Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (87 page)

And so it must
remain. For a lifetime, if necessary. But how long would it be before
another whispered the secret to one they trusted? How long before the
rumor trickled out again, flowing from ear to ear like the
tributaries of a great river? And then?

"I am
pleased that it has all worked out so well, Marshal," he said,
meeting the old man's eyes briefly. "But now, if you need me no
longer, I must see Pei Ro-hen. I have yet to complete the business I
came here to transact."

"Of
course," Tolonen said, smiling now. "You have done all that
needs to be done here, Master Nan. I can deal with the rest."

"Good. Then
you'll excuse me."

He bowed and was
beginning to turn away when Tolonen called him back. "Forgive
me, Master Nan, but one small thing. This morning, as I understand
it, was the first time Tsu Ma had visited Tongjiang for three, almost
four months. Now, without saying for a moment that I believe it to be
true, such rumors have no credibility—even among such carrion
as these—unless there are some few small circumstances to back
them up. What crossed my mind, therefore, was that this was possibly
some old tale, renewed, perhaps, by Tsu Ma's visit this morning? I
wondered . . ." He hesitated, clearly embarrassed by what he was
about to say. "Well, to be frank, I wondered if you had heard
any whisper of this rumor before today, Master Nan. Whether . . ."

But Nan Ho was
shaking his head. "Maybe you're right, Marshal Tolonen, but
personally I think it more likely that the T'ang's visit put the idea
into the young groom's head, neh? Dig a little and I'm sure you'll
find a reason for his malice. It would not be the first time that
such mischief has come from personal disappointment."

Tolonen
considered that a moment, then nodded, satisfied. "Well, it was
just a passing thought. Go now, Master Nan. And may the gods reward
you for what you have done here today."

* *
*

IT HAD TAKEN the
best part of six hours to work their way down through the deck, but
now they had only this last box to deal with and they were done. Both
men had been quiet for some time, as if the stream of talk between
them had dried up, but now Mach looked across at his pale companion
and laughed.

"What is
it?" Lehmann asked tonelessly, concentrating on unscrewing the
last of the restraining bolts.

"I was just
thinking—"

Again he
laughed. This time Lehmann raised his eyes, searching his face.
"Thinking what?"

"Just about
what you might have become. With your father's money, I mean. You
could have been a right bastard, neh? Beating them at their own game.
Making deals. Controlling the markets. Undercutting your competitors
or stealing their patents. Did that never appeal to you?"

Lehmann looked
down again. "I considered it. But then, I considered a lot of
things. But to answer you,
Shih
Mach—no, it never
appealed to me. But this . . ." He eased the bolt out and set it
down. "This is what I've always wanted to do."

"Always?"
Mach helped him remove the plate, then sat back on his haunches,
watching.

"Since I
can remember," Lehmann went on, tapping the cut-out code into
the keyboard. "I've always fought against the system. Ever since
I knew I could. In small ways at first. And later . . ."

Mach waited, but
Lehmann seemed to have finished.

"Are you
really as nihilistic as you seem, Stefan Lehmann? Is there nothing
you believe in?"

Lehmann's pale,
thin fingers hovered over the panel a moment, then quickly plucked
the five tiny cards from their slots. Mach had watched Lehmann do
this eighteen times now, noting how he took his time,
double-checking, making absolutely sure he took the right ones. It
was impressive in a way, this kind of obsessive care. And necessary
in this case, because the configuration of each panel was different.
But there was also something machinelike about the way Lehmann went
about it.

He waited,
knowing the albino would answer him when he was good and ready;
watching him take out the tiny sealed packet and break it open, then
slip the replacement cards into their respective slots.

"There,"
Lehmann said. "That's all of them. Do you want to test the
circuit out?"

Mach was about
to answer when there was a banging on the tunnel wall beneath them.

"Shit!"
Mach hissed between his teeth. "What the fuck is that?"

Lehmann had
turned at the noise; now he waited, perfectly still, like a lizard
about to take its prey. Wait, he mouthed. It
may be
nothing.

There was
silence. Mach counted. He had gotten to eight when the banging came
again, louder than before and closer, almost beneath their feet.
Moments later a head appeared at the hatchway farther along.

"Hey!"
the guard said, turning to face them. "Are you authorized to be
in there?"

Mach laughed.
"Well, if we're not we're in trouble, aren't we?" The guard
was pulling himself up into the tunnel, hissing with the effort. Mach
looked to Lehmann quickly, indicating that he should do nothing. With
the barest nod Lehmann leaned back, resting his head against the
tunnel wall, his eyes closed.

The guard
scrambled up, then came closer, his body hunched up in the narrow
space. He was a young, dark-haired officer with the kind of bearing
that suggested he had come out of cadet training only months before.
"What are you doing here?" he asked officiously, one hand
resting lightly on his sidearm. Mach smiled, shaking his head. "Don't
you read your sheets?" The young guard bristled, offended by
Mach's off-hand manner. "That's precisely why I'm here. I've
already checked. There's no mention of any maintenance work on the
sheets."

Mach shrugged.
"And that's our fault? You should contact Admin and find out
what asshole fucked things up, but don't get on our backs. Here."
He reached inside his tunic and pulled out the papers DeVore had had
forged for them.

He watched the
guard's face; saw how the sight of something official-looking
mollified him.

"Well? Are
you satisfied?" Mach asked, putting out his hand to take the
papers back.

The guard drew
back a step, his eyes taking in the open box, the exposed panel. "I
still don't understand. What exactly are you doing there? It says
here that you're supposed to be testing the ComNet, but you can do
that without looking at the boxes, surely?"

Mach stared back
at him, his lips parted, momentarily at a loss, but Lehmann came to
the rescue. He leaned forward casually and plucked one of the tiny
cards from the panel in front of him, handing it to the guard.

"Have you
ever seen one of these?"

The guard
studied the clear plastic of the card, then looked back at Lehmann.
"Yes, I—"

"And you
know how they function?"

"Vaguely,
yes, I—"

Lehmann laughed.
A cold, scathing laughter. "You don't know a fucking thing, do
you, soldier boy? For instance, did you know that if even a single
one of these instruction cards gets put in the wrong slot then the
whole net can be fucked up. Urgent information can be misrouted,
emergency calls never get to their destinations. That's why we
_x
take
such pains. That's why we look at every box. Carefully. Meticulously.
To make sure it doesn't happen. Understand me?" He looked up at
the guard savagely. "Okay, you've been a good boy and done all
your checking, now just piss off and let us get on with the job, neh?
Before we register a complaint to your superior officer for
harassment."

Mach saw the
anger in the young guard's face, the swallowed retort. Then the
papers were thrust back into his hand and the guard was backing away
down the tunnel.

"That was
good," Mach said quietly when he was gone. "He'll be no
more trouble, that's for sure."

Lehmann looked
at him, then shook his head. "Here," he said, handing him
the plate. "You finish this. I'm going after our friend."

Mach narrowed
his eyes. "Are you sure that's wise? I mean, he seemed satisfied
with your explanation. And if you were to kill him . . ."

Lehmann turned,
his face for that brief moment very close to Mach's, his pink eyes
searching the
Ping Tiao
leader's own eyes.

"You asked
if I believed in anything, Mach. Well, there's one thing I do believe
in—I believe in making sure."

* *
*

LI YUAN RODE
ahead, finding the path down the hillside. Behind him came the
palanquin, swaying gently, the six carriers finding their footholds
on the gentle slope with a practiced certainty, their low grunts
carrying on the still evening air.

Li Yuan turned
in his saddle, looking back. The sun was setting in the west, beyond
the Ta Pa Shan. In its dying light the pale yellow silks of the
palanquin seemed dyed a bloody red. He laughed and turned back,
spurring his horse on. It had been a wonderful day. A day he would
remember for a long time. And Fei Yen? Despite her sickness, Fei had
looked more beautiful than ever. And even if they had not made love,
simply to be with her had somehow been enough.

He threw his
head back, feeling the cool breeze on his neck and face. Yes,
motherhood suited Fei Yen. They would have many sons. A dozen,
fifteen, sons. Enough to fill Tongjiang. And daughters too. Daughters
who would look like Fei Yen. And then, when he was old and
silver-haired, he would have a hundred grandchildren; would gather
his pretties about his throne and tell them of a summer day—this
day—when he had gone up to the ruins with their grandmother,
the Lady Fei, and wished them into being.

He laughed,
enjoying the thought, then slowed, seeing lights floating, dancing in
the darkness up ahead. Looking back he raised a hand, signaling for
the carriers to stop, then eased his mount forward a pace or two. No,
he was not mistaken, the lights were coming on toward them. Then he
understood. They were lanterns. Someone—Nan Ho, most likely—had
thought to send out lantern bearers to light their way home.

He turned,
signaling the carriers to come on, then spurred the Arab forward
again, going down to meet the party from the palace.

He met them
halfway across the long meadow. There were twenty bearers, their
ancient oil-filled lanterns mounted on ten-ch'i wooden poles. Coming
up behind were a dozen guards and two of the young grooms from the
stables. Ahead of them all, marching along stiffly, like a young boy
playing at soldiers, was Nan Ho. "Master Nan!" he hailed.
"How good of you to think of coming to greet us." Nan Ho
bowed low. Behind him the tiny procession had stopped, their heads
bowed. "It was but my duty, my Lord."

Li Yuan drew
closer, leaning toward Nan Ho, his voice lowered. "And the
business I sent you on?"

"It is all
arranged," Nan Ho answered quietly. "The Lord Pei has taken
on the matter as his personal responsibility. Your maids will have
the very best of husbands."

"Good."
Li Yuan straightened up in his saddle, then clapped his hands,
delighted that Pearl Heart and Sweet Rose would finally have their
reward. "Good. Then let us go and escort the Lady Fei, neh,
Master Nan?"

Li Yuan galloped
ahead, meeting the palanquin at the edge of the long meadow. "Stop!"
he called. "Set the palanquin down. We shall wait for the
bearers to come." As the chair was lowered there was the soft
rustle of silk from inside as Fei Yen stirred. "Yuan?" she
called sleepily. "Yuan, what's happening?"

He signaled to
one of the men to lift back the heavy silk at the front of the
palanquin, then stepped forward, helping Fei Yen raise herself into a
sitting position. Then he stepped back again, pointing out across the
meadow. "See what Master Nan has arranged for us, my love."

She laughed
softly, delighted. The darkness of the great meadow seemed suddenly
enchanted, the soft glow of the lanterns like giant fireflies
floating at the end of their tall poles. Beyond them on the far side
of the meadow, the walls of the great palace of Tongjiang were a
burnished gold in the sun's last rays, the red, steeply tiled roofs
like flames.

"It's
beautiful," she said. "Like something from a fairy tale."
He laughed, seeing how the lamplight seemed to float in the liquid
darkness of her eyes. "Yes. And you the fairy princess, my love.
But come, let me sit with you. One should share such magic, neh?"

He climbed up
next to his wife, then turned, easing himself into the great
cushioned seat next to her.

"All right,
Master Nan. We're ready."

Nan Ho bowed,
then set about arranging things, lining the lantern bearers up on
either side of the palanquin, then assigning six of the guards to
double up as carriers. He looked about him. Without being told the
two grooms had taken charge of the Arab and were petting her gently.

Good, thought
Nan Ho, signaling for the remaining guards to form up behind the
palanquin. But his satisfaction was tainted. He looked at his master
and at his wife and felt sick at heart. How beautiful it all looked
in the light of the lanterns, how perfect, and yet. . .

He looked down,
remembering what he had done, what he had seen that day, and felt a
bitter anger. Things
should be as they seem,
he thought. No,
he corrected himself; things
should seem as they truly are.

He raised his
hand. At the signal the carriers lifted the palanquin with a low
grunt. Then, as he moved out ahead of them, the procession began,
making its slow way across the great meadow, the darkness gathering
all about them.

* *
*

"Well, how
did it go?"

Lehmann threw
the pouch down on the desk in front of DeVore. "There was a
slight hitch, but all the circuits are in place. I had to kill a man.
A Security guard. But your man there, Hanssen, is seeing to that."