Son of Heaven

by Wingrove, David

  Some men were just plain evil…

  Yes, but he would have him now.

  As the craft set down, not twenty metres from where Wang stood, on the ramp of his security cruiser, Jiang Lei barked an order.

  ‘Arrest that man, Ma Feng… I want him roped!’

  Ma Feng and two others jumped down and ran across. As they did, so Wang’s men made to intercede.

  ‘And if they try to stop you, shoot them!’

  Li and Cho backed away at that, leaving Wang Yu-Lai exposed. Ma Feng grabbed him roughly, almost pulling him off his feet.

  ‘My lord,’ Wang protested, clearly angered by this treatment. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

  But Jiang Lei was having none of it. He was furious. ‘Get him inside!’

  Jiang looked across, to where the bodies lay, grieved by the sight. This was not the way. This only made their job harder, not easier.

  Inside, as Wang sat there, head bowed, his hands tied with rough cord, Jiang raged at him.

  ‘What do you mean by this? Who gave you the order to do what you have done?’

  Wang Yu-Lai looked up, glaring at Jiang Lei. ‘I was merely doing what you ought to have done!’

  Jiang stared at him, astonished by the man’s impudence. ‘You presume to tell me my business, Wang Yu-Lai? To tell me what I ought to be doing?’ Jiang shook his head, knowing now that he had no course but to try him and deal with him as harshly as he could. ‘I am Tsao Ch’un’s general… his chosen man. And what are you?’

  Wang laughed. It was the oddest sound, considering the trouble he was in. Jiang frowned, not understanding what might have caused such a reaction.

  Had the man lost his senses?

  Jiang calmed himself, then spoke again, clearly, like he was talking to a wilful child.

  ‘What you have done, Wang Yu-Lai, is a most serious breach of discipline. I intend to try you, here and now. And if I find you guilty, which I will, I shall have you flogged and sent back to your Masters in a box. Do you understand?’

  Wang looked up, meeting his eyes. He seemed strangely unconcerned, unmoved by Jiang’s words.

  ‘Oh, I understand, General Jiang… I know what you’d like to do… only if you try me it will come out…’

  ‘What?’ Jiang let his impatience shape his reaction. ‘What in the gods’ names are you talking about?’

  ‘About Reed. About the list.’

  Jiang stared at him, utterly deflated by his words. How had he found that out? Was there a spy among his men? Or had one of Wang’s creatures overheard something?

  Whichever, he would find out. Would rack them all, if he had to, until he had his answer. But for now he had a bigger problem, for if it came out that he had meddled, giving the man a false identity to keep him from investigation by the Ministry, it would be he, more likely, who’d be on the end of a severe punishment.

  There was only one thing he could do now. Only one thing that might save him. But first he must deal with the odious Wang.

  ‘Ma Feng!’ he called, his eyes never leaving Wang Yu-Lai.

  ‘Yes, General?’ Ma Feng said, rushing in, head bowed.

  ‘Take this one somewhere safe. Bind him and gag him and keep a guard on him day and night. And don’t let anyone talk to him. I don’t want him getting any messages out, have you got that?’

  ‘Yes, General.’

  ‘But you can’t…’ Wang began.

  Jiang turned and slapped him. ‘I know you, Wang. You think me a soft man. Well, you will find out now just how soft I am.’

  He looked to Ma Feng. ‘Take him. And if he tries to escape, shoot him.’

  Jake was resting when they came.

  Peter came and shook him awake, then stepped back, pointing towards the man who stood there in the doorway.

  Jake sat up, then, seeing who it was, quickly stood, lowering his head.

  ‘Jiang Lei…’

  The Han came across, signalling to his guards to stay where they were, in the doorway.

  ‘Shih Reed… I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with me. I am afraid that your existence is a known fact. The Ministry will want to talk with you. And I… well, I must follow the formalities now.’

  It was what Jake had feared. To come so close. Now they would have him. Now they would finish what they’d begun all those years ago. He sighed and looked down.

  ‘What you did… I appreciate that. It was a kindness on your part. But my family…’

  ‘Will be well looked after, I promise. No harm will come to them.’

  ‘And you?’

  Jiang Lei smiled. ‘I must fight now to save myself.’

  The smile faded. Jiang looked down. ‘Your friends… I am afraid I came too late to save them.’

  Jake groaned.

  It was what he’d feared. Even so, it was still hard to hear it confirmed.

  Jiang Lei met his eyes, his own sorrowful. ‘I am so sorry… But I promise you this… That man will pay for what he’s done. It is not our way, I assure you. He is not typical of us. But there are many like him, and The Thousand Eyes uses them whenever it can. I might try to disguise it and call it necessity, only that isn’t true. It is an evil, and I apologize, Shih Reed. This isn’t how it was meant to be.’

  Jake smiled and took the man’s offered hand.

  ‘Say your farewells,’ Jiang said. ‘You have half an hour.’

  Jake bowed his head, Han fashion. ‘Jiang Lei… Thank you…’

  He watched the Han leave, then looked down thoughtfully. Was there still a chance? Probably not. Once he was in their hands that was it.

  The Thousand Eyes… how apt it was. How very Chinese…

  Later, by the light of a scented candle, Jiang Lei sat at his desk, writing the letter.

  It was cold inside the tent. Much colder than it had been these past few nights. Winter was coming. You could feel it in the air. Even so, he did not summon Ho to bring a heater.

  Earlier on, he had contacted an old friend, in Pei Ch’ing, who had agreed to be his intermediary; to hand deliver the message. For this had to be done discreetly or not at all. Were it to be sent through official channels, it would have no chance of reaching the one to whom it was addressed. It would be lost, or delayed, its purpose blunted.

  Even as it was, it was a great risk. One did not write such letters every day. Then again, one did not often come to such a cusp, such a turning point, in one’s life.

  It was all his fault. He realized that now. It was he who had put Wang in charge. He who had given him the taste for it. Was it any wonder that such a sadistic little pervert should want more?

  No. And so he shouldered the blame. Set it all down for Tsao Ch’un to read, humbling himself in words before him, even as he asked the great man a rare favour, begging him to remember the great services he had done him.

  Done willingly, of course, with no expectation of reward, yet if he was in any small way valued, then…

  Jiang stopped, the ink brush hovering in the air above the sheet, wondering just how to phrase it.

  Whatever he said, he knew, was to some degree irrelevant, for Tsao Ch’un was a man of extreme moods, governed often by the merest whim. It was what made him so unpredictable, so dangerous. What had kept him in charge all this while.

  Even so, Jiang was a poet beyond all else, and, just as he took care with his calligraphy, so he took equal care with the words he chose to set down.

  It was possible – maybe even likely – that what he was writing here would be the last thing he wrote. That Tsao Ch’un would be so annoyed by his request that, in a fit of pique, he would hand him to the First Dragon, to do with as he wished.

  But there was no other course. Even if he killed Wang, and all those Wang had contaminated, the matter of Reed’s identity would come out sooner or later, and there would be an investigation. The Ministry would insist. So why not face it now? Why not state his objection to it loud and clear to the one man who had the power of life or death over him? Why not sa
y what a waste it was, to give one such as Reed to those idle sadists in the cells of the Ministry building in Bremen?

  Why break such a man when one could use him gainfully?

  He wrote that down, ending with a small flourish of the brush.

  There… All that remained was to place his seal upon the letter.

  Jiang reached across and, taking two sheets of paper towel, lay them beneath the sheet. Then, having carefully inked the seal, he pressed it firmly at the bottom of the page.

  The bright red ink of the seal seemed to glisten in the candlelight momentarily, the scent of the ink almost as strong as that of the burning candle.

  There was a poem in that, too. Only tonight he’d had enough of poetry. Tonight he was just a general, begging his liege lord to forgive him and spare his life. And the life of a man whom, until two days ago, he did not know.

  How strange that was. Or not, now that he thought about it. For this had been brewing many months now. This disaffection.

  Jiang Lei stood, taking a moment to yawn and stretch. Then, seeing that the ink had almost dried, he picked up the sheet and, looking to the entrance flap, summoned his servant.

  ‘Steward Ho…’

  Ho appeared at once. ‘Master?’

  ‘Send for Ma Feng… Tell him I have a message I need delivered.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  Ho bowed and was gone.

  Jiang took one of his official folders and placed the letter inside. There was no guarantee that it would ever get to his old friend, let alone to its intended destination. Even now, agents of The Thousand Eyes might be watching for such a missive, ready to intercept it, to assassinate Ma Feng then come for him. Who knew what the state of things was, and whether Wang Yu-Lai had had time to tell them what he knew? Only, fragile as this was, it was the only way. All other doors were barred to him. If this failed, he was a dead man.

  Incongruously, Jiang Lei smiled at the thought.

  Jake woke.

  It was dark, and for an instant he could not remember where he was. There was a strong smell of wood polish and oil, so he knew he was not back in the camp.

  He sat up.

  ‘Hello?’

  No answer.

  Jake reached out, feeling blindly. The mattress he was on was resting on the floor. Nearby was a big tin of some kind. Paint or something. For some reason it felt like he was in a garage or an outhouse of some kind, only he couldn’t remember how he’d got there.

  What he did remember was the interrogation. That had been in the back bar of the Bankes Arms Hotel, only…

  Only when he thought about it, he couldn’t remember how it had ended.

  Had they slipped him something? Given him some kind of drug?

  Jake got to his feet, feeling unsteady. They’d filmed it all, that much he recalled. Everything he’d said. Everything he’d admitted to. Though what they’d do with it after all these years he couldn’t guess.

  He felt his way across the room, almost stumbling over a box filled with what felt like old wallpaper samples.

  A garage. It had to be.

  His head was pounding now, like he’d drunk too much.

  He tried again, louder this time. ‘Hello?’

  There was silence for a moment, then, from outside, footsteps on the gravel. Jake turned towards the sound, then shielded his eyes as the big door swung up and back, spilling brilliant sunlight into that dark space.

  He stumbled out. Through squinted eyes he saw that the guard held a big semi-automatic. It was aimed at him.

  ‘You come now… See General Jiang…’

  He hadn’t seen Jiang Lei since he’d come to him at the camp. As he followed the soldier, he wondered what Jiang wanted with him now.

  Jake looked about him, as his eyes grew accustomed to the daylight, not recognizing where he was. Wherever it was, it wasn’t Purbeck. At least, not a part of it that he knew. So Jiang had had him moved for some reason. Maybe to keep him out of someone else’s hands.

  Jiang was waiting in his craft.

  ‘Shih Reed,’ he said, offering Jake a seat. ‘Are you all right? I’m afraid the drug we had to give you—’

  ‘It was a drug, then?’

  ‘Yes, but its effects will wear off soon.’ Jiang looked tired. He smiled apologetically. ‘I did not wish to tie you up, so drugging you was the only real alternative.’

  Jake looked down. ‘Any news?’

  Jiang shook his head. ‘It is all in the hands of the gods. I have given it my best shot, as you say in the West, only…’

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘Only it’s hard to gauge sometimes… how much power you have, how much influence you exert. Me…? Well, I consider myself a very small piece of the puzzle. And yet I have access to those at the very highest level. It is the world I was born into. A world of privilege. And, for once, I have used my connections in that world.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, I have written to Tsao Ch’un himself, asking for a pardon.’

  Jake stared at him, astonished. ‘A pardon…’

  Jiang nodded. ‘Yes... I have thrown myself on his mercy.’

  Jake laughed. ‘Jesus!’

  Jiang too was smiling now. ‘It is funny, neh? I mean… it isn’t… and yet…’

  ‘And until we hear from him?’

  Jiang gestured towards a spot just across the cabin from him. There, beside the seat, were two fishing rods and a basket full of food.

  Jiang stood and went across, picking up one of the rods and studying it with what looked like an expert eye. ‘It is something I understand both our peoples are very fond of… You like fishing, Jake?’

  Jake nodded.

  ‘Then it is decided.’ Jiang raised his voice, speaking to the cockpit. ‘Pilot Wu… take us to that excellent stream we saw, three, no four days back. The one with the pretty stone bridge.’

  He looked back at Jake.

  ‘And Wang Yu-Lai?’ Jake asked. ‘What’s happening to him?’

  ‘Ah…’ Jiang said, his face shadowed momentarily. ‘Cadre Wang is with friends, let us say. Our friends, fortunately, not his.’

  And Jiang laughed again, a warm and pleasant laugh that Jake decided he liked. Liked very much.

  Wang Yu-Lai sat back, shocked, his cheek stinging from where the man had slapped him.

  You’ll die for that, he thought, glaring at him. I’ll fucking have the skin stripped from your body, when I’m free again.

  He knew they’d come for him. They always came. When he hadn’t reported in last night, they would have put an enquiry in – to find out why he’d not been in touch, for that was their way – that was why they were so effective.

  And for all Jiang Lei’s stalling and subterfuge, they would find out where he was, and then…

  Wang shuddered with indignation. He’d had the very worst of nights, sleeping on a damp, uncomfortable mattress that they’d grudgingly given him, on the floor of a cold cell, the stench of the drain nearby making him want to retch.

  He would have his revenge, though. They might have their fun now, only he would have the last laugh, and oh how he’d enjoy that!

  Wang had seen such ‘work’, in the special rooms in the cellars of the great fortress in Bremen. Had seen with his own eyes how a strong man could be reduced to a terrified child. How pain could be used to unstitch a man.

  And that, he promised himself, was what he would do to these.

  With his Masters’ permission, of course. But then why would they not grant it? For he had, in his head, details of Jiang Lei’s misdemeanour. Of his attempt to hide the man called Reed. That was his trump card. Was the kind of thing his Masters loved to hear. Not that they would expose Jiang Lei. Oh no. They would use it, rather, to control him. To make him theirs.

  For that was how they operated. How they cemented their control over Tsao Ch’un’s great city.

  For some time now it had grated on his nerves whenever Jiang had given him an order or contradicted
him. The very falsity of their positions had irked him. But that would soon be ended. Just as soon as he was released from this.

  He had begun to smile again, just thinking of it, when the soldier slapped him again, hard, making his eyes water.

  Yes… but this one first. How he’d make the fucker sing out…

  Seeing them down below, through the cockpit window, Jiang Lei knew the game was up.

  They had brought a regular little army with them: six transporters and a massive cruiser. Their black, unmarked craft sat in the field beside his own men’s tents. Some of them had remained there, guarding the ships, but the rest, a hundred or more in total, including four very important-looking figures, were waiting just outside Jiang Lei’s tent.

  ‘It looks like we have visitors,’ Jiang said quietly.

  ‘D’you think they’ve come for me?’

  ‘Possibly… but it’s more likely that it’s because their man, Wang, is missing. They keep a sharp eye on their agents, especially one as prominent as Wang.’

  Jiang took a long breath, then: ‘Pilot Wu… Set us down.’

  ‘Stay in the craft,’ Jiang said to Jake, pulling on his dark blue jacket. ‘If you need to come, I’ll send for you.’

  Jake nodded. He had enjoyed their afternoon together. Had found him self seduced by the simple charm of the man, his warmth and culture. He had seen for himself the brutality of China. But in Jiang Lei he saw another side to things. Saw in this one man the pure essence of the Confucian ethic.

  Good luck, Jiang Lei, he thought, watching the man as the craft set down and Jiang walked down the ramp to approach the seated officials. And don’t take any shit from the bastards…

  Jiang Lei bowed low, even as the four men rose from their seats.

  ‘Ch’un tzu… it is a great delight to have you here… to what do I owe this most pleasant and welcome visit?’

  It was said plainly, without any obvious irony, yet they knew as well as he that they were as welcome as the plague.

  The eldest – a minor Dragon of the Seventh Rank – returned his bow and answered him. He clearly felt he had no need to be polite, even to a general.

  ‘Where is he? Where is Wang Yu-Lai?’

  Jiang lowered his head respectfully. ‘Cadre Wang is under arrest. He—’