‘You liked that? That was my idea.’
DeVore turned slowly, recognizing Mach’s voice. He narrowed his eyes, not understanding. Mach was the last person he would have expected to have tried to save the reputation of the Ping Tiao. No. The collapse of the ‘Levellers’ could only bolster the fortunes of his own secret movement-within-a-movement, the Yu.
Unless… He turned back, watching Gesell’s face as Mach came towards him.
Of course! Gesell was out! Mach was now the de facto leader of the Ping Tiao. It was what he had sensed earlier; why Gesell had been so touchy. Why he had begun to surround himself with thugs. Gesell knew. Even if it hadn’t been said, he knew. And was afraid.
Mach seemed taller, broader at the shoulder than before. Then DeVore understood. He was wearing uniform – the uniform of the Security Reserve Corps. His long dark hair was coiled tightly in a bun at the back of his head and he had shaved off the beard he usually wore. He strode across casually, smiling tightly at Gesell, then turned his back on his colleagues.
‘You’ve balls, Turner, I’ll grant you that. If I’d been in your shoes, this is the last place I’d have come.’
DeVore smiled. ‘I gambled. Guessed that the surprise of seeing me here would make you listen to me. Even your friend, the hot-head over there.’
Gesell glared back at him, but said nothing. It was as if Mach’s presence neutralized him.
Mach was nodding. ‘I’m sorry about that. Bent lets things get on top of him at times. But he’s a good man. He wants what I want.’
DeVore looked from one to the other, trying to make out exactly what their new relationship was. But one thing was clear: Mach was number one. He alone spoke for the Ping Tiao now. Overnight the illusion of equality – of committee – had dissipated, leaving a naked power struggle. A struggle that Mach had clearly won. But had he won anything of substance? Had he won it only to see the Ping Tiao destroyed? If so, he seemed remarkably calm about it.
‘And what do you want?’ he asked. ‘Something new, or the same old formula?’
Mach laughed. ‘Does it matter? Are you interested any longer?’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
Mach nodded, a slightly more thoughtful expression coming to his face. ‘Yes.’ Again he laughed. It was strange. He seemed more relaxed than DeVore had ever seen him. A man free of cares, not burdened by them.
‘You know, I was genuinely surprised when you contacted us. I wondered what you could possibly want. After Bremen I thought you’d have nothing to do with us. I did what I could to repair the damage, but…’ He shrugged. ‘Well, we all know how it is. We are small fish in the great sea of the people, and if the sea turns against us…’
DeVore smiled inwardly. So Mach knew his Mao. But had he Mao’s dour patience? Had he the steel in him to wait long years to see his vision made real? His creation of the Yu suggested that he had. And that was why he had come. To keep in touch with Mach. To cast off the Ping Tiao and take up with the Yu. But it seemed that Mach had not yet done with the Ping Tiao. Why? Were the Yu not ready yet? Did he need the Ping Tiao a while longer – as a mask, perhaps, to his other activities?
He looked down, deciding how to play it, then smiled, meeting Mach’s eyes again.
‘Let’s just say that I believe in you, Shih Mach. What happened was unfortunate. Tragic, let’s say. But not irreparable. We have patience, you and I. The patience to rebuild from the ashes, neh?’
Mach narrowed his eyes. ‘And you think you can help?’
DeVore reached into his tunic pocket and took out the ten slender chips, handing them across to Mach.
Mach looked at them then laughed. ‘Half a million yuan. And that’ll solve all our problems?’
‘That and four of my best propaganda men. They’ll run a leaflet campaign in the lower levels. They’ll reconstruct what happened at Bremen until even the most cynical unbeliever will have it on trust that the Seven butchered fifteen thousand of their own to justify a campaign against the Ping Tiao.’
Mach laughed. ‘And you think that will work?’
DeVore shook his head. ‘I know it’ll work. The Big Lie always does.’
‘And in return?’
‘You attack the Plantations.’
Mach’s eyes widened. ‘You’re mad. They’ll be waiting for us now.’
‘Like they were at Bremen?’
Mach considered. ‘I take your point. But not now. We’ve lost too many men. It’ll take time to heal our wounds, and even more to train others to take the place of those we lost.’
‘How long?’
‘A year, perhaps. Six months at the very least.’
DeVore shook his head. ‘Too long. Call it a month and I can promise twenty times the money I’ve just given you.’
Mach’s mouth opened slightly, surprised. Then he shook his head. ‘For once it’s not a question of money. Or haven’t you heard? The T’ang’s men raided more than a dozen of our cells this afternoon. To all intents and purposes the Ping Tiao has ceased to exist in large parts of City Europe. Elsewhere we’re down to a bare skeleton. That’s where I’ve been, inspecting the damage.’
DeVore looked past Mach at the others. No wonder the woman had been so quiet. They had known. Even so, his reasoning remained sound. Until the fortresses were ready, he needed an organization like the Ping Tiao to burrow away at the foundations of the City and keep the Seven under pressure. The Ping Tiao, or maybe the Yu. When the Yu were ready.
He was silent a moment. ‘I see. Then you had best use my men to bolster your numbers, Shih Mach. Five hundred should be enough, don’t you think? I’ll arrange for Schwarz here to report to you two days from now. You’ll have command, naturally.’
Mach narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t understand. Why don’t you just attack them yourself ? I don’t see what you get out of doing it this way.’
‘You don’t trust me, then?’
‘Damn right, I don’t!’ Mach laughed and half moved away, then turned back, coming right up close to DeVore.
‘Okay. Let’s have no more games between us, Major. I know who you are, and I know what you’ve done. I’ve known it some while now. It explains a lot. But this… this just doesn’t fit together.’
DeVore stared back at him, undaunted. Of course he knew. Who did he think let him know?
‘Start thinking clearly, Mach. How could I get that many men into position without Security finding out about it? No. I need you, Mach. I need you to find false identities for these men. To find them places to live. To organize things for me. Beyond that we both need this. In my case to placate my backers; to let them see that something real, something tangible is being done against the Seven. You to bring new blood to your movement; to prove that the Ping Tiao isn’t moribund.’
Mach looked away thoughtfully, then nodded. ‘All right. We’ll do as you say. But I want the funds up front, and I want them three days from now. As token of your good faith.’
It would be difficult, but not impossible. In any case, Ebert would pay. He’d fucked things up, so he could foot the bill.
DeVore offered his hand. ‘Agreed.’
Mach hesitated, then took his hand. ‘Good. Three days, then. I’ll let you know where we’ll meet and when.’
As he made his way back to the transporter, DeVore considered what had been said and done. Whatever happened now, Gesell was dead. After the raid on the Plantations if necessary, but before if it could be arranged. That was the last time he would put himself at risk with that fool.
He smiled. It had all seemed very bleak yesterday, when the news had first broken, but it was going to be all right. Maybe even better than before, in fact, because this gave him a chance to work much closer with Mach. To make him his tool.
In that Mach and the jou tung wu were alike. Neither was conscious of the role they served. Of how they were fattened only to be slaughtered. For that was their ultimate purpose in life. To eat shit and feed others. The jou tung wu to feed the mei yu jen w
en, the ‘sub-humans’ of the City, and Mach – a finer, tastier meat – to feed himself.
He laughed. Yes, Mach, I mean to eat you. To make your skull my rice bowl and feast upon your brains. Because that’s how it is in this little world of ours. It’s man eat man, and always has been.
He slowed as he came closer to the transporter, checking for signs that anything was wrong, then, satisfied, he ducked inside, leaving his lieutenants to follow in the second craft.
He sat down at once, strapping himself in, the craft rising steeply even before the door was fully closed, the pilot following his earlier instructions to the letter, making sure there was no possibility of pursuit, no chance of ambush.
As the ground fell away he smiled, thinking of the equation he had made in his head. Yes, they were all meat-animals, every last one of them, himself included. But he could dream. Ah, yes, he could dream. And in his dreams he saw them – finer, cleaner beasts, all trace of grossness excised from their natures. Tall, slender creatures, sculpted like glass yet hard as steel. Creatures of ice, designed to survive the very worst the universe could throw at them. Survivors.
No… More than that. Inheritors.
He laughed. That was it – the name he had been looking for. Inheritors. He keyed the word into his wrist set, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back, relaxing.
Yes. But first he must destroy what stopped them from coming into being. In that, Tsao Ch’un had been right. The new could not come into being while the old remained. His inheritors could not stand tall and straight in that cramped little world of levels. So the old must go. The levels must be levelled, the walls torn down, the universe opened up again. In order that they might exist. In order that things could go forward again – onward to that ultimate of mind’s total control of matter. Only then could they stop. Only then could there be surcease.
He shivered. That was the dream. The reason, no, the motivating force behind each action that he took – the dark wind blowing hard and cold at his back. To bring them into being. Creatures of ice. Creatures better than himself. What finer aim was there? What finer aim?
Hans Ebert stopped in the doorway, lowering his head in a bow of respect, then came on, the fully laden tray held out before him. As he came near, Nocenzi, Tolonen and the T’ang moved back slightly, letting him put it down in the space they had cleared. They had been closeted together three hours now, discussing the matter of reprisals and the new Security measures.
Li Shai Tung smiled, accepting a bowl of ch’a from the young Major. ‘You shouldn’t have, Hans. I would have sent a servant.’
Ebert’s head remained lowered a moment longer. ‘You were in deep discussion, Chieh Hsia. I felt it best to see to things myself.’
The old T’ang laughed softly. ‘Well, Hans, I’m glad you did. I did not realize how much time had passed, or how thirsty I had grown.’
The T’ang made to sip from the bowl, but Ebert cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia. But if you’d permit me?’
Li Shai Tung frowned, then saw what Ebert meant. He handed him the bowl, then watched as the young man sipped, then wiped where his lips had touched with a cloth before handing back the bowl.
The T’ang looked at Tolonen and Nocenzi and saw how his own pleasure was mirrored in their faces. Ebert was a splendid young man, and he had been right to insist on tasting the ch’a before he himself had drunk it.
‘One cannot be too careful, Chieh Hsia.’
Li Shai Tung nodded. ‘You are quite right, Hans. What would your father say, neh?’
‘To you, nothing, Chieh Hsia. But he would most certainly have chastised me for failing in my duties as his son if I had let you sip the ch’a untasted.’
Again the answer pleased the three older men greatly. With a last bow to his T’ang, Ebert turned and began to pour for the General and the Marshal.
‘Well, Knut,’ continued the T’ang, where he had left off, ‘do you think we got them all?’
Tolonen straightened slightly, taking the bowl from Ebert before he answered.
‘Not all, Chieh Hsia, but I’d warrant it’ll be a year or more before we have any more trouble from them, if then. Hans did a fine job. And it was good that we acted when we did. If we had left it even an hour later we wouldn’t have got anyone to inform on the scum and we would never have got to those cells. As it was…’
As it was they had practically destroyed the Ping Tiao. After the awfulness of Bremen there had been smiles again. Grim smiles of satisfaction at a job well done.
‘I wish I had known,’ the T’ang said, looking away. ‘I might have pushed things a little less hard in Council. Might have waited a while and tried to convince my fellow T’ang rather than coerce them.’
‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but you acted as you had to,’ Nocenzi said, his voice free of doubt. ‘Whether the threat be from the Ping Tiao or from another group, the problem remains. And as long as population outstrips food production, it can only get worse.’
‘Yes, Vittorio, but what can I do? The Council will hear nothing of population measures and I have done all that can be done to increase productivity. What remains?’
Nocenzi looked to Tolonen, who gave the slightest nod, then turned to young Ebert. ‘Hans, you know the facts and figures. Would you like to spell it out for us?’
Ebert looked to his T’ang, then set his ch’a down. ‘Chieh Hsia?’
‘Go ahead, Major.’
Ebert hesitated, then bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but when I learned what had been planned against the Plantations, I decided, after consultation with Marshal Tolonen, to commission a report. One separate from those you had asked us to compile.’
The T’ang looked briefly at Tolonen, then frowned. ‘I see. And what was in this report?’
‘It was quite simple, Chieh Hsia. Indeed, it asked but one highly specific question. What would it cost in terms of manpower and finances to guard the Plantations adequately?’
‘And the results of your report?’
Tolonen interrupted. ‘You must understand, Chieh Hsia, that Ebert acted only under my strict orders. Neither would I have mentioned this had you been successful in Council. It’s just that I felt we should be prepared for the worst eventuality. For the failure of our action against the Ping Tiao and the… the hostility, let us say, of the Seven to your scheme.’
The T’ang looked down, then laughed. ‘I am not angry, Knut. Gods, no. I’m glad to have such fine men as you three tending to my interests. If I seem angry, it is at the need for us to take such measures. At the wastefulness of it all. Surely there’s no need for us to breed and breed until we choke on our own excess of flesh!’
He looked about him angrily, then calmed, nodding to himself. ‘Well, Hans? What would the cost be?’
Ebert bowed. ‘In men we’re talking of a further half-million, Chieh Hsia. Six hundred and fifty thousand, to be absolutely safe. In money – for food, billeting, equipment, salaries and so forth – it works out to something like eighty-five thousand yuan per man, or a total of somewhere between forty-two and fifty-five billion yuan per year.
‘However, this scenario presumes that we have half a million trained Security guards ready for placement. The truth is, if we took this number of men from their present duties there would be a substantial increase in criminal activity throughout the levels, not to say a dramatic rise in civil disturbance at the very bottom of the City. It would reduce current strength by over twenty-five per cent, and that could well result in a complete breakdown of law and order in the lowest fifty levels.’
‘And the alternative?’
‘To take a much smaller number, say, fifty thousand, from present strength, then recruit to make up numbers. This, too, creates problems, primarily in training. To accommodate such an influx we would have to expand our training programme considerably. And the cost… forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but that alone would account for an estimated twenty billion, even before we equipped and trained the first rec
ruit.’
Li Shai Tung considered a moment, then shook his head. ‘I don’t like it, ch’un tzu. To finance this would mean making cuts elsewhere, and who knows what troubles that would bring? But what choice do we have? Without enough food…’
He shrugged. It came back to the same thing every time. Population and food. Food and population. How fill the ever-growing rice bowl of Chung Kuo?
Tolonen hesitated, then bowed his head. ‘Might I suggest a solution, Chieh Hsia?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then what of this? What if we were to adopt part of Hans’s scheme? Aim for a force of, say, a quarter of a million, to be stationed on the Plantations, concentrated at key points to maximize their effectiveness. This to be phased in by degrees, at a rate of, say, fifty thousand every six months. That would take the strain off the training facilities while at the same time minimizing the social effects.’
‘But that would take too long, surely?’
‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but the one thing Hans neglects to mention in his report is the effectiveness of his action against the Ping Tiao. If our problems of recruitment and training are great, imagine theirs. They’ve been routed. They won’t easily recover from that. As I said earlier, it’ll be a year at the very least before they’re in any fit state to cause us problems, and there’s no terrorist group of comparable size to take their place.’
The T’ang considered a moment, then nodded. ‘All right. We shall do as you say, Knut. Draw up the orders and I’ll sign them.’ He turned, looking at Ebert. ‘You have served me well today, Hans Ebert, and I shall not forget it. Neither shall my son. But come, let’s drink this fine ch’a you brought before it cools.’
The three men bowed as one. ‘Chieh Hsia…’
Li Yuan looked up from the document he was reading and yawned.
‘You should take a break, my lord,’ Chang Shih-sen, his personal secretary, said, looking across at him from his desk on the far side of the room. ‘I’ll finish off. There are only a few things remaining.’
Li Yuan smiled. They had been working since seven and it was almost midday. ‘A good idea, Shih-sen. But it’s strange that my father hasn’t contacted me. Do you think he’s all right?’
The Broken Wheel Page 9