Daylight on Iron Mountain (35 page)

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Authors: David Wingrove

Tags: #Science fiction, #Fantasy

BOOK: Daylight on Iron Mountain
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Shen Fu smiled. ‘You’re looking well, Marshal. You’ve kept yourself in fine health, I see.’

‘I can’t complain. And you? Are you well, Shen Fu?’

‘As well as I might be in these troubled times.’

‘Ah yes… these times…’

‘I am at Tongjiang.’


Tongjiang?

He saw how Aaltonen’s eyes widened at that. Saw how he weighed it up and almost – almost – smiled.

‘I am here with Lord Li, and Fan Cho…’

Aaltonen gasped. ‘Fan Cho… But I thought…’

‘You thought he was dead. He and his mother. So the newscasts would have it. Only they escaped. And now they’ve taken refuge here, at Tongjiang.’

Aaltonen hesitated. He had already heard enough to make him a deadly enemy if he chose. No one else knew as much as he right now, and were he to pass that knowledge on to Tsao Ch’un…

Shen Fu waited, then saw the man smile.

‘So what might I do for you, First Dragon? How might I be of service?’

It was all a matter of experience.

Or, as Shen Fu realized only too well, inexperience.

The Seven were great ministers, great peacetime leaders. Under their practical guidance, Tsao Ch’un’s great City had grown and grown, its citizens prospering, their number growing ever larger, ever richer by the year. As servants of the great man they had no equal. Only the fact was, not a single one among them had ever been involved in the business of warfare. Tsao Ch’un had made it his policy to keep such matters strictly within his own compass. And now they could see why.

The cards, it seemed, were stacked heavily in Tsao Ch’un’s favour.

Fortunately for Li Chao Ch’in and the others, the First Dragon
had
thought long and hard about how to wage a campaign against his Master. In these early hours, when things were still in flux, his advice would, he knew, prove invaluable. Would be, perhaps, the difference between success and failure.

The key to it all, of course, was Aaltonen. For it was Aaltonen, and Aaltonen alone, who had influence over three men, all members of the North European mercenaries who had brought in their hired men to swing the balance when the campaign in North America was faltering.

Those three – each one a retired marshal – were now swiftly recruited to
the cause, along with what remained of their forces.

The question was, would it prove enough?

‘Shen Fu…?’

The First Dragon turned from where he sat, facing the great window. Lord Li was standing there in the doorway, his eldest son beside him, the young man’s head bowed, showing Shen respect. It made him wonder what his own boy, Chien, would have been like had he lived. Chien would have been twenty-nine now. A man. Maybe even a great man. After all, look at what his father had achieved.

Shen Fu pushed the thought aside, then stood and went across, bowing to the pair.

‘Lord Li… Prince Peng… what news?’

‘It’s not that, Shen Fu… it’s…’ Li Chao Ch’in took a breath. ‘I have come to a decision.’

‘A decision?’

‘To go to Europe. To see
Shih
Shepherd.’

‘Shih Shepherd…?’ Shen Fu almost laughed. Only he was a man who never laughed. ‘Have you considered the risks, my Lord?’

‘I have. But I think I ought to go. If we can convince him of the justness of our cause…’

‘Maybe so. But it is a long way, Li Chao Ch’in. More than four thousand miles, and much of that over hostile territory.’

‘I know. Only we have discussed it, my sons and I, and… Well, there seems no other way. We must take a gamble now. Besides, how can we ask others to take risks if we are not willing to take them ourselves?’

‘Well spoken, my Lord. But let me suggest one refinement to your plan. Why not fly instead to Bremen? Have Amos meet you there. And while you’re at it, why not ask your Head of Security, Aaltonen, to join you?’

‘Marshal Aaltonen? You think he’d come?’

‘I know it for a fact. And a few of his friends, I warrant.’

‘Then Bremen it is. But do you think Shepherd will meet us there? After all, if Tsao Ch’un were to hear of it…’

Shen Fu shook his head.

‘Shepherd is his own man. Speak to him. Ask him to meet you. He can only say no.’

Li Chao Ch’in considered that a moment, then nodded. ‘All right. I’ll
speak to him now. But Shen Fu…’

‘Yes, Lord Li?’

‘Do you think we still have time?’

Before boarding his craft, Li Chao Ch’in gathered his sons about him for one final word.

‘My sons… take care of things in my absence, and do not despair. We will come through. With the help of our good friends, we shall win this war against the tyrant. I leave Li Peng in charge in my stead. He and the First Dragon will arrange things from henceforth, while I am in Europe. As for the rest…’

He embraced them, one by one, all but the youngest, Li Chang So, who was to accompany him on his perilous journey. Looking at them this last time he felt a dark and secret fear gnawing at him. He didn’t want to leave them. It felt like abandonment. But he had to go. This wasn’t a game, it was a war for their very survival. Tsao Ch’un would take no prisoners, therefore failure was not an option. Tsao Ch’un
must
be overthrown, he and his sons destroyed, so that a new, more just rule – that of the Seven – could be established.

But the hours ahead held hidden dangers. Who knew what Tsao Ch’un was up to? Maybe he was out there already, beyond the periphery of Tongjiang, waiting for Li Chao to emerge, ready to blast his craft out of the air.

Six heavily armed cruisers were to accompany his craft, to guard and protect him against attack. But he knew what Tsao Ch’un could put into the air, and beside it his own force was insignificant. He would need luck as well as daring if he were to reach Bremen.

He went inside and strapped himself into his chair, steeling himself against the anguish he was feeling at that moment. Only the thought of it would not go away.

I will never ever see them all again…

He looked across at Li Chang So. His youngest son was sitting back in his seat, his eyes closed, relaxed, or so it seemed.

Li Chao Ch’in swallowed, his mouth gone dry. How had it come to this?

There was a clunk as the outer hatches closed, then a low growl from the
engines. A moment later they began to lift.

Kuan Yin… keep them safe…

But a small, still part of him knew his wish was quite forlorn. They were dead. He knew it for a fact. They were all as good as dead, and he among them.

My loves… My pretty ones…

But it was all too late. The die was cast. The gods alone could aid him now.

‘Forgive me, First Dragon, but what exactly is it that you’re doing?’

Shen Fu turned to the young prince and bowed politely.

‘We are doing what we at the Ministry are best at. Using the media to communicate our message.’

Li Peng nodded, then looked about him once again at his father’s study. It was unrecognizable. There were big screens and camera equipment everywhere, along with mixing desks and stack after stack of massive signal-boosting equipment.

‘Ah, I see… but…’

‘How are we getting the signal out when Tsao Ch’un is supposed to be jamming us? That’s very simple. We have our own feeds. Oh, he’ll find out how to shut us down in time, but before then we plan to make an impact.’

‘But if it’s your word against his, who will they believe?’

‘They don’t have to believe anything. They just have to bear witness.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, we just show them the truth for once. The total, unvarnished truth.’

Li Peng laughed. Then he saw that the First Dragon was being absolutely serious.

‘The
truth
?’

‘That’s right. I know… it goes against our tradition, neh, Prince Peng? But what more powerful weapon could there be than to show Tsao Ch’un’s tyranny as it is, without exaggeration? How better win the hearts and minds of Chung Kuo’s citizens than to show them just what it is their Master has in mind for them?’

The young prince stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head.
‘It won’t work.’

‘Won’t it? You should see the footage we have. Innocent men killed in their beds. Grieving widows. And more. Much more.’

‘He’ll fight back.’

‘Of course he will. And fight dirty. That is his way. But they’ll know the difference. They’ll
know
. See if they don’t.’

Exhausted, at the end of a long day haggling over contract details, Reed sat at the corner table in the Red Lantern tea house in one of the West Bremen stacks, staring up in total shock at the news reports coming in from North America.

He had never seen the like of it. Up on the screen, in vivid, garish detail, Tsao Ch’un’s elite troops could be seen kicking their way into a locked bedroom. Using fists and boots, knives, knuckledusters, iron bars and clubs, they laid into the unarmed occupants, beating them savagely, sadistically before finishing them off with their handguns.

There was no commentary, just the images. And no sooner was one thing finished than another – equally horrifying – took its place, all of it uncensored, like it was being streamed in from the darkest heart of nightmare.

From time to time a printed message on the screen would give the images a context, date, time and location, but otherwise there was no attempt to provide any kind of intermediary comment. None of that bland, whitewashing crap they usually fed the people. And that, for some strange reason, made it all the more compelling. Because this was happening right now.

The levels were buzzing with rumours. But one thing was crystal clear. Tsao Ch’un was at war with his own chief ministers. Everyone knew that much.

Rumour was that several of the T’ang were already dead. Killed for plotting against Tsao Ch’un. But many said that that was a lie, that it was simply Tsao Ch’un trying to hold on to his power by any means, and the images seemed to bear this out.

Reed looked away, feeling sick. The day, which had begun so well, so brightly and hopefully, had ended in disaster. The contract he’d been working on was worth nothing now. He might as well just tear the fucking thing up! As for his dream of a First Level mansion, that had just popped
like a soap bubble, because Tsao Ch’un, with the Banners and Security on his side, was bound to win this struggle. Only a fool would back the Seven.

He sipped at his
ch’a
bowl, then spat it out. It was cold.

Reed looked about him. This whole situation made him feel uneasy. If Tsao Ch’un
did
win it would mean crackdowns and purges, yes and endless executions. Because that was how they were, these Han. They didn’t mess about. Tsao Ch’un least of all.

Purification
, that’s what they’d call it. An excuse to get rid of their enemies – of anyone who in the smallest degree had opposed them.

Yes, along with anyone who’d had dealings with their enemies.

Which put him squarely in the firing zone.

He stood, his hand searching in the pocket of his
pau
for some change to leave for the
ch’a
when all the screens went suddenly blank. For a moment they seemed dead. Then, with a little fanfare, they came on again, showing the familiar image of Bremen Central – not five
li
from where he sat. There stood a group of six men on a platform, staring uneasily into camera.


Kuan Yin…
’ he said, his mouth falling open, recognizing suddenly who they were.

Jesus Fucking Christ!

Bremen, it seemed, had officially declared itself for the Seven. And there, on screen, as if to emphasize it, were Li Chao Ch’in, Marshal Aaltonen, Amos Shepherd, and three very grizzled old soldiers in their ancient Banner uniforms, men whom Reed recognized from the campaigns in America.

It was a particular shock to see Shepherd there among them. But a further shock awaited him, for as Li Chao Ch’in turned to greet and embrace each of the three old soldiers, so Reed saw his own boss in the background, among a group of other Company Heads. Wolfgang Ebert standing there, looking grimly on.

Reed whistled to himself. It was a coup. It was a fucking coup! The Seven wanted Tsao Ch’un out. That’s what all this was about. And a number of very important people were joining them.

Not that they had a hope in hell, but it was good to see.

Bremen… for the Seven.

Actually, now that he thought about it, it was quite a big thing. Because Bremen was the centre of a whole lot of stuff. The Ministry had their headquarters here, and Security. And if Amos Shepherd had thrown in his lot
with them…

That last particularly made him think. Shepherd wasn’t a stupid man, far from it, and if he thought they had a chance… Well, maybe they did. Maybe there was stuff going on that none of the City’s many citizens had heard about.

Amos Shepherd, he knew, only backed winners. When Jiang Lei had conquered North America, who’d been his right-hand man? Shepherd. And before that? When Tsao Ch’un himself had conquered half the globe, there again was Shepherd, right alongside the great man, giving advice.

But not this time. This time he’d abandoned his Master. This time he’d backed what at first sight appeared to be the odds-on losers.

So what did he know that they didn’t?

The soundtrack crackled then cut out. A moment later the screen went blank. Only this time it didn’t come on again.

Home
, Reed told himself.
Get your arse back home, and make it quick now. Before it all starts up once more.

Tsao Ch’un stood before the screen, raging at the scene that was being transmitted from Bremen Central. His chair had been thrown back, the footstool kicked away in a fit of rage. Looking on, the handful of servants that were present bowed low and backed away, terrified of what their Master might do in his anger.

There had been
some
good news. Wu Hsien’s palace in Manhattan had been taken, but Wu Hsien himself had escaped and his capture was the primary aim.

Tsao Ch’un shook his fist at the screen, cursing his good-for-nothing sons. More troops were to go in within the hour – to attack his enemies in their own strongholds – but such things took time to organize, and in the meantime the Seven were digging in, entrenching their positions.

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