Son of Heaven (24 page)

Nor was this process natural. That was, as far as ‘nature’ could be applied to the datscape. None of these changes mirrored anything that was happening in the real world. Not as far
as Jake could ascertain. They were programmes, they had to be, and if that was so then they had to be coming in on the threads. There had to be more spinners out there, feeding this stuff in,
working for their enemy, whoever it was.

It was while he was sitting there, his boots immersed in a faint grey slush, that Joel came through to him again.

‘Jake? Good news. The cavalry’s arrived.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. We’ve got intervention.’

Jake grinned. It was the best news he’d heard all day.

‘About fucking time, eh? Mind, we could have done with it an hour back. It would have made it so much easier. What are they putting in?’

‘Sixty trillion to start with. And a further forty if necessary.’

It was a lot of money to throw at the problem, and to be effective they would have to buy-in at above the odds. But the alternative – to do nothing – would very likely cost them
more, much more.

‘When’s it happening?’

‘Midnight, GMT. They’re going to spread the purchases throughout the eight. Let each identify where it can act best.’

It sounded good. Sounded the kind of aggressive measure that might just stop this dead in its tracks. For the first time in days, Jake felt that maybe things were turning in their favour.

‘And Ascher? We got any word yet on what happened?’

Joel’s answer was subdued: ‘Same as happened to all the other Overseers. They must have targeted the lot.’

The news stunned Jake. ‘Not possible. How… I mean… just the codes…’

‘I know. It’s unimaginable. Yet that’s what they did.’

‘You say
they
, Joel. Have we any inkling yet of who’s doing all this?’

‘Not a single fucking clue.’

‘No. I didn’t think so.’ Jake swallowed. ‘Hey… let me know any news. And take good care of yourself, yeah?’

‘Yeah…’

And Joel was gone.

Jake looked about him. It was eleven minutes to midnight. Eleven minutes to keep things ticking over, and then they’d kick this bastard’s arse. Whoever he was.

‘Chao?’

‘Yes, Master?’

‘What are they doing now?’

‘It is called intervention, Master.’

‘Intervention…’ The small man considered that a moment, pulling at his beard as he did. Then, ‘And how far do they intend to intervene?’

‘At first, sixty trillion. And then another forty… if they must.’

‘Oh, they must. They really must.’ And he laughed, a low, pleasant laugh.

‘Master?’

‘Yes, Chao?’

‘Should we let them think they’re winning?’

‘I thought this was your show, brave Chao. I thought…’ He paused, an idea coming to him. ‘Tell me, Chao, how hard would it be to project my face into that
place?’

‘Your face, Master?’ The other considered that, then shrugged. ‘I guess I could. Why… would you like that, Master?’

‘At the end of things, yes… if it is possible.’

They were silent for a moment, then the one called Chao, who had been watching his own computer screen, looked up again.

‘Their tactic’s working, Master. The wind is dying. Should I…?’

‘Not yet, brave Chao. Give them hope. Remember what Sun Tzu teaches us. We must show them a small avenue of escape. The faintest possibility of hope. And then…’

Chao looked down, smiling. ‘As my Master wishes.’

They waited, watching as the signs grew hopeful, as the wind died and the colours slowly changed to brighter hues.

‘There,’ the small man said, pointing towards the figures on the screen. ‘Have your man focus on that one. The one in green, on the right there. I want to see his face as it
all changes back. I want…’

The image changed. The man’s face – his mask – became larger, clearer.

‘Good. Good… now let’s end it. Let’s kick the fucking legs from under it, eh, Chao?’

Chao chuckled. ‘As my Master wishes… but what would you have me sell?’

The small man was smiling now. A broad, triumphant smile. ‘Sell glass, Chao. Sell every last share we have in glass!’

‘Glass?’ Jake stood there, stunned by what Joel was saying. ‘They’re selling glass?’

‘Yes,’ Joel answered. ‘Like there’s no tomorrow…’

Unfortunate words
, Jake thought, because now he knew. The Chinese. The fucking Chinese were selling every share they had in glass. And why would they do that? Why in god’s name
disinvest in something they needed so much of?

‘Oh fuck… Oh Jesus fucking Christ!’

Joel, it seems, was still listening in. ‘Jake? What’s up?’

The Chinese are selling glass, that’s what up. And if they’re selling glass now, then all the rest…

‘It’s the Chinese, Joel. It’s the fucking Chinese!’

Joel laughed. He actually laughed. ‘It can’t be.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’re suffering more than anyone.’

‘So?’

The wind had died. There was a sudden freshness to the air. For a moment or two it had almost seemed that it was over. And then the Chinese had begun to sell glass.

Jake turned, aware suddenly that someone was behind him.

‘God…’

It was Jory. Jory from
Ubik
. At least, an avatar that looked like Jory, complete with shovel teeth.

‘Who are you? Who the fuck…’

His avatar seized, became catatonic for a moment, locked. All but his eyes, which were somehow permitted movement.

It’s him, Jake thought. The one who made all of these things happen.

It made no move to come and get him. To try to eat him, as it tried to eat Joe Chip. No, it just stood there as all about it the datscape slowly died.

He wanted to understand. He wanted to ask it why it had done this. But he couldn’t use his mouth. Only his eyes. As if some highly specific programme were controlling him now.

He was expecting it to speak. To tell him why he had been chosen at the last. But it said nothing, merely looked at him, disdainful in its triumph.

The backdrop flickered, speeded up, then slowed. A voice sounded in a long-drawn-out drawl. It was Joel, speaking in his head.

‘Who-oo-oo’s sqeeeee-ziiing iiit?’

The bandwidth. Joel meant the bandwidth. Someone was ‘squeezing’ it.

Things grew pale, faint, instabilities began to appear in the surface of things – tiny black holes forming where things were missing suddenly, like gaps in reality. Only none of this was
real. None of it.

He tried to cut out of there, but, paralysed as he was, he couldn’t.

Trapped. I’m fucking trapped.

‘
Not trapped
,’ a voice answered him, as if it read his mind. ‘
Beaten, yes, but not trapped
.’

Was that him? Was that Jory? Only his mouth hadn’t moved. He hadn’t spoken. But someone had. Someone had finally got inside him.

And as he thought it, he could feel the touch of the finest silken threads on his face, the faintest trace of sulphur and cinnamon on his tongue. And, pervading all, like a coil of swirling,
dark red smoke, the outlines of a face. Oriental. Brutal.

Jake woke, covered in sweat. Joel was leaning over him.

He looked about him, panicked. ‘What happened? What the fuck…?’

‘They froze it. Closed the datscape down.’

‘Closed it…?’ He nodded. Of course. That’s what they had decided. ‘So things are… all right?’

‘They’re hardly that. But they’ve declared a three-day holiday. To try and sort things out.’

‘And China?’

In answer, Joel pointed to a screen above Jake’s bed. ‘Look for yourself. China’s burning. They’re no threat to anyone.’

On the screen, the Forbidden Palace was in flames. The great square in front of it was filled with angry people, shouting and fighting. As the image jumped from city to city it was more of the
same. People fought and buildings burned.

‘I don’t understand…’

‘It’s madness now, but things’ll calm down. People were afraid, that’s all.’

Jake stared at him a moment, then let his head fall back onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

Something had happened. Something bad. Only they were all in denial about it. They thought they could close it all down for a couple of days and everything would be fine. Only it wasn’t.
Nor would it be. Not if China had its way.

He kept seeing that face, forming in the smoke, and knew now where he’d seen it before. It was on a TV bulletin, about a year ago. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he
would. In time.

He turned his head, opening his eyes to look at Joel again.

‘So what’s the plan?’

Joel smiled. ‘You go home. Sit tight for a day or two. Then come back here and start it all up again.’

‘And meanwhile?’

‘We’re going to analyse what happened. Run it all back and see what we can see. We’ve got a good idea, thanks to you, Jake. We know what we’re looking for. And
we’ll find it, I guarantee.’

‘Yeah?’ Only he wasn’t sure they would, for once. The one he’d faced – the one behind the Jory avatar – must have known they’d close things down as soon
as they got bad. He’d anticipated all the rest, why not anticipate that?

No. Whoever he was, he was good. Possibly the best. Those programmes he’d written. It was like he understood things in a different way.

But why bring it all down? Why that?

Joel ordered him a hopper. It was after five and, standing there in the dark, he wondered what their next move was. Because this hadn’t finished yet. What the Chinese had begun,
they’d finish, because that was their way.

As the hopper touched down on the pad, he ran across, bent low.

‘Mister Reed…’

He clambered inside, grateful for once to be heading home. ‘Hi, Sam. How are things in the real world?’

‘Not good, Mister Reed. Been a bad night…’

‘Yeah?’

Jake was surprised. Sam was normally so cheerful, so positive. Yet as they climbed above the tops of the high buildings, he could see back down the river. P’ei Ching wasn’t the only
place that was burning. All down the river, on both sides, there were patches of golden flames among the blackness.

‘God… what’s been happening?’

‘News gets out,’ Sam said. ‘Word is the Market had to close.’

Jake nodded. ‘That’s so.’

‘Then things
must
be bad, yeah?’

‘I guess.’

There was a brief silence between them, then Sam spoke again. ‘Mister Reed?’

‘Hey… call me Jake.’

He saw in the mirror how Sam smiled at that.

‘I’d love to, Mister Reed. You’re a nice man. But it’d get me the sack. No… what I wanted to say was this. Hard times are coming. Maybe the hardest we’ve
seen for years.’

He wanted to say no. To reassure him the way he knew he was going to have to reassure Kate. Only he couldn’t. Sam deserved better than that.

‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I think that’s so. I think…’

He saw it coming up at them. Sensed its brightness long before he felt it strike the craft.

‘Jesus Christ!’

The world exploded in the air about him. Bits flew past the seat where he was cocooned in the back.

The hopper shifted to the right, then began to fall.

‘Hold on!’ Sam yelled above the sudden noise of wind.

The engine juddered, died.

‘Oh fuck…’

Jake closed his eyes. It was like one of those funfair rides. All of his weight was suddenly transferred. Everything was suddenly so much heavier. Only this was no ride. He wasn’t in the
datscape now. This was real. And there was nothing between him and the earth. Nothing but the river.

He fell, faster and faster, strapped into his seat, the craft beginning to swing round and round in the air, pirouetting madly.

And then it hit.

Chapter 6

FRAGMENTS

J
ake came to, lulled by the gentle rocking motion of the craft. It was dark and damp and his ribs ached. There was the faintest gurgling sound, a
soft electronic crackle and the steady hiss of spraying water.

From the blackness in front came a groan.

‘Sam…?’

There was no answer.

Jake fumbled for the catch to release him from the restraining harness. As he did he noticed the wetness surrounding him.

‘Fuck…’

The seal for the inner compartment had been breached. Maybe some piece of shrapnel from the explosion had got between the two surfaces, preventing them from closing properly. He didn’t
know.

The water wasn’t deep. Four or five inches at most. But if they couldn’t get out then they were in serious trouble.

‘Sam? You okay?’

Another groan.

Maybe someone was coming. Maybe someone had seen the missile hit and had sent for help. Or maybe Sam had sent out an emergency signal. Only he couldn’t count on that. What if no one knew
they were down?

He had to open the seal and take his chances. Swim for shore and hope it wasn’t far. That or wait for the water to fill the capsule.

He sat forward, then winced with the pain. The strap must have cut into him. It felt like someone had taken a blunt knife and run it down the length of his chest from left shoulder to right
hip.