Daylight on Iron Mountain (39 page)

They had not fought in twenty years. In fact there were barely a handful who had fought at all. He had read the reports, just this morning, and it was not pleasant reading. Even his elite teams, which he’d sent in to try to prevent the muster, had failed.

Peace… to an army it was like rust on metal.

But what was done was done. He was sure that sheer numbers would out. The very most those
Hung Mao
could raise was fifty thousand men, and what could they do with so paltry a force? He outnumbered them by sixty to one at the very least.

Even so, he wasn’t happy. He wished there was someone to share the burden with – and he didn’t mean his sons. Someone like Chao.

Yes, only Chao Ni Tsu was dead. Ten years dead, and no one to replace him.
Between them they had subjugated a whole world – he with his will, Chao with his computer skills. And what skills they’d been!

With Chao at his side they would have cracked it in a morning. As it was…

‘Master…?’

Tsao Ch’un turned, looking to his Chief Steward, who had prostrated himself in the doorway.

‘More messages of loyalty?’

‘More than five thousand newly arrived,
Chieh Hsia…
’

Tsao Ch’un spat. He had been sent over twenty thousand messages of loyalty already this morning! Only it didn’t fool him. He was convinced they had sent similar messages to the Seven, hedging their bets…

Only one betrayal had surprised him, and that was Shepherd. He had brooded long and silently over why his old friend had abandoned him. Oh, Amos had always been a cold fish, but to join with his enemies against him… that had been totally unexpected.

He looked to his steward again. ‘And what else?’

‘Your trusted men, Master… they are dead, just as you requested. There was a struggle, but…’

‘It is done, neh? Good.’

Their deaths had been precautionary. Just in case any of them had thought to profit from the situation.

‘Anything else?’

‘There have been attacks on Ministry offices, Master, in all of our cities. Agents have been injured, many killed.’

Tsao Ch’un shuddered indignantly. That was the worst of it; the way the
hsiao jen
climbed onto the bandwagon, taking the opportunity to even the score.

‘Stamp down on it! Order Security to crack down on whoever was involved and deal with them severely!’

Tsao Ch’un turned away, looking back up at the screens. There was a view of Bremen now – of the drill yards and the gathering mass of soldiers. He stared at it a while. Maybe he should nuke Bremen. It would certainly deal with the problem. But something like that might come back to haunt him later on, and besides, he did not have to decide at once. It would be hours yet before he’d need to deal with them. No, first he would increase his efforts
to locate Wu Hsien. That was the key, after all. Yes, he’d take them, one by one, and in the process he’d unnerve them.

He laughed. Then, going over to his desk, he sat and began to write out fresh orders for his eldest son.

The old man lay on his bed, the pale silks covering his emaciated frame. He was dying, yet from the nearby garden came the sounds of children playing; sounds that made the old man smile.

For a moment he had forgotten where he was. He had been back there again, in the country of the past, before they had iced it all over. Before China had come and put the world into a box.

Sometimes he saw it all quite lucidly.

He grew conscious of a presence there beside him. Turning his head he looked up. And smiled. It was his granddaughter, Lo Wen.

She smiled down at him. ‘
Yeh-yeh
Jiang…’

Her hand was holding his, hers warm, his cool.

His smile blossomed. ‘Sweetheart…’

She was the prettiest thing, eight years old and the image of her mother.

‘You’ve been sleeping,
Yeh-yeh
…’

‘Sleeping…’ And he laughed his gentle, old man’s laugh.

It was almost as if he could see himself from above. Some days he seemed to leave himself completely.

The big screen in the corner was murmuring something. He looked away from Lo Wen, his weak eyes struggling to focus, to make sense of it. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it sounded urgent somehow. Something was happening.

He gently squeezed her hand. ‘Darling girl… turn it up, will you?’

Lo Wen jumped up and went across. At once the noise grew clearer, sharper.

Just then his daughter, Ch’iao-chieh, appeared in the doorway. Seeing the images on the screen, she put out her hand, calling Lo Wen to her.

‘Sweetheart… go into the garden for a while with the others. I just want to talk to Grandpa…’

As Lo Wen vanished outside, Ch’iao-chieh closed the door after her.

‘Help me sit up,’ he said, putting his hand out to her.

She sat him up, plumping the cushions behind him, then sat beside him, where Lo Wen had sat a moment before.

She took his hand. ‘Are you all right,
fu chin
?’

He stared past her at the screen. ‘Is it war?’

She nodded.

‘It is the Seven, neh? Fighting Tsao Ch’un for control over things?’

Again she nodded.

He leaned back, closing his eyes, then sighed. ‘I always thought it would be so. It was merely a matter of time.’

She squeezed his hand tenderly. ‘What was he like, Tsao Ch’un?’

Jiang laughed. ‘He was a tyrant even then. What other kind of man could have unified a world? But he wasn’t wrong, was he? Mankind could not go on being at its own throat.’

Opening his eyes again, he could see at once that she was not convinced.

‘Isn’t that exactly where we are right now? At each other’s throats?’

But Jiang Lei merely shrugged. ‘I’m tired now, Ch’iao-chieh. Let me rest.’

‘Shall I…?’ She gestured towards the set.

‘Yes, yes… turn it off… I don’t need to see what’s happening.’

And that was true. Besides, even that smallest effort had worn him out.

He heard her footsteps leave the room, heard the door close quietly after her.

So who was it to be? Tsao Ch’un or the Seven?

Jiang Lei sighed, then closed his eyes once more. After a moment he began to snore.

Karl looked about him at the men in the cruiser with him. It was twenty years since he had seen some of them; others he had been drinking with only a week ago. Now they were comrades again, ‘rebels’ as the media termed them, and in just over an hour they would be going into action once again.

That is, if they weren’t shot out of the air.

They were heading for New York – right into the heart of the storm. Two thousand men, hand-picked by Marshal Raikkonnen, sent in to locate and protect Wu Hsien. And, if possible, bring him safely back to Europe.

It was one hell of a fucking task.

Karl checked his gun for the third time, then looked across the aisle
again. Anders and Dag were talking, leaning in to speak to each other’s ear over the roar of the cruiser’s engines. A bit further on from them, Einar, who he had fought beside in the Californian campaign, stared into the air in the way he always did. Beyond him was Ragnar and, right at the front of the craft, near the cockpit, Henrik and Sven. Old friends. Men you could rely on.

Even so, some doubts remained. Two thousand of them, and what did they face? Almost half a million men.

Karl took a long deep breath. He was sure Raikkonen knew what he was doing. He always had in the past. They’d been outnumbered before and triumphed, only they’d never faced such odds before. Not to speak of their lack of preparation.

It was a gamble. Everyone knew that. But one worth taking. If they lost Wu Hsien…

Anders leaned towards him. ‘Karl! You remembered the grenades?’

Karl grinned. It had happened once before, in Monterey, but only the once. Even so, Anders liked to tease him by reminding him.

Karl patted his kitbag. ‘I have spares if you need them!’ he yelled back.

‘Oh, we’ll need them all right!’

There were savage grins from all the others. They would find Wu Hsien and bring him back. After all, when had they ever failed to complete a mission?

‘And after that, we’ll kick Tsao Ch’un’s arse!’ Dag said, scratching at his neck, his face hard.

And all the while Einar stared into space, just like he always had.

Reed stepped into the shadowed hallway and set his bag down, then closed the door quietly behind him.

From somewhere inside the big house he could hear a TV. It would be tuned to the latest news, if he knew his father, though for once he could understand the old man. Things were developing fast out there.

He walked through, the newscast getting louder and clearer as he stepped into the kitchen.

Jake was sitting with his back to the doorway, cradling a cup of
ch’a
as he watched the screen intently. Standing nearby was his wife, Peter’s stepmother, Mary. She too was captivated by what was happening on screen.

Peter hesitated, then cleared his throat.

The two of them turned as one. Seeing him, their faces lit up.

‘Peter!’ Jake said, getting up and coming over to hug his boy. ‘We were worried…’

And for once they were right to be, he thought. Bremen wasn’t the place to be right now. He let Mary embrace him, then stepped back, looking towards the screen again.

‘What’s been happening?’

‘A battalion of the Northern Banners have gone in…’

‘The Northern Banners? Already? But I thought…’

Peter shook his head. Things
were
moving fast.

‘Where?’ he asked. But his question was redundant. His answer was up there on the screen. They’d gone in to the New York stacks. Two thousand men, armed to the teeth. To find Wu Hsien and bring him out.

‘What’s going to happen?’ Jake asked, standing alongside him, looking at him now rather than the screen, as if he knew any more about it than the news media.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered truthfully. ‘But I couldn’t stay there. It would-n’t surprise me if Tsao Ch’un makes a strike at Bremen.’

‘We’re just glad you’re home, Peter,’ Mary said, her eyes looking at him with concern. ‘Home and unharmed. You should let Meg know you’re back.’

‘I called her on the way back. She should be on her way…’

‘Good.’ But Mary looked like she was going to cry. ‘Gods, this is frightening. I just wish the girls were home…’

‘They’ll be okay,’ Jake chipped in. ‘They’ll be safe on the plantations.’

But Peter wasn’t so sure. For once he agreed with Mary. If things were going to fall apart, he’d rather they were all here, facing it together.

On the screen there was a big explosion, followed seconds later by another.

‘Look,’ Jake said, ‘they’re going in…’

The camera close-upped on a small group of
Hung Mao
soldiers as they blasted their way into a ventilation shaft and disappeared out of sight.

‘I thought we’d done with wars,’ Mary said quietly.

Jake stepped across and put his arms round her. ‘It’s gonna be okay. Right? Whoever wins… All we’ve got to do is keep our heads down and wait things out. There’s food in the pantry and…’ He sighed. ‘It’s not the first time, neh?’

Only Peter could see that for all his reassurances, Jake too was scared. Because no one could see where this was going. This could bring the whole thing tumbling down again.

As for his own dashed hopes…

No, he wasn’t going to say a thing about the contract. He’d lost it now and it was gone for good. He was pretty sure about that, because even if his side won – and what chance was there of that? – it’d be a different world after this.

‘Who d’you want to win?’ Jake asked, looking to him again. ‘The Seven or… you know who…’

‘Tsao Ch’un?’

He looked up at the camera on the far side of the kitchen, and shrugged. He wasn’t going to say – not while there was still a chance someone was watching – but even not saying was an answer. He wanted the Seven to triumph. He wanted that new order they were sure to bring. Only realistically they didn’t stand a chance. Tsao Ch’un had all of the firepower, after all, and firepower was important. It outranked wishful-thinking every time.

Only right then, even as he thought it, something happened. There was a fanfare up on the screen and then, suddenly, a newscaster was reading a statement they had received fresh over the airwaves.

‘News is coming in from City Australasia that one of Tsao Ch’un’s Banner armies… the Fourth Banner Army, we understand… has mutinied. We understand that its commander, Marshal Ku, has been killed, along with seven of his most senior officers in a coup by junior officers, the leader of whom has declared for the Seven…’

‘Fucking hell….’

Mary looked to her husband. ‘Jake…language…’

‘But Jesus…a whole fucking Banner army. Tsao Ch’un only has six of them.’

‘
Had
,’ Peter said, wondering what effect this would have on events. The Fourth Banner was the smallest of the six and City Australasia the least of the seven cities, only… if this had a knock-on effect. If the other Banners heard of this…

Jake looked to him and grinned. ‘D’you think…?’

But Peter didn’t answer. Crossing the kitchen quickly, he crouched over the comset and, tapping in the code, waited to be connected.

‘Who’re you calling?’ Jake asked, coming alongside him again.

‘GenSyn… Your old friend, Alison… my boss!’

Tsao Ch’un sat at his desk, contemplating the news.

Fortunately he had put his most important forces into the personal charge of his sons, and as far as he could make out, there was no question of
their
loyalty. But this betrayal had shaken him. He had not expected it at all.

He would have to change his strategy. Forget Wu Hsien. Forget picking them off one by one. He needed to be decisive. To deal with this at a stroke.

Bremen was the key. If he could take Bremen… Only the news from his agents in Bremen was that Bremen was impregnable. They had turned it into a citadel.

So what next? Assassins?

Tsao Ch’un sighed irritably. He had already tried assassins, but none of them had got through.