‘Ah, Tung Lian. You know what to do.’
Tung Lian gave a jerky bow. Then, making a gesture for Kim to follow him, he turned away.
Walking back through the Casting Shop, Kim looked about him, feeling a slight sense of unease, but there was no sign of Janko. Good. Perhaps he would be lucky. But even if Janko did turn up, he’d be all right. He would simply avoid the older boy: use guile and quickness to keep out of his way.
The machine was much the same as the one he had operated with Chan Shui and, seeing that the boy did not wish to talk to him, Kim simply got on with things.
He was sitting in the refectory at the mid-morning break when he heard a familiar voice call out to him from the far side of the big room. It was Janko.
He finished his ch’a and set the bowl down, then calmly got up from the table.
Janko was standing in the doorway to the Casting Shop, a group of younger boys gathered about him. He was showing them something, but, seeing Kim approach, he wrapped it quickly in a cloth.
Kim had glimpsed something small and white in Janko’s hand. Now, as Janko faced him, his pocked face split by an ugly smile, he realized what it had been. A tooth. Janko had lost a tooth in his fight with Chan Shui yesterday.
He smiled and saw Janko’s face darken.
‘What are you smiling at, rat’s arse?’
He almost laughed. He had heard the words in his head a moment before Janko had uttered them. Predictable, Kim thought, that’s what you are. Even so, he remembered what Chan Shui had said about not pushing him too far.
‘I’m sorry, Janko. I was just so pleased to see you.’
That was not the right thing, either, but it had come unbidden, as if in challenge, from his darker self.
Janko sneered. ‘We’ll see how pleased you are…’ But as he moved forward, Kim ducked under and round him and was through the doorway before he could turn. ‘Come back here!’ Janko bellowed, but the bell was sounding and the boys were already filing out to get back to their machines.
For the rest of the morning Janko kept up a constant stream of foul-mouthed taunts and insults, his voice carrying above the hum of the machines to where Kim was at work. But Kim blocked it all out, looking inward, setting himself the task of connecting two of the sections of his star-web – something he had never attempted before. The problems were of a new order of difficulty and absorbed him totally, but finally he did it and, delighted, turned, smiling, to find himself facing Janko again.
‘Are you taking the piss, rat’s arse?’
Kim’s smile faded slowly.
‘Didn’t you hear the bell?’ Janko continued, and the group of boys behind him laughed, as if it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said.
Dull-wits, thought Kim, surprised that he had missed the bell. He glanced across at Tung Liang and saw at once how uneasy he was. Strangely, he found himself trying to reassure the young Han. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m all right, Tung Lian. Really I am.’
Janko echoed back his words, high-pitched, in what he must have thought was a good imitation of Kim’s voice, and the ghouls behind him brayed once more.
He felt a slight twinge of fear at the pit of his stomach, but nothing that cowed him or made him feel daunted in anyway by the boy in front of him.
‘I don’t want to fight with you.’
‘Fight?’ Janko laughed, surprised, then leaned towards Kim menacingly. ‘Who said anything about fighting? I just want to beat the shit out of you, rat’s arse!’
Kim looked about him. Boys blocked both his way back and his route to the entrance doorway. He looked up. Yes, he had thought as much. The two overhead cameras were covered over with jackets. He had been set up. They had planned this. Perhaps since they’d heard Chan Shui was absent.
So Janko wasn’t alone in hating him. Far from it.
‘Please, Janko…’ Tung Liang began feebly, but Janko barked at him to be quiet and he did so, moving back out of the way.
So I’m alone, Kim thought. Just as Anton said I’d be. Them and us. Or, in this case, them and me. The humour of it pleased him. Made him laugh.
‘What’s so funny, rat’s arse?’
‘You,’ said Kim, no longer caring what he said. ‘You big strutting bag of bird shit.’
But Janko merely smiled. He moved a pace closer, knowing there was nowhere for Kim to run this time.
But run Kim did, not towards the door or back away from Janko, but directly at Janko – up, onto his chest and over the top of him as he fell backwards, his mouth open wide in surprise, then away towards the toilets.
‘Stop him!’ yelled Janko, clambering to his feet again. ‘Block the little bastard off!’
Kim ran, dodging past anyone who tried to stop him. He would lock himself in. Hold out until Nung came out to investigate, or T’ai Cho came up to see why he’d not returned.
But they had pre-empted him. Someone had sealed all the locks to the toilet doors with an ice-based glue. He checked them all quickly, just in case he had been mistaken, then turned. Janko was standing there, as Kim knew he would be, watching him.
Kim looked up. Of course. They had covered the camera here, too. Very thorough, Kim thought, and knew from its thoroughness that Janko had not been involved in planning this. This was all far too clever for him. Janko was only the front-man, the gullible dupe who would carry out the plan. No, he wasn’t its architect: he had been manipulated to this point by someone else.
The realization made Kim go cold. There was only one of them in the whole Casting Shop capable of planning this. And he was not here…
Janko laughed and began to come at him. Kim could feel the hatred emanating from the boy, like something real, something palpable. And this time his hands weren’t empty. This time they held a knife.
‘T’aiCho! T’aiCho!’
He turned. Director Andersen’s secretary was running down the corridor after him.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Kim...’
‘Where is he?’
A slight colour came to her cheek.
‘The boy, I mean! Where’s the boy?’
She was close to tears. ‘I don’t know!’ she wailed. ‘Supervisor Nung’s note was only brief. He gave no details.’
‘Gods!’ T’ai Cho beat his brow with the palm of his left hand, then began to hurry her back towards Director Andersen’s offices.
Outside Andersen’s door he stopped, then spoke to her slowly, making sure she understood what she had to do.
‘I know it’s embarrassing, but it’ll be more embarrassing for the Director if he doesn’t get to hear about this. Whatever sing-song house he’s in, get a message to him fast and get him back here. Here! Understand me, woman?’
When she hesitated he barked at her. ‘Just do it! I’ll go and see how the boy is and sort out things that end. But Director Andersen must be contacted. The whole Project’s in jeopardy unless you can get him here.’
The firmness of his instructions seemed to calm her. She bowed and went inside, to do as she’d been told.
T’ai Cho found Nung slumped over his desk. OD’d. He had been ready to lay hands on the supervisor to get at the truth of things but it was too late for that now. The message to Andersen must have been the last thing he managed to do in his worthless life.
He looked about him, then noticed one of the boys hanging about at the far end of the Casting Shop. He ran across to him, grabbing the boy by the arm so that he could not make off.
‘Where did they take Kim? You know, the Clayborn? Where did they take him?’
He noticed the strange look of revulsion the boy gave him at the mention of Kim, but held on, shaking the boy until he got some sense from him. Then he threw him aside and ran on, towards the lifts.
They had taken him to the local Security post. Of course! Where else? But he was not thinking straight, he was just acting now, following his instincts, trying to get to Kim before they hurt him any more.
The soldier at the d
esk told him to sit and wait. He lifted up the barrier and went through anyway, ignoring the shout from behind him. Then, when the soldier laid hands on him from behind, he whirled about and shouted at the man.
‘Do you realize who I am, soldier?’
The tone of absolute authority in his voice – a tone he had once used to cower unruly boys fresh from the Clay – worked perfectly. The soldier backed off a pace and began to incline his head. T’ai Cho pressed the advantage before the soldier could begin to think again.
‘My uncle is the Junior Minister, T’ai Feng, responsible for Security Subsidies. Lay a finger on me and he’ll break you, understand me?’
This time the soldier bowed fully and brought his hand up to his chest in salute.
‘Good! Now take me to your commanding officer at once. This is a matter of the utmost urgency both to myself and to my uncle.’
As the soldier bowed again and moved past him, T’ai Cho realized fleetingly that it was his robes that had helped create the right impression. He was wearing his lecturer’s pau with the bright blue patch, in many ways reminiscent of the sort of gown worn by a high official.
The soldier barely had time to announce him – and no time to turn and query his name – before he burst in behind him and took a chair in front of the Security officer.
This officer was less impressed by tones and gowns and talk of uncles. He asked immediately to see T’ai Cho’s permit card. T’ai Cho threw it across the desk at him, then leaned across almost threateningly.
‘Where’s the boy? The boy from the Clay?’
The officer looked up at him, then down at the permit card. Then he threw the card back at T’ai Cho.
‘If I were you, Shih T’ai, I’d leave here at once, before you get into any more trouble.’
T’ai Cho ignored the card. He glared at the officer. ‘Where’s the boy? I’m not leaving until I’ve seen the boy!’
The officer began to get up from his chair, but T’ai Cho leaned right across and pulled him down.
‘Sit down, for the gods’ sake, and hear me out!’
T’ai Cho shivered. He had never felt such anger or fear or urgency before. They shaped his every action now.
‘Where is the boy?’ he demanded fiercely.
The officer moved his hand slightly and pressed a pad on the desk, summoning help. He was certain now he had another madman on his hands.
‘Understand me, Shih T’ai. The boy is in safe hands. We’re seeing to the matter. It’s a simple case of assault of a citizen by a non-registered being. We’ll be terminating the NRB in about an hour or so, once authorization has come down from above.’
‘You’re doing what?!’ T’ai Cho screamed. He stood up violently, making the officer do the same; his hands out defensively, expecting attack.
‘Please, Shih T’ai. Sit down and calm down.’
The door slid open quietly behind T’ai Cho, but he heard it even so and moved around the desk, so that his back was against the wall.
‘You have no jurisdiction here,’ the officer said, his voice calmer now that he had assistance. ‘Whatever your relationship to the boy, I’m afraid the matter is out of your hands.’
T’ai Cho answered him at once. ‘It’s you who doesn’t understand. Kim Ward is not an NRB, as you so ridiculously put it, but one of the most brilliant and important scientific minds in the whole of Chung Kuo. SimFic have negotiated a contract for his services for ten million yuan.’
He had said the last three words slowly and clearly and with maximum emphasis and saw the effect the fantastic sum had on them.
‘Ten million?’ The officer gave a brief, thoughtful laugh. Then he shook his head. ‘Oh, no. I don’t believe you, Shih T’ai. This is just more of your talk of important uncles!’
T’ai Cho shook his head, then spoke again, his voice ringing with firmness and determination. ‘There’s one more thing you don’t understand. I don’t care what happens to me. But you do. That makes me stronger than you. Oh, you can think me a liar or a madman, but just consider – if you ignore my warning and go ahead without checking up, then you’ll be liable directly to SimFic for unauthorized destruction of their property.’ He laughed, suddenly horrified by this nightmare, sickened that he should even need to do this. Couldn’t they see he was only a little boy – a frightened little boy who’d been savagely attacked?
Still the officer hesitated. ‘There are certain procedures. I…’
T’ai Cho yelled at the man; using language he had never before in his life used. ‘Fuck your procedures! Get on to Director Andersen at once. Unless you really want to be sued for ten million yuan!’
The officer blanched, then consulted his compatriot a second. Swallowing, he turned back to T’ai Cho. ‘Would you be willing to wait in a cell for half an hour while we make checks?’
T’ai Cho bowed. ‘Of course. That’s all I want you to do. Here,’ he took a jotpad from the pocket of his robe and, with the stylus from the officer’s desk, wrote Andersen’s office contact number and his name on the tiny screen. ‘You’ll find they’ll switch you through twice, so hold on. It’s a discrete service.’
The officer hesitated, then gave the smallest bow, half-convinced now that T’ai Cho had calmed down.
‘Andersen?’
‘That’s right. He might not be there at once, but keep trying. I’ve asked his secretary to get him back there as soon as possible.’
An hour later T’ai Cho and four soldiers were taking Kim back to the Project. Kim was heavily sedated and secured in a special carrying harness. It was hard to see what injuries, if any, he had received in the fight with the other boys. His face seemed unmarked. But he was alive and he was not going to be ‘terminated’, as that bastard in the Security Post had termed it.
Now it was up to Andersen.
Director Andersen met him at the top gate. ‘I owe you, T’ai Cho,’ he said, slapping the tutor’s back. But T’ai Cho turned on him angrily.
‘I didn’t do it to save your hide, Andersen. Where were you?’
Andersen swallowed, noting the open disrespect. ‘I… I…’ he blustered, then he bowed. ‘I’m sorry, T’ai Cho. I know you didn’t. Even so, I’m indebted. If there’s anything…’
But T’ai Cho simply strode past him, disgusted, thinking of Nung and what had been allowed to happen to Kim. All of it was indirectly Andersen’s fault. For not making all the right checks beforehand. If there was any justice, Berdichev would have his hide for it!
Half an hour later he was back in Andersen’s office.
‘They’re what?’
Andersen looked at the package the messenger had delivered ten minutes earlier and repeated what he had said.
‘The boy’s family are suing us for assault by a property owned by the Project. They’ve started a suit for fifteen million yuan.’
T’ai Cho sat back, aghast. ‘But the boy attacked Kim!’
Andersen laughed bitterly. ‘If that’s the case, T’ai Cho, why is their boy on the critical list and not Kim? Here, look at these injuries! They’re horrific! More than seventeen broken bones and his left ear bitten off. Bitten off! The little savage!’
T’ai Cho glared at him, then looked down at the 2D shots the family’s advocate had sent with his package. Gods! he thought, revolted despite himself. Did Kim do this? And he was afraid Matyas would kill him!
Andersen was muttering to himself now. ‘Fuck him! Fuck the little bastard! Why did he have to go and attack one of them?’ He looked at T’ai Cho. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was capable of this?’
T’ai Cho went to protest, then thought of all that had been happening the last week or so. Were there warning signs? The restless nights? The problems with Matyas? Should he have foreseen this? Then he rejected all that. He threw the photos down and, with all the angry indignation of the parent of a wronged child, he stood and shouted at Andersen across the table.
‘He didn’t attack this boy! I know he didn’t! They attacked him! They must
have! Don’t you understand that yet?’
Andersen looked up at him scornfully. ‘Who gives a shit, eh? We’re all out of a job now. There’s no way we can contest this. Nung’s dead and the cameras were all covered over. There’s not a bruise on Kim and the other lad’s in critical’ He laughed. ‘Who in their right mind would believe Kim was the victim?’
T’ai Cho was watching the Director closely now. ‘So what are you going to do?’
Andersen, as ever, had pre-empted him. He saw it in his face.
‘I’ve taken advice already.’
‘And?’
Andersen pushed the package aside and leaned across the table. ‘The Project’s advocate suggests there are ways we can contain the damage. You see, there’s not just the matter of the Project’s liability to the parents of the injured boy but the question of personal responsibility.’ He looked directly at T’ai Cho. ‘Yours and mine, in particular. Now, if Kim had actually died in the fight…’
T’ai Cho shook his head in disbelief. His voice, when he found it again, came out as a whisper. ‘What have you done, Andersen? What, in the gods’ names, have you done?’
Andersen looked away. ‘I’ve signed the order. He’ll be terminated in an hour.’
Berdichev went to the cell to see the boy one last time before they sent him on. Kim lay there, pale, his dark eyes closed, the bulky secure-jacket like an incomplete chrysalis, disguising how frail he really was.
Well, well, Berdichev thought, you have tried your hardest to make my decision an empty one, haven’t you? But perhaps it was just this that the Wu had foretold. The darkening of the light.
He knelt and touched the boy’s cheek. It was cooler than his own flesh, but still warm. Yes, it was fortunate he had got here in time – before that arsehole Andersen had managed to bugger things up for good and all. He had T’ai Cho to thank for that.
And now it was all his. Kim and the Project. And all for the asking price often million yuan he had originally contracted purely for the boy.
Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series Page 25