A Death in China - Carl Hiaasen [131]
In October, he read a story in the Boston Globe that amused him:
CHINA WON’T DISTURB TOMB OF FIRST EMPEROR
By James X. McCarthy
Special to the Globe
PEKING—Chinese officials have a message for the Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi, dead these 2,200 years.
Rest in Peace, Emperor.
The emperor is remembered by history as the man who first unified China. In his spare time he built the Great Wall and buried alive Confucian scholars who dared to suggest that he might be mortal.
Since his death (natural causes) in 210 B.C., the emperor has lain under a gigantic man-made mountain near the central Chinese city of Xian. The area around the tomb has become one of the world’s great archaeological digs, yielding more than 7,000 life-sized, priceless terracotta soldiers and horses who guarded the tomb as an imperial guard of honor.
Scholars had hoped that the Chinese, who are anxious to capitalize on the find as a tourist attraction, would soon begin excavations of the tomb itself.
Sorry, it won’t happen any time this century, says scientist Gao Yibo.
“We are reluctant to open the tomb itself,” he said in an interview. “To dig faster does not mean to dig better. We must work slowly to evaluate what we already have, and to preserve a legacy for archaeologists of the future.”
Painstaking evaluation and reconstruction of the existing finds, which lie in three giant pits about two-thirds of a mile from the emperor’s tomb itself, will take at least until the end of this century, said Gao.
“We leave the emperor himself to our children. He will be safe in the ground until we are ready for him,” said Gao, who this month became the new deputy minister in charge of all China’s archaeological discoveries and the museums that display them.
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In November, Stratton won permission from a bemused college administration, which had regarded him as a popular under-achiever, to teach a course in Asian history, literature, and philosophy. Stratton’s detailed prospectus outlined what he called the Wang Syllabus.
In December, two visitors came. Stratton was expecting them.
“I’m Tony Medici, this is Jerry Flanagan. We’re from the Smithsonian,” said the dark one, a rangy man with sharp, veteran’s eyes who wore a button-down shirt. The young one had red hair and a scowl he probably practiced in the mirror.
“I’m Mother Goose. Sit down.”
“That’ll save a lot of pointless bullshit.” Medici grinned.
“We understand you have some information about Chinese artifacts …”
“Three big ones, to be exact,” said Flanagan.
“That’s what I said in my letter.”
“Yeah, I saw it. We’d like those items back.”
“How badly do you want them?”
“Hey, if you even know we want them you’re in deep trouble. National security. We can put your ass away for a long time.”
Stratton ignored the redhead. Medici was the pro.
“How bad?” he asked again.
“Well, it is a matter of some concern. We’ve searched, of course. Even got a hint that maybe one of our … uh, that a government employee might have been mixed up in it. You might even know the lady.”
Stratton gave him nothing.
“How bad?”
“All the way up to the White House, since you ask. You got ’em?”
“I know where they are.”
“How much?” Flanagan snapped.
“They’re not for sale.”
“What then?”
“A swap.”
“For what?”
Stratton told him.
Medici blew air between his teeth. “I don’t know if we want the merchandise that much.”
“It’s up to you.”
“I mean, that kind of thing … it’s out of style, isn’t it, Stratton? These days we don’t just sneak in …”
“You do it or I do it.”
“I don’t believe this,” said Flanagan.
“Shut up, Jerry.” Then to Stratton: “I’ll have to check.”
“There’s a pay phone down the hall.”
Stratton went back to marking papers. The redhead fidgeted.
“You an art teacher?”
“Something like that.”
“Never did much for me in college.”
“I know.”
“When Tony comes back we’ll probably drag you out of here in handcuffs. I’d like that, Professor.”
Medici was back in twenty minutes.
“You’ve got a deal,” he said without preface,