The Middle Kingdom (37 page)

They had talked
late into the .night, he, Li Shai Tung, and Tolonen, knowing that the
thing they had found—the "copy" of Klaus
Ebert—signified something hugely important. Copies of living
individuals—it was something the Seven had long feared would
happen, ban or no, and while the Edict carried the strictest
penalties for straying from its guidelines in respect to human
genetic technology, there had been numerous cases over the years
where scientific curiosity had overcome the fear of punishment. Now
those harsh measures were vindicated. With such copies in the world
who could feel safe in their own body? Who could be trusted?

It was only two
days since Wyatt's execution and the shock of that still reverberated
around the world. It might be that the Dispersionists planned to
answer that. But it was more likely that they had set things in
motion long before, hoping to maximize the impact of their scheme by
striking when the whole of Chung Kuo was watching.

"The gods
be thanked we found the thing in time," Tblonen had said,
showing the T'ang the holo of the copy Ebert. "At least we know
what we're looking for now." But Shepherd had had his doubts.
What if it'was a blind? What if all of this were some huge
diversionary tactic, designed to make them look elsewhere while the
real attack took place? "Would they waste two hundred million
yuan
on a decoy?" Tolonen had asked him, and he had
answered yes. A thousand million. Two thousand. Whatever it took to
make them look elsewhere. But the T'ang had agreed with his General.
It was a fortunate accident, Ebert returning to his office when he
did, and anyway, the thing was too good a likeness to throw away so
casually. It was clear that they had meant to kill Ebert and then
penetrate the inner sanctum of the Imperial City. There would be
others; Li Shai Tung was certain of it. They would set up the gates
and check each guest as he entered. And not only guests, but Family
and Seven too. For the good of all.

"We'll
see," Shepherd had said, bowing low, accepting his T'ang's final
word. But he had been thinking, And what if there are no further
copies? What if they plan to strike some other way?

Tolonen had been
considering his suggestion about sealing off parts of the Imperial
City; now he broke into his thoughts. "Maybe you're right, Hal.
It would be no great task to seal off the whole of the western side
of the City, likewise this part here in the northeast. There's enough
room here by the southern kitchens to take the overspill and it won't
interfere with the banquet."

Shepherd yawned,
then laughed. "Best do it quick, Knut, before we all nod off."

The General
stared at him a moment, then laughed. "Yes. Of course. I'm
sorry, Hal. Would you like something to pep you up? My adjutant could
fetch you something."

Shepherd shook
his head. "Thank you, but no. I don't believe in tablets. They
bugger my system. No, I'll sleep when it's all over."

"As you
will." The General hesitated, then reached out and took
Shepherd's arm. "Are you feeling real?"

Shepherd
laughed. "Real enough. Whys that?"

"The gates
are ready. I wanted to test one of them. Will you come through with
me?"

"Of course.
Lead on."

At the Gate of
Heavenly Peace, Shepherd stopped and let his eyes stray upward. Only
one
li
away the blank, pearled walls of City Asia began,
climbing two
U
into the heavens like the sheer face of a huge
glacier, surrounding the ancient capital on every side. This, he
reminded himself, was the center of it all—the very heart of
Chung Kuo. Where it had all begun one hundred and eighteen years ago.
These had been the first stacks to be built, constructed to his
great-great-grandfather's design. Three hundred levels high, they
towered over the old Imperial City. Yet, turning, looking back, he
could not decide which was the greater. The new City was a
magnificent achievement, yet did it have even a fragment of the
grandeur, the sheer, breathtaking splendor of the Forbidden City?

No. Not the
least part.

The gates had
been set up in the space between the two Cities. Six lines of them,
linked by a mazelike series of corridors, open to the air. It was a
hasty, crude-looking arrangement. At various intersections between
corridors watchtowers had been set up on stilts overhead, from which
both manual and computerized guns pointed downward.

"They'll
not like that," Shepherd said, turning to Tolonen.

"No. I'm
afraid they won't. But for once they'll have to put up with it."

Shepherd shook
his head sadly. It was bad. Particularly after the execution. It
would give the impression that they were entering a new, more brutal
era. What ought to be a day of celebration would, for many, take on
far more ominous overtones.

But whose fault
was that? What other option had they?

"You really
think you'll catch some of these copies?"

The General
smiled bleakly. "I'm certain of it, Hal. You think I'm wrong, I
know. Well, it's possible I am. Anything's possible. Which is why
I've prepared for a hundred other unpleasant eventualities. An
assault from the air. Bombs. Assassins among my own elite guards.
Poison in the food. Snipers. Treachery in a hundred different guises.
I've read my history. I know how many ways a king can be killed."

Tolonen's
granite face showed a momentary tiredness. "I've done dreadful
things to safeguard my T'ang, Hal. Awful, necessary things."

Yes, Tolonen
thought. Like the killing of the fifteen men who designed these
security gates. Fifteen more to add to the vast tally against my
name. Good men, too. But their deaths were necessary. To safeguard
the Seven. Because without the Seven...

He shuddered and
pushed the thought away, then began to walk toward the gates.
Shepherd fell in beside him, silent now, deep in thought. As they
approached the nearest of the gates the elite guards came to
attention, shouldering their arms.

"Where's
the duty officer?"

"Here,
General." The elite squad captain hurried up, then came to
attention, bowing formally to both men. "We're almost done, sir.
Only another twenty or so to test."

"Good. Then
you'll show us to one of the secure rooms. I want to show the T'ang's
chief advisor what we've prepared."

The captain
hesitated, about to say something, then bowed again. "Of course,
sir. Please, follow me."

They went to one
of the larger gates. Steps led up inside. Behind a curtain was a
richly upholstered chair. Surrounding the chair was a whole array of
the most up-to-date medical equipment.

"I'm
impressed," said Shepherd, looking about him and touching
various instruments familiarly. "It all seems very thorough."

The General
nodded to the medical technician who had hastily joined them and,
without ceremony, began to strip off. "I'll go first. Then you."

Shepherd smiled.
"Of course."

There was a
slight hiss from behind the curtain, then the sound of a wheel being
spun.

"Now we're
sealed in. If I'm not who I claim to be—if I'm a fake—then
this whole cabin will be filled with a highly toxic gas."

Shepherd
laughed. "Then I'll pray you are who you say you are."

Tolonen nodded,
then dropped his trousers and stepped out of his webbed pants.

"You've
some interesting scars, Knut."

Tolonen looked
down, then laughed. "Ah, yes. Believe it or not I got that from
a woman. A she-cat she was." He smiled and met Shepherd's eyes.
"Ah, but that was long ago. Forty years now."

He sat in the
armchair and let himself be wired up. The technician busied himself
about him, visibly nervous that he should be called upon to test the
T'ang's General.

The first tests
were simple body scans. Then he was fingerprinted, his retinal
patterns checked and his genotype taken.

The General
looked up at Shepherd calmly. "If they're like the Ebert copy
then these first few tests should catch them. But I'm taking no
chances. Anyway, while we're testing for fakes, we can test for other
things—psychological indoctrination and drugs."

"It must
have been, hard for Klaus."

"He took it
very badly."

Shepherd looked
away momentarily. "It must be hard to see yourself like that.
Dead. Opened up like a sack of meat. Your own face white and cold."

Tolonen said
nothing for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "Yes. Anyway ..."

The technician
had been waiting, listening to their talk. Now he pulled a large,
dome-shaped machine down from above the General's head.

Tolonen
explained. "It's basically a HeadStim. But it's been rewired to
monitor bodily responses. It flashes images at me—

holograms of
senior Family members—and monitors my pulse rate and heartbeat.
Any abnormalities register on the telltale screen that side."

He reached round
the machine as the technician fastened it about his head, and tapped
the tiny black screen there.

"It also
provides a full brain-scan."

Shepherd looked
at it thoughtfully. "As I said. Very thorough. If any more of
these things exist, you ought to get them."

The General made
no answer. The test had begun. The technician glanced nervously at
Shepherd, then busied himself again. Shepherd understood at once. If
they found even one of these copies it would be neutralized
immediately. That was good. But the unlucky technician who was in the
secure room with it would be neutralized too.

"I
shouldn't worry," Shepherd said reassuringly. "I doubt if
any more of them exist."

Outside, beyond
the great walls of the City, the sun was rising over Pei Ching. The
new day—the day of Han Ch'in's wedding—had begun.

MARIA STOOD in
the doorway, looking in at her husband. Josef Krenek was dressing,
his back to her. She watched him pull the new silk
pau
about
him and fasten it with the cord. Then, and only then, did he turn and
answer her.

"What is
it, Maria? Can't you see I'm getting ready?"

She had dressed
an hour back and had been waiting ever since for him to wake and
dress so that she might talk with him.

"It's your
brother, Josef. I think he's ill. He hasn't eaten for days, and when
I went to wake him there was no answer from his room. He's locked
himself in and there's no reply, either from him or from Irina."

Krenek groaned.
His brother Henryk and his wife had arrived three days ago from Mars
and were due to leave tomorrow, after the wedding. All four were
guests of the Tang, with seats at table before the great Arrow
Pavilion. But if Henryk was ill...

Krenek pushed
past his wife irritably and strode purposefully down the corridor.
Stopping before one of the doors he hesitated, then knocked hard.

"Henryk!
Are you all right?"

Almost at once
the door slid open. His brother stood there, dressed, his
midnight-blue velvet
ma k'ua,
or ceremonial jacket, tightly
buttoned, his dark hair combed back severely from his brow.

"Josef. . .
what do you want?"

Krenek bowed
slightly, acknowledging his elder brother's status. He had returned
from Mars only three days ago, newly promoted to Senior
Representative of the colony.

"Maria was
worried for you. She—"

Henryk Krenek
smiled, returning to a lesser degree his brother's bow. His tall,
regal-looking wife, Irina, had come across and now stood behind him.
Henryk looked past his brother at his brother's wife.

"I'm sorry,
Maria, but it was a secret. A gift for my young brother. For being
such a good host to us these last three days."

Josef beamed
with delight. "It is you who honor me, brother."

"Ah, maybe
. . . Even so." Henryk half turned, looking at his wife, then
turned back to face his brother. "Perhaps you'd like to come in,
Josef? Maria, you'll excuse us a moment?"

Maria bowed low.
"I've still much to do, Henryk. I'm sorry I disturbed you with
my foolish fears." Her cheeks red, she backed away, then turned
and fled down the corridor.

Henryk watched
her a moment, then turned and went inside, locking the door behind
him.

"Well,
brother. . ." he said, turning to face Josef. And even as he
said the words he saw Irina come up behind the man and pull the cord
tight about his neck, dragging him down with a strange, inhuman
strength.

SERVANTS MADE
their
k'o t'ou
as Han Ch'in entered the
Chien
Cfung
Kung,
the Palace of Heavenly Purity. Rows of tables had been
set up the length and breadth of the great hall. Thousands of tables,
filling the space between the pillars. Cloths of imperial yellow
covered every table and on each was piled a great heap of wedding
gifts.

Han Ch'in looked
about him, then ventured into the dimness of the hall. At once two of
the servants hastened to accompany the Prince, one going before him,
the other just behind, each carrying a simple oil lantern on a long
pole. It was a tradition that these halls remained unlit by modern
power sources: a tradition no one sought to change.

Han Ch'in strode
about, examining things, then turned, his face and shoulders lit from
above, his dark eyes shining wetly. His shadows stretched away from
him on either side, like ghostly dancers, dark and long and thin,
flickering in the uneven light. "Yuan! Come! Look at this!"

Li Yuan had
paused in the tall doorway, staring up at the richly decorated
ceiling. This was his first visit to the Imperial City and he was
astonished by its sheer opulence. Their own palaces were so small by
comparison, so mean, despite their luxury. This was grandeur on an
unimaginable scale. Was beauty almost to excess. He sighed and shook
his head. Beauty, yes, and yet this beauty had its darker side. He
knew his history: had learned how the Ch'ing—the Manchus—who
ruled from here for two centuries and more, had fallen, weighed down
by their own venality and pride and ignorance. This palace—indeed,
this city of palaces—had been built on suffering. On injustice
and exploitation.