Page 103 of Tides of Fire
Heng listened as further exchanges finalized the parley. The representatives of their respective sides would meet in the middle of the long hall. While these details were worked out, a handful of the museum staff rushed forward and fought the flames with extinguishers.
Smoke fogged the room and filled the rafters.
Once the fires were out, Xue headed across with Captain Wen and another two commandos. Heng followed, carrying the old steel box from the Singapore museum.
Through the pall ahead, a group approached. They were led by a tall man with a ruddy complexion and dark hair, likely the one who had made this deal. He was accompanied by a slim Eurasian woman holding a pistol and a severe-faced older man with an assault rifle. Behind them, two other gunmen followed.
At each end of the gallery, their respective armies bristled with weapons, encouraging their continuing cooperation.
The two parties finally reached a waist-high marble table in the middle. It divided their two camps. A broken and blasted piece of statuary lay to one side. Heng felt a twinge of guilt at the destruction wrought here, but fear burned it away—both for himself and the world.
Xue stepped forward, facing his opponent.
Except for their nationalities, the two looked a match. In height, in determination, in icy-eyed intelligence. It was no wonder the Americans had confounded them at every turn. This opponent was no one to trifle with.
Xue leaned his palms on the marble. “Let’s begin.”
4:01A.M.
With her Glock in hand, Seichan kept close watch on the captain of the commandos. The man’s countenance was a stone wall, shadowed by a helmet. He clutched a QSZ-92 pistol and had an assault rifle slung across his chest.
At the marble table, Gray and his Chinese counterpart, Major Choi Xue, started their exchange. Information flowed in fits and starts, both sides clearly reserving as much as possible.
Gray leaned over and stared into a steel box.
Seichan remembered the fight over it at the Singapore museum. She studied it from the corner of her eye. The box held a stick of black coral. It matched the one sketched in Raffles’s pages. The other object made no sense—even Gray’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.
“What is that?” Gray asked, glancing up from under a lowered brow.
Seichan recognized his tone, his manner.
He knows something and is testing the other.
Xue picked it up, examined it, and placed it on the marble. “As far as we’ve been able to determine, it appears to be a wooden spearhead. Bound with twined rope. It’s clearly old, but we have no clue how it ties to anything.”
Seichan gave it a second glance and reluctantly agreed with him.
It did look like an old spearhead, painted with ceremonial symbols.
Gray glanced back to their group. “Do you mind if I have someone else join us? Someone who might confirm my suspicions about this object.”
“Certainly. That’s fine.”
Gray motioned for the museum director to join them. Kadir did so with some reluctance. He shook his head at the ruins of the room. Once he arrived, introductions were quickly made.
Gray pointed to the spearhead. “Director Numberi, I wanted to make sure that’s what I think it is. That it’s an Aboriginal bullroarer.”
“It is.” Kadir picked it up. “From the markings, it’s likely the work of the Kaurareg people, also called the Torres Strait Islander peoples. They lived among the islands between Australia and Papua New Guinea and were renowned for their nautical skills.”
“What’s a bullroarer?” Xue asked with a perplexed but interested expression.
Kadir unwrapped part of the twining, as if ready to demonstrate how to use it. Instead, due to the confined space, he pantomimed and pretended to whip the bladed piece of wood through the air by its string.
“When spun rapidly,” he explained, “the plane of wood creates a very loud and distinctive roaring noise. Hence, its more common name. Among the First Nations peoples, it goes by many different names, but all of them roughly meansecret-sacred.”
Xue stood straighter. “How were they used?”
“Mostly in ceremonies. Sometimes as a means of communication over great distances. Up to ten miles, especially on a quiet night or over water. The sound could reach a hundred decibels. Equivalent of a chainsaw. It could also be modulated by speed and direction to create the equivalent of a Morse code.”