The Middle Kingdom

by David Wingrove

  It would not help Yang Lai. His men had the combination to the lock.

  It’s necessary, Lehmann told himself. All of this. All the killing and the lying and the double-dealing. All necessary.

  He met the eyes of the taller man and nodded, then turned away, making his way quickly to the waiting transit lift.

  Necessary. For all our sakes.

  Cho Hsiang put the envelope on the table in front of Jyan, then leaned back, watching him carefully.

  ‘What’s this?’ Jyan looked up guardedly.

  ‘Open it and see. I’m only the messenger.’

  Cho Hsiang saw how suspicious Jyan was of the envelope. He had not seen anything like it before. It was all tape or mouth-work down here. No subtleties.

  ‘You tear it open,’ he explained. ‘The message will be written on the sheet inside.’

  Jyan hesitated, then picked up the envelope and examined it. On one side of the whiteness was written his name. The other seemed to have been slit open diagonally, then sealed with something hot that had left the imprint of a double-helix. Seeing that, he laughed.

  ‘I guessed right, then?’

  Cho Hsiang said nothing, merely inclined his head towards the envelope.

  Jyan tugged gently at the seal, trying to prise it open. Then, more brutally, he tore at the silken paper. The seal gave suddenly and the message spilled out onto the table, coming to rest beside Cho Hsiang’s hand. It was a single folded sheet. Gingerly, using only his fingertips, Cho Hsiang pushed it across to him.

  On the paper was a figure. Jyan studied it a moment, then whistled softly.

  ‘Will it do?’

  There was the faintest trace of sarcasm in Cho Hsiang’s voice.

  Jyan had folded the paper. He unfolded it and stared at the figure again. Then he looked up over the paper at Cho Hsiang.

  ‘Do you know what it says?’

  Cho Hsiang shook his head slowly. ‘As I said, I’m only the messenger. But I know this. There’ll be no haggling. Understand? You either take what’s offered or you get nothing.’

  ‘Nothing…’ Jyan laughed tensely. ‘That would be rather stupid of them, don’t you think?’

  Cho Hsiang leaned forward. ‘You heard me. Take it or leave it.’

  ‘And if I leave it? If I take what I know elsewhere?’

  Cho Hsiang allowed himself a cold smile. ‘You’re an imaginative man, Kao Jyan. Work it out for yourself.’

  Jyan looked down, unfolding the paper yet again. Cho Hsiang watched him, amused. They knew how to deal with such types up Above. Theirs was the way of ultimatum. Take it or leave it – it was all the same to them. Either way they would come out on top. He reached out and took his glass, draining it, then reached across and pressed the button on the wall that would summon Big White.

  ‘I have to go now, Kao Jyan. What shall I say to my friends?’

  Jyan looked up. From his face Cho Hsiang could see he was still undecided. He pressed him. ‘Well?’

  There were sounds outside. The doorlock popped softly and the door began to slide back. Jyan looked past Cho Hsiang, then back at him.

  ‘Okay. We’ll take it. And tell your man…’

  He stopped, seeing Big White there.

  ‘Yes?’ Cho Hsiang stood up, letting Big White help him into his big mock-beaver coat.

  ‘Tell him he’ll have no more trouble. Okay?’

  Cho Hsiang smiled tightly. ‘Good.’ He turned, as if to leave, then turned back. ‘I’ll be seeing you then, Kao Jyan.’

  Jyan nodded, all the cockiness gone from him.

  ‘Oh, and, Jyan… See to the bill for me, neh?’

  ‘What have we got?’

  The technician tapped at the keys, running the recording back for analysis. Then he leaned back, letting DeVore read from the screen for himself.

  Fifty-one words total. Fourteen repetitions. Total vocabulary 37 words.

  ‘It’s not enough.’

  The technician shook his head. ‘Maybe not for direct speech transposition. But we could generate new words from the sounds we have. There’s a considerable range of tones here. The computer can create a gestalt – a whole speech analogue – from very little. We’ve more than enough here to do that. You write the script, the machine will get him to say it. And not even his mother would know it wasn’t him saying it.’

  DeVore laughed. ‘Good. Then we’ll move quickly on this.’ He took a hard-file from his jacket pocket and handed it to the technician. ‘Here’s what I want our friend Jyan to say.’

  The technician hesitated fractionally, then nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll get to work on it right away. Will tomorrow be too late? Midday?’

  DeVore smiled and slapped the technician’s back. ‘Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll collect it myself.’

  He went out, heading back down towards the Net. It was early evening. In under four hours he was due to meet the General to make his report. There was time enough, meanwhile, to set things up.

  In the Security lift, descending, he made contact with the two men he had left outside Big White’s.

  ‘How’s our man?’

  The answer came back into his earpiece. ‘He’s still inside, sir.’

  ‘Good. If he comes out, follow at a distance. But don’t make a move. Not yet. I want them both, remember.’

  He had barely closed contact when an urgent message came through on his wrist console. It was Lehmann again, his face taut with worry.

  ‘What is it, Pietr?’

  Lehmann hesitated, conscious that he was speaking on an open channel, then took the risk. ‘The missing body. I know who it is. It’s Yang Lai’s man, Pi Ch’ien.’

  ‘I see. So where is he?’

  Lehmann laughed anxiously. ‘That’s just it. I’ve been checking up. There’s no trace of him. He hasn’t been seen since the assassination.’

  ‘So he’s in hiding?’

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Right. Leave it to me.’ He paused. ‘All’s well apart from that?’

  Lehmann hesitated, then gave the coded answer. ‘It’s a cloudless sky, Howard. I… Well, I’ll see you some time, yes?’

  DeVore closed contact. So Yang Lai was dead. Good. That was one thing less to worry about.

  The lift slowed, then came to a halt. For a moment DeVore stood there, his hand almost touching the Door Open pad, his skin, beneath the simple one-piece he was wearing, tingling from the decontamination procedure. Then, clear in mind what he had to do, he hit the pad and went outside, into the Net.

  Chapter 28

  A GAME OF STATIC PATTERNS

  Fifth bell was sounding when Major DeVore reported to General Tolonen in his office at the top of the vast fortress-like barracks that housed Security Central. The General stood as he came into the room and came round his desk to greet DeVore, a broad smile on his chiselled face.

  ‘Good morning, Howard. How are things?’

  DeVore bowed at waist and neck, then straightened up, meeting the old man’s eyes. ‘Not good, sir. Our investigation of the Minister’s death is proving more difficult than I thought.’

  The General looked at him, then nodded. Briefly he rested a hand on the Major’s arm, as if to reassure him, then turned and went back behind his desk. Ensconced in his chair again he leaned forward, motioning to DeVore to take a seat. ‘Still nothing, eh?’

  DeVore gave the smallest hint of a bow then sat. ‘Not quite, sir.’

  Tolonen tilted his chin back, interested. ‘I see. What have you got?’

  ‘Nothing certain. Only rumour. But it may prove a lead.’

  ‘Anything I should know about?’

  DeVore took the tiny tape from his tunic pocket, wiped it on the cloth then handed it across the desk. Tolonen sat back and pushed the wafer-thin cassette into the input socket behind his left ear. For a minute or two he sat there, silent, his eyes making small, erratic movements in their sockets. Then, as if coming to again, he looked directly at his Major.

  ‘Interesting, Howard. Very
interesting.’ Tolonen squeezed the narrow slit of skin behind his ear and removed the tape. ‘But how reliable is this?’

  DeVore tilted his head slightly, considering. ‘Normally I’d say it was highly reliable. But the circumstances of this case – particularly its political importance – make it more complex than usual. It would be unwise to take things at face value. For now I’m having the sources checked out. Playing ear. However…’ He hesitated, then spoke again, studying the General more closely than before. ‘There is something else, sir. Something perhaps more important in the long run.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, sir. I’m almost certain this involves Security. Maybe at Staff level.’

  Tolonen nodded soberly, his expression unchanged. ‘I agree. Though with great reluctance, I must say. The very thought of it makes me shudder.’

  ‘Then…’

  Tolonen stopped him with a look. ‘Let me outline the situation as I see it, Howard. Then we’ll see how this new information fits with what we have.’

  DeVore sat straighter in his chair, his eyes watching the older man intently as he outlined the situation.

  ‘First – what kind of weapon was used, and where and by whom was it manufactured?’ Tolonen pulled broad, long fingers through neatly cut grey hair, his deeply blue eyes fixing DeVore. ‘We’re working on the assumption that it was some kind of ice derivative. An ice-eater. Research into ice derivatives has been banned by the Edict, but we’re not dealing with legitimate activity here. It’s possible that someone has come up with such a thing.

  ‘Second – who knew Lwo Kang would be there at that time? Most of those we might have suspected – Lwo’s own Junior Ministers – died with him. Only Yang Lai is unaccounted for.’

  ‘No trace yet, sir. But we’re still looking.’

  ‘Good. Now, third – who took the Security squad off duty? Are we safe in assuming it was the duty captain, or was someone higher up the chain of command behind the decision?’ Tolonen paused and shook his head. ‘It seems almost inexplicable to me that the officer concerned acted independently. His record was without blemish and his suicide would seem to confirm it. But he was a frightened man, Howard. I believe he was acting under threat.’

  ‘I agree, sir. I knew the man as a cadet and I’d vouch that he would not have acted as he did without good reason. Our assumption is that his immediate family was threatened. We haven’t yet located them – but whether that’s because he placed them in hiding or whether they were taken we don’t know. Even so, we mustn’t rule out another motive. Gambling debts, perhaps. Or some kind of addiction. Women, maybe. Even the best men have their weaknesses. In any case, I have a squad investigating it.’

  ‘Good. Then, fourth – who were the actual assassins? As you know, our first idea was that it was done from the air – from a craft over-flying the dome. But now we’ve ruled that out.’

  ‘Sir?’ DeVore tensed slightly, suddenly more alert.

  ‘A search of the area surrounding the dome has brought a number of new items to light, chief amongst which is a corpse.’

  ‘A corpse?’

  ‘Yes. We found the body crammed into a narrow feed tunnel, not far from a ventilation shaft that comes out close by the dome. A Hung Mao. Male. Aged thirty-five. He’d been stabbed twice with a large-bladed knife. Very expertly, so I’m told.’

  ‘Then we’ve got one of the assassins?’

  Tolonen shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t rule that out, but it’s more likely that the man simply stumbled onto things. His ID shows him to have been a maintenance engineer, cleared for First Level Security.’

  DeVore considered that. ‘It sounds the ideal profession for gaining access to the dome.’

  ‘My own first thought, only it doesn’t check out with anything else. We can account for his movements up to the time he got into that ventilation tunnel. We’ve checked. He’s on camera, climbing into the access hatch only twelve minutes before the dome went up. He made one check – timed and logged – halfway up the tunnel. That accounts for the first five minutes. That would leave him only seven minutes to climb the rest of the way, meet his partner, set the charges and get back down.’

  ‘Time enough. And anyway, what if his partner set the charges?’

  ‘That’s possible. But then why would he be needed? And why killed? It doesn’t fit. And anyway, we have something else.’

  DeVore blinked. ‘You have been busy, sir.’

  Tolonen laughed. ‘Yes, well, I did try to get you, Howard. Anyway, it’s possible we have our men. Two low-level sorts. They were involved in an incident with Security guards in one of the nearby stacks at Level 11. A CompCam unit noticed that one of the men had no ID match and had Security investigate. There was an exchange of shots and the two men got away.’

  ‘But you have them now?’

  ‘No. Not yet. But listen to this, Howard. You’ll never believe it. Do you know how they got out?’

  DeVore shook his head.

  ‘Well, our men thought they had them cornered in a Distribution lift. They’d called up a burner, ready to melt the doorlocks, but the two suspects did something to the lift. They overrode its circuits, then rammed the whole thing through the floor and into the Net! The whole deck had to be sealed and cleaned out. A messy business. Thousands hurt. More than a hundred and fifty dead. We’ve had to put out a story about systems failure. But think about it, Howard. Our two friends must have had inside information. There aren’t that many people who know those lifts go down another ten levels. Just as important, however, is the fact that they had a device that overrode the circuitry.’ He paused. ‘It makes sense of other things, too. My guess is that they were dropped in. Picked up at one of the under-Net gates – perhaps near one of the agricultural processing stations – and landed on top of the City. They did the job, made their escape down the ventilation shaft–killing our maintenance man on the way – then emerged at Eleven.’

  DeVore nodded. ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. In which case there are a few other questions that need answers. Who were their contacts? Who gave them the information? Who trained them? Who physically landed them on the roof? This kind of operation would have needed a lot of planning. A substantial number of people would have been involved.’

  Again DeVore nodded, but this time there was an air of distraction about him.

  Tolonen leaned forward excitedly. ‘Just think. If we could get to just one of those involved – just one! – we could blast the whole thing open!’ He laughed, then slammed his hands down firmly on the desktop. ‘And in order that we can do just that, I’ve been to see the T’ang.’

  ‘Sir?’ DeVore seemed surprised by this new development.

  ‘Yes, and the T’ang has given me the authority to cut through bureaucratic tape, to make deals, grant pardons, whatever’s necessary, providing we get information on the people who were behind this.’ He smiled broadly. ‘So you see, Howard. What you brought me was of great interest. If Wyatt was involved, either as principal or as agent… Well, I want him. Understand? I want to know what his motive was, who his connections were.’

  ‘So you think it might be him?’

  The General shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought… Well, you know what I thought. I listened to the tape of your conversation with Lehmann. He’s an unpleasant specimen, but I agree with you. He’s too bluff, too careless in what he says to have been behind this. As for Wyatt, I’ve met him more than once, and I liked him.’ Again he shrugged. ‘Still, do what you must. The T’ang wants answers, and he wants them fast.’

  When DeVore had gone, Tolonen summoned his ensign, Haavikko.

  Axel Haavikko was a tall, broad-shouldered young man of nineteen years, his blond hair cut severely short. On his jacket he wore the insignia of the elite military school from which he had graduated only eight months previously, on his chest the embroidered sea horse patch of a ninth-grade military officer. He marched briskly across the room and came to attention before
the desk.

  ‘Sir?’

  The General smiled. ‘At ease, boy. Have you got the tape?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But I thought…’

  Tolonen raised an eyebrow. ‘I know. But I decided against it. Major DeVore doesn’t need to know everything. He’s tired. I could see it myself. He’s taking on too much, trying to keep abreast of everything.’

  He leaned back in his chair, studying the young man; observing that he too was showing signs of strain. ‘We could all do with some rest, neh, Haavikko? A break from things. But the evil of this world goes on, whether we’re there to deal with it or not.’ He smiled kindly. ‘Okay, let’s see what we have.’

  The cadet bowed, then turned and went over to the viewer, placing the flimsy transparent card he was carrying onto the viewing surface. Immediately the wall-screen above his head lit up, showing two men pushing their way through a broad but crowded corridor. The tape sheet had been put together from segments of hundreds of individual tape sheets, then edited to make it seem as though a single camera had followed the suspects the whole length of the Main.

  ‘These are the two men, sir. The one on the left was addressed as Jyan. The other is unnamed. There’s no entry on either in Security Central Records.’

  The General sniffed. ‘Hold that a moment.’

  The image froze. A sign behind the first of the men read ‘Level 11, South 3 Stack, Canton of Munich’, the English in blocked black figures above the blood-red Mandarin pictograms. Crowds packed the Main. The second man – better built than the first; the telltale bulge of a knife at his waist – had turned to left profile, revealing a short, livid scar on his neck just below the ear.

  ‘Interesting types, neh, Axel? From the Net. There’s no doubt about it. If Security Central has nothing, then I’m certain these are our men. Can we tell where they appeared from?’

  Axel tapped the controls. At once the picture changed – showed a smaller corridor; dimly lit, almost empty.

  ‘Where’s this?’

  ‘Up five levels, sir. At Sixteen. It’s a maintenance corridor, not used by the public. Watch.’

  As they watched, a hatch dropped down from the ceiling and two men lowered themselves into the corridor, one after the other. The two Han from the other shots.