The White Mountain (8 page)

‘And the other T'ang?'

Li Yuan shook his head. ‘There's no time for that. Besides, if Wang Sau-leyan were to learn, it's likely there would be no one there to arrest. He has a funny way with “secrets”.'

Wu Shih looked down, considering, then nodded. ‘All right. Twelfth bell. And you will act elsewhere? You and Tsu Ma?'

‘At twelfth bell.' He made to cut the connection.

‘Li Yuan! Wait! What of the boy? Do you think they will suspect his role in this?'

Li Yuan laughed. ‘How could they? Even he doesn't know what he has been these past few days.'

Wu Shih gave a small laugh. ‘Even so, should I take steps to get him out?'

Li Yuan shook his head. ‘No. Any such move might alert them. Ensure only that your men do not harm him by mistake.'

Wu Shih lowered his head slightly, a mark of respect that he had often made to Yuan's father, Li Shai Tung, and an implicit acknowledgment of where the real leadership lay within the Seven.

Li Yuan smiled. ‘Then goodnight, cousin. We shall speak in the morning. Once things are better known.'

The Lever Mansion was a huge, two-storey house with gables, standing in its own wooded grounds. Outside it was dark, the house lights reflected brightly in the dark waters of the nearby lake. In the centre of the mansion's bold façade was a pillared entrance, its wide, double doors open, light spilling out on to a gravel drive. Dark sedans, some antique, some reproduction, lined the entrance road, their runners dressed in a black-suited livery that matched the ancient crest on the sides of the sedans. All evening they had gone back and forth, ferrying guests between the house and the transit, almost a
li
away.

The illusion was almost perfect. The darkness hid the walls of the surrounding decks, while above, a thick, dark blue cloth masked the ice of the stack's uppermost floor, like a starless night sky.

Kim stood there between the trees, in darkness, looking back at the house. This was the third time he had come to Richmond, to the Lever Mansion, but it was the first time he had seen the house in darkness. Tonight they were throwing a ball. A party for the elite of their City – the
Supernal
, as they called themselves. It was the first time he had heard the term used and it amused him to think of himself, so
low
in birth, mixing in such
high
company. He was not drunk – he took care never to touch alcohol or drugs – but merely mixing in the atmosphere of the house was enough to create a mild euphoria. The air was chill, sharp. In the trees nearby the leaves rustled in a mild, artificial breeze. Kim smiled, enjoying the strangeness of it all, and reached out to touch the smooth bark of one of the pines.

‘Kim?'

A tall, elegant young man in old-fashioned evening dress stood at the edge of the gravel, calling him. It was Michael Lever.

‘I'm here,' he said, stepping out from the trees. ‘I was just getting some air.' Lever greeted him, more than a
ch'i
taller than him, straight-backed and blond, an
American
…

‘Come on through,' he said, smiling. ‘Father was asking after you.'

Kim let himself be ushered inside once more, through reception room and ballroom and out into a smaller, quieter space beyond. Leather doors closed behind him. The room was dimly lit, pervaded by the tart smell of cigar smoke. Old Man Lever was sitting on the far side of the room, beside the only lamp, his friends gathered about him in high-backed leather chairs. Old men, like himself. By the window stood a group of younger men. Michael joined them, accepting a drink from one, then turned back, looking across at Kim.

Charles Lever lit up a new cigar, then beckoned Kim over. ‘Here, Kim. Take a seat.' He indicated the empty chair beside him. ‘There are some people here – friends of mine – I want you to meet.'

Old men
. The thought flashed through Kim's mind.
Old men, afraid of dying
.

He sat in the huge, uncomfortable chair, ill at ease, nodding acknowledgment to each of the men in turn; noting each face and placing it. These were big men. Powerful men. Each of them Lever's equal. So what had Lever said? What had Lever promised he could do for them?

‘We were talking,' Lever said, turning in his chair to look at Kim. ‘Chewing things over among ourselves. And I was telling my friends here about your new company. About
Chih Chu
. Potentially a nice little outfit, but small, undercapitalized.'

Kim looked down, surprised that Lever knew already.

Lever cleared his throat, then nodded, as if satisfied by his own evaluation of things. ‘And I was saying what a shame it was. Because I've seen your like before, Kim. A hot property with plenty of good, strong ideas and lots of get-up-and-go, but nothing to back it up. There's a pattern to it, too. I've seen how they've built things up – how they've grown really fast. Up to a certain point. And then…' He shook his head and looked down at the cigar smouldering between his fingers. ‘Then they've tried to move up a league. Into manufacturing. Because it's a shame to let the big industrials take so large a share of the cut. Galling, even.'

The young men by the window were watching him intently, almost suspiciously. Kim could feel their eyes on him; could almost sense what
they were thinking. What would this mean for them? For if their fathers lived for ever…

‘I've seen them try to take that step,' Lever continued. ‘And I've seen them flounder, unable to cope with the sheer size of the market. I've watched the big Companies move in, like those sharks we were talking of, and gobble up the pieces. Because that's what it's really all about, Kim. Not ideas. Not potential. Not get-up-and-go. But money. Money and power.'

He paused and sucked at his cigar. All about him the old men nodded, but their eyes never left Kim's face.

‘So I was saying to my friends here, let's make things happen a little differently this time. Use some of
our
money,
our
power to help this young man. Because it's a shame to see potential go to waste. A damn shame, if you ask me.'

He leaned back, drawing on the cigar, then puffed out a narrow stream of smoke. Kim waited, silent, not knowing what to say. He wanted nothing from these men. Neither money, nor power. But that was not the point. It was what they wanted from him that mattered here.

‘CosTech has offered for your contract. Right?'

Kim opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Of course Lever would know. He had spies, hadn't he? They all had spies. It was how things worked at this level. You weren't in business unless you knew what the competition was up to.

‘Yes. But I haven't decided yet,' he lied, wanting to hear what they were going to offer. ‘I'm meeting them again in two weeks to talk terms.'

Lever smiled, but it was a smile tinged with sourness. ‘Working for the competition, eh?' He laughed. ‘Rather you than me, boy.'

There was laughter from the gathered circle. Only by the window was there silence.

‘But why's this, Kim? Why would you want to waste a year of your life slaving for CosTech when you could be pushing
Chih Chu
on to bigger things?'

Make your offer
, Kim thought.
Spell it out. What you want. What you're offering. Make a deal, old man. Or would that embarrass you, being so direct?

‘You know what they've offered?' he asked.

Lever nodded. ‘It's peanuts. An insult to your talent. And it ties you. Limits what you could do.'

Ah, thought Kim,
that's more to the point
. Working for CosTech, he could
not work for ImmVac. And they needed him. The old men needed him, because, after a certain age, it was not possible to stop the ageing process. Not as things stood. They had to catch it before the molecular signal that triggered it. Afterwards was no good. What ImmVac had developed was no good for any of these men. The complex system of cell replication began to break down, slowly at first, but exponentially, until the genetic damage was irreparable. And then senility.

And what good was money or power against senility and death?

‘I'm a physicist,' he said, looking at the old man directly. ‘What good am I to you? You want a biochemist. Someone working in the field of defective protein manufacture. In cell repair. Not an engineer.'

Lever shook his head. ‘You're good. People say you're the best. And you're young. You could learn. Specialize in self-repair mechanisms.' He stared at Kim fiercely. The cigar in his hand had gone out. ‘We'll pay what you ask. Provide whatever you need.'

Kim rubbed at his eyes. The cigar smoke had made them sore. He wanted to say no and have an end to it, but knew these were not men he could readily say no to.

‘Two weeks, Shih Lever. Give me two weeks, then I'll let you know.'

Lever narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the young, childlike man. ‘Two weeks?'

‘Yes. After all, you're asking me to change the direction of my life. And that's something I have to think about. I've got to consider what it means. What I might lose and what gain. I can't see it right now. Which is why I need to think it through.'

But he had thought it through already and dismissed it. He knew what he wanted; had known from the first moment he had glimpsed the vision of the web. Death – what was death beside that vision?

Lever looked to the other men in the room, then nodded his agreement. ‘All right, Shih Ward. Two weeks it is.'

It was late. The crowd in the ballroom had thinned out, but the dancing went on. On the balcony overlooking the hall, a ten-man orchestra played a slow waltz, their bows rising and falling in the fragmented light. Kim stood at the back of the hall, beside Michael Lever, watching the couples move
about the floor, realizing that this too was an illusion; a dream of agelessness. As if time could be restored, its flow reversed.

‘I love their dresses,' he said, looking up at the tall young man. ‘They're like jellyfish.'

Lever roared, then turned to his friends and repeated Kim's comment. In a moment their laughter joined his own. Lever turned back to Kim, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘That's rich, Kim. Marvellous! Like jellyfish!' And again he burst into laughter.

Kim looked at him, surprised. What had he said? It was true, wasn't it? The bobbing movements of their many-layered dresses were like those of jellyfish in the ocean, even down to the frilled edges.

‘I was only saying…' he began, but he never finished the sentence. At that moment the main lights came up. The orchestra played on for a moment or two, then ended in sudden disarray. The dancers stopped circling and stood there, looking towards the doorway at the far end of the ballroom. Suddenly it felt much colder in the hall. There was the sound of shouting from outside.

‘What in hell's name?' Lever said, starting to make his way towards the doors. Then he stopped abruptly. Soldiers had come out on to the balcony above the dance floor. More came into the ballroom through the doorway. Security troops in powder-blue fatigues, black-helmeted, their visors down.

Kim felt his mouth go dry. Something was wrong.

The soldiers formed a line along the edge of the balcony and along the lower walls, covering the dancers with their weapons. Only a few of their number went among the dancers, their visors up, looking from face to face. Up above, on the balcony, a lieutenant began to read out a warrant for the arrest of fifteen men.

In the ballroom there was disbelief and anger. One young man jostled a Security guard and was brought down by a sharp blow with a rifle butt. When the soldiers went from the hall they took more than a dozen young men, Lever and his friends amongst them.

Kim, watching, saw the anger in surrounding faces after the soldiers had gone. More anger than he'd ever seen. And different, very different from the anger of the Clay. This anger smouldered like red-hot ashes fanned by a breath. It was a deep-rooted, enduring anger.

Beside Kim a young man's face was distorted, black with rage. ‘He'll pay! The bastard will pay for this!' Others gathered about him, shouting, their fists clenched, the dance forgotten.

Kim stood there a moment longer, then turned away, going quickly from the hall. Things had changed. Suddenly, dramatically, the rules had changed, and he was no longer safe here. He passed through, glancing from side to side, seeing only outrage on the faces of those he passed. Outside he walked past the waiting sedans and on, out across the darkness towards the transit.

In a sober moment they would remember. Old Man Lever would remember. And in his anger, who knew how he would act? It was a time for taking sides, and he was Li Yuan's man.

He saw soldiers up ahead, guarding the transit entrance, and began to run, knowing his safety lay with them. But nearer the barrier he turned and looked back at the house, remembering the dresses bobbing to the music, the swish of lace in the air. And a circle of old men, offering him the earth.