Snake Agent: A Detective Inspector Chen Novel (18 page)

"The doctor will see you now," the receptionist murmured, with a glazed smile. Zhu Irzh bowed in response, and stepped through the door.

The man inside looked up as Zhu Irzh came in. He, at least, was indigenous: an immensely stout person, whose crimson eyes were almost buried in the fleshy folds of his face. He displayed sharp teeth in a welcoming grin.

"I am Dr So. And you are a seneschal, yes? From the Vice Division? I have excellent relations with Supreme Seneschal Yhu, you know. We have a little poker session every Friday night."

"Poker?"

"A human game. From the West. Most stimulating."

Zhu Irzh tried not to show his dismay that Dr So knew his superior. Since he wasn't actually working for the Vice Division on this particular case, but was under the aegis of the First Lord of Banking, complications might ensue. Still, thought Zhu Irzh with a return to his usual insouciance, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Talking of humans," he said, "that's a charming receptionist you have working for you."

"You like her?" Dr So beamed. "Well, I'll let you into a little secret. She's not the only human I have working for me. She's really only one of my girls. If you are interested in getting to know any of them better, I'm sure we could come to some arrangement. . ."

"That would be delightful," Zhu Irzh said, somewhat insincerely. "Might I ask how they came to be in your employ?"

Dr So tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secret, I'm afraid. But you just let me know and I'll see what I can do. Now. What else can I help you with?"

"Well, it's like this," Zhu Irzh said. The pursuit of the medical practitioners on his cousin's list had given him some considerable time to come up with an appropriate cover story, and he was eager to try it out. Glancing towards the door, he said, "You do appreciate, I'm sure, that this is a matter of some delicacy, and I really would be most grateful if it went no further. . ."

"Of course," Dr So said, adopting an expression that was evidently meant to convey sympathy and interest, but which succeeded only in revealing the acquisitiveness beneath.

"There is a young lady, you understand," Zhu Irzh began with careful hesitancy, "of my acquaintance, who has something of a little problem."

"A common occurrence, alas."

"Indeed. I'm sure that a man of your experience and understanding will comprehend the often—restricted—lives that women of high breeding are compelled to endure, especially those of families attached to the Court. And I'm sure you understand also the temptations to which boredom can so often lead."

"I confront them every day."

"I knew you'd have a firm grip on the issues involved. In this case, the young lady has allowed herself to become—let's say, over-familiar—with a particular narcotic. One that is, unfortunately, in somewhat short supply."

Dr So's carefully manicured eyebrows crept up the lunar expanse of his countenance, like caterpillars. He said, "To what narcotic would you be referring?"

"Soma ore."

"I
see
. Yes, that is a problem. Ordinarily, one rarely sees cases of soma addiction—it's a drug that is far beyond even my own price range. But for someone attached to the Court—yes, I can see how she might have become exposed to it. And it doesn't take long to become addicted, they say."

"The young lady doesn't want to go through the regular supplier, for the very good reason that she purloined the initial sample from someone who had best remain nameless, and is worried about the consequences of that. However, happily for her, she is quite extravagantly wealthy and therefore well able to afford the actual narcotic—it's actually obtaining it that is proving so problematic. She tells me that the source lies within the Ministry of Epidemics, and I have it on good authority that you have contacts there. I need to get in there today—you know how hard it is to obtain an appointment with someone, but once through the door, I can achieve my goal with relatively little trouble. If you would be so kind as to put me in touch with one of those contacts, I would of course ensure that your help did not go unrecognized."

"That is perfectly understandable. Indeed, I would be willing—perhaps—to function as purveyor to the lady in question, if she so chose. But it will take time."

"That won't be necessary," Zhu Irzh said quickly. The object of the exercise was to get into the Ministry himself, after all. "She's really quite desperate. And due to her somewhat debilitated condition, I am the only one whom she trusts. Misguided, but you know what addicts are like . . ."

"Mmm. Well, I can certainly put you in touch with a couple of people. We would need to discuss the matter of recompense, of course."

"Perhaps you could jot down a few thoughts on that, and let me have them," Zhu Irzh suggested. His smile widening, Dr So scribbled a sum on a flimsy fragment of skin and passed it across the desk. Zhu Irzh was careful not to let his mouth hang open, and he had to remind himself that the First Lord of Banking was covering his expenses. Instead, he said, "That seems quite reasonable. I'll speak to the young lady today and arrange a payment. Through a suitably circuitous route, of course."

"I'll need a promissory note from you, first."

"Naturally," Zhu Irzh said.

He parted from Dr So with two names in his pocket and a certain apprehension as to what the First Lord of Banking would say when presented with the bill.
Still,
Zhu Irzh told himself,
if he wants to know what's going on, he'll have to shell out for it.
Information was, as everyone knew, the world's biggest money-spinner these days. He smiled at the receptionist as he left, but she was busy filing her nails and did not look up. It was only after he stepped through the door that Zhu Irzh realized she'd had nothing in her hands.

The temple of Kuan Yin was once more silent and still. Nothing stirred within as Chen, exorcist Lao and the ghost of Pearl Tang stepped across the threshold, followed by the gliding, elusive shape of the badger. It was no more than an hour until dawn. Lao was still complaining at having been roused from his bed at such an ungodly time, and Chen was unable to blame him. He had, however, been ruthless in his insistence that Lao abandon his slumbers and join them at the temple; a persistence which Chen now attributed to the several cups of strong espresso that he'd downed in an effort to remain awake. The coffee had merely served to provide a wide-eyed jitteriness; Chen felt like a puppet on a string, jerked in conflicting directions. He glanced up at the goddess, whose shadowy form still stood implacably at the far end of the room.

"What now?" Lao asked irritably.

"We'll need protection," Chen said. The last time he had set foot in the temple had been in the company of Zhu Irzh, and he still half-expected the demon to slide out of the darkness. Whatever might have befallen Inari, he was taking no more chances with the sad shade of Pearl Tang.

Grumbling, the exorcist set up candles and incense and delineated a protective circle. As he did so, Chen could sense the sentinel beasts of the Four Quarters as Lao awoke them to ritual presence: green dragon, white tiger, red bird and black tortoise. A small wind stirred within the temple, blowing a scatter of dust in from the silent courtyard. Beneath the rustling ceremonial banners that lined the walls, the badger whimpered.

"Sorry," Chen said. "Is this distressing you?"

"I am a creature of Hell. This celestial conjuring curdles my blood," the badger hissed. With a flicker of transformation, it changed, and then there was only an old iron teakettle settling back onto the reed mat.

"All right," Chen said, relieved. "Are we done?"

"Nearly," Lao murmured, scowling with concentration. He raised his hands for the final incantation and the protective circle shimmered up around them. From within it, as though through a heat haze, Chen could see the statue of Kuan Yin; cold, still, and green as glass polished by the sea. Bowing his head, he began to pray: not for himself, nor for Inari, but for the spirit of Pearl Tang, a sad life, made barren by privilege, and too soon ended. He did not glance up as he prayed, but he knew when the goddess turned his way. He heard Lao take a deep, indrawn breath, and then he raised his head.

Kuan Yin stood before him once more. This time, she did not look like a goddess: she was not radiant; she did not inspire awe. She was small, and quiet-faced, and middle-aged. She brought with her only a trace of salt like a sea breeze as she stepped over the protective bounds of the circle. Walking straight past Chen, she took Pearl Tang's nebulous hands.

"It is time to go where you belong," she said, and Chen saw Pearl's hands grip those of the goddess. This time, they did not fall through. Turning, Kuan Yin began to lead Pearl from the circle, but Chen whispered, "Wait." It seemed like the hardest word he had ever uttered. Kuan Yin looked at him, and now the goddess-aspect was back: Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha-field, surrounding her. Chen felt his knees begin to buckle.

"Wait?" the goddess echoed, in a voice that was horrifying in its calmness.

Chen said, "You know as well as I that this spirit has been rent from the web of life and cast into a purgatory not of her own making. But she is not the only one. I do not want to see a procession of Pearl Tangs rattling between here and Hell, snatched into a place where only undeserved suffering awaits them."

"What you may want, Chen Wei, is of no consequence."

"No, I know that. But do you agree that if I can prevent the exploitation of these spirits, the so-called ghost-trade, then that is what I must do?"

After a moment, which seemed eternally long to Chen, the goddess inclined her head. "What is to be done?"

"Pearl has information. She overheard a conversation at the very moment of her death, between her father and an unknown person, and I believe she still remembers it, even though she doesn't think she does. It is something that I believe to be of immense value to Hell—something that they have already gone to great lengths to retrieve. But I don't know how to reach it."

"Very well," said Kuan Yin, after a pause. "Then let us see what may be found."

Around them the temple began to melt and fade. Chen saw Lao's startled face mouthing mute words before snuffing out like a blown candle. Chen was standing in someone's bedroom.

"Where am I?" Chen asked, and then he knew. He had been here before. This was Pearl Tang's bedroom, in the now-vanished house. Behind and around him, Kuan Yin's voice said, "You are within what remains of Pearl's personality. When she sets foot upon the Celestial Shores, all this will be gone, but for now, all that is left of her consciousness is here. Search for what you need, but be swift. Dawn is coming, and I must send Pearl on her way."

It felt like being a burglar in someone else's head. It felt like a violation, and Chen hated himself as he hastily rummaged through drawers and ransacked closets. He did not even know what he was looking for, only that it was not there. He turned books from their shelves, glancing quickly at unrevealing titles: most were of the teenage romance variety, and betrayed nothing. He looked under the bed: nothing. The coffee he had so recently ingested was making him twitchy and uncoordinated, and some part of his mind reflected that this was strange, since he wasn't even in a real place at all. As he clambered to his feet, he heard the goddess say, "These are the last minutes, Chen. The sun is rising." Chen opened his mouth to protest but as he did so he saw a strand of light reflected from something in the far corner of the room. It was a pearl: round and glowing, set upon a crimson cushion. Lunging forward, Chen snatched it up as the bedroom in turn faded away, sucked into the opening fabric of the universe. Chen had a glimpse of a place that made him cry out: a golden sky above glittering, diamond-blossomed trees, and the fragment of shadow that was Pearl Tang running among them until it was lost in the light. He opened his eyes. He was kneeling, breathing hard, on the cold stone floor of the temple of Kuan Yin, whose statue stood mute and remote above him. His hand was empty, but the knowledge represented by the pearl struck home with sledgehammer force. He knew, now, what it was that Hell had gone to such great lengths to conceal and seek out. And he knew, too, how vital it was that he should find not only Inari, but also Zhu Irzh.

The trouble with Hell, Zhu Irzh reflected bitterly, was not so much the palpable miasma of evil (with which he was, after all, ingrained) but the bureaucracy. This was now the fifth hour he had spent at the Ministry of Epidemics, in the crowded queue for the Second Level Third Administrative Assistant's Appointment Maker. At least after the third hour he'd managed to procure a seat, but the room was packed to bursting point and smelt of sickness and sweat. If he'd known that this was the best Dr So could do in the matter of contacts, he wouldn't have bothered, though he had to admit that the doctor had at least provided him with the necessary documentation to get through the Ministry's impressive iron portals.

"Stop doing that!" the woman sitting beside him snapped. "It's getting on my nerves!"

Zhu Irzh gazed blankly at her. He hadn't been aware of doing anything at all.

"That."

Her small, pursed mouth opened and a tongue flicked contemptuously in the direction of his tail, which was tapping impatiently against the iron surface of the floor.

"Sorry," said Zhu Irzh as insincerely as he could manage. With studied insolence, he curled his tail around his knees and glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and he'd promised to take one of his girlfriends to the opera. It had to be the razor-tongued Ren Ji, he thought with a sigh; it couldn't have been one of the others, the ones less likely to complain. . . The door of the appointment-maker's office opened and a frail figure shuffled forth. After a fifteen-minute wait, the lamp above the door glowed briefly, and the next in line went through. Zhu Irzh realized he was tapping his tail again. This was absurd. Time to take matters into his own hands, he thought.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman sitting beside him. "But do you happen to know where the lavatories might be?"