"Smartass. You want to take a look?" She trained her video camera on the sarcophagus.
"Give me a hand, Ronnie." The lid was sealed with a sticky resin. They used their knives to dig it out.
They fumbled for a handhold and moved the lid away from one corner. Inside Nick saw a foot wearing an elaborate brocaded slipper. A foul smell seeped from the crypt.
"Phew." Ronnie turned his head away.
"No place for the stink to go after they sealed him up"
"Slide the lid further over, Nick."
"It can't weigh more than a couple of hundred pounds. Let's set it down."
They lifted the lid off and rested it against the crypt. Nick looked in. The First Emperor of China lay on his back, on a golden pillow, wrapped in robes of golden silk embroidered with thousands of pearls. He wore a tall headdress of jade. On his chest lay a heavy disk of white jade, hung on a thick gold chain and inset with a large golden dragon. A small box of white jade was placed at his feet. But it wasn't the box that caught Carter's eye. It was the emperor's face.
He looked as if he had died yesterday.
"Jesus," Ronnie leaned over the coffin. "My doctor doesn't look that good and he's a lot younger. He looks like he's sleeping."
The emperor's face was pear shaped and sallow. Thick black mustaches drooped down on either side of his mouth. His lips were full and his cheeks rounded. There was a hint of cruelty in his features.
"How did they do this?" Nick said. "It makes the Egyptians look like amateurs."
"It must be the formula." Selena laid a hand against the Emperor's neck. Soft. Cold as death. "The formula wasn't for living forever. It was for preserving the body. That fits with what I read on the walls."
Nick reached down and lifted the box from the emperor's feet. Inside was a stoppered bottle of glass, filled with a light green liquid. He held it up. Flecks of golden light danced within the fluid.
"Anyone want to take a shot at living forever?"
Chapter Forty-Five
Charlie Chan put the phone in his pocket. He shuffled papers on his desk and thought about the conversation he'd just had with Colonel Wu. His cubicle was small, in keeping with his status in the FBI's Asian Criminal Enterprise Unit. Mostly he did grunt work, interviewing Chinese speaking immigrants and shop owners, translating odd pieces of information. The last few days there'd been nothing but the most boring assignments. He couldn't see the relevance of what he was working on. Soon it wouldn't matter anymore.
He was rattled. What if Wu wasn't telling the truth? If there was going to be an attack, Charlie wanted to be far away when it hit. The FBI and everyone else would go into search and destroy mode, looking for any possible connection. He'd always been careful, but you never knew. It was time to get out.
There was plenty of money in his offshore account, enough to start over, maybe in Hong Kong, where the PRC had a tolerant capitalist policy. He would be back among his own people, where no one made fun of his name. For years he'd listened to jokes about the Chinese detective of black and white movie fame. Well, now the joke would be on them.
Charlie took the picture of his parents off his desk and put it in his briefcase. He closed the briefcase and stood up just as Zeke Jordan and two other agents came to his cubicle. They blocked the way out.
"Going somewhere, Charlie?"
Charlie put on his best number one son smile.
"Got to interview a shopkeeper in Chinatown. Someone's threatening to break his windows and worse if he doesn't pay up. You know how it is, Zeke. It's hard to get anyone in the Asian community to talk, but this one seems cooperative. I want to get a statement from him."
Zeke turned to the other agents standing with him. "Get a statement. Charlie's really on it, don't you think, guys?"
Charlie didn't like the way they were looking at him.
"Make any phone calls lately, Charlie?"
"What do you mean? I make calls all day."
"I meant long distance calls. You know, overseas, maybe even China?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. What's going on, Zeke?"
"How are you planning to spend all that money?"
Charlie felt his chest constrict. How did they know about the money?
"What money?"
"The two hundred and fifty thousand or so you've got down in the Caymans."
"You've got to be mistaken, Zeke. How would I get that much money?"
"Now that's a real good question, Charlie. Isn't it, boys?"
"Real good."
"Charles Chan, I'm taking you into custody under authority of the Patriot Act on suspicion of aiding and abetting a terrorist conspiracy. Hook him up."
The two agents moved in. One pulled Chan's arms behind his back and handcuffed him. He wasn't gentle about it. The other took Charlie's gun and badge.
"Hey, take it easy, that hurts. You got this all wrong. I want a lawyer. I've got rights."
"No lawyers, Charlie. As for rights, traitors still get a few, but I don't remember right now what they are."
Jordan reached into Charlie's jacket pocket and removed the phone.
"I wonder what we'll find here? Should be some interesting numbers. Take this scumbag downstairs and lock him up. Get him out of my sight."
All work on the floor stopped as the agents frog-marched Charlie away, struggling and protesting. After a moment the sounds of the office resumed. Jordan went back into the cubicle and sat down at Charlie's desk. He didn't think he'd find anything but he was going to look just the same. He took a few deep breaths.
Zeke loosened his tie, waiting for his blood pressure to return to normal. He forced himself to sit quietly. His doctor had him on meds but sometimes they didn't seem to have much effect. His wife was always trying to get him to eat salads and take vitamins and lay off the burgers and fries. Rabbit food, he called it, the stuff she served him. There was always McDonald's on the way to work.
After a few minutes he felt better. A rotten apple like Charlie tainted everything. It made him angry.
He called for a tech to take the computer and phone in for analysis. During the next hour he went through Charlie's files. He would give Chan a little more time to realize the full implication of his situation and then begin the interrogation. Zeke didn't think Charlie would be much of a challenge. They had him cold, his only hope was to tell what he knew and try to bargain for lighter punishment.
They were making progress. With Cathy Chen and Chan in custody they had hampered Wu's operations. Jordan knew Wu was back in China, so the big question was whether it would make any real difference.
He called Director Harker.
"We've got our mole in custody."
"Have you begun the interrogation yet?"
"Not yet. I'm letting him sweat a little. His phone and computer are in the lab now. We had his cubicle bugged and recorded him making a call to Wu. They've probably got the intercept at NSA."
"What was the number?"
Jordan gave her Charlie's cell phone number.
"We didn't hear Wu's end but Chan told him we knew about his plans, so by now Yang knows we're on to him. Should be interesting to see what happens."
"It might not change anything, but it's got to have Yang worried. Stress causes mistakes. I'm hoping he'll make a few."
"You get any help from State, yet?"
"No. As far as they're concerned I should mind my own business and stick to finding second rate terrorists, which is pretty much what they think we do over here. That mostly works to my advantage, but the tradeoff is sometimes people don't take us very seriously. It's State's problem, anyway."
"I'm beginning to see you do a lot more than analyze possibilities, Director."
"I'd appreciate your discretion about that. I keep a low profile."
"Working with you has turned this into the most interesting week I've had around here in years. Low profile works for me. Anything you need from me?"