A Death in China - Carl Hiaasen [72]
“In our country, too.”
“But, Thom-as, something bigger is happening at Xian. If these prisoners were telling the truth, then I know why Uncle David quarreled with my father. I know what he had found out. During the past several months, the Qin site has suffered three major thefts—the crimes are so enormous that they would create a terrible scandal in Peking. There would be a large investigation by the Ke Ge Bo. People would go to jail, or worse.”
“What was stolen, Kangmei?”
“Soldiers. Three soldiers, Thom-as, on three different occasions. A spear carrier, an archer and a charioteer. They are among the most priceless treasures in Chinese history, buried with the Emperor Qin—and now missing.”
“My God.” Stratton’s mind juggled the pieces of the puzzle. “David found out!”
“I think so,” Kangmei said sadly. “That is why I do not think he is still alive, Thom-as, no matter what my father told you.”
“No, don’t you see? Wang Bin needs David more than ever now. He needs him to get out. It’s only a matter of time before Peking discovers this theft, and your father knows this. There is nothing left for him to do but run.”
Stratton coaxed more speed from the recalcitrant truck. Once Wang Bin learned that Stratton had escaped, he would act quickly. Quickly enough, and there was a good chance he would never be caught.
“Kangmei, what could your father have done with the clay soldiers?”
“You assume that it was he who stole them.”
“I am certain,” Stratton said.
Kangmei swallowed to keep back the tears. “The women prisoners said the same thing. The rumor is that he smuggled them out of the country. To America.”
“How?”
“I do not know,” she said wearily. “Something so large and so delicate as a statue—it would be very difficult, Thom-as, even for Wang Bin. Every box or parcel destined for your country would be subject to automatic inspection, especially if it came from a government office. The Party has been watching my father closely. Some of the old men do not approve of the way he has handled the Qin project. I’m sure they are jealous of the publicity.”
“Wang Bin would never ship the artifacts directly to the United States,” Stratton agreed. “The risk would be too great. Boxes like that would never clear U.S. Customs without a search.” Then it struck him. “Unless …”
“What?” Kangmei asked.
“Oh, God.” Stratton could not bring himself to say it aloud, a theory so horrible with black irony, so devious that it could be the only explanation of how a Chinese deputy minister could actually steal the storied Celestial Army, one soldier at a time.
Chapter 16
THE CAR WAS A SHANGHAI, requisitioned without explanation from the ministry motor pool, and it veered without grace through empty streets, a whining gray shadow. Decades before, in the army, Wang Bin had briefly driven a truck. Since then, it had been beneath him to drive at all. David Wang slumped against the passenger door with the empty gaze of a vexed old man.
“Why?” he asked again.
“I have tried to explain. It was for your own protection, brother, I promise you.” The strain of driving overwhelmed Wang Bin’s English. He had lapsed into the Shanghai dialect of their childhood. ‘The radicals … the madmen, they are coming back, grabbing for power. I am one of their victims.”
“You caged me like an animal.”
“Only to save you … from the madmen.”
David Wang shook himself like a dog awakening. He squinted at his brother in the pale reflection of the windshield. Like watching a mirror. A mirror of lies.
“It was not the ‘madmen’ who drugged me and jailed me. Not the Party, or any radicals. Just you, brother. Only you.”
“It was not my choice or my liking, I promise you. I had to make you disappear. They … they were going to arrest you.”
“Nonsense. You invited me to China as a pretext. Somehow my presence was important to your conspiracy. But I still do not see—”
“A wish to see the brother that was robbed from me. That was the only conspiracy, I swear it.”
“And I was glad to see you, at first. Like seeing myself again, seeing what I might have been like, living another