An Inch of Ashes (CHUNG KUO SERIES)

by David Wingrove

  Tolonen sniffed. ‘Li Shai Tung wants to try to reclaim parts of the Net. To bring them back into the fold. He’ll guarantee basic services and limited travel in the lower levels, as well as huge cash injections to bring facilities up to standard. In return the Triad bosses will guarantee to keep the peace, within the framework of existing law.’

  Ebert looked down. ‘Forgive me for being candid, sir, but I’d say it was highly optimistic, wouldn’t you?’

  Tolonen lowered his voice. ‘Just between us, Hans, I fully agree. But ours is not to question policy, ours is to carry that policy out. We are our master’s hands, neh?’

  There was a moment’s silence between the men, then Tolonen continued. ‘Anyway, it seems that the loss of the three statues has thrown things into flux. The T’ang is reluctant to part with any more of his treasures until we learn what happened to these three. If the Triads were involved – if they are trying to have their cake and eat it – Li Shai Tung wants to know that. It may answer other questions, too. We’ve had our suspicions for some while that the Ping Tiao were working with another group in their raid on Helmstadt. If they were acting in conjunction with one or other of the larger Triad bosses, it would explain a lot. Maybe it would even give us a handle on these murders.’

  ‘I see. And you want me to investigate?’

  ‘That’s right. Some of the jewellery has already shown up on the black market. I want you to find out who’s been trading the stuff. Then I want you to trace it back and get some answers.’

  Ebert was silent a moment, considering, then he looked up again, meeting the Marshal’s eyes. ‘Why not Karr?’

  ‘Major Karr has quite enough on his hands already.’ Tolonen leaned forward and covered Ebert’s hand with his own. ‘No, Hans, you look after this for me, neh? Get me some answers that’ll please the T’ang. It’ll do you no harm, I guarantee. The murders, they’re one thing. But this... Well, it could prove far more important in the long run.’

  Ebert smiled. ‘Of course. When do you want me to report?’

  ‘The T’ang has given me three days.’

  ‘Then three days it is. Whatever it takes. I’ll find out who’s behind all this.’

  ‘Good.’ Tolonen beamed. ‘I knew I could count on you, Hans.’

  It was thirty minutes later and he was in the corridor outside his apartment when the woman approached him, grabbing his arm and shrieking into his face.

  ‘You bastard! You bought her, didn’t you? To humiliate me!’

  Ebert turned and shook her off. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Madam Chuang. Bought whom?’

  ‘You know fucking well whom!’ Her face was pale, her eyes dark with sleeplessness, while her clothes...

  ‘Gods, woman, look at you! You’re a mess! And such language! You forget yourself, Madam Chuang. A Minister’s wife!’

  He gave her a look of disgust and made to turn away, but she grabbed at him again. He turned back angrily, taking her hand from his arm and squeezing it painfully. ‘If you don’t desist...’ he said quietly, but threateningly.

  She tore her hand away, then leaned towards him, spitting full in his face.

  He swore, rubbing at his face, then, glaring at her, turned away. But as he did so, she pulled a knife from among her clothes and struck out at him, catching him glancingly on the arm.

  ‘Shit!’

  He was turning as she struck the second blow, lifting his wounded arm to try to fend her off. She grunted as she delivered the blow, her full weight behind it, her face distorted with a mad lust of hatred as she thrust at him. This time the knife caught him squarely on the back of the head, knocking him forward on to his hands and knees. But the knife had gone scattering away.

  Madam Chuang looked in horror. Where the knife had caught him the hair had ripped away, revealing a shining metal plate. He half turned his head, looking up at her, stunned by the force of the blow, yet still alive. She shrieked and made to leap on him, but strong hands pulled her back, then threw her down roughly. A moment later she felt something hard press down brutally against her temple and knew it was a gun. She closed her eyes.

  ‘No! Leave her!’ The voice was Ebert’s. He got to his knees, trying to steady himself. ‘Leave her...’

  Auden looked across at his Major, then, with a small shudder, pulled the gun back from the woman’s temple and returned it to the holster. ‘She would have killed you, Hans.’

  Ebert looked up, smiling through his pain. ‘I know. She’s got spirit, that one! Real spirit. Wouldn’t you like to fuck her?’

  Auden looked away.

  Ebert laughed. ‘No. Maybe not. But perhaps we should frighten her off, neh? After all, I can’t always be watching my back, can I? There are times...’ He laughed again, then reached up and touched the back of his head tenderly.

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Auden asked, looking back at him.

  ‘Her breasts,’ Ebert said, wincing. ‘She was always proud of them. Cut her breasts.’

  Auden turned, pushing the woman down, and tore her silks open roughly, exposing her breasts. Then he knelt over her, pinning down her arms.

  She looked up at him, horrified, her voice a mere breath. ‘You can’t...’

  He hit her savagely with the back of his hand, splitting her lip, then drew his knife from his belt. There was a moment’s hesitation, then, pinning her neck down with his left hand, he drew the knife across her breasts, once, twice, a third time, ignoring her screams of pain, the razor-sharp blade ripping open the skin.

  He stood, sheathing his knife, looking down at the distraught woman, then turned back, seeing at once how Ebert had been watching; how his eyes were wide with excitement; how his chest rose and fell.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ebert said quietly. ‘You’ll see to her?’

  Auden nodded, then bent down, recovering the package he had dropped in coming to Ebert’s aid. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to Ebert. ‘It came this morning.’

  Ebert glanced at it, then looked across at the woman again. ‘Who would have believed it, eh? Who’d have thought the old girl had it in her?’ He laughed, then got unsteadily to his feet, swaying, closing his eyes momentarily. Auden went to him and put his arm about him, supporting him.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right? Should I get a medic?’

  Ebert shook his head, slowly, smiling through the pain he clearly felt. ‘No. I’ll rest a while. It’ll be all right.’

  Auden turned, looking across at the Minister’s wife. She had turned on to her side now, huddled into herself, whimpering, her bloodied silks pulled about her torn and ruined breasts. ‘I’ll see to her. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll say she was attacked in the corridors by a gang. Fest will back me up.’

  Ebert swallowed, then put his hand on Auden’s arm. ‘Good. Then get moving. I’ll go inside and lie down for a while. There’s help there if I need it.’

  He watched Auden go over to the woman and crouch down, speaking into his wrist-set, summoning assistance, then turned away. It would be all right. Auden would sort things out. He touched his arm. It was only a superficial wound, but the blow to his head... Well, perhaps Auden was right. Perhaps he should have the medics in. She had caught him a cracking blow, after all. He could easily be concussed.

  He turned to face the door. ‘Fancy that...’ he said softly, placing his hand against the lock and lifting his face to look directly into the overhead camera. At once the door hissed open. ‘She could have killed me,’ he said, going inside. ‘The fucking woman could have killed me!’

  The great hall of the Jakobstad Terminal was uncharacteristically silent, the departure lounge emptied of its normal crowds, the doors barred and guarded by soldiers. As the tiny party came through, their footsteps echoed across the massive space. It was almost a li from landing pad to platform, but Tolonen had waved away the sedan and had led his party on by foot, marching quickly, his daughter just behind him, the twelve-man elite corps squad fanned out about them, prepared for anything.

  The
Marshal had taken extraordinary steps to bring his daughter home. Things were in flux again and if their enemies were to strike anywhere, they would strike here, at one of the terminals. Which was why he was taking no chances.

  The ‘bolt’ was waiting for them, its normal crew of eighty pared down to ten trusted men, its usual complement of fifteen hundred passengers reduced to fourteen for this one journey. It was a fast-track monorail, cutting directly through the City, south to Turku, then east to Helsinki Terminal. From there they would commission another transporter and fly across the Baltic direct to Danzig.

  Tolonen looked about him, tense despite his strict arrangements. For once he had chosen to trust no one; only he knew what he had planned. Even so, it would not be difficult for his enemies to second-guess him. If they could get into his home, what could they not do?

  As they boarded the bolt he hesitated, scanning the platform both ways, then went inside. Jelka was already seated, her long legs stretched out in front of her. He smiled, studying her a moment, noticing how she had got a colour from being outside, how her hair seemed even blonder than usual. He sat, facing her, leaning forward, his hands clasped together between his knees.

  ‘Well?’

  It was the first time they had relaxed together. On the flight across from the island he had been busy, taking reports and giving orders, but now he could take time to talk; to ask her how she had enjoyed her stay.

  She looked back at him and smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘It was beautiful, Daddy. Just beautiful.’

  ‘So you enjoyed it?’ He laughed. ‘That’s good...’

  She looked away. For a moment there was a strange wistfulness in her eyes; a wistfulness he shared and understood.

  For a moment he just looked at her, realizing how precious she was to him. She was so like her mother now. So like the woman he had loved.

  ‘You look tired,’ she said, concerned for him.

  ‘Do I?’ He laughed again, then nodded. ‘Well, perhaps I am.’ He smiled and leaned forward again, reaching out to take her hands in his. ‘Listen, we’ve got one stop-off to make, but then I’ve got the evening free. How do you fancy coming to the opera? I’ve booked a box. It’s the T’ang’s own company. They’re doing The South Branch.’

  She laughed, delighted, for a moment forgetting her heaviness of heart. She had always liked the opera, and if The South Branch wasn’t the lightest of subjects, it was still opera.

  ‘Where are we going first?’

  He sat back, relinquishing her hands. ‘It’s just business. It won’t take long. A half-hour at most. Then we can get back and get changed, neh?’

  They felt the bolt judder then begin to move, picking up speed very quickly. Jelka looked away, watching the dragon pattern on the wall beyond the window flicker and then blur, until it was just seven lines of red and green and gold.

  ‘Did Uncle Jon tell you about the storm?’

  ‘No...’ He laughed. ‘There was a storm, was there?’

  ‘Yes.’ She turned, looking back at him. ‘It was so powerful. So...’

  He looked down, as if disturbed. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I’d forgotten.’

  She stared at him a moment, surprised by his sudden change of mood. ‘What is it?’

  He looked up at her again, forcing a smile. ‘Nothing... Just that it suddenly reminded me of your mother.’

  ‘Ah...’ She nodded. Then it was as her uncle had said. Yes, she could see it now; how different her father and mother had been, and yet how much in love.

  She turned her head, seeing their reflections in the glass of the window, and smiled sadly. It must have been hard for him; harder even than his exile.

  She pushed the thought away, trying to cheer herself with the prospect of the evening ahead, but then, raising her hand to touch her cheek, she caught the unexpected scent of burnt pine on her fingers and felt herself go still.

  ‘What is it?’ her father asked, his eyes never leaving her.

  ‘Nothing,’ she answered, turning, smiling at him again. ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  Tolonen came back to the one-way mirror and stood beside his daughter. ‘That? Why that’s Ward. Kim Ward. He’s a strange one. Quite brilliant. They say his mind is quicker than a machine.’

  She laughed, surprised. ‘You mean he’s one of the team?’

  ‘Yes, and probably the best, by all accounts. It’s astonishing, considering...’

  Jelka looked up at him. ‘Considering what?’

  Her father looked away, as if the matter were distasteful. ‘He’s Clayborn. Can’t you see it in him? That darkness behind the eyes. He’s been conditioned, but even so, it’s never quite the same, is it? There’s always that little bit of savagery left in them.’ He looked back at her, smiling. ‘Still... let’s get on, eh? I’ve done here now and Hans is waiting back home.’

  She nodded vaguely, looking back at the boy, pressing her face close up against the glass to stare at him. She could see what her father meant. When he turned to face the glass it was as though something else – something other than the boy – looked back at her. Some wild and uncaged thing that owed nothing to this world of levels. She shivered, not from fear but from a sense of recognition. She laughed softly, surprised to find him here, when she had thought him left behind her on the island. Then, as if coming to herself, she pushed back slightly from the glass, afraid.

  And yet it was true. She could see it, there, in his eyes. Clayborn, her father had said. But he was more than that.

  ‘Come, Jelka. Let’s get on.’

  For a moment longer she hesitated, watching the boy, then turned, following her father, only then realizing what he had said earlier.

  ‘The gods preserve us...’ she said almost inaudibly. ‘Hans Ebert! That’s all I need!’

  Kim turned, looking across the table at Hammond.

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The girl. The one with Marshal Tolonen.’

  Hammond laughed. ‘Oh, her... That was his daughter, didn’t you know?’

  ‘Ah...’ For a while he had thought it might have been his wife. It was the habit of such men, after all, to take young girls for wives. Or so he had heard. But he was strangely pleased that he’d been mistaken.

  ‘Did you hear the rumours?’ one of the other men said, keeping his voice low. ‘They say the Ping Tiao tried to assassinate her.’

  Kim frowned. ‘It wasn’t on the news.’

  ‘No,’ one of the others said conspiratorially. ‘It wouldn’t be. Just now they want everyone to believe that things are quiet and that they’re in control. But I’ve heard... well, they say a whole squad of them attacked the Marshal’s apartment. She killed six of them before her father intervened.’

  Kim felt a strange ripple of excitement – or was it fear? – move down his spine. He looked at Hammond again.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  Hammond frowned. ‘I’m not sure. Jukka, or something.’

  ‘Jelka,’ one of them corrected him. ‘Jelka Tolonen.’

  Jelka. He shivered, then looked down. Yes, the name fitted her perfectly. Like something out of myth...

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  Kim looked up, meeting Spatz’s eyes. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘Good. Then you can go now, Ward. I’ve no further use for you.’

  He bowed slightly, keeping all expression from his face, but inwardly he felt elated. Spatz had had no choice other than to bring him into the laboratories for the duration of the Marshal’s visit and Kim had made the most of it, calling up files and asking questions until he was as fully briefed of developments as the best of them. Yet as he walked back down the corridor to his room he found himself thinking not of the Project but of the girl. Who was she? What was she like? What did she sound like when she spoke? How did her face change when she laughed?

  He paused at his doorway, thinking of how she had stood there at her fath
er’s side, her deeply blue eyes taking in everything. And then, briefly, her eyes had met his own and she had frowned. As if...

  He shook his head, then palmed the lock and stepped inside as the door irised open. It wasn’t possible. It was only his imagination. And yet... well, for the briefest moment it had seemed that she had seen him. Not just the outward form of him, but his deeper self.

  He smiled, dismissing the thought, then sat down on his bed, looking about him. What would you make of this, Jelka Tolonen? he wondered. It would be too alien, I’m sure. Too dull. Too esoteric.

  Yes, for she was not of his kind. She was First Level; powerful, sophisticated, rich. No doubt she was in love with fine clothes and dances, opera and gallant young officers. It was ridiculous even to think...

  And yet he was thinking it.

  For a moment he closed his eyes, seeing her again: so straight and tall and perfectly proportioned, her skin so pure and white, her hair like gold and silver blended, her eyes...

  He caught his breath, remembering her eyes. Like something out of myth.

  Chapter 53

  KING OF THE WORLD

  Tsu Ma stood on the grassy slope, looking south, the ruined monastery above him, at his back. He could see her in the distance, a tiny figure beneath the huge, cloudless sky, spurring her horse on along the narrow track between the rocks. For a brief moment he lost sight of her behind the great tor at the valley’s head, then she reappeared, closer now, her dark hair loose, streaming behind her as she leaned forward in the saddle, climbing the long slope.

  He looked down, sighing. They had met here several times these last few weeks, and every time they had ended by making love, despite his resolve to cast her off and mend his ways. But this time it was different. This time he had to end it. To break off with her, before they were discovered.

  He was still in love with her; there was no denying that. But love was not enough, he knew that now; for this love – a love that had begun in passion and bewilderment – had now become a torment, keeping him from sleep, distracting him at every moment, until he felt he had to halt it or go mad. He could not now meet with Li Yuan or his father without wanting to throw himself at their feet and beg forgiveness for the wrong he had done them both.