grab the shaft with two hands, countering, blocking the blow. In the moment when Viktor readjusted his grip and prepared a strike of his own, Malone slammed his right foot into the iron stand, toppling the copper vessel.

Hot coals spilled across the floor, hissing and smoking.

Viktor cowered back, caught off guard.

Malone used the tip of his spear to pluck one of the coals from the floor.

He slung it toward Viktor, who sidestepped the white-hot projectile.

Malone speared another hot coal and this time slung the ember toward where the other men stood.

NI WATCHED AS MALONE TOSSED ONE OF THE COALS THEIR way. The smoking chunk flew over Tang's head and disappeared into the shelves behind him. Silks within one of the bins vaporized from the heat, the manuscripts literally disappearing before his eyes.

Chapter EIGHTY

MALONE TOSSED THE SPEAR ASIDE, FACED VIKTOR, AND ALLOWED his black mood to envelop him. "We finish this now."

Viktor did not hesitate. He lost his weapon, too. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

They sprang into each other, both landing punches. Viktor's caught Malone near the left temple and the room exploded in a whirl of lights.

He lashed out with his leg, catapulting Viktor, buying the moment he needed to plant a right jab into Viktor's jaw.

A vicious kick to his lower leg twisted Malone sideways.

He absorbed a couple of blows, drawing Viktor closer. Before a third punch could be landed, he popped Viktor's throat, then slammed a solid right into the rib cage.

The thin air sliced his lungs like razor blades.

He advanced on Viktor, who was coming back upright, one hand across his gut, his face contorted in rage.

"I'm going to kill you, Malone."

CASSIOPEIA HEARD VIKTOR'S DECLARATION. EVERY NERVE IN his body seemed taut. He'd plunged into the hall intent on a confrontation. Cotton seemed likewise wired tight.

She was careful to stay behind the pillar, out of sight.

A sharp cry from below drew her attention.

MALONE HEARD A YELL AS VIKTOR'S SHOULDER SLAMMED INTO his chest. Momentum drove them both off their feet. Together they pounded into the hard floor and slid.

Something popped in his own shoulder.

Searing pain shot through his brain and heat surged at the back of his head. He smelled the pungent scent of burning hair.

His own.

Viktor was on top, hands to Malone's throat.

TANG WAS SHOCKED BY PAU WEN'S VERBAL ATTACK. NEVER HAD the master spoken to him like that, outside of their scripted conversations, performed for Ni's benefit.

He wondered if this were another--Pau doing what he did best, improvising. He decided to play along. "I was unaware that you thought me such a coward."

"There are many things you are unaware of."

"Like the imperial library you found decades ago? Or the fact that you looted Qin Shi's tomb and brought everything here?"

"All done before you rose to any position of prominence. I, on the other hand, was Hegemon."

"Why did you flee the pit in Xi'an, with the brothers, leaving Malone and Vitt alive? They should have died there." That he truly did want to know.

"With all the attention that would have generated? Not even you, the first vice premier, could have explained that."

"If you think me so incompetent, why are we doing this?"

"Tell him, Minister," Pau said to Ni. "Why are we doing this?"

NI WAS NOT FOOLED BY PAU'S REBUKE OF TANG, BUT HE DECIDED to answer the inquiry with a question of his own. "How many people are you willing to kill for power?"

"As many as necessary," Tang said.

"Then the answer to your question is clear," he said in Pau's ear. "You are doing this so that a great many people may die."

A SUDDEN RUSH OF PAIN TO THE TOP OF HIS SKULL ENERGIZED Malone. He swung his right arm up and wrapped Viktor's neck in a vise grip, rolling, reversing the situation.

Viktor landed atop the coals, which crunched beneath his jacket.

They rolled again, this time away from the heat. But Malone had a problem. His left shoulder hurt badly, and the pain robbed his right arm of strength.

And Viktor pounced.

CASSIOPEIA SAW COTTON REACH FOR HIS LEFT SHOULDER JUST as Viktor swung a fist upward, clipping his jaw, toppling him backward. Viktor seized the moment and found the gun that had slid away at the beginning of the brawl.

She had to do something.

So she reached for the knife in her pocket and tossed it over the rail, angling for the coals near Cotton.

MALONE HEARD SOMETHING LAND IN THE EMBERS.

His eyes darted right and he spotted a knife at the same moment Viktor found the gun.

His shoulder was probably dislocated. Every movement sent electric agony to his brain. His right hand gripped his left arm, trying to hold the joint in place even as he reached for the blade--warm to the touch--flipping the tip between his fingers, ready to toss.

Viktor's eyes were two hard flints.

Icy sweat beaded on both of their brows.

Viktor aimed the gun.

TANG CRIED OUT IN MANDARIN, "NOW."

And the two brothers in the shadows raced forward, leveling their crossbows at Ni.

"Your show of courage is over," Tang said. He caught a look of satisfaction in Pau's eyes and said, "I thought ahead."

"You apparently think little of your master," Ni replied.

"On the contrary. I regard him highly. Enough that if you kill him, we shall kill you."

"You believe him?" Ni asked Pau. "Or will he kill us both?"

"Lower the blade," Pau quietly said to Ni.

NI COULD SEE THAT HIS OPTIONS WERE GONE. HE COULD KILL Pau Wen and die right now, or he could lower the weapon and take his chances.

Tang, not Pau, was who deserved to die.

He withdrew the blade and tossed it to the floor.

CASSIOPEIA AIMED HER BOW DOWNWARD, READYING HERSELF. She was unsure of what was happening, other than the fact that Cotton was hurt, Viktor was pissed, Ni was in trouble, and she was in a position to do something.

"Don't do it," she shouted.

MALONE HEARD CASSIOPEIA'S VOICE.

His head spun toward its source and he saw a crossbow projecting from the shadows of the first-floor gallery, near one of the pillars, aimed at Viktor.

"Drop the gun," she yelled. "Now."

Malone stared at Viktor, who did not move, the weapon held tight with both hands, eyes sighting an aim straight at Malone's chest.

"Shoot me and she shoots you," he said to Viktor.

He doubted he could flick the blade before the gun fired.

"That's my knife," Viktor quietly said. "I gave it to her."

"And she gave it to me."

Which spoke volumes.

Viktor's eyes closed, then opened. Malone caught a flicker of understanding, the gaze telegraphing a different intention from the aimed weapon. Then he knew. What Stephanie had said.

Actually, we'd like Tang dead.

"You take care of her, Malone," Viktor said.

Then he swung around and adjusted his aim.

Straight at Karl Tang.

TANG GREW IMPATIENT OF VIKTOR'S FACE-OFF WITH MALONE.

What was he waiting for?

He grabbed the crossbow from the brother beside him and yelled, "Shoot him now, or I'll shoot you."

Viktor whirled.

Every fear he'd ever harbored for this foreigner now bubbled to the surface as the gun barrel focused on him.

He fired the crossbow.

An instant later the arrow slammed into Viktor Tomas.

The other brother, sensing danger, had likewise readjusted his aim. A second arrow pierced Viktor's chest, the shaft sinking deep. Viktor choked, blood spewing from his mouth. The gun fell from his grip. A hand came to the throat.

His knees dissolved into jelly.

Then he collapsed.

CASSIOPEIA WINCED AS VIKTOR'S BODY WAS PIERCED IN QUICK succession by two high-speed arrows. Only a few seconds passed before he teetered, tried to find his balance, then collapsed to the floor with a grunt.

She stepped from the shadows to the balustrade, aimed her bow at Karl Tang, and fired.

NI REALIZED THAT CASSIOPEIA VITT WAS IN THE UPPER GALLERY and apparently armed. The two brothers had shot their arrows. The foreigner was down. Malone held a knife, but he was a long way away.

She was their only chance.

Vitt came into view, a crossbow in her hand, and she fired.

Tang, though, had anticipated the move, diving to his right.

The arrow found the floor and careened away.

MALONE COULD SEE THAT CASSIOPEIA'S SHOT HAD MISSED. HE held the knife, but little good it could do.

The gun.

Which lay near Viktor.

He had to get it.

TANG CAME TO HIS FEET AND DARTED TOWARD THE SWORD NI Yong had discarded. He gripped the hilt and commanded the two brothers to seize Ni.

He'd show Pau Wen who possessed courage.

He cocked his arm and advanced toward Ni.

NI TRIED TO FREE HIMSELF BUT THE TWO BROTHERS WERE strong. Pau Wen had drifted away, closer to the shelves, watching.

His gaze darted out into the hall.

Malone was searching for something.

Tang was less than three meters away, the arm holding the sword ready to thrust the blade into his gut.

MALONE FOUND THE GUN.

The pain in his shoulder was excruciating. He'd doubted he would have been able even to toss the knife. His right hand lifted the weapon, finger on the trigger. He wondered if there were more brothers in the hall, preparing at this moment to skewer him, too.

No matter.

He had no choice.

He aimed the gun and fired.

TANG HEARD A RETORT, THEN FELT SOMETHING POUND INTO his right side. Strange, the feeling. Nothing at first, then unimaginable pain, as if a surge of energy had passed through him, scorching his insides.

He stopped his advance and staggered to the right.

He stared out into the hall and saw Cotton Malone aiming a gun straight at him.

Another bang, and a bullet pierced his chest.

A third shot.

Then he saw nothing at all.

Chapter EIGHTY-ONE

CASSIOPEIA HAD BEEN SHOCKED BY VIKTOR'S DEATH. TANG'S, though, pleased her. His head exploded with Cotton's final volley, propelling him off his feet, to the floor.

"None of you move," Malone called out, the gun still aimed. "Minister Ni, get that sword."

Ni obeyed.

"This matter is now over," Pau Wen calmly called out.

NI STOOD WITH THE SWORD IN HAND.

He stared at Pau Wen and said, "Explain yourself."

"You and I spoke in Belgium. You believed I lied to you there. I did not. Everything I said was the truth. China must change. What that change is to be was the question. A return to strict Legalism? Autocracy? Or something gentler? Confucianism? Democracy? I confess that, in the beginning, twenty years ago, I thought a return to Legalism the answer. But I no longer know that to be certain. What I do know is that both the decline and the glory of a state can arise from a single source."

"Those are Confucius' words," Ni said.

"That they are. He was a wise man."

"Strange talk from a Legalist."

Pau shook his head. "I am no such thing."

MALONE LISTENED TO THE EXCHANGE BETWEEN NI AND PAU, but kept his gun ready, his eyes searching the hall.

"Decades ago," Pau said. "I removed all of the Confucian texts from Qin Shi's buried library. Those words had to survive. It would have been criminal to destroy them. Now they are ready for your use, however you see fit. Those ethics may be precisely what China needs to help counter both corruption and the growing inequality in our society." Pau hesitated. "Minister, the Ba has not been a party to this battle between you and Tang. We influenced nothing, we took no side."

"Tang was one of yours."

Pau nodded. "That he was. But that does not mean I wanted him to succeed. The battle had to occur, without interference, and it has. You have now prevailed. From this day forward, the Ba pledges its allegiance to you."

"Why would I believe a word of that?" Ni asked.

Malone wanted to know the answer, too.

"Tang's discovery of infinite oil changed everything. The power of that discovery became too much for him. His ambition took hold. I came to fear that he would be no better than those who came before him."

"Yet you allowed my life to be threatened. You allowed all of us to be captured by Tang."

"And brought here, Minister. I made sure that happened."

Ni did not seemed impressed. "You are a murderer."

"Four men died in Belgium. But was that not self-defense?"

"Not the one you tortured, then shot in the head."

"Where's Sokolov?" Cassiopeia called out from above.

"He is safe," Pau said.

Malone decided to keep quiet about the actual location. He wasn't necessarily buying Pau as an ally. Instead, he kept his gun aimed and asked, "How will Tang's death be explained?"

"He will suffer a car crash, here in the mountains," Pau answered. "He had come to clear his head, refresh his spirit."

"And the bullet holes?"

"Tragically, the car caught fire, the body burned to a cinder."

Ni stood silent a moment, holding the sword.

Malone kept the gun trained, but Pau never moved. "It's your call, Minister," Malone said to Ni. "What do we do?"

"I believe him," Ni said.

"Why?" Cassiopeia called out.

"Lower your weapons," Ni ordered.

Malone wondered about the strategy but realized they were stuck in a mountain stronghold with an indeterminate number of men surrounding them and little in the way of weapons besides a sword and a few rounds in his gun. He decided to trust Ni's judgment and lowered the gun.

He glanced up, asking Cassiopeia, "You okay?" Thank God she was alive.

"I'm okay. How about you?"

"Shoulder took a hit."

"You both risked your lives coming here," Ni said to them.

"And Viktor gave his," she said.

Pau faced Ni. "You asked me in Belgium why I care. I told you then the explanation would take too much time. I also told you that my only interest was what would be best for China. I was speaking the truth."

Ni remained silent.

"The Ba," Pau said, "was created to ensure a strong political system that guaranteed a collective safety. In the early dynasties, force and violence worked best to accomplish both goals. But over time, those have become less effective. Today, as you know, they are counterproductive. The Ba is about the preservation of China, not the preservation of itself. What is best for the nation is what we support. The battle between you and Tang was inevitable. No one could stop it from occurring. But we could be there when it ended."

"Why not just tell me?" Ni asked Pau, anger in his voice. "Why not just help?"

"I did," Pau said. "I told you things you never knew existed. When you came to Belgium, and I saw how little you knew, I realized my task was to drive you forward. You had to face the coming challenge, but to do that you had to know its extent. Be honest, Minister. You knew nothing of what I told you."

Ni's silence served as his answer.

"Do not fault me for choosing to show rather than tell you the problem," Pau said. "The appearance of Vitt and Malone helped me to do that. If I had not opened your eyes, Tang would have bettered you. You and I both know that."

"You lied to me, and murdered a man in cold blood."

"I saved your life."

"Are all of the brothers in agreement with what you are saying?" Cassiopeia asked.

Pau nodded. "They have sworn their allegiance and will do what is best for China. Minister Ni has emerged as the stronger. The Ba respects strength."

"What am I to do?" Ni asked.

"Make your move for power. Tang is gone. Achieve elevation to first vice premier, then have responsibilities gradually transferred to you. The premier respects and trusts you. I know that for a fact. The Ba will support your policies, whatever they may be. We realize the government will evolve, become a reflection of its new leader, as it has many times before, and we are prepared for that change."

"The government will change," Ni declared. "We shall have a new constitution."

"And we can help obtain approval for that," Pau said.

"What about infinite oil?" Malone asked.

Pau turned and motioned. One of the brothers disappeared into the open wall panel.

"An unexpected by-product of this battle," Pau said. "To his credit, Tang realized how that discovery could be wielded, if held close."

The brother reemerged holding an object, which Malone recognized.

A dragon lamp.

Like the one in Belgium.

Pau presented it to Ni. "This is yours. A sample of oil from the fields in Gansu, extracted from the earth 2,200 years ago, stored in the tomb of the First Emperor. Hopefully, this will prove Lev Sokolov's theory."

Ni accepted the lamp.

"Minister," Pau said. "You realize that I could have simply given the lamp, with the oil, to Tang. Or given him one of the many that are here. I did not do that. Instead I kept it from him."

"You used it as bait to lure me to Belgium. To kill me."

Pau nodded. "That was Tang's objective, not mine. Which is why I saved your life there. I also allowed Miss Vitt to take the lamp. She did us both a favor. It bought time."

Malone didn't necessarily agree with the favor part, but saw the logic. Pau could have simply given Tang what he wanted.

"The world will be told of the discovery," Ni made clear.

Pau nodded. "And China will receive some credit. China has forgotten its greatness. We once led the world in imagination, and we can again."

Pau bowed.

Malone watched as Ni considered the offer. Finally, Ni returned the gesture.

He stared at Viktor, blood oozing from the fatal wounds, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, arrows sunk deep in the chest. He bent down and gently closed both lids. He'd read this man wrong.

He glanced up at Cassiopeia.

Tears streaked down her face.

Chapter EIGHTY-TWO

MALONE SIPPED BLACK TEA AND ALLOWED THE PAIN IN HIS shoulder to ease. A makeshift sling had been fashioned to hold the joint in place. He'd need to see a doctor once they left this stronghold.

Three hours had passed since Viktor had died. He'd spent half an hour inside the makeshift tomb of Qin Shi, admiring a jade burial suit, along with stunning funerary objects.

Ni Yong sat with him on the terrace. Beyond the low wall, an afternoon sun tinted the mountains in shades of red, black, and yellow. The air remained mild, a gentle breeze flapping some nearby prayer flags. He'd kept a close watch on a marble sundial that stood a few feet away. It sat on a circular base, supported by four square pillars.

"Every temple in China," Ni said, "has a sundial. It is a reminder that virtue should shine at all times, like the sun at high noon. Good advice that we long chose to ignore."

"Do you believe what Pau Wen said to you?"

"Not a single word."

"I was hoping you weren't that foolish."

"There is a story that we are all taught in military training," Ni said. "A great warrior named Chao led 40,000 troops to besiege a town defended by a tiny force that was commanded by an opponent named Zhang. After forty days the town's residents were trading their children for food. But Zhang refused to surrender and even beheaded the officers who advocated that course. Eventually, Zhang's forces ran out of arrows, so he ordered the residents to make a thousand life-sized straw figures, clothed in black. Then, one night, he lowered the figures down over the city walls on ropes. Chao's forces loosed tens of thousands of arrows at what they at first thought were escaping enemies. The arrows stuck in the straw figures, which were hauled back inside. Zhang's forces went from a total lack of ammunition to a plentitude."

"Smart guy."

"There's more," Ni said. "Later that same night Zhang sent 500 of his bravest men down the ropes. Chao's side thought they were the straw men again and paid no attention. Zhang's men stormed Chao's camp and chopped off the heads of the sleeping enemy. Chao's forces were thrown into disorder and retreated."

He caught the point.

Ni said, "Zhang transformed a passive position into a potent one. I remembered that lesson when talking with Pau Wen. We were out of ammunition, so I lowered a decoy and drew Pau's fire, reloading our weapon. He is anxious to be on the winning side, so I used his anticipation."

He could not argue with that strategy.

"But I will eventually 'shut the door to catch a thief.' "

He smiled, knowing what that maxim meant. "Encircle the enemy. Close off all escape routes."

Ni nodded. "We were taught that, too. But there are five things to remember while doing that. First, to close the door you must have an absolute superior concentration of forces. Second, there has to be a door to shut. Third, you cannot wait passively for the thief to enter. He has to be lured. Fourth, the door has to be shut at the proper time so the thief is truly shut inside. And fifth, all other outlets of escape must be closed, too."

He realized what Ni had done. "So you rocked Pau to sleep."

"As he tried to do to me in Belgium."

"That whole thing of denying Tang an oil sample. He was plying every angle, trying everything he could. He didn't give a damn about you."

Ni nodded. "He is a liar and a cheat. I have simply used his own weapons against him. But what choice did I have? We are on his turf. This is an uncertain place. He offered to be my ally, so I accepted. But I assure you, when the time is right I shall close all the doors."

"What about all that 'not using violence' stuff?"

"Men like Pau Wen are why China is failing. They are a cancer on our society. It is time they receive exactly what they so easily like to give. Legalism is nothing more than opportunism. It relies on force and terror to generate respect. I will give them what they already understand, what they have long proclaimed to be the only way to govern. That seems only right."

Malone agreed.

"If I have to drop the pants of every man in government and the military, I will purge China of all eunuchs."

He heard the change in Ni--a confidence that had not been there before--and asked, "You've thought about this a long time, haven't you?"

"I've watched while stupid, selfish, petty men destroy our country. They are, to a man, corrupt. That will stop. I'll use the Ba to my advantage, until the time is right to eliminate them."

He hoped this man could actually do what he proposed. But he was curious, and Washington would want to know. "Is democracy in your plan?"

"That word has many negative connotations here. It has, for so long, been used to generate hate. But the people will have a say in the new government. We will be accountable from the top down." Ni smiled. "Democracy actually owes much to Confucius."

"You seem ready."

Ni nodded. "I spoke to the premier a little while ago. He will have me elevated to the second post. He is glad Tang is gone, and will support my purge of the Ba, when the time is right. Pau has greatly overestimated his worth in today's China. His day is over."

"This is not my thing," Malone said. "I couldn't play all of these games."

Ni grinned. "It is China, Malone. Our way. Unfortunately, deception is organic to our way of governing. I would like to change that, too, but that will take a little longer."

"You do know Viktor Tomas worked for the Russians and the Americans?"

"I am not surprised. But with their agent dead, neither one of those foreign powers will learn anything." Ni paused. "Beyond what you and Ms. Vitt report."

He caught the word agent, as applied to Viktor.

Damn right he was an agent.

"What about Sokolov?" he asked.

Cassiopeia was with the Russian and his son, making sure they were okay.

"He will be returned to Lanzhou and his laboratory, with the oil sample. He says he will cooperate with me. Of course, the lingering threat from the Russians plays to our advantage. He understands they want him dead. He and his son are returning to Kashgar with me. His wife is anxious to see the child. I am having her flown west as we speak. I will do all I can to protect them, and gain his trust."

"Keep a close watch on him."

"We shall. But when I tell the world of his discovery, I doubt the danger will be there any longer."

"You're really going to do that?"

Ni nodded. "It is the only course. That realization should change the world, to everyone's advantage."

"And place China in a different light in everyone's eyes."

"We can only hope."

Which should satisfy Washington. Ivan? Too damn bad. "What about Pau Wen and those four murders?"

"They will not be forgotten."

He was glad to hear that. "Why did you trust us in Xi'an?"

Ni shrugged. "Something told me that you and Ms. Vitt were people I could rely on."

Malone thought of Henrik Thorvaldsen and wished his old friend had died thinking the same thing.

"I'm leaving for Kashgar shortly to meet the premier," Ni said. "He and I are returning to Beijing together. I'll make sure a helicopter returns for you and Ms. Vitt."

Ni stood and extended a hand. "I thank you. I owe you my life."

Malone shook his hand and waved off the gratitude. "Just do what you said you were going to do." But there was one other thing he wanted to know. "If I had not come along, would you have slit Pau's throat?"

Ni did not immediately answer, as if seriously considering the inquiry. Finally, he said, "I'm not sure. Thank goodness we didn't have to find out."

He smiled.

"Take care, Mr. Malone."

"You, too."

Ni disappeared through an open doorway, heading back inside. He understood why he and Cassiopeia weren't leaving with him.

Time to fade into the background.

As all agents do.

Malone had read about a sky burial. Dicing a corpse into pieces, beating it to a paste with flour, tea, and milk, then allowing carrion to feast on the mixture represented a return to fire, water, earth, and wind, the basic elements of man. A great honor.

He and Cassiopeia stood and watched the ancient ceremony. A couple of hours ago Viktor's body had been brought outside the walls, to a nearby valley, and prepared.

"Our brothers are trained in the jhator," Pau said. "It is a ritual we have performed many times."

"Are you really going to help Ni Yong?" Malone asked.

"Legalism? Confucianism? Communism? Democracy? An emperor? Or an elected president? Our problem for the past sixty years is that no single concept or philosophy has dominated. Instead we have languished in an uncertain middle, bits of each vying for control. Chinese fear chaos. We despise uncertainty. We have many times accepted the wrong system in the name of certainty." Pau hesitated a moment. "At a minimum, Tang and Ni offered a clear choice. Now it has been made. So the Ba shall be Ni's ally."

"Where I was raised," Malone said, "there's a saying. Don't go through your asshole to get to your appetite. Maybe the Chinese can learn from that."

Pau smiled. "Is that wisdom from one of your great American philosophers?"

"A group of them, yes. They're called rednecks."

"What's to prevent someone else from simply taking Tang's place?" Cassiopeia asked. "Surely he has followers ready to take up the cause."

"No doubt," Pau said. "But this is not America or Europe. Those followers have no access to media, nor to the Party hierarchy. Those privileges have to be earned, over many years of loyal service. Politics here is a personal journey, one that takes an excruciatingly long time. Tang's own rise required nearly twenty years." Pau shook his head. "No. Minister Ni is now the only one poised for ultimate power."

Which Ni well knew, Malone thought. He was disappointed that he would not be around when Pau Wen received a dose of his own medicine.

"You sound confident," Cassiopeia said.

"Fate has intervened on China's behalf."

"You don't really believe that?" he asked. "Fate? You determined most of this."

Pau smiled. "How else could all of our involvement be explained? Isn't it odd that we were each in the precise location, at the precise time, to precisely affect the outcome? If that is not fate, then what is?"

Ni's assessment of Pau seemed correct. He did overestimate his worth. And you didn't have to be a genius to understand the ramifications of that mistake. But that wasn't Malone's problem. His job was done.

Half a dozen brothers encircled Viktor's prepared remains, chanting, incense wafting from copper vessels.

Overhead the vultures had arrived. "Can we go?" Cassiopeia asked.

They left before the birds arrived and walked back toward the monastery across rocks and cobbles littered with ribbons of pale green grass. Neither one of them turned to see what happened.

"I was wrong about Viktor," he quietly said.

"That was an easy mistake to make. He was tough to read."

"Not in the end."

"He took himself out with Tang, counting on me to land the kill shot," she said.

He'd thought the same thing.

"I heard what he said as he turned," she said.

You take care of her.

He stopped.

So did she.

He said, "We've played a lot of games."

"Too many."

"What do we do now?"

Her eyes were pools of water. "Strange. You and I having this conversation while Viktor is dead."

"He made his choice."

She shook her head. "I'm not so sure I didn't make it for him. When I tossed that knife down. That's what really gets me. He played many parts to many different audiences. You have to wonder, were those final words just more of the act?"

Malone knew the answer. He'd seen something she could not have witnessed. At the moment of his death, Viktor Tomas finally conveyed the truth.

You take care of her.

Yes, indeed.

She stared at him, seemingly summoning the courage to reveal something. He sympathized with her. His thoughts were likewise muddled. When he'd believed she was dead, a future without her had seemed unimaginable.

"No more games," she said.

He nodded.

He cupped her hand in his. "Cotton--"

He silenced her lips with two fingers. "Me, too." And he kissed her.

WRITER'S NOTE

This book took Elizabeth and me to Copenhagen and Antwerp but, unfortunately, not to China. That excursion would have taken far more time than was available. A book a year demands a tight schedule. So, with Antarctica from The Charlemagne Pursuit, China remains at the top of our must-see list.

I did, though, have the characters visit as much of the country as possible. Chongqing, Gansu province, Xi'an, Kashgar, Yecheng, Beijing, Lanzhou, Yunnan province, and the western highlands are all accurately depicted. The statistics relative to China in chapter 2 are accurate, as is all of the other vital information noted about the country throughout the story. It is truly a place of superlatives. The town of Batang and the Hall for the Preservation of Harmony are fictitious. Dian Chi (chapter 47) is real, though its pollution is far worse than I allowed (chapter 48).

Time now to separate more fact from fiction.

The Central Commission for Discipline Inspection of the Chinese Communist Party exists and functions as described (chapter 4).

All of the ancient scientific discoveries, innovations, and inventions attributable to the Chinese, detailed in chapters 4 and 7, are factual. Once, China was the technological leader of the world. That dominance changed around the 14th century when a variety of factors--among them the lack of a workable alphabet, the influences of Confucianism and Daoism, and the propensity of each succeeding dynasty to eradicate all traces of the ones that came before it--resulted in not only ideological stagnation but also cultural amnesia. The story noted in chapter 7, about Jesuit missionaries displaying a clock the Chinese did not know they themselves had invented 1,000 years before, is real. A British academic, Joseph Needham, during the 20th century, made it his lifework to document China's lost technological and scientific past. The research and publications that he began continue today through the Needham Research Institute.

Tivoli Gardens, in Copenhagen, is a wonderful place to visit. All that is described in chapter 3 exists, including the Chinese pagoda. The Cafe Norden (chapter 13) anchors Hojbro Plads in Copenhagen and continues to serve some delicious tomato bisque.

Sadly, child stealing plagues China (chapters 8 and 9). More than 70,000 children do, in fact, disappear there each year, the vast majority young boys, sold to families desperate for a son. Including this incredible reality in the story is my way of drawing attention to the problem. There's an excellent documentary, China's Stolen Children, that you can watch if you want to learn more.

The debate between Confucianism and Legalism has raged for 3,000 years (chapter 10). One of these two competing philosophies has defined every ruling dynasty, including that of the communists. It is also true that none of Kong Fu-Zi's original texts have survived. All that remains are later interpretations of his originals. The failures of Mao (chapter 49); the rise and fall of so many corrupt imperial dynasties (chapter 12); the Hundred Flowers Campaign (chapter 45); and the disastrous Cultural Revolution are all reported accurately. Likewise, violent divisions within China's political structure are common, as are destructive internal civil wars. The battle between the Gang of Four and Deng Xiaoping did occur in the late 1970s (chapter 12). Three of the four in the defeated gang lost their lives. Here, I simply created another war for political control between two new contenders.

Centuries ago, the Ba flourished. The history of hegemony, the Ba, and Legalism are indeed accurately related (chapter 24). Hegemony (chapter 45) is a concept uniquely Chinese, one that has long defined its national conscience in ways the West has difficulty comprehending. And as Karl Tang realizes in chapter 24, totalitarianism is a Chinese innovation.

Antwerp is a wonderful European city with a distinctive Old World feel (chapter 18). I've long wanted to include it in one of my stories. The Drie Van Egmond Museum (chapters 25, 27-31), though, is my creation. Since I knew I was going to destroy the building, I thought something fictitious would be a better choice. Interestingly, though, I modeled it after an actual Antwerp museum--which burned while this book was being written.

Lev Sokolov and Cassiopeia Vitt have a history, which is hinted to starting with chapter 36. If you'd like to know the full story of how these two met, and why Cassiopeia owes him, there is a short story, "The Balkan Escape," which can be downloaded as an e-book original. Check it out.

Eunuchs (chapter 7) are an important part of Chinese history. Nowhere else on the planet did they exert so much political influence. Definitely, there were good (chapter 51) and bad personalities. Their history as told throughout the story is accurate, as is the process of their emasculation (chapters 7 and chapter 33). Associating eunuchs with the Ba is my invention, though most certainly they would have played some role in that movement.

Two tortures are utilized: the first with scalding chili powder (chapter 23), the second with rats (chapter 39). Both were created by the Chinese. The Records of the Historian, or Shiji (chapter 38), remains a vital source of ancient Chinese history. The passages cited throughout the story are faithfully quoted. China's censoring of the Internet happens every day (chapter 43). An intranet, solely for use within the country, is currently being created.

Quotations from Chairman Mao, or The Little Red Book (chapter 43), is the most printed book in history with some 7,000,000,000 copies. Once, every Chinese carried one. Not anymore.

The sky burial, described in chapters 63 and 82, is a part of death in both Tibet and the western Chinese highlands. The dragon lamp (chapter 4) is real, though found in another Chinese imperial tomb, adapted here to Qin Shi.

Halong Bay, in northern Vietnam (chapter 41), is a stunning locale that I could not resist including. Mao's tomb (chapters 42 and chapter 43) also fascinates me. The stories of the Chairman's corpse, the botched embalming, a wax effigy, and the possibility that the body itself is gone are all real. And though it's much more recent history, what happened in Tiananmen Square, and what happened there in June 1989 (chapter 43) remains a mystery. To this day, no one knows how many people died. Many parents did indeed venture to the site, after the tanks withdrew, looking for their children (chapter 43). And as related in chapter 66, all books and websites that even mention the incident are censored in China.

The terra-cotta warrior museum (chapter 6), near Xi'an, forms an important backdrop for the story. When the traveling warrior exhibit visited the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia, I visited twice. I was so enthralled that I purchased a replica, which now stands in my den. I tried to incorporate as much of the Xi'an museum as possible, focusing on the massive Pit 1 (chapter 6) and the intriguing Pit 3 (chapter 53). Of course the imperial library chamber (chapter 10) is my addition. The concept of the chariot facing left and the lack of any warriors displayed on the left side of Pit 3 (chapter 53) is not mine. That came from The Terracotta Warriors: The Secret Codes of the Emperor's Army by Maurice Cotterell.

Qin Shi's tomb mound, which rises near the underground army site, is accurately portrayed (chapter 38). The drainage tunnels, dug more than 2,220 years ago, remain in the ground (chapter 55). The description of the tomb interior, quoted in chapter 38, is the only written account that exists. My vision of the interior (chapters 55-57) is imagined, but I tried to stay accurate to not only Shiji but also other known imperial tombs. To this day the Chinese government will not allow any excavation of Qin Shi's final resting place. The description of Qin Shi in chapter 38 is based on the most popular representation, but it was fashioned centuries after his death. In reality, no one has a clue what the man looked like.

Incredibly, the Chinese did in fact drill for oil 2,500 years ago in the manner described in chapter 21, becoming the only people at the time capable of achieving such a feat. They found not only crude but also natural gas, and learned to use both in their daily lives. China's current dependency on oil (chapter 17) is a reality, as is its policy of foreign appeasement to obtain massive quantities. Its lack of reserves is a strategic weakness, as is the fact that a simple naval blockade of two straits, far from the country, could bring the Chinese to their knees (chapter 17).

The debate between biotic and abiotic oil is real, and continues to this day. Does oil come from decaying organisms or is it naturally produced by the earth? One source is finite, the other infinite. The Russians, at Stalin's prodding, pioneered the abiotic theory in the 1950s and continue to find oil, utilizing the concept, in places where fossil fuels could never exist (chapters 15 and chapter 17). Likewise, as Stephanie Nelle points out in chapter 15, wells in the Gulf of Mexico are depleting at an astoundingly slow rate, one that has confounded American experts. Diamondoids, or adamantanes (chapter 44), were first isolated from Czech petroleum in 1933, then from U.S. samples in the late 1950s. Of late, these amazing compounds have shown promising applications in nanotechnology. I adapted them as proof of abiotic oil since diamondoids can form only under extreme heat and pressure, the kind experienced deep within the earth, far away from where any fossil fuels may lay.

And what of this long-standing myth of finite oil?

"Fossil fuel" is nothing more than a theory, created in 1757 by a Russian scientist named Mikhail Lomonosov. In proceedings before the Imperial Academy of Sciences, Lomonosov wrote, Rock oil originates as tiny bodies of animals buried in the sediments which, under the influence of increased temperature and pressure, acting during an unimaginably long period of time, transform into rock oil.

Many scientists question this claim, but, over time, we have simply come to believe that oil originates solely from organic compounds.

In 1956 the senior petroleum exploration geologist for the USSR said, The overwhelming preponderance of geological evidence compels the conclusion that crude oil and natural petroleum gas have no intrinsic connection with biological matter originating near the surface of the Earth. They are primordial materials which have been erupted from great depths.

But few people listened to those words.

Raymond Learsy, in his 2005 book Over a Barrel, wrote, Nothing lasts: not fame, fortune, beauty, love, power, youth, or life itself. Scarcity rules. Accordingly, scarcity--or more accurately, the perception of scarcity--spells opportunity for manipulators. The best example of this is OPEC, which continues to extract obscene profits from a scarcity of its own creation.

Learsy, though, leaves no doubt.

He, and many others, the Russians included, are absolutely convinced.

Oil is not scarce. We only fear that it is.