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‘And Zheng?’

‘Well, that’s different. American presidents may have been in hock to the oil lobby, or the steel barons or the military-industrial complex, but they were never totally identical. Even if that’s just because the big corporations are by definition private in democratic countries. It’s different in China – historically, they’re rooted in the State, but they do what they like.’

‘Are you telling me that the Party has lost power to the corporations?’ Jericho asked. ‘I’d be surprised to hear that.’

‘Rubbish.’ Yoyo shook her head. ‘Losing power implies that somebody has shoved you aside and now rules in your place. But you’re still there, for all that maybe you’re sitting in opposition. But nobody shoved anybody aside in China, it was more like a one-hundred-per-cent transformation, a metamorphosis. Every old communist who kicked the bucket made room for some bright young thing with a Party membership book in his pocket and a chair on the board of a profit-making company.’

‘It’s not much different in America.’

‘But it is. Washington has lost power to Orley Enterprises, and that probably makes the government stare out of the window cursing on rainy days, but at least there’s somebody to stare and curse. There are no State institutions left in China where that could happen. The whole shooting match might still call itself communism, but it’s really just a self-appointed government by corporate consortium.’

‘You can look at it the other way round though,’ said Tu, as though the two of them were moderating a political talk-show. ‘China is governed by managers who have a second job in politics. The Western world still has a few heads of state who’ll say No when private enterprise is saying Yes. Maybe the great big No dwindles away to a hopeless little bleating No, but at least there’s still something or someone defending a position. In China you just have to imagine what No looks like when it’s made up of a whole load of Yeses. When Deng Xiaoping decided to allow some experiments in privatisation, lots of people wondered how much privatisation would be allowed in future. Well, the question’s obsolete by now, since in the end communism itself was privatised.’ He put down his knife and fork, picked the schnitzel up in his fingers and bit into it. ‘And that, Owen, is why it’s simpler to get information about a Chinese company from abroad than it is in China. If you want internal details about Zheng, all you have to do is tap into the flow of intelligence in all the nations spying on Beijing. And as it happens, I know some people in the intelligence services.’

Jericho fell silent. He had no idea whom Tu knew, or when he had crossed paths
with the Secret Services in his busy lifetime, but he knew that he had rarely been given such a clear picture of a world where either the governments had been taken over by the corporations, or the corporations had lifted themselves clear of all governmental control.

Who was their enemy?

Around ten o’clock he felt tired, drained, while Yoyo was suggesting that they check out the local night life and see what trouble they could get into. She was in frantic high spirits. Tu demanded a look at the Kurfürstendamm. Jericho logged into Diane and teased out a list of the hot clubs and karaoke bars. Then he said he’d go back to the hotel, using the excuse that he had to work, which even happened to be true. He had been neglecting some of his clients dreadfully these past two days.

Yoyo protested. He had to come along!

Jericho hesitated. He had basically made up his mind to go back to the hotel, but all of a sudden he felt like giving in. When she protested, some previously undiscovered reserve battery had flooded his system with energy. It felt like extra oil in his tank, a warm feeling around the ribcage.

‘Well, to be honest I really ought to—’ he said, for form’s sake.

‘Okay. See you later then.’

The battery spluttered and died. The world snapped back into the unending winter of his teenage years, when he had only ever been invited to parties so that people could say afterwards that they hadn’t forgotten him. It flashed through his mind that Yoyo would have plenty of fun without him, just as everybody else had been able to have plenty of fun without him back then.

How he had hated his youth.

‘Well?’ she asked, her eyes cold.

‘Have fun,’ he said. ‘See you later.’

* * *

Later turned out to mean after he had done absolutely none of the things that he had gone back to the hotel to do. He lay there wondering where he had taken that wrong turn in life, why he always ended up where he least wanted to be, as one did in a nightmare. He was like a traveller standing at the luggage carousel waiting for a lost suitcase, while it was probably being auctioned off somewhere at the other end of the world; he waited and waited, and the certainty crept over him that maybe all he would ever do in life would be to wait.

About two o’clock he was half watching a botched 3D remake of Tarantino’s classic
Kill Bill
when there was a shy knock at his door. He climbed to his feet, opened the door and saw Yoyo standing in the hallway.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked.

Automatically, he looked at the digital clock on his video wall.

‘Thanks.’ She shoved past him and came into his room, not quite steady on her feet. ‘I know how late it is.’

Her eyes were as sad as a dog’s. A cigarette between her fingers sent up its curls of smoke, and she’d evidently had a good deal to drink. By the look of her, they’d even run into a minor tornado somewhere on their adventures, which had left her rumpled. Jericho rather doubted that she’d had fun that evening after all.

‘What are you doing right now?’ she asked inquisitively. ‘Got a lot of work done?’

‘Not bad.’

There would have been no point telling her that he had spent the last few hours wrestling with his inner eighteen-year-old. ‘And you? Had a good time?’

‘Oh, fantastic!’ She spread out her arms and spun about, so that Jericho suddenly he felt he should hurry to catch her. ‘We ended up in some karaoke bar that was playing pure shit, but Tu and I managed to liven up the joint all the same.’

He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘You sang?’

‘And how.’ Yoyo giggled. ‘Tian doesn’t know even one line of lyrics, and I know them all backwards. A couple of guys hanging around there told us we should come along to a gig in a club. Some band called Tokyo Hotel. I thought they’d be Japanese! But they were German, old guys, dinosaurs of rock.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Yes, but I had to go and pee after half an hour, and I couldn’t find the loo anywhere. So we had to go in the bushes, and then on to the next pub that was still open. No idea where that was.’

She fell quiet all of a sudden, and slumped down onto the edge of the bed next to him.

‘And?’ he asked.

‘Hmm. Tian told me something. Do you want to know what?’

Suddenly he was seized by the idiotic notion of kissing her and finding out what Tu had said that way, simply sucking the knowledge out of her. Drunk and dishevelled as she was, pasty and drawn, she seemed lovelier than ever. He felt it briefly in his loins and then straight away felt the pain of knowing that Yoyo had come here to
talk.

He stared at Diane, sitting there cool and sexless. Yoyo looked down and sucked the last life from her cigarette.

‘I’d like to tell you, you know.’

‘Okaaay,’ Jericho said, drawing out the word. He was turning her down flat and there was no way she couldn’t know it.

‘Well only if you’re not—’ She hesitated.

‘What?’

‘Maybe it is a bit late though. Is it?’

No, it’s just the right moment, the adult man in his head shouted, but he was on autopilot now, frustration and misery had taken charge and were consummately giving Yoyo the cold shoulder. They looked at one another across an emotional Grand Canyon.

‘Well then – I probably ought to go.’

‘Sleep tight,’ he heard himself say.

She got to her feet. Jericho was baffled by his own behaviour, but did nothing to stop her going. She paused for a moment, drifted indecisively over to the computer and then back again.

‘We might hate it now but some day we’ll look back on this time of life and we’ll love it,’ she said, suddenly speaking clearly. ‘Some day we’ll have to make peace, or we’ll go mad.’

‘You’re twenty-five years old,’ Jericho said, tired. ‘You can make peace with whoever you please.’

‘What the hell do you know?’ she muttered and ran from the room.

She felt like a Dobermann chained up in front of a butcher’s shop. Loreena Keowa couldn’t think of any other way to describe it; her instinct had taken her straight to Beijing, to the conference which had led to Alejandro Ruiz vanishing so completely. She had caught the scent, she was just about to bite, she could sink her teeth into it, and now Susan wanted to
talk
. Why? What about? Sina couldn’t give her any more help for now, because Susan Hudsucker had reservations. What a pointless waste of time and of opportunity! Loreena didn’t doubt for a second that the reason for Ruiz’s disappearance would become clear as day if only she knew what the conference had been about, and that the mystery of the attempt on Palstein’s life would be solved at the same time. She was
so
close!

And now Susan wanted to
talk
.

Listlessly, she typed a couple of sentences into the
Trash of the Titans
script on her laptop. Strictly speaking, she didn’t even need Sina’s help. Sitting here in Calgary, she could access the databases at Vancouver headquarters just as easily as she could reach her own computer back home in Juneau. If she wanted, she could
be
headquarters.
She could have searched the network off her own bat. All that was keeping her playing by the rules was respect, and the fact that so far Susan Hudsucker had always covered her back when it came to it. So she was planning to bring the chief a good, well-researched treatment – for
Trash of the Titans, part 1: The Beginnings –
to sweeten her up before she wooed her over to her cause, setting out the facts that would force her to make Palstein a priority.

Loreena shut her laptop. She caught the eye of the Chinese waiter killing time behind the bar polishing glasses, and held up her empty glass to let him know that she wanted another Labatt Blue. It was oppressively empty here in the Keg Steak-house and Bar at the Calgary Westin hotel. She was looking forward to a grilled salmon and a Caesar salad, and impatient for the intern to arrive. She was more and more cautious about eating with him, mind you, since she was afraid he could well explode, showering her with the vast quantities of sausage, steak and scrambled eggs she had seen him shovel down in the past few days. On the other hand, the kid was good at what he did. He’d certainly have some information for her, when he did turn up.

The waiter brought her beer. Loreena was just about to take a sip when her phone rang.

‘Good evening, Shax’ saani Keek,’ said Gerald Palstein.

‘Oh, Gerald,’ she replied, pleased. ‘How are you? Quite a coincidence you should call, we’re just busy right now with your friend Gudmundsson. Have you slung him out yet?’

‘Loreena—’

‘Maybe we should keep an eye on him for a while first.’

‘Loreena, he’s disappeared.’

It took Loreena a moment to realise what Palstein had just said. She stood up, took her beer, left the bar and found a private spot in the lobby.

‘Gudmundsson has disappeared?’ she asked, keeping her voice down.

‘Him, and all his team,’ said Palstein, looking worried. ‘Since today noon. Nobody knows where. Eagle Eye can’t reach him at any of his numbers, but I learned that one of your people had called them and had been asking about him.’

Loreena hesitated. ‘If I’m going to find out who shot you, there’s no getting past Gudmundsson.’

‘I’m not sure we still have a deal.’

‘One moment!’ she yelped. ‘Just because—’

‘No, you listen to me a moment, will you? You’re not a professional investigator, Loreena. Don’t get me wrong, I’m deeply indebted to you. I’d never have known otherwise that Gudmundsson was working against me! Believe me, I’ll do everything
I can to support your ecological reporting, that’s one promise I will keep, but from now on in you should leave all this detective work to the police.’

‘Gerald—’

‘No.’ Palstein shook his head. ‘They’ve got you in their sights. Get out of their cross-hairs, Loreena – these are people who kill to get what they want.’

‘Gerald, have you ever wondered why you’re still alive?’

‘I was stupidly lucky, that’s all.’

‘No, I mean why you’re
still
alive. Perhaps it was never even about killing you. Perhaps you’d be alive now even if you
hadn’t
stumbled on the podium like that.’

‘Do you mean—’

‘Or perhaps they couldn’t care either way. Think about it! Gudmundsson could have taken pot-shots at you a thousand times over by now, but instead you’re running around without a care. I’m sure that the attack was simply intended to get you out of the way for a while.’

‘Hmm.’

‘All right, one small correction,’ she added. ‘If you hadn’t stumbled, that bullet would have hit you in the head. But everything else is right, it
has
to be. Somebody wanted to stop you from doing something. My guess is stop you from flying to the Moon with Orley. And that worked, so why should they kill you now? Could be that Alejandro Ruiz wasn’t so lucky—’

‘Ruiz?’

‘Strategic director at Repsol.’

‘Slow down, my head’s spinning. I really can’t see any connection between myself and Ruiz.’

‘I can though,’ she breathed, looking around to see whether anyone was within earshot. ‘My God, Gerald! You’re the strategic director of a company that has spent pretty nearly its whole existence doing exactly what you didn’t want it to do. It was only when everything was far too late and it was all going downhill that they gave you the power to do anything, and there’s hardly anything you can do. This is exactly how it was with Ruiz! He was a voice of conscience, he fouled their nest and got on their nerves. He kept up the pressure on Repsol to get into solar power, he wanted a partnership with Orley Enterprises just like you did! He was talking to a brick wall there. And all of a sudden, when the ship’s already sinking, they make him strategic director. You and Ruiz both spent years arguing for a stake in alternative energy, you’re ignored and then put on the throne, one of you gets shot, the other one disappears in Lima, and you don’t see a connection?’