Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series (27 page)

‘That is so,
Shih
Bergson.’

‘The job pays well. Twice what you earn now, Tong Chou.’

Yes
, thought Chen,
so why does no one else apply? Because it is an unpopular job, being field supervisor
under you, that’s why. And so you wonder why I want it.

‘That’s exactly why I want the job,
Shih
Bergson. I want to get on. To clear my debts in the Above and climb the levels once
again.’

DeVore sat back, watching him closely a moment, then he leaned forward, took a black
stone from the tray and set it down with a sharp click.

‘All right. I’ll consider the matter. But first there’s something you can do for me,
Tong Chou. Two nights back the storehouse in the western meadows was broken into and
three cases
of strawberries, packed ready for delivery to one of my clients in First Level, were
taken. You’ll understand how inconvenienced I was.’ He sniffed and looked at Chen
directly.
‘There’s a thief on the plantation, Tong Chou. I want you to find out who it is and
deal with him. Do you understand me?’

Chen hesitated a moment, taken by surprise by this unexpected demand. Then, realizing
he had no choice if he was to get close enough to DeVore to get Karr his proof, he
dropped his head.

‘As you say,
Shih
Bergson. And when I’ve dealt with him?’

DeVore laughed. ‘Then we’ll play again, Tong Chou, and talk about your future.’

When the peasant had gone, DeVore went across to the screens and pulled the curtain
back, then switched on the screen that connected him with Berdichev in the House.

‘How are things?’ he asked as Berdichev’s face appeared.

Berdichev laughed excitedly. ‘It’s early yet, but I think we’ve done it. Farr’s people
have come over and the New Legist faction are swaying a little. Barrow calculates
that we need only twenty more votes and we’ve thrown the Seven’s veto out.’

‘That’s good. And afterwards?’

Berdichev smiled. ‘You’ve heard something, then? Well, that’s my surprise. Wait and
see. That’s all I’ll say.’

DeVore broke contact. He pulled the curtain to and walked over to the board. The peasant
hadn’t been a bad player, considering. Not really all that stimulating, yet amusing
enough,
particularly in the second phase of the game. He would have to give him nine stones
next time. He studied the situation a moment. Black had won, by a single stone.

As for Berdichev and his ‘surprise’…

DeVore laughed and began to clear the board. As if you could keep such a thing hidden.
The albino was the last surprise Soren Berdichev would spring on him. Even so, he
admired Soren for having
the insight – and the guts – to do what he had done. When the Seven learned of the
investigations. And when they saw the end results…

He looked across at the curtained bank of screens. Yes, all hell would break loose
when the Seven found out what Soren Berdichev had been up to. And what was so delightful
was that it was all
legal. All perfectly constitutional. There was nothing they could do about it.

But they
would
do something. He was certain of that. So it was up to him to anticipate it. To find
out what they planned and get in first.

And there was no one better at that game than he. No one in the whole of Chung Kuo.

‘Why, look, Soren! Look at Lo Yu-Hsiang!’ Clarac laughed and spilled wine down his
sleeve, but he was oblivious of it, watching the scenes on the big screens
overhead.

Berdichev looked where Clarac was pointing and gave a laugh of delight. The camera
was in close-up on the Senior Representative’s face.

‘Gods! He looks as if he’s about to have a coronary!’

As the camera panned slowly round the tiers, it could be seen that the look of sheer
outrage on Lo Yu-Hsiang’s face was mirrored throughout that section of the House.
Normally calm
patricians bellowed and raged, their eyes bulging with anger.

Douglas came up behind Berdichev and slapped him on the back. ‘And there’s nothing
they can do about it! Well done, Soren! Marvellous! I thought I’d never see the
day…’

There was more jubilant laughter from the men gathered in the gallery room, then Douglas
called for order and had the servants bring more glasses so they could drink a toast.

‘To Soren Berdichev! And
The New Hope
!’

Two dozen voices echoed the toast, then drank, their eyes filled with admiration for
the man at the centre of their circle.

Soren Berdichev inclined his head, then, with a smile, turned back to the viewing
window and gazed down on the scene below.

The scenes in the House had been unprecedented. In all the years of its existence
nothing like this had happened. Not even the murder of Pietr Lehmann had rocked the
House so violently. The
defeat of the Seven’s veto motion – a motion designed to confine
The New Hope
to the Solar System – had been unusual enough, but what had followed had been quite
astonishing.

Wild celebrations had greeted the result of the vote. The anti-veto faction had won
by a majority of one hundred and eighteen. In the calm that had followed, Under Secretary
Barrow had gone
quietly to the rostrum and begun speaking.

At first most of the members heard very little of Barrow’s speech. They were still
busy discussing the implications of the vote. But one by one they fell silent as the
full importance of
what Barrow was saying began to sweep around the tiers.

Barrow was proposing a special motion, to be passed by a two-thirds majority of the
House. A motion for the indictment of certain members of the House. He was outlining
the details of
investigations that had been made by a secretly convened sub-committee of the House
– investigations into corruption, unauthorized practices and the payment of illegal
fees.

By the time he paused and looked up from the paper he was reading from, there was
complete silence in the House.

Barrow turned, facing a certain section of the tiers, then began to read out a list
of names. He was only part way into that long list when the noise from the Han benches
drowned his voice.

Every name on his list was a
tai
– a ‘pocket’ Representative, their positions, their ‘loyalty’, bought and paid for
by the Seven. This, even more than the
House’s rejection of the starship veto, was a direct challenge upon the authority
of the Seven. It was tantamount to a declaration of the House’s independence from
their
T’ang.

Barrow waited while the Secretary of the House called the tiers to order, then, ignoring
the list for a moment, began an impassioned speech about the purity of the House and
how it had been
compromised by the Seven.

The outcry from the
tai
benches was swamped by enthusiastic cheers from all sides of the House. The growing
power of the
tai
had been a longstanding bone of contention, even
amongst the Han Representatives, and Barrow’s indignation reflected their own feelings.
It had been different in the old days: then a
tai
had been a man to be respected, but these
brash young men were no more than empty mouthpieces for the Seven.

When it came to the vote the margin was as narrow as it could possibly be. Three votes
settled it. The eighty-six
tai
named on Barrow’s list were to be indicted.

There was uproar. Infuriated
tai
threw bench pillows down at the speaker, while some would have come down the aisles
to lay hands on him had not other members blocked their way.

Then, at a signal from the Secretary, House security troops had come into the chamber
and had begun to round up the named
tai
, handcuffing them like common criminals and removing their
permit cards.

Berdichev watched the end of this process – saw the last few
tai
being led away, protesting violently, down into the cells below the House.

He shivered, exulted. This was a day to remember. A day he had long dreamed of.
The New Hope
was saved and the House strengthened. And later on, after the celebrations, he would
begin the
next phase of his scheme.

He turned and looked back at the men gathered in the viewing room, knowing instinctively
which he could trust and which not, then smiled to himself. It began here, now. A
force that all the
power of the Seven could not stop. And the Aristotle File would give it a focus, a
sense of purpose and direction. When they saw what had been kept from them there would
be no turning back. The
File would bring an end to the rule of Seven.

Yes. He laughed and raised his glass to Douglas once again. It had begun. And who
knew what kind of world it would be when they had done with it?

Chapter 41

THE DARKENING OF THE LIGHT

I
t was two in the morning and outside the Berdichev mansion, in the ornamental gardens,
the guests were still celebrating noisily. A line of
sedans waited on the far side of the green, beneath the lanterns, their pole-men and
guards in attendance nearby, while closer to the house a temporary kitchen had been
set up. Servants moved
busily between the guests, serving hot bowls of soup or noodles, or offering more
wine.

Berdichev stood on the balcony, looking down, studying it all a moment. Then he moved
back inside, smiling a greeting at the twelve men gathered there.

These were the first of them. The ones he trusted most.

He looked across at the servant, waiting at his request in the doorway, and gave the
signal. The servant – a ‘European’, like all his staff these days – returned a moment
later with a tray on which was a large, pot-bellied bottle and thirteen delicate porcelain
bowls. The servant placed the tray on the table, then, with a deep bow, backed away
and closed the door
after him.

They were alone.

Berdichev’s smile broadened. ‘You’ll drink with me,
Chun t’zu
?’ He held up the bottle – a forty-year-old
Shou Hsing
peach brandy – and was
greeted with a murmur of warm approval.

He poured, then handed out the tiny bowls, conscious that the eyes of the ‘gentlemen’
would from time to time move to the twelve thick folders laid out on the table beside
the
tray.

He raised his bowl. ‘
Kan pei
!’

‘
Kan pei
!’ they echoed and downed their brandies in one gulp.

‘Beautiful!’ said Moore with a small shudder. ‘Where did you get it, Soren? I didn’t
think there was a bottle of
Shou Hsing
left in all Chung Kuo that was over
twenty years old.’

Berdichev smiled. ‘I have two cases of it, John. Allow me to send you a bottle.’ He
looked about him, his smile for once unforced, quite natural. ‘And all of you
chun
t’zu
, of course.’

Their delight was unfeigned. Such a brandy must be fifty thousand yuan a bottle at
the least! And Berdichev had just given a case of it away!

‘You certainly know how to celebrate, Soren!’ said Parr, coming closer and holding
his arm a moment. Parr was an old friend and business associate, with dealings in
North
America.

Berdichev nodded. ‘Maybe. But there’s much to celebrate tonight. Much more, in fact,
than any of you realize. You see, my good friends, tonight is the beginning of something.
The
start of a new age.’

He saw how their eyes went to the folders again.

‘Yes.’ He went to the table and picked up one of the folders. ‘It has to do with these.
You’ve noticed, I’m sure. Twelve of you and twelve folders.’ He looked
about the circle of them, studying their faces one last time, making certain before
he committed himself.

Yes, these were the men. Important men. Men with important contacts. But friends,
too – men he could trust. They would start it for him. A thing that, once begun, would
prove irresistible.
And, he hoped, irreversible.

‘You’re all wondering why I brought you up here, away from the celebrations? You’re
also wondering what it has to do with the folders. Well, I’ll keep you wondering no
longer. Refill your glasses from the bottle, then take a seat. What I’m about to tell
you may call for a stiff drink.’

There was laughter, but it was muted, tense. They knew Soren Berdichev well enough
to know that he never played jokes, or made statements he could not support.

When they were settled around the table, Berdichev distributed the folders.

‘Before you open them, let me ask each of you something.’ He turned and looked at
Moore. ‘You first, John. Which is more important to you: a little of your time and
energy – valuable as that is – or the future of our race, the Europeans?’

Moore laughed. ‘You know how I feel about that, Soren.’

Berdichev nodded. ‘Okay. Then let me ask you something more specific. If I were to
tell you that in that folder in front of you was a document of approximately two hundred
thousand words,
and that I wanted you to hand-copy it for me, what would you say to that?’

‘Unexplained, I’d say you were mad, Soren. Why should I want to hand-copy a document?
Why not get some of my people to put it on computer for me?’

‘Of course.’ Berdichev’s smile was harder. He seemed suddenly more his normal self.
‘But if I were to tell you that this is a secret document. And not just any small
corporate secret, but
the
secret, would that make it easier to understand?’

Moore sat back slightly. ‘What do you mean,
the
secret? What’s in the file, Soren?’

‘I’ll come to that. First, though, do you trust me? Is there anyone here who doesn’t
trust me?’

There was a murmuring and a shaking of heads. Parr spoke for them all. ‘You know there’s
not one of us who wouldn’t commit half of all they owned on your word.’

Berdichev smiled tightly. ‘I know. But what about one hundred per cent? Is anyone
here afraid to commit that much?’

Another of them – a tall, thin-faced man named Ecker – answered this time. A native
of City Africa, he had strong trading links with Berdichev’s company, SimFic.

‘Do you mean a financial commitment, Soren, or are you talking of something more personal?’

Berdichev bowed slightly. ‘You are all practical men. That’s good. I’d not have any
other kind of men for friends. But to answer you, in one sense you’re correct, Edgar.
I do mean something far more personal. That said, which of us here can so easily disentangle
their personal from their financial selves?’

There was the laughter of agreement at that. It was true. They were moneyed creatures.
The market was in their blood.

‘Let me say simply that if any of you choose to open the folder you will be committing
yourselves one hundred percent. Personally and, by inference, financially.’ He put
out a hand
quickly. ‘Oh, I don’t mean that I’ll be coming to you for loans or anything like that.
This won’t affect your trading positions.’

Parr laughed. ‘I’ve known you more than twenty years now, Soren, and I realize that
– like all of us here – you have secrets you would share with few others. But this
kind of public indirectness is most unlike you. Why can’t you just tell us what’s
in the folder?’

Berdichev nodded tersely. ‘All right. I’ll come to it, I promise you, Charles. But
this is necessary.’ He looked slowly about the table, then bowed his head slightly.
‘I
want to be fair to you all. To make certain you understand the risks you would be
taking in simply opening the folder. Because I want none of you to feel you were pushed
into this. That would serve
no one here. In fact, I would much rather have anyone who feels uncomfortable with
this leave now before he commits himself that far. And no blame attached. Because
once you take the first step
– once you find out what’s inside the folder – your lives will be forfeit.’

Parr leaned forward and tapped the folder. ‘I still don’t understand, Soren. What’s
in here? A scheme to assassinate the Seven? What could be so dangerous that simply
to know
of it could make a man’s life forfeit?’

‘
The
secret. As I said before. The thing the Han have kept from us all these years. As
for why it’s dangerous simply to know, let me tell you about a little-known statute
that’s rarely used these days – and a Ministry whose sole purpose is to create an
illusion, which even they have come to believe is how things really are.’

Parr laughed and spread his hands. ‘Now you are being enigmatic, Soren. What statute?
What Ministry? What illusion?’

‘It is called, simply, the Ministry, it is situated in Bremen and Pei Ching, and its
only purpose is to guard the secret. Further, it is empowered to arrest and execute
anyone knowing of
or disseminating information about the secret. As for the illusion…’ He laughed sourly.
‘Well, you’ll understand if you choose to open the folder.’

One of those who hadn’t spoken before now sat forward. He was a big, powerful-looking
man with a long, unfashionable beard. His name was Ross and he was the owner of a
large satellite
communications company in East Asia.

‘This is treason, then, Soren?’

Berdichev nodded.

Ross stroked his beard thoughtfully and looked about him. Then, almost casually, he
opened his folder, took out the stack of papers and began to examine the first page.

A moment later others followed.

Berdichev looked about the table. Twelve folders lay empty, the files removed. He
shivered then looked down, a faint smile on his lips.

There was a low whistle from Moore. He looked up at Berdichev, his eyes wide. ‘Is
this true, Soren? Is this really true?’

Berdichev nodded.

‘But this is just so… so fantastic. Like a dream someone’s had.’

‘It’s true,’ Berdichev said firmly. They were all watching him now. ‘Which of us here
has not been down into the Clay and seen the ruins? When the tyrant Tsao Ch’un
built his City he buried more than the architecture of the past, he buried its history,
too.’

‘And built another?’ The voice was Parr’s.

‘Yes. Carefully, painstakingly, over the years. You see, his intention wasn’t simply
to eradicate all opposition to his rule, he wanted to destroy all knowledge of what
had gone
before him. As the City grew, so his officials collected all books, all film, all
recordings, allowing nothing that was not Han to enter their great City. Most of what
they collected was simply
burned. But not everything. Much was adapted. You see, Tsao Ch’un’s advisors were
too clever simply to create a gap. That, they knew, would have attracted curiosity.
What they did was
far more subtle and, in the long run, far more persuasive to the great mass of people.
They set about reconstructing the history of the world – placing Chung Kuo at the
centre of everything,
back in its rightful place, as they saw it.’

He drew a breath, then continued, conscious momentarily of noises from the party in
the gardens outside. ‘It was a lie, but a lie to which everyone subscribed, for in
the first decades of
the City merely to question their version of the past-even to suggest it might have
happened otherwise – was punishable by death. But the lie was complex and powerful,
and people soon forgot. New
generations arose who knew little of the real past. To them the whispers and rumours
seemed mere fantasy in the face of the reality they had been taught and saw all about
them. The media fed them
the illusion daily until the illusion became, even to those responsible for its creation,
quite
real
.’

And this – this Aristotle File… is this the truth Tsao Ch’un suppressed?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you come upon it?’

Berdichev smiled. ‘Slowly. Piece by piece. For the last fifteen years I’ve been searching
– making my own discreet investigations. Following up clues. And this – this
file – is the end result of all that searching.’

Ross sat back. ‘I’m impressed. More than that, Soren, I’m astonished! Truly, for the
first time in my life I’m astonished. This is…’ He laughed strangely.
‘Well, it’s hard to take it in. Perhaps it’s the brandy but…’

There was laughter at that, but all eyes were on Ross as he tried to articulate their
feelings.

‘Well… I know what my friend, John Moore, means. It is fantastic. Perhaps too much
so to swallow at a single go like this.’ He reached forward and lifted the first few
pages,
then looked at Berdichev again. ‘It’s just that I find it all rather hard to believe.’

Berdichev leaned forward, light glinting from the lenses of his glasses. ‘That’s just
what they intended, Michael. And it’s one of the reasons why I want you all to hand-write
a copy. That way it will get rooted in you all. You will have done more than simply
read it. You will have transcribed it. And in doing so the reality of it will strike
you forcibly. You will see
how it all connects. Its plausibility – no, its truth! – will be written in the blood
of every one of you.’

Ross smiled. ‘I see that the original of this was written in your own hand, Soren.
You ask us to commit ourselves equally?’

Berdichev nodded.

‘Then I for one am glad to do so. But what of the copy we make? What should we do
with it? Keep it safe?’

Berdichev smiled, meeting his friend’s eyes. Ross knew. He had seen it already. ‘You
will pass your copy on. To a man you trust like a brother. As I trust you. He, in
his turn, will
make another copy and pass it on to one he trusts. And so on, forging a chain, until
there are many who know. And then…’ He sat back. ‘Well, then you will see what will
happen.
But this – this here tonight – is the beginning of it. We are the first. From here
the seed goes out. But harvest time will come, I promise you all. Harvest time will
come.’