The Night Watch

by Sean Stewart

  “Everything.”

  So.

  “I don’t know that,” Claire said. “Major Oliver didn’t tell me that. But you can’t keep anything from Intelligence, if they really want it. Not someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?”

  “Smart people always break. Thinking people. Only the fairly crazy or the really stupid slip by. So I’m told, anyway.”

  “So. Everything.” Water Spider nodded. “Would you step outside, please? I would like to dress.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by again tonight. See how you’re doing.”

  Water Spider touched the clothes—lovely, clean, soft clothes, without the stink of his fear. Without the memory of his cowardice and betrayal on them. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “Major Oliver thought it might be a good idea.”

  “Ah.”

  “And I liked what you did for Jen. Going back to rescue him.”

  “After sending him on a fool’s errand to start with.”

  “Why shit on your good deeds? You don’t screw up enough?”

  Water Spider smiled. “‘The superior man will not manifest either narrow-mindedness or the want of self-respect.’”

  “What you said. Now, would the superior man like to manifest some clean clothes?”

  “Yes please, Lady North Wind.”

  Claire cocked an eyebrow at him. She turned to go.

  He called to her. “Do you have another moment?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Nothing. Go.”

  She waited.

  “Would you stay and talk to me?” he asked.

  Claire looked at him. “Okay.”

  She waited outside while he changed. It took him longer than he expected. He was weak and his balance was not very good. He undressed lying on the cot, then slowly sat up. The concrete floor was cold and damp under his bare feet. He felt horribly weak and shaky inside. Vulnerable as a little boy. His throat was raw and his eyes hurt. He dressed deliberately, with slow, steady movements and a face empty of expression.

  Steam within a china cup.

  He dressed himself and invited her back in. “You said you saw me, earlier?”

  Claire sat on the crate. “Yeah. You were asleep all right, but your whole body was curling and uncurling like a piece of bacon frying in a pan. That’s the Dexedrine.”

  “Was I weeping?”

  “Yes.”

  Water Spider sat on the edge of his cot, facing her. “You do not look like your mother.”

  “What?”

  “Your mother. The goddess. You do not look like her.” Water Spider studied Claire’s features. “Her eyes were narrower and further apart. Your nose is quite different, and the set of your mouth. There you take after your father.”

  Claire seemed genuinely taken aback. “I…I don’t know. I don’t know who my father is. It never occurred to me to find out.”

  “That is unforgivable.”

  “He hasn’t bothered to get in touch.”

  “Perhaps he is dead, ha? Who will burn the offerings for him, if not you? You see, this much I know about your people. Perhaps he died when your mother took him up; gods are seldom easy on their consorts. Then he waits, as you believe, on the North Side, dark and cold, for the fire that you have never burned.”

  “The dead are not the business of the living.”

  Water Spider waved her off impatiently. “You do not believe this. This is only something you say to make things easy for you. Most times, you like to think a harder way from your fellows—I know this from reports—but this time you are lazy.” Water Spider regarded her with a slight smile. “Come. Your one life is not so big a thing. Many bodies already walk the planet. We are only great when we serve greatness. When we work for our family, our people.”

  “My people have never seemed too interested in my contributions.”

  “Does this absolve you of your duty to serve them? Of course not. This is a problem for the Southside, as for any very young community: you have no sense of shared history, of collective effort.”

  “We seem a lot more tightly organized than you do, to my eyes.”

  Water Spider said, “A chain of command is not a community.”

  Claire regarded him. “I’ll bet you made an insufferable boss.”

  Water Spider smiled and raised his hands. “‘There is no attribute of the superior man greater than his helping men to practice virtue.’”

  “Is that Confucius?”

  “Meng-tzu.”

  “I need to screen some of these guys just for self-defense. The devil might as well quote Scripture for her own purpose, as Emily says.”

  “Mm. ‘There are three things which are unfilial, and to have no posterity is the greatest of them.’ You might start with that. I have produced no sons to light the sacrificial fires for my father.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Forty-four.”

  “I’m thirty-six,” Claire said. She swung herself off the crate.

  “You never wanted children?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Water Spider held up his hands. For a time they were silent. Then he said, “‘When Heaven is about to confer a great office on any man, it first exercises his mind with suffering, and his sinews and bones with toil.’” He looked around his little cell. “I expect this to lead to great things.”

  “Did she say anything to you?” Claire said. “My mother, I mean.”

  “She asked me to name my deepest desire.”

  “And?”

  “I had never considered such a question. I did not know what to tell her.” Water Spider looked down at his hands. “I said a cup of tea. Heaven knows why.”

  Then he told Claire about the ghost tea he had drunk just before she entered the room, the steam rising from his empty teacup. She picked up the cup, which was still sitting on the crate next to her thigh. She peered inside. “So what happened when you drank? Did you taste anything?” He shook his head. “So there was nothing in it after all?” Claire said.

  “Oh, North Wind, I would not say so. I would never dare go that far.”

  Claire laughed. “What strange people you are. Have you any idea what this fragrant apparition is supposed to mean?”

  “None at all.” Water Spider looked about his austere accommodations. “I may have ample time to contemplate the matter.”

  Claire laughed again. She promised to have some real tea sent to him, and to return at the end of the day. As she left, he said, “In the spring, a north wind often rises after sunset,” even though it wasn’t true. And though he had called her the north wind, the cell seemed colder when she had gone.

  An hour later he was taken to see Winter. The lord of the Southside had made his quarters in Betty Hsiang’s offices. Major Oliver was also in the room. The calm-eyed composure Water Spider was famous for had fled from him. A flush of terror spread through him like warm water running over his skin. He knew the other men saw it. His long, graying hair hung loose and tangled and he was ashamed. He looked away from David Oliver and pretended to study the painting of the travellers picking their way through the fog-bound mountains. Men’s fates are already set. There is no need asking of diviners.

  “I have a problem,” Winter said. “I’m hoping you can help me with it.” Water Spider did not answer. Winter continued. “I have asked Major Oliver to stay with us. If necessary he will put my questions to you, but I would prefer not to do that.”

  “This delicacy is late in coming.”

  “Yes, and I don’t apologize for that. We needed to get your information as quickly and reliably as possible. You would have done the same. Or at least you would have if you worked for me.” Winter smiled briefly. “But men are like machines: if you break them enough times, they can’t be fixed. I prefer not to do that.”

  “How fortunate for me.”

  “You believe there were certain people whose job it was to protect Chinatown from minotaurs, deal
with ghosts, and so on.”

  “The Shrouded Ones,” David Oliver said quietly.

  “Thank you, Major. Do you remember speaking of them, Minister?”

  “Perhaps.” Water Spider shrugged. “I can remember very little of the talk I had with Major Oliver. The Shrouded Ones have been asked to withdraw their protection.”

  “Who asked them to do this?”

  Water Spider’s face stilled. “I prefer not to say.”

  “Do you want to go back on the table, Minister?”

  “No.”

  “Who asked the Shrouded Ones to withdraw?”

  No answer.

  Winter sighed. “Major?”

  “His father, sir. A manservant was also present, along with Li Mei. I have tapes of the interrogation, if you want them.”

  “Maybe later. Christ, I’m tired.” Winter closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “The older I get, the more dangers I see down every path. Things turn out so surprisingly in life. It paralyzed me, for a time. So many unforeseen consequences…But grow a little older still, and you realize there is no escaping from the world. Even doing nothing is an action, with its own set of results. In the end, all you can ask for is a chance to make your own decisions, and the strength to accept what comes from them.” He met Water Spider’s eyes. “I could have Major Oliver here take you back to your little room and hook you up to an S and D drip and let you babble. Instead I am offering you a chance to make your own decision.”

  Silence.

  “The Shrouded Ones have withdrawn,” Winter said. “I have no way of forcing them to return. I suppose I could threaten your life, hoping your father would persuade them to come back. I doubt your father could be squeezed that way. He lived through the Dream, didn’t he?”

  Water Spider glanced up, surprised. “Yes.”

  “Then he has known too much sacrifice to be intimidated.” Water Spider must have looked dubious, because Winter laughed. “Believe it. He and I are survivors, Minister. Our generation was forged in a hotter fire than any you have known. Those who came through it are made of harder steel, and we hold our edge.”

  “I confess I had not seen him in this light.”

  “Of course not. Children never do. But parents are always stronger, Minister. We have to be. We carry our children on our backs.”

  A distant gong rang somewhere in Government House.

  “So. Your father’s strategy was to corrode my men’s morale. Not difficult in a place like this. Swimming in spooks and specters, bad food, unclear military objective. It’s what I would do. Unfortunately, I am on the other side. It seems clear that I must fight fire with fire. I need the protection of a Power, Minister. Would you agree?”

  Water Spider shrugged. “A reasonable analysis.”

  “This presents more difficulties. A local Power would be best, I suppose—but your people are suspicious of us, despite the fact that we are here at the explicit invitation of your Chief Minister.”

  “Huang Ti.”

  Winter smiled at the measured disdain with which Water Spider pronounced his rival’s name. “So, I have decided to make an alliance with the barbarians. We will let the Power Downtown decide what happens to the people of Chinatown.”

  Water Spider jumped up. “The barbarians! Are you insane! We hired you in good faith, paid you well, sent embassies back and forth, supplied you with medicines—and you would bring that on my people? Leave them like to be slaughtered or enslaved by the monsters from The Offices?”

  “Major Oliver said you wouldn’t care for that suggestion.”

  “Major Oliver was right.” Water Spider stood with his fingers on the edge of Winter’s desk. “You cannot make an alliance with the enemy that slaughtered your men.”

  “Oh, but I have already, I think. Major Oliver believes our men here were betrayed by your people, don’t you, David?”

  “It’s the most likely explanation,” Major Oliver said. “The Downtowners never showed any kind of rocket tech before. Analysis suggests a device of a type fairly common in the Portland campaign. Someone shipped it in. There’s no evidence of anyone trading out of Downtown, but we have uncovered definite signs of a coastal merchant network among your own businessmen, Minister.”

  Water Spider felt dazed and blind. “What does Johnny—” He bit off the question.

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Ma seems to have vanished. I have trackers looking for him,” David added, glancing at Winter.

  Winter shrugged. “So you see, from my perspective there is not much to choose between your people and the creatures you call barbarians.”

  Water Spider started to speak, stopped short, and fell silent. “Ah. I see,” he said at length. “I am to tell you how you can secure the aid of one of our Powers.” He nodded. “There is an elegant economy in this. I helped devise the strategy to make your troops withdraw; who better to betray the scheme? And how could I refuse, if I truly thought you would do the unthinkable, and invite the barbarians into Chinatown.”

  “Look at my eyes,” Winter said, “and tell me if I’m bluffing.”

  Water Spider was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Make an alliance with the Dragon.”

  “Why the Dragon? Why not one of the others?”

  “You can’t make a contract with the Double Monkey without being cheated,” Water Spider said wearily. “It cannot be done. As for the Lady in the Garden, I am not sure that she could do what you ask, even if she were willing. It is hard to imagine what she would want. Impossible for you to provide it. You stupid Snows have parked ugly trucks before her windows; it may already be impossible to retrieve your position.”

  Major Oliver looked alarmed. “Just parking a truck outside the windows of the Garden would be enough to turn a Power against us?”

  “Very possibly. Of course, if your driver parked in the right spirit…”

  Winter laughed to see the consternation on Oliver’s face. “But the hand grenade my soldiers tossed into the Garden this morning would pretty much have torn it, eh?”

  Water Spider was shocked.

  “Yes, yes, we too are barbarians. I know.” Winter rubbed his forehead again. “That leaves the Dragon.”

  “He is your only real chance. The Dragon wants power, which is something you can actually give. His Big Man is Hsieh Wu.” Water Spider stopped and bent his head. “I cannot do this. This is to betray my life.”

  Major Oliver looked away, embarrassed. Winter waited.

  “Go to Hsieh Wu at the Hong Hsing Athletic Club,” Water Spider whispered. “Offer him the city. No—not that. Offer him the Emperor’s chair.”

  “He will accept?”

  “He will accept.”

  Winter glanced from Water Spider’s bowed head to Major Oliver, who nodded.

  “David, get it done. And Minister, for what it’s worth you did the right thing. This way, in a few months, everything here will be pretty much as it always has been. A new man in charge, but one of your own. Much different than what would have happened had the barbarians marched in.”

  “Would you really have done that?”

  “Without a second thought. My duty is to my own, Minister.”

  “Even I despise you,” Water Spider said. “Even I, the traitor.”

  A while later he said, “Why did you really bring me here? You could have slept while Major Oliver wrung this advice from me. And forgive me if I am not convinced by your pretty words about the nobility of being fully awake to savor one’s betrayals. I do not wish to remember this moment.”

  “But it is important, Minister. It is terribly important to take responsibility for the damage one does. At least, it is to me,” Winter said. “If I was going to make a Judas of you, Minister, I thought I owed it to you to do it face to face. Because that’s my responsibility, you see? You are another load for my conscience to carry.”

  Water Spider regarded the leader of the Southside. “I do not think the load will break you,” he said. “It is a strong thing, this conscience
of yours. I am afraid of how much it can bear.”

  Winter turned back toward the window. “Take him away. David, let a corpsman do it. I have a question for you.”

  Water Spider left the room. David Oliver closed the door quietly behind him.

  “It’s always goddam raining here,” Winter said. He looked out of Betty Hsiang’s window at a drizzle falling along Carrall Street. It was raining everywhere in Chinatown, except for the Lady’s Garden. There it appeared to be nighttime, and clear. Winter shuddered. He found himself leaning against the window, the glass cool against his forehead. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of rye and a good night’s sleep. I haven’t got the stamina for this anymore.” Rain creaked and ticked against the glass. “Who would have thought there could be so much rain in the sky?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But the summers are beautiful. Did you know that? I came out here the summer of—1984, was it? Vancouver was the only Western Canadian stop on Simon and Garfunkel’s reunion tour. I drove out to catch the concert. Stayed a month with some friends. July in Vancouver. You can’t beat it. Sunny every day, no mosquitoes. Nectarines the size of your fist. Every day for lunch I had one of those nectarines and a cappuccino yogurt. It was paradise.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t even know what a nectarine is, do you, Major? Or cappuccino, for that matter?”

  David smiled briefly. “Just screened for them, sir. Got the fruit. Drew a blank on the other.”

  “Just as well.” Winter looked at Oliver’s haggard face. As the days dragged on, the lack of sleep was telling cruelly on his senior staff. “Major, you comfort me. I do believe you must be nearly as tired as I am.”

  “To be frank, sir, I am extremely tired.”

  “Do you like it here, Major?”

  “What? Do I like Vancouver? I—I hadn’t really given it any thought.”

  “The climate is superb, if you don’t mind a little rain. Very temperate. The farmland in the Fraser Valley is some of the best on the continent. It would support a lot of people.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Your point is eluding me.”