The White Mountain

by David Wingrove

  ‘Shut up, Vasska,’ said Erika, defusing the sudden tension. Then, leaning closer to Ywe Hao, she whispered, ‘Open the vent. Let’s look. It’s almost time.’

  In the dark Ywe Hao smiled, grateful for Erika’s intervention, then turned and slipped the catch. Light spilled into the cramped, dark space, revealing the huddle of their limbs.

  ‘What can you see?’

  For a moment it was too bright. Then, when her eyes had focused, she found she was looking down into Main from a place some fifty or sixty ch’i overhead. It was late and the day’s crowds had gone from Main, leaving only a handful of revellers and one or two workers, making their way to their night-shift occupations. Ywe Hao looked beyond these to a small doorway to her left at the far end of Main. It was barely visible from where she was, yet even as her eyes went to it, a figure stepped out, raising a hand in parting.

  ‘That’s him!’ she said in an urgent whisper. ‘Vasska, get going. I want that lift secured.’ Dismissing him, she turned, looking into the strong, feminine face close to her own. ‘Well? What do you think?’

  Erika considered, then nodded, a tight, tense smile lighting her features. ‘If it’s like last time we’ve thirty minutes, forty at the outside. Time enough to secure the place and get things ready.’

  ‘Good. Then let’s get moving. There won’t be another opportunity as good as this.’

  Ywe Hao looked about her, then nodded, satisfied. The rooms looked normal, no sign of the earlier struggle visible. Four of the servants were locked away in the pantry, bound hand and foot and sedated. In another room she had placed the women and children of the household, taking care to administer the exact dosage to the boys. Now she turned, facing the fifth member of the household staff, the Chief Steward, the number yi – one – emblazoned in red on the green chest patch he wore on his pure white pau. He stared back at her, his eyes wide with fear, his head slightly lowered, wondering what she would do next. Earlier she had taped a sticky-bomb to the back of his neck, promising him that at the slightest sign or word of warning, she would set it off.

  ‘Remember,’ she said reassuringly, ‘it’s not you we want, Steward Wong. Do as I say and you’ll live. But Shou Chen-hai must suspect nothing. He’ll be back from seeing the girl soon, so run his bath and tend to him as normal. But remember, we shall be watching your every movement.’

  The Steward bowed his head.

  ‘Good.’ She turned, double-checking the room, then patted the pocket of her tunic. The papers were inside – the pamphlet explaining their reasons for the execution and the official death warrant, signed by all five members of the High Council of the Yu. These would be left on Shou’s body for Security to find. Meanwhile, friends sympathetic to the cause would be distributing copies of the pamphlet throughout the Lowers. More than fifty million in all, paid for from the coffers of the long-defunct Ping Tiao. Money that Mach had sifted away after Helmstadt and before the débâcle at Bremen that had brought about the Ping Tiao’s demise.

  ‘Okay. You know what to say? Good. Then get to work. I want things prepared for when he returns.’

  She joined Erika at the desk in the tiny surveillance room. At once she picked up the figure of the Chief Steward as he made his way down the corridor to the main bathroom. Keeping an eye on what he did, she glanced at the other screens, once more appalled by the luxury, by the sheer waste of what she saw. Shou Chen-hai’s family was no bigger than many in the Mids and Lowers, and yet he had all this: twenty-four rooms, including no less than two kitchens and three private bathrooms. It was disgraceful. An insult to those he was meant to serve. But that was not why she was here, for there were many who lived as Shou Chen-hai lived, unaware of the suffering their greed relied upon. No, there were specific reasons for singling out Shou Chen-hai.

  She shuddered, indignation fuelling her anger. Shou Chen-hai was a cheat. And not just any cheat. His cheating was on a grand scale and would result in untold suffering: in children not receiving treatment for debilitating diseases; in good men bleeding to death in overcrowded Accident Clinics; in mothers dying in childbirth because the facilities promised by the T’ang had not been built. She laughed coldly. That ceremony earlier had been a sham. The T’ang’s Chancellor had been shown around the new wards and operating theatres as if they were typical of what existed in the rest of the facility. But she had seen with her own eyes the empty wards, the unbuilt theatres, the empty spaces where real and solid things ought to have been. Only a fifth of the promised facility had been built. The rest did not exist – would never exist – because Shou Chen-hai and his friends had taken the allocated funds and spent them on their own personal schemes. She shook her head slowly, still astonished by the scale of the deception. It was not unheard of for officials to take ten, even fifteen per cent of any project. It was even, in this crazy world of theirs, expected. But eighty per cent! Four billion yuan! Ywe Hao gritted her teeth. It could not be tolerated. Shou Chen-hai had to be made an example of, else countless more would suffer while such as Shou grew bloated on their suffering.

  She turned, looking at Erika. ‘Who is Shou seeing?’

  Erika smiled, her eyes never leaving the screen. ‘One of his underling’s daughters. A young thing of thirteen. The mother knows but condones it. And who can blame her?’

  ‘No…’ Yet Ywe Hao felt sick at the thought. It was another instance of Shou’s rottenness; of his corrupt use of the power given him. Power… that was what was at fault here. Power, given over into the hands of petty, unscrupulous men. Men who were not fit to run a brothel, let alone a Hsien.

  She drew her knife and stared at it, wondering what it would feel like to thrust it into Shou Chen-hai, and whether that would be enough to assuage the anger she felt. No. She could kill a million Shous and it would not be enough. Yet it was a start. A sign, to be read by High and Low alike.

  She turned the knife in her hand, tested the sharpness of the edge, then sheathed it again. ‘Are you ready?’

  Erika laughed. ‘Don’t worry about me. Just worry whether Vasska’s done his job and covered the lifts.’

  ‘Yes…’ she said, then tensed, seeing the unmistakable figure of Shou Chen-hai at the far end of the approach corridor. ‘But first our man…’

  The ceremony was far advanced. In the small and crowded room there was an expectant silence as the New Confucian official turned back, facing the couple.

  Karr was dressed in his ceremonial uniform, the close-fitting azurite-blue tunic emphasizing his massive frame. His close-cropped head was bare, but about his neck hung the huge golden dragon pendant of the chia ch’eng. It had been awarded to him by the T’ang himself at a private ceremony only two months earlier and Karr wore it now with pride, knowing it was the highest honour a commoner could attain outside government, making him Honorary Assistant to the Royal Household.

  Beside Karr, soon to be his wife, stood the woman he had met at the Dragon Cloud teahouse six months before, Marie Enge. In contrast to Karr she wore bright scarlet silks, a simple one-piece, tied at the waist. The effect, though simple, was stunning. She looked the perfect mate for the big man.

  Karr turned, meeting her eyes briefly, smiling, then turned back to face the official, listening attentively as the wizen-faced old man spelt out the marriage duties.

  ‘I must remind you that in public it is neither seemly nor appropriate to show your love. Your remarks must be restrained and considerate to the feelings of those about you. Love must be kept in bounds. It must not be allowed to interfere with the husband’s work or with his duties to the family. As for you, Marie Enge, you must perform your household duties as a good wife, without reproach or complaint. In social gatherings you should not sit with your husband but should remain aloof. As a wife, all ties of blood are broken. You will become part of your husband’s household.’

  The old man paused, becoming, for a moment, less formal.

  ‘I am told that among the young it has become unfashionable to view things in this light, but the
re is much to be said for our traditions. They bring stability and peace, and peace breeds contentment and happiness. In your particular cases, Gregor Karr and Marie Enge, I realize that there are no families to consider. For you the great chain of family was broken, from no fault of your own. And yet these traditions are still relevant, for in time you will have children. You will be family. And so the chain will be re-forged, the ties re-made. By this ceremony you re-enter the great tidal flow of life in Chung Kuo. By taking part in these most ancient of rituals, you reaffirm their strength and purpose.’

  Chen, looking on from Karr’s left, felt a tiny shiver ripple down his spine at the words. So it had been for him when he had married Wang Ti. It had been like being re-born. No longer simply Chen, but Kao Chen, Head of the Kao family, linked to the future by the sons he would have. Sons who would sweep his grave and enact the rituals. In marrying he had become an ancestor. He smiled, feeling deeply for Karr at that moment, enjoying the way the big man looked at his bride, knowing that this was a marriage made in heaven.

  Afterwards he went across, holding Karr to him fiercely. ‘I am so pleased for you, Gregor. I always hoped…’ He stopped, choked by the sudden upsurge of feeling.

  Karr laughed, then pushed him back to arm’s length. ‘What’s this, my friend? Tears? No… this is a time for joy, for today my heart is fuller than it has ever been.’

  He turned, raising a hand. At the signal the doors behind him were thrown open, revealing a long, high-ceilinged room, all crystal and lace, the tables set for two hundred guests.

  ‘Well, dear friends, let us go through. There is food and drink, and later there will be dancing.’ He looked across at his bride, smiling broadly, holding out his hand until she joined him. ‘So… welcome, everyone. Tonight we celebrate!’

  The golden eye of the security camera swivelled in its dragon-mouth socket, following Shou Chen-hai as he approached. Moments later the door hissed back. Beyond it, in the tiled entrance hall, the Chief Steward was waiting, head bowed, a silken indoor robe over one arm.

  Shou Chen-hai let Wong Pao-yi remove his outside garments and help him on with the lightweight pau. He breathed deeply, enjoying the cool silence of the anteroom, then turned, looking at his servant. ‘Where is everyone?’

  Wong Pao-yi lowered his head. ‘Your first wife, Shou Wen-lo, is visiting her mother, Excellency. She will be back in the morning. Your second wife, Shou He, has taken the boys to buy new robes. She called not long ago to say she would be another hour.’

  Shou nodded, satisfied. ‘And Yue Mi?’

  The old servant hesitated. ‘She is asleep, Excellency. Would you have me wake her and send her to your room?’

  Shou laughed. ‘No, Steward Wong. Later, perhaps. Just now I’d like a bath.’

  Wong Pao-yi bowed his head again. ‘It is already poured, Excellency. If you will come through, I will see to your needs personally.’

  ‘There’s no need. Just bring me a drink.’

  Alone in the bathroom, he kicked off his thin briefs, then set the wine cup down and peeled the pau over his head. Naked, he stretched, feeling good, then lifted his wine cup, toasting himself. The girl had been good. Much less tense than before. Much more willing to please him. Doubtless that was her mother’s doing. Well, perhaps he would reward the mother. Send her some small gift to encourage her. Or maybe he would have them both next time, mother and daughter, in the same bed.

  The thought made him laugh, but as he turned he slowed, sensing another presence in the corridor outside.

  ‘Wong Pao-yi? Is that you?’

  He took a step forward, then stopped, the heavy porcelain wine cup falling from his hand, clattering against the side of the bath.

  ‘What the fuck…?’

  It was a man, dressed in the orange and yellow work fatigues of Maintenance, standing there, a handgun raised and pointed at him.

  ‘Wong Pao-yi!’ Shou called, staring back at the man, conscious of his nakedness, his vulnerability. ‘Wong Pao-yi, where are you?’

  The man laughed softly and shook his head. ‘Been having fun, Shou Chen-hai? Been fucking little girls, have we?’

  Anger made Shou take two more steps before he remembered the gun. He stopped, frowning, seeing the odd look of enjoyment on the man’s face.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘All I have is in the safe in the study. Cards, cash, a few other bits and pieces…’

  ‘I’m no thief, Shou Chen-hai. If I were, I’d have taken you earlier, in the corridors.’

  Shou nodded, forcing himself to stay calm. If this were one of the rival Triad bosses trying to muscle in on the deal he had made with the Big Circle, then it would not do to show any fear in front of one of their messenger boys. He puffed out his chest, wearing his nakedness like a badge of courage.

  ‘Who sent you? Fat Wong? Li the Lidless? Or was it Whiskers Lu?’

  The man waved the gun impatiently and thrust a piece of paper at him. Shou Chen-hai turned his head slightly, not understanding, but at second prompting took the paper. Looking down at it, his stomach turned over.

  It was a terrorist pamphlet. Itemizing his crimes. Saying why they had had to kill him.

  ‘Look, I…’ Shou began. But there was no arguing with this. No way of dealing with these bastards. His only chance was to jump the man. But as if he knew this, the man took a step backwards, pulling back the safety. He was watching Shou intently, his eyes gloating now.

  ‘Been having fun?’ the man insisted, jerking the gun forward, making Shou jump and give a tiny whimper of fright. ‘Been fucking little girls?’

  Was that it? Was it someone hired by his underling, Fang Shuo? And was all this business with the pamphlets merely a cover? He put out one hand, as if to fend off the man.

  ‘I’ll pay you. Pay you lots. Much more than Fang Shou paid you. Look, I’ll take you to the safe now. I’ll…’

  ‘Shut up!’

  The man’s mouth was formed into a snarl, but his eyes were cold and pitiless and Shou Chen-hai knew at once he had been mistaken. He was a terrorist. There was no mistaking that mad gleam, that uncompromising fanaticism.

  ‘Your kind revolt me,’ he said, raising the gun and pointing it at Shou’s forehead. ‘You think you can buy anything. You think…’ He stopped and turned abruptly, following Shou’s eyes.

  A second figure had come into the corridor. She too wore the orange and yellow of Maintenance. Taking one look at how things were, she raised her gun and came forward.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  The man gave a visible shudder of anger then turned back, facing Shou Chen-hai. Even so, his face had changed; had lost its look of hideous amusement. Shou could see immediately how things stood between the two – could sense the acid resentment in the man – and at once began working on a way to use it. But it was too late.

  Ywe Hao pointed her gun and fired, twice, then, a moment later, a third time, standing over the slumped, lifeless body to make sure it was dead. There was blood on the ceramic tiles. Blood in the glass-like water of the bath. She turned and looked at Vasska, her anger making her voice shrill.

  ‘You fucking idiot! I’ve had to send Erika to do what you should have done. Now go! Go and link up with her. Now!’

  The man huffed out his resentment, but lowered his gun and began to turn away. He was two steps across the room when he stopped and turned back.

  ‘Someone’s coming! I can hear footsteps!’

  She looked up at him, shaking her head. He was such a fool. Such a bloody amateur. Why did she have to get him on her team? Quickly she placed the papers on the corpse. Then, straightening up, she went out past Vasska and into the corridor. At the far end a man had come into view – barefoot, it seemed, and in his indoor clothes. As he came closer, she recognized who it was. It was the Security guard, Leyden.

  ‘No…’ she said softly. ‘Please, no…’ But he kept coming. A few paces from her, he stopped.

  ‘Chi Li… What’s going on
? I thought I heard shots. I…’

  His voice tapered off. He was frowning and looking at the gun in her hand, part of him understanding, another part refusing to understand.

  She shook her head. There wasn’t time to tie him up. No time even to argue with him. Training and instinct told her to shoot him and get out, but something held her back. Vasska, coming alongside her, looked at the man and raised his gun.

  ‘No…’ she said, reaching out to restrain his hand. ‘Let him go. He’s not armed.’

  Vasska laughed. ‘You’re a fool. Soft, too,’ he sneered, forgetting what she had done in the other room. ‘Let’s kill him and get out.’

  Leyden was looking frightened now. He glanced from one to the other and began to back away. Vasska stepped forward, throwing off Ywe Hao’s arm, and aimed his gun. But he didn’t have a chance to fire it. Two more shots rang out and he fell forward, dead.

  Leyden looked at Ywe Hao, his eyes wide, his mouth open.

  ‘Go!’ she said, her eyes pleading with him. ‘Go, before I have to kill you, too!’ And she raised her gun at him – the gun that had killed Shou Chen-hai and Vasska. He hesitated only a moment, then turned and ran, back up the corridor. She watched him go – heard his footsteps sound long after he was out of sight – then, stepping over Vasska’s corpse, walked slowly down the corridor, the gun held out in front of her.

  The lights had been dimmed in the reception room, a space cleared for dancing. A small troupe of Han musicians had set up their instruments in one corner and were playing a sprightly tune, their faces beaming as they watched the dancers whirl about the floor.

  Chen stood to one side, watching as Karr led his new wife through the dance. He had never seen the big man so happy; never seen that broad mouth smile so much, those blue eyes sparkle so vividly. Marie, facing him, seemed almost breathless with happiness. She gasped and laughed and threw her head back, screeching with delight. And all about them the crowd pressed close, sharing their happiness. Chen grinned and turned his head, looking across at his own family. Jyan and young Wu were sitting at a nearby table, sipping their drinks through straws, their eyes taking in everything. Beside them sat Wang Ti, her heavily swollen belly forcing her to sit straight-backed, her legs apart. Even so, she seemed not to notice her discomfort as she held Ch’iang Hsin’s hands, twirling her baby daughter this way and that to the rhythms of the music.