Daylight on Iron Mountain (24 page)

Tsao Ch’un set the bottle down then slapped his thighs, his laughter echoing across the room.

The expression on Li Chao Ch’in’s face was a delight. He looked like a man who had swallowed a wasp. And that stuck-up prig of a son of his…

The very thought of it soured his mood. That they should have such sons, whilst he…

Tsao Ch’un shook his head then clambered to his feet. Three wastrels was what he had. Three good-for-nothing arsewipes barely fit to tie their own shoelaces.

That was being a bit hard, perhaps, but it was not too far from the truth. Gambling was what they liked, and drinking, and whoring. Especially the last.

Not that he himself didn’t like a wench. Only he worried sometimes that that was
all
his sons wanted.

The trouble was – and he knew himself well enough to know it for the truth – he was becoming paranoid in his old age. He had begun to mistrust everyone.

There was, of course, good reason. Only last year, two of his wives – two of his favourites – had been killed in an explosion in his bedroom. He too would have died had he not spent the night in some other woman’s bed. Which was why, now, he trusted no one but his Honest Men – his little band of rogues. Men he had freed from where they had been rotting in the cells. Men who owed him their lives.

And then this thing today, this… ceremony… this coming of age…

Tsao Ch’un spat, then waved at the screen.

It went blank.

To him Li Peng’s coming-of-age ceremony smacked too much of their pride. Of a smugness on the part of the Seven. He wasn’t sure he liked the way his advisors preened themselves; how they dressed and spoke, and raised their sons to inherit. Oh, it made a kind of sense, of course. They had been good servants in their day, and to raise their sons in that tradition seemed a natural thing to do. Only… when he thought of
their
sons and
his
…

Tsao Ch’un let out a troubled breath. He might have blamed his mood on ill health; after all, he had been sleeping badly these last few weeks and the pains in his legs had grown worse. Only the truth was otherwise. The truth was he had run out of challenges. Once you had unified a world and destroyed every last one of your enemies, what was left to do?

No. The truth was he was bored. Bored to the point of malice. Hence his little prank today.

Only maybe he had gone too far.

Tsao Ch’un narrowed his eyes, thinking on the matter. Then, raising his arms, he clapped his hands together sharply. At once a dozen servants ran to him, stopping five yards short of where he was sitting, throwing themselves down onto their knees, their foreheads pressed to the cold stone flags.

‘Master…’

The word hissed out from a dozen mouths.

‘Steward Ling!’ he yelled, pointing to the man. ‘Bring my cloak and prepare the royal craft. I am going to Tongjiang!’

‘Master…’

And they crawled away backwards, on their bellies, like the dogs they were, hastening to do their Master’s bidding.

At that moment, in Tsao Ch’un’s capital, Pei Ching, one of GenSyn’s junior executives was sitting in the anteroom of the Department of Contracts, the business arm of Tsao Ch’un’s civil service.

The reception area, decorated in the T’ang dynasty style and complete with carp pond, was hugely impressive, one of the most pleasant places Reed had had to wait in these last few months – and he had waited in a great many.

A white tiled pathway led away from where he sat, through a garden filled with red plum blossom and fresh green stalks of bamboo. To the side of his seat was a small table of black carven wood, on which was a tray of sweet-meats and fruit and various delicious-scented cordials.

Hungry as he was, he left the tray alone, conscious of how important the upcoming meeting was. It would not do to go into that room with grape seeds between his teeth.

It had taken Reed the best part of a year to get this far. But this afternoon, after endless dead ends and disappointments, he would finally get a decision.

He was there to see John Buck, the Ministry’s Head of Development. But Buck was only the mouthpiece. He’d be the one who did all the talking; who’d ask all the questions and answer any queries Reed had. But the decision would be made by his superior, Chen So I. Reed knew he would sit in the background, listening silently while Buck and he talked.

That was how these men did business, never sullying their hands with commonplace matters, merely giving a yes or no, without need for explanation.

The thought of it made his heart race.
To have come so far…

Reed also knew, of course, that Chen So I would not have seen him had he not been interested. GenSyn were not, after all, a big company. Not like MedFac and NorTek. There was no real need for Chen So I to keep them sweet. Nor was Reed himself influential enough to warrant special attention. Which was why, for once, the decision would be made purely on the merits of the project itself.

It was almost unheard of, to the best of his knowledge.

More than a dozen times he’d had the door shut on him – had been thrown out of some junior official’s office and told not to waste their time. But there were many doors and many doorkeepers, and he had persevered where others might have given up. Had persuaded several not-so-jaded junior appointees that to be on board such a project could only do their careers good.

And so he hoped it would prove. He was not, in that regard, spinning a line. Reed believed in the project. The fact that it had lain dormant for almost twenty years did not matter, nor that the first attempt at developing it had been a woeful failure. It was still a first-rate idea, and if he could get the Seven to agree, then both they and he – and GenSyn, of course – would benefit hugely.

A small, tidy-looking Han in dark blue silks came down the path towards him. He stopped then bowed low.

‘
Shih
Reed… if you would like to come through…’

He followed the man, through the Moon Door and past the carp pond, over a wooden bridge and into a long, shaded office. There at the far end, in what felt to Reed like the audience room of some ancient Chinese palace, Buck was waiting. He was standing before his desk, his hand out, a pleasant smile on his face.

‘Peter… at last we get to meet!’

In the shadows beyond Buck, Chen So I sat like a statue, his bald pate gleaming golden in the low, flickering light of a massive red wax candle that burned to one side.

Reed shook Buck’s hand, then sat.

Buck sat down at his desk, watching Reed a moment. Then, steepling his hands before him, he smiled once more.

‘Interesting,’ he began. ‘Very interesting indeed. Not the usual kind of proposition we get at Contracts.’

‘No,’ Reed answered, smiling tensely.

‘Well,’ Buck added, after a moment, ‘the reason it’s taken me so long to get back to you is obvious, I guess. I wanted to know a little more about this “project” of yours. I wanted to know its history particularly. Where it came from. Who developed it.’

Reed smiled. He had expected as much. ‘And?’

‘And we had to pull some teeth to get hold of that information.’

‘Ah… the Ministry…’

Buck’s smile faded then returned. ‘It’s a compelling idea, Peter. Exact copies of people. I’d say that that was the best insurance policy a rich man, or a powerful one, could have, neh? I can see how you might have developed this, let’s say, outside of official channels. A lot of men would pay a great deal for what you’re offering. But you were right to come to us. Contracts is where this belongs. Everything straight and above board. Controlled by those it ought to be controlled by. But then you knew that, didn’t you?’

Reed shifted uncomfortably.

‘One question, though,’ Buck said.

‘Go on…’

‘Would we be dealing with you directly if we were to sanction this?’

Reed swallowed. ‘I’m… not sure. Our chairman,
Shih
Ebert…’

Unexpectedly, Chen So I spoke. ‘I am sorry,
Shih
Reed,’ he said. He leaned forward a little, his face showing momentarily in the candle’s light, like an ancient yellowed tapestry briefly glimpsed. ‘I am afraid that we would insist upon it as a condition. We have been impressed by your…
discretion
, let’s call it. By your sure and certain knowledge just where this ought to be placed and with whom.’

Reed’s mouth had gone dry. Had they just said yes? And was their only condition that he be directly involved? If so…

‘A matter like this,’ Buck took up, ‘involves trust at the very highest level. To clone a man is something, but to clone a great man… well… all manner of dangers are implicit in the process. We must be absolutely sure with whom we deal, and that our dealings are closely monitored. To have a man we trust…’

Reed bowed his head. ‘I am honoured.’

‘Good,’ Chen So I said, standing suddenly. ‘Then we have a deal,
Shih
Reed.’

Buck too had stood. Now he put out his hand again and clasped Reed’s firmly. ‘Our contract will be with you by this evening, Peter. And thanks. I’m looking forward to doing business with you.’

Back in his hotel room, sitting on his bed, waiting to be connected to his father, he knew that he ought to have asked a lot more questions – like how
much Contracts were going to pay, and how many units they were willing to purchase.

Only he knew that wasn’t how it worked. You didn’t haggle with those people. You could only walk away from an agreement with them.

Besides, it would all be in the contract, and Buck had promised it for that evening. It would be all right. He was sure of it. After all, they wanted this every bit as much as GenSyn.

Yes, but what if they wanted it all done on the cheap? And what if Ebert didn’t like what they were offering? He could be very prickly about those kind of details.

All right. But would he dare turn down a Ministry contract? Would he dare to sully those waters and risk leaving GenSyn out in the cold, shunned by those who had influence in the markets?

For the briefest moment Reed examined the possibility. Taking it to Contracts had been a high-risk strategy. An all-or-nothing venture. That said, not even Wolfgang Ebert would turn down the chance of working with the Seven on this.
Whatever
the terms. Because even if
this
didn’t turn a profit, it would at least open doors, and once those doors were open…

Yes, he thought.
We’ve been out in the cold far too long.

It was time to pick up where they’d left off and start to grow again.

Even so, he couldn’t help but be excited. It had been a long, hard grind and he’d been close to giving up many times. Only now he had a deal. And not just any deal. A deal with Tsao Ch’un’s Ministry of Contracts.

Peter smiled. Meg would be pleased now that it was settled, and not just for the fat bonus he would make. He’d not seen a lot of her these past few weeks, and things had been a little tense. But he’d make it up to her.

The comset buzzed. His mother’s face appeared on the screen.

Technically, Mary was his stepmother – his
wife’s
mother. His real mother – her sister Anne – had died long ago, when he was only a boy.

‘Hi, Ma,’ he said, beaming back at her as she appeared on screen. ‘You okay?’

‘I’ve been baking,’ she answered, indicating the flour dust that covered her apron. ‘Are you coming to see us? If so, it’s about time… I thought you must have gone to Mars.’

‘Mars is
next
month. I’ve been very busy, is all. But maybe I’ve some good news.’

‘Yes?’ she said. ‘Nothing to do with grandchildren?’

‘Ma…’ He laughed. ‘You’d be the first to know.’

‘Well… I’ve been waiting long enough. Your sisters…’

‘Are dropping one a year, I know… But Meg enjoys her job. You know that.’

‘Even so…’

Five minutes more of this and they said goodbye. Afterwards, Peter sat there, staring at the empty screen, musing on what had been said. Maybe Mary was right. Maybe it was time to have kids. Meg hadn’t said anything, but if this new deal came off – if his bonus was enough – then maybe they could afford to have children. Yes, and to move up a level or two. Find somewhere bigger and nicer.

Not that what they had right now wasn’t nice. It was just…

If this comes off, then we’re in a different league.

That was partly what had driven him this past year. To put GenSyn right up there with the big boys.

Reed stood. Knowing there was nothing to do but wait, he went through and had a shower.

‘Where
are
they?’ Tsao Ch’un’s man, Wen P’ing asked, his whole manner surly, uncompromisingly aggressive.

Li Chao Ch’in bristled inwardly. ‘They’re sleeping it off,’ he answered. ‘Come, I’ll show you…’

‘None of them were harmed, I hope. If Tsao Ch’un hears of any mal-treatment of his men…’

‘Oh, I assure you,
they
were not hurt. Not a hair on any of
their
heads.’

‘And they were drunk, you say?’

Li Chao Ch’in looked down. One more rude remark and he’d have Wen P’ing stripped and flogged, and damn the circumstances. But he bit back the words that came to mind. The last thing he needed to do right now was cause trouble. No. Tsao Ch’un would be here within the hour. He had sent word. And once he was here they could get on with the ceremony.

In the meantime, he had only to put up with this man’s rudeness. This puffed-up nonentity, this piece of common shit whom Tsao Ch’un had elevated way beyond his worth.

Li Chao Ch’in smiled insincerely. ‘We made sure that all of their needs were seen to.’

A dozen maids had seen to that. And whilst he felt pained that he should have had to sacrifice them to such brutes, it was better than the alternative – which would have been to fight them to the death.

He led Tsao Ch’un’s man through to the guest rooms where the Honest Men lay, sprawled there half naked among the silken sheets. The maids were long gone. If Li Chao Ch’in had had his way he would have slit their throats in sleep – every last one of them. Three guests were badly injured, a dozen more apoplectic from their treatment at the hands of these rogues. Were it any other man but Tsao Ch’un…