Outwardly Tuan Wen-ch’ang’s face remained placid, almost inscrutable in its mask-like quality, yet deep down he was smiling. Yes, they had had all kinds of things bred out of them down here. Things that the species needed if it were to evolve beyond its present state. And that was why he was here. To remind them of what could be done. To shake them up a little.
And to push things one stage further.
Beyond the one-way glass the two youths sat, their backs to the wall, their hands bound. The preliminary interrogation was over. Now it was time to take things further.
Chen followed the sergeant through, watching how the two boys glanced at him, seeing the uniform, then looked again, their eyes widening as they recognized who he was.
‘Ai ya…’ the younger of them murmured beneath his breath, but the tall, thin youth – the ringleader – was silent.
‘Well, my friends,’ the sergeant said, a warm, ironic tone to his voice, ‘you’ve met your accuser before, but I don’t think you knew his name. So let me present Captain Kao of the T’ang’s special élite force.’
The thin youth’s eyes came up, meeting Chen’s briefly.
Good, thought Chen. So now you understand.
‘All right,’ he said brusquely. ‘You have had your chance to confess. Now you will be taken before a specially convened panel of judges who will decide the matter.’ He paused. ‘Your families will be present.’
He saw the sudden bitterness in the thin youth’s face. ‘You bastard,’ the boy said quietly. ‘You fucking bastard.’
Again, he let it pass. He was the T’ang’s man, after all.
They took them down, under armed escort, to the meeting hall at the far end of the deck. There, in closed session, the three judges were waiting, seated behind their high lecterns. To one side of the hall, on chairs set apart from the rest, sat the four accomplices. Behind them were the families – men, women and children – numbering several hundred in all.
All this, Chen thought, looking about him, surprised by the size of the gathering. All this because I willed it. Because I wanted things to be done properly.
And yet it didn’t feel right. He should have broken the little bastard’s hand. Should have given him a simple lesson in power. Whereas this…
It began. Chen sat there, to the side, while the judges went through the evidence, questioning the boys and noting down their replies. It was a cold, almost clinical process. Yet when Chen stood to give his statement, he could feel the silent pressure of all those eyes, accusing him, angry at him for disturbing the balance of their lives. He felt his face grow numb, his heart begin to hammer, but he saw it through. He was kwai, after all. Besides, it was not he who had threatened another; who had extorted money and then lied about it.
He stared at the two youths, the desire to lash out – to smash their ugly little faces – almost too much for him. The darkness afterwards came as a relief. He sat there, barely conscious of the film being shown on the screen behind the judges – the film he had taken only hours before – yet when the lights came up again, it was hard to turn and confront that wall of hostile faces.
He listened carefully as the senior judge summed up the case, then, steeling himself, stood for the verdict. There was a moment’s silence, then an angry murmur of disapproval as the two ringleaders were sent down, demoted fifty levels, their families fined heavily, their accomplices fined and ordered to do one hundred days’ community service.
Chen looked across, conscious of the pointing fingers, the accusing eyes, and even when the senior judge admonished the families, increasing the fines and calling upon the Heads to bring their clans to order, he felt no better. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was too harsh. But that wasn’t really the point. It was the kind of punishment, not the degree, that felt wrong.
As the families left, Chen stood there by the door, letting them jostle him as they filed past, staring back at his accusers, defying them to understand.
You saw what your sons did. You have seen what they’ve become. Why blame me for your children’s failings?
And yet they did.
Ts’ui Wei, father of the ringleader, came across, leaning menacingly over Chen. ‘Well, Captain Kao, are you satisfied with what you have done here today?’
Chen stared back at him silently.
Ts’ui Wei’s lips curled slightly, the expression the mirror image of his son’s disdainful sneer. ‘I am sure you feel proud of yourself, Captain. You have upheld the law. But you have to live here, neh? You have children, neh?’ Chen felt himself go cold with anger. ‘Are you threatening me, Shih Ts’ui?’ Ts’ui Wei leaned back, smiling; a hideously cynical smile. ‘You misunderstand me, Captain. I am a law-abiding man. But one must live, neh?’
Chen turned away, biting back his anger, leaving before he did something he would regret. As Wang Ti said, he should be content to have done his part and helped cleanse his level. Yet as he made his way back it was anger, not satisfaction that he felt. That and a profound sense of wrongness. And as he walked, his hand went to his queue, feeling the thick braid of hair then tugging at it, as if to pull it from his head.
It was after three when they called Karr from his bed. There had been a shootout at one of the stacks east-south-east of Augsburg Hsien. Five men were dead, all visitors to the stack. That alone would not have been significant enough to wake him, but, some hours later a sack had been found near one of the inter-deck lifts. A sack containing a full Yu dossier on the Dragonfly Club. Now, less than thirty minutes later, Karr stood in the bedroom of the two-roomed apartment, trying to work out what had happened.
As he stood there the deck’s duty officer knocked and entered. He bowed and handed Karr two printouts.
‘Ywe Hao…’ Karr mouthed softly, studying the flat, black and white image of the apartment’s occupant; noting at once how like the artist’s impression of the Yu terrorist, Chi Li, she was. This was her. There was no doubting it. But who were the others?
The security scans on the five victims had revealed little. They were from various parts of the City – though mostly from the north-central hsien. All were engineers or technicians in the maintenance industries: occupations that allowed them free access at this level. Apart from that their past conduct had been exemplary. According to the record, they were fine, upstanding citizens, but the record was clearly wrong.
So what was this? A rival faction, muscling in on the action? Or had there been a split in the ranks of the Yu – some internal struggle for power, culminating in this? After all he’d seen of such Ko Ming groups it would not have surprised him, but for once the explanation didn’t seem to fit.
‘What do the cameras show?’
‘They’re being processed and collated, sir. We should have them in the next ten to fifteen minutes.’
‘And the woman – this Ywe Hao – she’s on them, neh?’
‘I sent a squad up to where she was last seen by the cameras, but there was no sign of her, sir. She vanished.’
‘Vanished?’ Karr shook his head. ‘How do you mean?’
The man glanced away uneasily. ‘Our cameras saw her enter the maintenance room at the top of the deck. After that there’s no sign of her. Neither of the cameras on the main conduit picked her up.’
‘So she must be there, neh?’
‘No, sir. I had my men check that straight away. The room’s empty and there’s no sign of her in the conduit itself.’
Karr sighed. It was clear he would have to look for himself. ‘You said earlier that she may have been warned – that there was a lookout of some kind…’
‘Two young boys, sir.’
‘I see. And you’ve traced them, neh?’
‘They’re in custody, sir. Would you like to see them?’
Karr looked about him at the mess. ‘Your men have finished here, I take it?’
The Captain nodded.
‘Good. Then clear this up first. Remove the corpses and put some cloths down. I don’t want our young friends upse
t, understand me?’
‘Sir!’
‘Oh, and, Captain… have one of your men run a file on the movements of our friend Ywe Hao over the last three months. With particular attention to those occasions when she doesn’t show up on camera.’
The Captain frowned but nodded. ‘As you wish, Major.’
‘Good. And bring me some ch’a. A large chung if you have one. We may be here some while.’
Chen stood there in the doorway, looking about him at the carnage. ‘Kuan Yin! What happened here?’
Karr smiled tiredly. ‘It looks like some kind of inter-factional rivalry. As to whether it’s two separate groups or a struggle within the Yu, maybe that’s something we’ll discover, if and when we find the woman. As for the woman herself, I’m certain she was involved in both the Hannover assassination and the attack on the Dragonfly Club. I’ve asked for files on her movements over the last three months. If I’m right about her, then there ought to be blanks on the tape corresponding with the white-outs surrounding the terrorist incidents. We’ve no next-of-kin details, which is unusual, but you can do a little digging on that, neh? Oh, yes, and the Duty Captain is going to bring two young boys here. They were the woman’s lookouts. I want you to question them and find out what they know about her. But be easy on them. I don’t think they understood for a moment what they were in on.’
‘And you, Gregor? What will you be doing?’
Karr straightened up, then laughed. ‘First I’m going to finish this excellent ch’a, then I’m going to find out how a full-grown woman can disappear into thin air.’
‘And so, cousins, we come to the question of the GenSyn inheritance.’ Wang looked about him, his eyes resting briefly on Li Yuan and Tsu Ma before they settled on the ageing T’ang of East Asia, Wei Feng. ‘As I see it, this matter has been allowed to drag on far too long. As a result the company has been harmed, its share price reduced dramatically on the Index. Our immediate concern, therefore, must be to provide GenSyn with a stable administrative framework, thus removing the uncertainties that are presently plaguing the company. After that…’
Li Yuan cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me for interrupting, cousin, but, before we debate this matter at any length, I would like to call for a further postponement.’
Wang laughed, a small sound of disbelief. ‘Forgive me, cousin, but did I hear you correctly? A further postponement?’
‘If it would please my cousins. It is clear that we need more time to find a satisfactory solution. Another month or two.’
Wang sat forward, his face suddenly hard. ‘Forgive me, cousin, but I do not understand. Since Klaus Ebert’s death, this matter has been brought before this Council twice. On both occasions there was a unanimous agreement to postpone. For good reason, for no solution was forthcoming. But now we have the answer. Hou Tung-po’s proposal is the solution we were looking for.’
Tsu Ma’s laugh was heavily sardonic. ‘You call that a solution, cousin? It sounds to me like a bureaucratic nightmare – a recipe not for stability but for certain financial disaster.’
Hou Tung-po sat forward, his face red with anger, but Wang’s raised hand silenced him.
‘Had this matter not been raised before, Tsu Ma, and were there not already a satisfactory solution before us – one you will have a full opportunity to debate – I would understand your desire to look for other answers, but the time for prevarication is past. As I was saying, we must act now or see the company damaged, perhaps irreparably.’
Wang paused, looking to Wei Feng, appealing to the old man directly. As things stood, Hou Tung-po and Chi Ling would support Wang, while Tsu Ma and Wu Shih would line up behind Li Yuan. If it came to a fight, Wei Feng held the casting vote.
Wang smiled, softening his stance.
‘Besides, what objections could my cousins possibly have to the idea of a ruling committee? Would that not give us each a fair say in the running of the company? Would that not demonstrate – more clearly than anything – that the Seven have full confidence in the continuing prosperity of GenSyn?’
Li Yuan looked away. Whilst in terms of holdings it was second behind the giant MedFac company on the Hang Seng Index, GenSyn was, without doubt, the single most important commercial concern on Chung Kuo, and, as Tsu Ma had rightly said, any weakening of the company would affect him far more than it did Wang Sau-leyan.
But that could not be said. Not openly. For to say as much would give Wang the chance to get back at Li Yuan for his family’s special relationship with GenSyn – a relationship which, though it had existed for a century or more, was, in truth, against the spirit of the Seven.
Li Yuan sat back, meeting Tsu Ma’s eyes. They would have to give way. Minister Sheng had been their winning card, and Wang had already taken him from their hand.
‘Cousin Wang,’ he said coldly. ‘I concede. Let us adopt cousin Hou’s proposal. As you say, what possible objection could we have to such a scheme?’
He drew a breath, finding comfort in the presence of the silk-bound folder in his lap – in the thought of the humiliation he would shortly inflict on Wang. Then – from nowhere, it seemed – a new thought came to him. He leaned forward again, the sheer outrageousness of the idea making him want to laugh aloud.
‘Indeed,’ he said softly, ‘let me make my own proposal. If the Council permits, I would like to suggest that Marshal Tolonen be replaced in his high post and appointed as Head of the ruling committee of GenSyn.’ He looked at Wang directly. ‘As my cousin argued so eloquently, we need to boost the market’s confidence, and what clearer sign could we give than to make a man of such experience and integrity the head of our committee?’
He saw the movement in Wang’s face and knew he had him. Wang could object, of course, but on what grounds? On the unsuitability of the candidate? No. For to argue that would be to argue that their original ratification of Tolonen as Marshal had been wrong, and that he could not – would not – do.
Li Yuan looked about him, seeing the nods of agreement from all sides – even from Wang’s own allies – and knew he had succeeded in limiting the damage. With Tolonen in charge there was a much greater chance of things getting done. It would mean a loss of influence in the Council of Generals, but that was as nothing beside the potential loss of GenSyn’s revenues.
He met Wang’s eyes, triumphant, but Wang had not finished.
‘I am delighted that my cousin recognizes the urgency of this matter. However, I am concerned whether my cousin really means what he says. It would not, after all, be the first time that he has promised this Council something, only to go back on his word.’
Li Yuan started forward, outraged by Wang’s words. All around him there was a buzz of astonishment and indignation. But it was Wei Feng who spoke first, his deeply lined face grown stern and rock-like as he sat stiffly upright in his chair. His gruff voice boomed, all sign of frailty gone from it.
‘You had best explain yourself, Wang Sau-leyan, or withdraw your words. I have never heard the like!’
‘No?’ Wang stood in a flurry of silks, looking about him defiantly. ‘Nor would you have, cousin, had there not been good reason. I am talking of Li Yuan’s promise to this Council that he would release the young sons – a promise that my cousins, Wu Shih and Tsu Ma were also party to.’ He shifted his bulk, looking about the circle of his fellow T’ang. ‘It is six months since they gave that promise and what has happened? Are the sons back with their fathers? Is the matter resolved, the grievance of those high citizens settled? No. The fathers remain unappeased, rightfully angry that – after giving our word – their sons remain imprisoned.’
Li Yuan stood, facing Wang. ‘There is good reason why the sons have not been released, and you know it.’
‘Know it?’ Wang laughed contemptuously. ‘All I know is that you gave your word. Immediately, you said.’
‘And so it would have been had the paperwork gone smoothly.’
‘Paperwork… ?’ Wang’s mocking laughter goaded Wu Shih to ri
se and stand beside Li Yuan, his fists clenched, his face livid.
‘You know as well as any of us why there have been delays, Wang Sau-leyan! Considering the gravity of the circumstances, the terms of release were laughable. All we asked of the fathers was that they should sign a bond of good behaviour. It was the very minimum we could have asked for, and yet they refused, quibbling over the wording of the papers.’
‘With every right, if what I’ve heard is true…’
Wu Shih bristled. ‘And what have you heard, cousin?’
Wang Sau-leyan half turned, then turned back, moving a step closer, his face thrust almost into Wu Shih’s. ‘That it has been your officials and not the fathers who have quibbled over the precise wording of these… bonds. That they have dragged their heels and delayed until even the best man’s patience would be frayed. That they have found every excuse – however absurd – not to come to terms. In short, that they have been ordered to delay matters.’
‘Ordered?’ Wu Shih shuddered with rage, then lifted his hand, as if to strike Wang, but Li Yuan put out his arm, coming between them.
‘Cousins…’ he said urgently, ‘let us remember where we are.’ He turned his head, staring fiercely at Wang. ‘We will achieve nothing by hurling insults at each other.’
‘You gave your word,’ Wang said, defiantly, meeting his eyes coldly. ‘All three of you. Immediately, you said. Without conditions.’ He took a breath, then turned away, taking his seat.
Wu Shih glared at Wang a moment longer then stepped back, his disgust at his cousin no longer concealed. Li Yuan stood there, feeling the tensions that flowed like electric currents in the air about him and knew – for the first time knew beyond all doubt – that this was a breach that could never be healed. He took his seat again, leaning down to lift the folder from where it had fallen.
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