Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (9 page)

When Lehmann had
gone he stood and went across to the map again. In the bottom
left-hand comer the carp-shaped area that denoted the Swiss Wilds was
crisscrossed with lines, some broken, some solid. Where they met or
ended were tiny squares, representing fortresses. There were
twenty-two in all, but only fourteen of them—boxed in between
Zagreb in the southeast and Zurich in the northwest—were filled
in. These alone were finished. The eight fortresses of the western
arm remained incomplete. In four cases they had yet to be begun.

Money. That was
his greatest problem. Money for wages, food, and weaponry. Money for
repairs and bribes and all manner of small expenses. Most of all,
money to complete the building program: to finish the network of
tunnels and fortresses that alone could guarantee a successful
campaign against the Seven. The Confiscations had robbed him of many
of his big investors. In less than three hours the remainder were due
to meet him, supposedly to renew their commitments, though in
reality, he knew, to tell him they had had enough. That was why
Helmstadt was so important now.

Helmstadt. He
had wooed the
Ping Tiao
with promises of weapons and
publicity, but the truth was otherwise. There would be weapons, and
publicity enough to satisfy the most egotistical of terrorist
leaders, but the real fruit of the raid on the Helmstadt Armory would
be the two billion yuan DeVore would lift from the strong room. Money
that had been allocated to pay the expenses of more than one hundred
and forty thousand troops in the eight garrisons surrounding the
Wilds.

But the
Ping
Tiao
would know nothing of that.

He turned away
from the map and looked over at his desk again. The Notice of
Confiscation lay where he had left it. He went across and picked it
up, studying it again. It seemed simple on the face of it: an open
acknowledgment of a situation that had long existed in reality, for
Lehmanris funds had been frozen from the moment Berdichev had fled to
Mars, three years earlier. But there were hidden depths in the
document. It meant that the Seven had discovered evidence to link
Stefan's father to the death of the Minister Lwo Kang; and that, in
its turn, would legitimize Tolonen's killing of Lehmann Senior in the
House.

It was an
insight into how the Seven were thinking. For them the War was over.

They had won.

But DeVore knew
otherwise. The War had not even begun. Not properly. The
confiscations and the death of T'angs notwithstanding, it had been a
game until now, a diversion for the rich and bored, an entertainment
to fill their idle hours. ; But now it would change. He would harness
the forces stirring in the lowest levels. Would take them and mold
them. And then?

He laughed and
crumpled the copy of the Notice in his hand. Then Change would come.
Like a hurricane, blowing through the levels, razing the City to the
ground.

* *
*

MAJOR HANS EBERT
set the drinks carefully on the tray, then turned and, making his way
through the edge of the crowd that packed the great hall, went
through the curtained doorway into the room beyond.

Behind him the
reception was in full swing; but here, in the T'ang's private
quarters, it was peaceful. Li Shai Tung sat in the big chair to the
left, his feet resting on a stool carved like a giant turtle shell.
He seemed older and more careworn these days; his hair, once gray,
was pure white now, like fine threads of ice, tied tightly in a queue
behind his head. The yellow cloak of state seemed loose now on his
thin, old man's frame and the delicate perfection of the gold chain
about his neck served merely to emphasize the frail imperfection of
his flesh. Even so, there was still strength in his eyes, power
enough in his words and gestures to dispel any thought that he was
spent as
a
man. If the flesh had grown weaker, the spirit
seemed unchanged.

Across from him,
seated to the right of the ceremonial
kang
, was Tsu Ma, T'ang
of West Asia. He sat back in his chair, a long, pencil-thin cheroot
held absently in one hand. He was known to his acquaintances as "the
Horse," and the name suited him. He was a stallion, a
thoroughbred in his late thirties, broad-chested and heavily muscled,
his dark hair curled in elegant long pigtails, braided with silver
and pearls. His enemies still considered him a dandy, but they were
wrong. He was a capable, intelligent man for all his outward style;
and since his father's death he had shown himself to be a fine
administrator, a credit to the Council of the Seven.

The third and
last man in the anteroom was Hal Shepherd. He sat to Tsu Ma's right,
a stack of pillows holding him upright in his chair, his face drawn
and pale from illness. He had been sick for two weeks now, the cause
as yet undiagnosed. His eyes, normally so bright and full of life,
now seemed to protrude from their sockets as if staring out from some
deep inner darkness. Beside him, her head bowed, her whole manner
demure, stood a young Han nurse from the T'ang's household, there to
do the sick man's least bidding.

Ebert bowed,
crossed to the T'ang, and stood there, the tray held out before him.
Li Shai Tung took his drink without pausing from what he was saying,
seeming not to notice the young Major as he moved across to offer Tsu
Ma his glass.

"But the
question is still what we should do with the Companies. Should we
close them down completely? Wind them up and distribute their assets
among our friends? Should we allow bids for them? Offer them on the
Index as if we were floating them? Or should we run them ourselves,
appointing stewards to do our bidding until we feel things have
improved?"

Tsu Ma took his
peach brandy, giving Ebert a brief smile, then turned back to face
his fellow T'ang.

"You know
my feelings on the matter, Shai Tung. Things are still uncertain. We
have given our friends considerable rewards already. To break up the
118 companies and offer them as spoils to them might cause resentment
among those not party to the share-out. It would simply create a new
generation of malcontents. No. My vote will be to appoint stewards.
To run the companies for ten, maybe fifteen years, and then offer
them on the market to the highest bidder. That way we prevent
resentment and at the same time, through keeping a tight rein on what
is, after all, nearly a fifth of the market, help consolidate the
Edict of Technological Control."

Ebert, holding
the tray out before Hal Shepherd, tried to feign indifference to the
matter being discussed; but as heir to GenSyn, the second largest
company on the Hang Seng Index, he felt crucially involved in the
question of the confiscated companies.

"What is
this?"

Ebert raised his
head and looked at Shepherd. "It is Yang Sen's Spring Wine
Tonic,
Shih
Shepherd. Li Shai Tung asked me to bring you a
glass of it. It has good restorative powers."

Shepherd sniffed
at the glass, then looked past Ebert at the old T'ang. "This
smells rich, Shai Tung. What's in it?"

"Brandy,
kao liang,
vodka, honey, gingseng, japonica seeds, oh, and
many more things that are good for you, Hal."

"Such as?"

Tsu Ma laughed
and turned in his seat to look at Shepherd. "Such as red-spotted
lizard and sea-horse and dried human placenta. All terribly good for
you, my friend."

Shepherd looked
at Tsu Ma a moment, then looked back at Li Shai Tung. "Is that
true, Shai Tung?"

The old T'ang
nodded. "It's true. Why, does it put you off, Hal?"

Shepherd
laughed, the laugh lines etched deep now in his pallid face. "Not
at all." He tipped the glass back and drank heavily, then
shuddered and handed the half-empty glass to the nurse.

Tsu Ma gave a
laugh of surprise. "One should sip Yang Sen's, friend Hal. It's
strong stuff. Matured for eighteen months before it's even fit to
drink. And this is Shai Tung's best. A twelve-year brew."

"Yes . . ."
said Shepherd hoarsely, laughing, his rounded eyes watering. "I
see that now."

Tsu Ma watched
the ill man a moment longer, then turned and faced Ebert.

"Well,
Major, and how is your father?"

Ebert bowed
deeply. "He is fine,
Chieh Hsia
."

Li Shai Tung
leaned forward. "I must thank him for all he has done these last
few months. And for the generous wedding gift he has given my son
today."

Ebert turned and
bowed again. "He would be honored,
Chieh Hsia
."

"Good. Now
tell me, before you leave us. Candidly now. What do
you
think
we should do about the confiscated companies?"

Ebert kept his
head lowered, not presuming to meet the T'ang's eyes, even when asked
so direct a question. Nor was he fooled by the request for candor. He
answered as he knew the T'ang would want him to answer.

"I believe
his Excellency Tsu Ma is right,
Chieh Hsia
. It is necessary to
placate the Above. To let wounds heal and bitterness evaporate. In
appointing stewards the markets will remain stable. Things will
continue much as normal, and there will be none of the hectic
movements on the Index that a selling-off of such vast holdings would
undoubtedly bring. As for rewards, the health and safety of the Seven
is reward enough, surely? It would be a little man who would ask for
more."

The old T'ang's
eyes smiled. "Thank you, Hans. I am grateful for your words."

Ebert bowed and
backed away, knowing he had been dismissed.

"A fine
young man," said Li Shai Tung, when Ebert had gone. "He
reminds me more of his father every day. The same bluff honesty.
Tolonen's right. He should be a general when he's of age. He'd make
my son a splendid general, don't you think?"

"An
excellent general," Tsu Ma answered him, concealing any small
qualms he had about Major Hans Ebert. His own Security reports on
Ebert revealed a slightly different picture.

"Now that
we're alone," Li Shai Tung continued, "I've other news."

Both Tsu Ma and
Shepherd were suddenly attentive. "What's that?" Tsu Ma
asked, stubbing out his cheroot in the porcelain tray on the
kang
beside him.

"I've heard
from Karr. Berdichev is dead."

Tsu Ma laughed,
his eyes wide. "You're certain?"

"I've seen
it with these eyes. Karr was wired to transmit all he saw and heard."

"Then it's
over."

Li Shai Tung was
silent a moment, looking down. When he looked up again his eyes
seemed troubled. "I don't think so." He looked across at
Shepherd. "Ben was right after all, Hal. We've killed the men,
and yet the symptoms remain."

Shepherd smiled
bleakly. "Not all the men. There's still DeVore."

The old T'ang
lowered his head slightly. "Yes. But Karr will get him. As he
got Berdichev."

Tsu Ma leaned
forward. "A useful man, Karr. Maybe we ought to mass-produce the
fellow. Give Old Man Ebert a patent for the job."

Li Shai Tung
laughed and lifted his feet one at a time from the turtle stool.
"Maybe . . ." He pulled himself up and stretched. "First,
however, I have another idea I want you to consider—something
Li Yuan has been working on these last few months. I'm going to
introduce it in Council tomorrow, but I wanted to sound you out
first."

Tsu Ma nodded
and settled back with his drink, watching the old T'ang as he walked
slowly up and down the room.

"It was an
idea Li Yuan had years ago, when he was eight. He was out hawking
with Han Ch'in when one of the hawks flew high up in a tree and
refused to come down to the lure. Han Ch'in, impatient with the hawk,
took the control box from the servant and destroyed the bird."

"Using the
homing-wire in the bird's head?"

"Exactly."

Tsu Ma took a
sip, then tilted his head slightly. "I've never had to do that,
myself."

"Nor I,"
agreed Li Shai Tung. "And it was the first I had heard of the
matter when Li Yuan told me of it six months ago. However, until then
Li Yuan had not realized that the birds were wired in that way. It
made him wonder why we didn't have such a thing for men."

Tsu Ma laughed.
"Men are not hawks. They would not let themselves be bound so
easily."

"No. And
that is exactly what Li Yuan told himself. Yet the idea was still a
good one. He argued it thus: if the man was a good man he would have
no fear of having such a wire put into his head. It would make no
difference. And if the man was a bad man, then he ought to have the
wire."

"I like
that. Even so, the fact remains, men are not hawks. They like the
illusion of freedom."

Li Shai Tung
stopped before Hal Shepherd and leaned forward a moment, placing his
hand on the shoulder of his old friend, a sad smile on his face; then
he turned back, facing Tsu Ma.

"And if we
gave them that illusion? If we could make them think they
wanted
the wires in their heads?"

"Easier
said than done."

"But
not
impossible. And Li Yuan has come up with a scheme by which the
majority of men might do just that."

Tsu Ma sat back,
considering. "And the technicalities of this?" Li Shai Tung
smiled. "As ever, Tsu Ma, you anticipate me. There are, indeed,
problems with creating such a control system. Men's brains are far
more complex than a hawk's, and the logistics of tracking forty
billion separate individuals through the three hundred levels of the
City are far greater than the problems involved in tracing a few
hawks on an estate. It is fair to say that Li Yuan has made little
progress in this regard. Which is why there is a need to invest time
and money in research."

"I see. And
that's what you want from the Council tomorrow? Permission to pursue
this line of inquiry?"