She bowed her head. ‘As you wish, Father.’
‘Good. Then this other matter...’ He hesitated, then gave a short laugh. ‘Well, you know how long Klaus Ebert and I have been friends. How close our families have always been.’
She laughed. ‘Shih Ebert has been like an uncle to me.’
Her father’s smile broadened momentarily. ‘Yes. But I’ve long wished for something more than that. Some stronger, more intimate bond between our families.’
‘More intimate...’ She stared at him, not understanding.
‘Yes,’ he said, looking back at her fondly. ‘It has long been my dream that you would one day wed my old friend’s son.’
‘Hans? Hans Ebert?’ Her eyes were narrowed now, watching him.
‘Yes.’ He looked away, smiling. ‘But it’s more than a dream. You see, Klaus Ebert and I came to an arrangement.’
She felt herself go cold. ‘An arrangement?’
‘Yes. Klaus was very generous. Your dowry is considerable.’
She laughed nervously. ‘I don’t understand. Dowry? What dowry?’
He smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about all this before, but I’ve not had time. Things were so busy, and then, suddenly, the day was upon me.’
The coldness melted away as a wave of anger washed over her. She shook her head defiantly. ‘But you can’t...’
‘I can,’ he said. ‘In fact, there’s no question about it, Jelka. It was all arranged, ten years back.’
‘Ten years?’ She shook her head, astonished. ‘But I was four...’
‘I know. But these things must be done. It is our way. And they must be done early. Hans is heir to a vast financial empire, after all. It would not do to have uncertainty over such matters. The markets...’
She looked down, his words washing over her unheard, her breath catching in her throat. Her father had sold her – sold her to his best friend’s son. Oh, she’d heard of it. Indeed, several of her schoolfriends had been engaged in this manner. But this was herself.
She looked up at him again, searching his eyes for some sign that he understood how she felt, but there was nothing, only his determination to fulfil his dream of linking the two families.
Her voice was soft, reproachful. ‘Daddy... how could you?’
He laughed, but his laughter now was hard, and his words, when they came, held a slight trace of annoyance.
‘How could I what?’
Sell me, she thought, but could not bring herself to say the words. She swallowed and bowed her head. ‘You should have told me.’
‘I know. But I thought... well, I thought you would be pleased. After all, Hans is a handsome young man. More than half the girls in the Above are in love with him. And you... well, you alone will be his wife. The wife of a general. The wife of a Company head. And not just any Company, but GenSyn.’
It was true. She ought to be pleased. Her friends at school would be jealous of her. Green with envy. But somehow the thought of that palled in comparison with the enormity of what her father had done. He had not asked her. In this, the most important thing she would ever do, he had not taken her feelings into consideration. Would he have done that if her mother had been alive?
She shivered, then looked up at him again.
‘So I must marry him?’
He nodded tersely, his face stern. ‘It is arranged.’
She stared back at him a moment, surprised by the hard edge to his voice, then bowed her head. ‘Very well. Then I shall do as you ask.’
‘Good.’ He smiled tightly, then glanced down at the timer at his wrist. ‘You’d best call your amah, then, and have her dress you. It’s after eleven now and I said we’d be there by one.’
She stared at him, astonished. ‘This afternoon?’
He looked back at her, frowning, as if surprised by her question. ‘Of course. Now hurry, my love. Hurry, or we’ll be late.’
Jelka hesitated, watching him a moment longer – seeing how he looked down at the book in his hand as if it were a mystery he needed to resolve – then she turned and went through into the other room, looking for Lu Cao.
‘Well, what is it?’
Auden took Ebert to one side, out of earshot of the two guards. ‘I think we may have stumbled on to something.’
Ebert smiled. ‘What kind of thing?’
‘A link. A possible explanation for what happened the other night?’
Ebert’s smile broadened. ‘How good a link? Good enough to make me late for an appointment with the Minister’s wife?’
Auden returned the smile. ‘I think so.’
They went inside. The prisoner was a Han. A young man in his late twenties. He was well dressed and neatly groomed, but sweating profusely.
‘Who is this?’ Ebert asked, as if the man had no existence, no identity other than that which he or Auden gave him.
‘He’s a close relative of one of the murdered men. The victim was a merchant, Lu Tung. This is his third cousin, Lu Wang-pei. It seems he depended on Lu Tung for funds. To repay gambling debts and the like.’
Lu Wang-pei had bowed his head at the mention of his name, but neither of the officers paid him the slightest attention. His eyes followed them as they moved about the room, but otherwise he was perfectly still. In this he had no choice, for he was bound tightly to the chair.
Ebert looked about him at the sparsely furnished room. ‘So what have you found?’
‘Forensic evidence shows that the bomb was hidden inside a package – a present delivered to Lu Tung’s apartments only minutes before the explosion. It seems that our man here delivered that package.’
‘I see. So in this case we have our murderer?’
‘Yes and no. Wang-Pei had no idea what it was he was delivering. That’s not to say he wasn’t culpable in some small degree, because he did agree to deliver it.’
‘For someone else?’
Auden smiled. ‘That’s right. For three men. Business rivals of Lu Tung’s, so they claimed. It seems they bought up our friend’s gambling debts, then offered to wipe the slate clean if he’d do a little favour for them.’
‘The package.’
‘Exactly. They told him they wanted to frighten his uncle. To shake him up a little.’
Ebert laughed. ‘Well... And so they did!’
‘Yes,’ Auden looked down momentarily. ‘And there it would end, were it not for the fact that Wang-Pei here didn’t trust his new friends. He secreted a camera on him when he went to make his collection. Here...’
He handed the flat 3-D image to Ebert, then watched as his initial puzzlement changed into a smile of enlightenment. ‘DeVore...’
Auden nodded. ‘Yes. But it was the two at the front Wang-Pei dealt with. They did all the talking.’
‘And who are they?’
‘One’s an ex-Security man. Max Wiegand. A good man, it seems. He had an excellent service record.’
‘And the other?’
‘We couldn’t get a trace on him. But look at the pallor of his skin. He looks albinic. If so he might be wearing contact lenses to disguise the colour of his eyes.’
‘Hmm...’ Ebert handed back the flat. ‘And what does our man here know?’
‘Nothing much. I think he’s telling the truth. I’ve checked on the gambling debts. I’d guess it happened exactly as he told us.’
Ebert nodded, then turned, looking directly at the Han for the first time since he’d entered the room. ‘All right. Leave him with me a moment. I’ll see whether we can find out anything more.’
When Auden had gone, he went across and stood there directly in front of the Han, looking down at him contemptuously.
‘As far as I’m concerned, Shih Lu, I couldn’t care a shit if you Han butchered one another until the corridors ran red. If that was all that was at stake here I’d let you go. But it’s not. You made a mistake. A fortunate mistake for me. But for you...’
He lashed out viciously, catching the Han across the nose. Wang
-Pei drew his head back, groaning, his eyes wide with shock. Blood ran freely from his nose.
‘Tell me the truth. What’s your connection to these men? When did you first start working for them?’
Wang-Pei made to shake his head, but Ebert hit him again: a stinging blow across the ear that made him cry out, his face distorted with pain.
‘I never saw them before...’ he began. ‘It’s as I said...’
The third blow knocked him backwards, the chair tilting out from under him. Ebert followed through at once, kicking him once, twice, in the stomach. Hard, vicious kicks that made the Han double up, gasping.
‘You know nothing, neh? Nothing! You fuck-head! You pissing fuck-head chink! Of course you know nothing!’
He kicked again, lower this time. The Han began to vomit. Ebert turned away, disgusted. Of course he knew nothing. DeVore was not that stupid. But he had slipped up this time. He should have kept out of it. Should have let his two henchmen do all the front work.
The door beside him opened.
‘Are you all right... ?’
He looked across at Auden, smiling. ‘I’m fine. But this one’s dead.’
Auden stared back at him a moment, then nodded. ‘And the guards?’
Ebert looked back at the Han, his smile broadening. ‘They saw nothing. Okay? You deal with them, Will. I’ll recompense you.’
The Han lay there, wheezing for breath, his frightened eyes staring up at them imploringly.
Auden nodded. ‘All right. But why? After all, we have the link.’
‘Yes. And we’re going to keep it, understand me? I want DeVore. I want to nail him. But I want it to be me. Me. Understand? Not some other bastard.’
Auden looked down, his expression thoughtful. ‘I see.’
‘Good. Then I’ll leave you to tidy things up. I’ve kept the Minister’s wife waiting far too long already.’
Chen was waiting for Haavikko when he came out of the Officers’ Mess. He hung back, careful not to let the young Hung Mao see him even though he could see that he was the worse for drink. He smiled bitterly. Yes, that was in the file, too, along with all the brawling, the whoring, the gambling and all the other derelictions of duty. But that was as nothing beside the fact of his treason. Chen felt a shiver of anger ripple through him and let his hand rest momentarily on the handle of his knife. Well, he would cut a confession from him if he had to, piece by tiny piece. Because if Haavikko was behind the butchery at Helmstadt...
He stopped, moving in to the side. Up ahead of him Haavikko had paused, leaning against the wall unsteadily, as if about to be sick. But when a fellow officer approached him, he turned quickly, his movements exaggerated by drunkenness, letting out a string of obscenities. The officer put his hands out before him in apology, backing away, then turned and walked off, shaking his head.
Chen felt the bile rise again. Haavikko was a disgrace. To think what he might have become. He shook his head, then began to move again, keeping the man in sight.
Twenty levels down he watched as Haavikko fumbled with the combination to his door, then slumped against the wall, making three attempts at it before he matched his eye to the indented pad. Then Chen was moving quickly, running the last few ch’i as the door began to iris closed.
Haavikko swung round, his bleary eyes half-lidded, his jacket already discarded, as Chen came through into the room.
‘What the fuck... ?’
Chen had drawn his knife. A big knife with a wickedly curved blade that glinted razor-sharp in the overhead lights. ‘Haavikko? Axel Haavikko?’
He saw the flicker of fear in the young man’s eyes as he staggered back and almost fell against the bed.
‘Wha... what d’you want?’ The words were slurred, almost incoherent.
‘I think you know...’ Chen began, moving closer. But suddenly Haavikko was no longer awkward, his movements no longer slow and clumsy. Chen found himself thrown backward by the man’s charge, the knife knocked from his hand by a stinging blow. But before Haavikko could follow up, Chen had rolled aside and jumped to his feet again, his body crouched in a defensive posture.
Haavikko was facing him, crouched, his eyes wide, watching Chen’s every movement, all pretence at drunkenness peeled from him. He swayed gently, as if about to attack, but it was clear to Chen that that was not Haavikko’s intention. He was waiting for Chen to go for his knife, which lay just behind him by the door. It was what he himself would have done. Chen gave the slightest nod, suddenly respectful of the man’s abilities. No one, not even Karr, had ever been fast enough to knock his knife from his hand.
‘Well?’ Haavikko said, clearly this time, the word formed like a drop of acid. ‘What do you want?’
Chen lifted his chin in challenge. ‘I’ll tell you what I want. I want answers.’
Haavikko laughed bitterly. ‘Answers? What do you mean?’ But there was a slight hesitation in his eyes, the slightest trace of fear.
‘I think you know more than you’re letting on. I think you’ve done one or two things you’re ashamed of. Things that aren’t even on your file.’
Chen saw how he blanched at that, how the skin about his eyes tightened.
‘Who sent you? Was it Liu Chang?’
‘Liu Chang? Who’s that?’
Haavikko snorted in disgust. ‘You know damned well who I mean. Liu Chang, the brothel keeper. From the Western Isle. Did he send you? Or was it someone else?’
Chen shook his head. ‘You’ve got me wrong, Lieutenant. I’m a soldier, not a pimp’s runner. You forget where we are. This is Bremen. How would a pimp’s runner get in here?’
Haavikko shook his head. ‘I’d credit him with anything. He’s devious enough, don’t you think?’
Who? he wondered, but said, ‘It’s Chen... Captain Kao Chen.’
Haavikko laughed sourly, then shook his head. ‘Since when did they make a Han captain?’
Slowly Chen’s hand went to his jacket.
‘Try anything and I’ll break your neck.’
Chen looked back at him, meeting his eyes coldly, his fingers continuing to search his pocket, emerging a moment later with his pass. He threw it across to Haavikko, who caught it deftly, his eyes never leaving Chen’s face.
‘Back off... Two paces.’
Chen moved back, glancing about him at the room. It was bare, undecorated. A bed, a wardrobe, a single chair. A picture of a girl in a frame on the tiny bedside table. Haavikko’s uniform tunic hung loosely on the door of the wardrobe where he had thrown it.
Haavikko looked at the pass, turned it in his hand, then threw it back at Chen, a new look – puzzlement, maybe curiosity – in his eyes.
Chen pocketed the pass. ‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you, Haavikko? Out of your depth.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, I think you do. Your friends have dumped you in it this time. Left you to carry the can.’
Haavikko laughed scathingly. ‘Friends? I’ve no friends, Captain Kao. If you’ve read my file, you’ll know that much about me.’
‘Maybe. And maybe that’s just another pose – like the pretence of drunkenness you put on for me earlier.’
Haavikko breathed deeply, unevenly. ‘I saw you earlier, when I went into the mess. When you were still there when I came out, I knew you were following me.’
‘Who were you meeting?
‘I wasn’t meeting anyone. I went in there to find something out.’
Chen narrowed his eyes. ‘You weren’t meeting Fest, then? I note he entered the mess just before you. You used to serve with him, didn’t you?’
Haavikko was silent a moment, then he shook his head. ‘I wasn’t meeting Fest. But, yes, I served with him. Under General Tolonen.’
‘And under Major DeVore, too.’
‘I was ensign to DeVore for a month, yes.’
‘At the time of Minister Lwo’s assassination.’
‘That’s so.’
Chen shook his head. ‘Am I to believe this
crap?’
Haavikko’s lips formed a sneer. ‘Believe what you like, but I wasn’t meeting Fest. If you must know, I went in there to try to overhear what he was saying.’
‘Are you blackmailing him?’
Haavikko bristled. ‘Look, what do you want? Who are you working for, Captain Kao?’
Chen met the challenge in his eyes momentarily, then looked about the room again. Something had been nagging at him. Something he didn’t realize until he noticed the lieutenant’s patch on the tunic hanging from the cupboard door. Of course! Haavikko had been the same rank these last eight years. But why? After all, if he was working for Ebert...
Chen looked back at Haavikko, shaking his head, then laughed quietly.
Haavikko had tensed, his eyes narrowed, suspicious. ‘What is it?’
But Chen was laughing strongly now, his whole manner suddenly different. He sat down on the bed, looking up at Haavikko. ‘It’s just that I got you wrong. Completely wrong.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought you were working for Ebert.’
‘Ebert! That bastard!’ Then realisation dawned on Haavikko. ‘Then...’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Gods! And I thought...’
The two men stared at each other a moment, their relief – their sudden understanding – clouded by the shadow of Ebert.
‘What did he do?’ Chen asked, getting up, his face serious, his eyes filled with sympathy. ‘What did he do to you, Axel Haavikko, to make you destroy yourself so thoroughly?’
Haavikko looked down, then met Chen’s eyes again. ‘It’s not in the file, then?’
Chen shook his head.
‘No. I guess it wouldn’t be. He’d see to that, wouldn’t he?’ He was quiet a moment, staring at Chen sympathetically. ‘And you, Kao Chen? What did he do to make you hate him so?’
Chen smiled tightly. ‘Oh, it was a small thing. A matter of face.’ But he was thinking of his friend, Pavel, and of his death in the attack on the Overseer’s House. That too he set down against Hans Ebert.
‘Well... What now, Kao Chen? Do we go our own ways, or is our hatred of him strong enough to bind us?’
The Art of War Page 16