Limit

by Frank Schätzing

  Grand Cherokee had met Xin in the Sky Lobby and chattered incessantly in the lift on the way up about what a signal honour it was to be allowed to enter the dragon’s lair right at this moment. For all that, he told Xin, the track itself wasn’t especially interesting, not considered as a roller-coaster as such: hardly any upside-down stretches, just one classic vertical loop with a heartline roll either side, well, that meant that there were three zero-g points all in all, but basically it was nothing special. Rather, he went on as they walked through the empty glass corridor, the thrill of the thing lay in its speed, combined with the fact of zooming about half a kilometre above the ground. As he opened up the control room and they went in, he kept up his monologue: this masterpiece of adrenalin was one of a kind, worldwide, controlling the ride needed good nerves, just like riding in it, you needed to be a strong personality to tame the dragon.

  ‘Interesting,’ Xin had said. ‘Show me then. What exactly do you have to do?’

  This was when Grand Cherokee stopped for a moment. He was accustomed to seeing reality through the distorting mirror of his own inflated ego, but this last remark got through even to him, and he was suddenly rattled. In fact controlling the ride was perfectly straightforward. Any idiot capable of touching three control boxes on a screen could do it. He stammered out something about irony and hyperbole, and showed Xin the controls, telling him that all he really needed to do was clear the safety checks, which meant knowing the security codes.

  ‘There are three of them,’ he told Xin. ‘I just put them in one after another – like that – then number two – three – done. System’s ready. So now I activate this field on the top right, which unlocks the carriages, this box below starts the catapult, and the program does the rest. This one underneath is the emergency stop. We’ve never needed it though.’

  ‘And what’s this for?’ Xin pointed to a menu along the upper edge of the screen.

  ‘That’s the check assistant. Before I set the ride in motion, I let the computer run through a set of parameters. Mechanical systems, programs.’

  ‘Simple really.’

  ‘Simple, but clever.’

  ‘Almost a pity that we won’t have the chance for a ride, but my time is short. I’d like to—’

  ‘In principle, you could climb in,’ said Grand Cherokee and began the check. ‘I’ll give you such a ride that you won’t know which way to stand up when you climb out. I’d have to register it as an unscheduled ride though.’

  ‘Don’t bother. Let’s talk about Yoyo.’

  This was the point when Grand Cherokee grinned at his visitor and made the crack about Yoyo being pretty much in demand. He wanted to add something, but stopped. Something had changed in the other man’s face. There was curiosity there now, not just about where Yoyo might be but about Grand Cherokee himself.

  ‘Who else is interested in her?’ Xin asked.

  ‘No idea.’ Grand Cherokee shrugged. Should he play his trump card already? He had wanted to use the detective to put a little pressure on Xin, but perhaps it was better to play him on the line for a while. ‘That’s what you said.’

  ‘Said what?’

  ‘Yoyo needed protection because someone was after her.’

  ‘True.’ Xin inspected the fingernails on his right hand. Grand Cherokee noticed that they were perfectly manicured, all filed down to exactly the same length, the crescents the colour of mother-of-pearl. ‘And you were going to find things out, Wang. Telephone some people, and so on. Bring me to Yoyo. As I remember it, money changed hands. So what do you have for me?’

  Pompous arsehole, thought Grand Cherokee. In fact he’d thought up a story the night before. It was all based on a remark that Yoyo had made about the party lifestyle getting on her nerves, that she wanted to go to Hangzhou and the West Lake for a weekend. His grandmother had always spouted clichés and proverbs, and wasn’t one of them that Hangzhou was the image of Heaven here on Earth? Grand Cherokee had decided that that was where Yoyo could be found, in some romantic little hotel on the West Lake, and the hotel might be called—

  Wait though, he shouldn’t be too specific. There were all sorts of places to stay right around the lake shores, for every sort of price. Just to be sure, he had done an internet search and found several named after trees or flowers. He liked that. Yoyo’s retreat would be a hotel with a flowery name! Something with a flower, but sadly his contact (who didn’t exist anyway) couldn’t quite remember what. He hadn’t been able to find out more than that for the money, but it was something, wasn’t it? Grand Cherokee had laughed out loud at the thought of Xin travelling 170 kilometres to the West Lake to check out every hotel with a botanical name, especially since he planned to send the detective out to the same place. Those two fools wouldn’t notice, but they would constantly be crossing paths. For a bit more money, he could also mention the motorbike mob, a completely different lead, since after all the City Demons had little or nothing to do with West Lake. On the other hand, a motorbike trip out to the countryside? Why not?

  Xin was lost in contemplation of his fingernails. Grand Cherokee considered. Soon enough he’d be spinning the same line to Jericho, through there he ran the risk that the detective might be less generous.

  And there was still a chance.

  ‘You know,’ he said slowly and as neutrally as he could manage, ‘I’ve been thinking about it.’ He finished the check for the Silver Dragon and looked at Xin. ‘And I think you could pay a bit more to find out where Yoyo is.’

  Xin didn’t look especially surprised. Instead he looked exhausted, as though he’d been waiting for the penny to drop.

  ‘How much?’ he asked.

  ‘Ten times.’

  Shocked at his own daring, Grand Cherokee felt his heart beat faster. If Xin swallowed that—

  Wait a moment. It could get even better!

  ‘Ten times,’ he repeated, ‘and another meeting.’

  Xin’s expression turned to stone.

  ‘What’s this about?’

  What’s it about? thought Grand Cherokee. Simple enough, you varnished monkey. I’ll take the money and run off to Jericho, and give him a choice. Either he tops your offer and gets the exclusive story, or he turns me down, and you get it. But not until I’ve spoken to Jericho. And if Jericho coughs up twenty times as much, then we’ll try you for thirty times.

  ‘Yes or no?’ he asked.

  The corners of Xin’s mouth lifted, almost imperceptibly. ‘Which movie have you got this from, Wang?’

  ‘I don’t need to watch any movies. You’re after Yoyo, I couldn’t care less why. I find it much more interesting that the cops want something from her as well. Conclusion: you’re obviously not a cop. Meaning that you can’t do anything to me. You have to take what you can get, and’ – he bowed, and bared his teeth – ‘when you can get it.’

  Xin looked around, his smile frozen. Then he glanced at the control panel.

  ‘Do you know what I hate?’ he asked.

  ‘Me?’ said Grand Cherokee, laughing.

  ‘You’re vermin, Wang, hatred is too good for you. No, I hate spots. Those greasy fingers of yours have left nasty smears all over the display.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Clean them up.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Clean up those greasy smears.’

  ‘Listen here, you designer-suited piece of shit, what exactly do you think—’

  Something odd happened then, something Grand Cherokee had never experienced before. It was quick as lightning, and when it was over, he was lying on the floor in front of the control panel, and his nose felt as though a grenade had exploded in it. Flashes of colour sparked in front of his eyes.

  ‘Your face wouldn’t do very well to keep things clean,’ said Xin, then reached down and pulled Grand Cherokee to his feet like a puppet. ‘Oh, you look dreadful. What happened to your nose? Shall we talk?’

  Grand Cherokee staggered and put a hand on the console to steady himself. He felt his face w
ith the other hand. His forehead appliqué fell into the palm of his hand. He looked at Xin, nonplussed.

  Then he swung at him, enraged.

  Xin languidly poked him in the sternum.

  It was as though somebody had unhooked all systems in the lower half of Grand Cherokee’s body. He fell to one knee while a gout of pain shot through his chest. His mouth opened, and he made choking sounds. Xin squatted down and supported him with his right arm before he could collapse.

  ‘It’ll pass soon,’ he said. ‘I know, for a while you think you’ll never be able to talk again. Wrong though. Generally speaking, people actually find it easier to talk after they’ve had that done to them. What did you want to say?’

  Grand Cherokee gasped. His lips formed a word.

  ‘Yoyo?’ Xin nodded. ‘A good start. Try your best, Wang, and above all’ – he took him under the arms and heaved him up – ‘get to your feet.’

  ‘Yoyo is—’ panted Grand Cherokee.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In Hangzhou.’

  ‘Hangzhou?’ Xin raised his eyebrows. ‘Mercy me. Do you actually know something? Where in Hangzhou?’

  ‘In – a hotel.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘No idea.’ Grand Cherokee sucked in greedy lungfuls of air. Xin was right. The pain passed, but he didn’t feel in the least bit better for it. ‘Something with flowers.’

  ‘Don’t make things so complicated,’ Xin said mildly. ‘Something with flowers is about as specific as somewhere in China.’

  ‘Might have been something with trees, even,’ Grand Cherokee yelped. ‘My informant said flowers.’

  ‘In Hangzhou?’

  ‘On the West Lake.’

  ‘Where on the West Lake? On the city side?’

  ‘Yes, yes!’

  ‘On the western shore then?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Aha! Maybe near the Su dam?’

  ‘The – I think so.’ Grand Cherokee felt a glimmer of hope. ‘Probably Yes, that’s what he said.’

  ‘But the city is on the eastern shore.’

  ‘P-perhaps I didn’t quite hear.’ The glimmer died away.

  ‘But near the Su dam? Or the Bai dam?

  Bai dam? Su dam? It was becoming ever more complicated. Where were these dams anyway? Grand Cherokee hadn’t thought about it all that much. Who the hell expected all these questions?

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said feebly.

  ‘I thought your informant—’

  ‘I just don’t know!’

  Xin looked at him reproachfully. Then he jabbed his fingers into Grand Cherokee’s kidney region.

  The effect was indescribable. Grand Cherokee opened and closed his mouth rapidly like a fish snatched from the water, while his eyes opened wide. Xin held him in an iron grip to stop him from collapsing again. For all that the surveillance cameras could see, they were standing side by side like old friends.

  ‘So?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Grand Cherokee whimpered, while part of him detachedly observed that pain was orange. ‘Really, I don’t.’

  ‘What do you know, if anything?’

  Grand Cherokee lifted his eyes, trembling. There was no mistaking what he could read in Xin’s eyes about what would happen to him if he lied one more time.

  ‘Nothing,’ he whispered.

  Xin laughed contemptuously, shook his head and let go of him.

  ‘Do you want the money back?’ Grand Cherokee mumbled, and bent double with the memory of the pain that had shaken his body.

  Xin pursed his lips. He looked out at the city shimmering below. ‘I keep remembering something you said,’ he remarked.

  Grand Cherokee gaped at him and waited. The part of him that had floated off detached, pointed out that in fifteen minutes the first visitors would be let in, that it would probably be full because the weather was so exceptionally fine.

  ‘You said that Yoyo is pretty much in demand. I believe those were the words you used, am I right?’

  Still fifteen minutes.

  ‘You can make up for lost ground, Wang. Tell the truth this time. Who else was asking about her?’

  ‘A detective,’ muttered Grand Cherokee.

  ‘Very interesting. When was this?’

  ‘Last night. I showed him Yoyo’s room. He asked the same questions as you.’

  ‘And you gave the same answers. That you’d find something out, but that it would cost a little.’

  Grand Cherokee nodded, downcast. If Xin went to Owen Jericho with this information, then he could kiss goodbye to that money. Hurrying to carry out the next order before it was given, he took out Jericho’s card and handed it to Xin, who took it with both hands, looked at it curiously and put it away.

  ‘Anything else?’

  Of course. He could have told Xin about the motorbike gang. The one trail that might actually lead to Yoyo. But he wouldn’t do this fucker any such favour.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he said instead.

  ‘Meaning no.’

  Xin looked thoughtful. He stepped out of the open door to the control room, to the area between the turnstile and the platform. He paid no further attention to Grand Cherokee, as though he no longer existed. Which would probably be the best thing right now. Just stop existing until the bastard had left this floor. Not give a peep, become about as big as a mouse, less than a fingerprint on a computer display. All this was as clear as anything ever had been, to the detached part of Grand Cherokee Wang, and he spoke a well-meaning word of warning which the other Wang, the Wang blinded by hatred, ignored. Instead he shuffled after Xin and thought about how he could recover his dignity, the dignity of the man who guarded the dragon, which right now was in a fairly shabby state. You vicious arsehole? Xin probably knew that he was vicious, and arsehole was too small a word. Grand Cherokee reckoned that insults probably slid straight off Xin anyway.

  How could he get at the fucker?

  And while the detached part of Grand Cherokee was looking for a mousehole to creep into, he heard Grand Cherokee the big-mouth say:

  ‘Just don’t think you’re free and clear, you moron!’

  Xin, who was just going through the turnstile, stopped.

  ‘First thing I’ll do is call Jericho,’ yelled Grand Cherokee. ‘Then the cops, right after that. Who’s going to be more interested, huh? You make sure you get away from here, out of Shanghai if you can, out of China. Off to the Moon, perhaps they’ve got something for you up there, ’cos down here I’m going to put the boot into you, you can count on that!’

  Xin turned around slowly.

  ‘You silly fool,’ he said. It sounded almost sympathetic.

  ‘I’ll—’ Grand Cherokee gulped, and then it dawned on him that he had probably just made the biggest mistake of his life. Xin walked nonchalantly towards him. He didn’t look like someone who planned to do much more talking.

  Grand Cherokee scuttled backwards.

  ‘This area is under video surveillance,’ he said, trying to put a warning note in his voice; it slipped into panic halfway through.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Xin, nodding. ‘I should hurry.’

  Grand Cherokee’s stomach cramped. He jumped backwards and tried to get a grip on the situation. His foe was standing between him and the passage through to the glass corridor. There was no way past him, and right behind Grand Cherokee was the edge of the platform with the roller-coaster train resting on its rails on the other side. The area where the passengers got on and off was closed off with a transparent wall that curved round underneath, and to the right and left the tracks curved off into empty space.

  The look in Xin’s eyes left no room for misunderstanding.

  With one leap, Grand Cherokee was in the middle car. He glanced towards the head of the dragon. Each car was nothing more than a platform with seats mounted on it, the back of each seat looking like a huge scale or a wing, which made the vehicle vaguely resemble a silver reptile. The only extra detail was up at the front: a projecti
on, something like a long, narrow skull. There was a separate steering system up there which could be used to move the whole train a short distance, in emergencies. Not through the loops, but along the straight sections of track.

  Where the track passed around the building’s side pillars, just before it began to climb, there was a short bridge from the track into the building, one on each side. Inside the pillars was plant and electronics, and storage rooms. The steel bridges led right into the glass façades of the pillars, and if necessary they could be used to evacuate the train if for some reason it couldn’t get to the boarding platform. The bridges led to a separate staircase and lift, not reachable from the glass corridor.

  Grand Cherokee ran through all of this in his head as he crouched there, which was his second mistake; he was losing time, instead of acting right away. Xin pounced and landed between him and the dragon’s head. There were only two rows of seats between them, and Grand Cherokee realised that he had thrown away his chance of reaching the steering unit. He considered jumping back onto the platform, but it was clear that Xin would be right behind him if he did. Probably he wouldn’t even make it as far as the turnstile.

  Xin came closer. He clambered through the rows of seating so fast that Grand Cherokee stopped thinking and fled to the end of the train. The glass barrier for the boarding platform ended a little way beyond. Here, the track swung out from the front of the building, curved around a good distance and then about twenty-five metres on, turned the corner that led behind the pillar.

  ‘Very stupid idea,’ said Xin, as he approached.

  Grand Cherokee stared out at the track, then back to Xin. He had long ago realised that he had gone too far, and the guy meant to kill him. Damn Yoyo! What a dumb bitch, getting him into this kind of trouble.

  Wrong, the detached part of Grand Cherokee told him, you’re dumb yourself. Ever thought you could climb through thin air? And when big-mouth Wang had no reply, the calm, distant voice added: You do have one great advantage. You don’t suffer from vertigo.

  Does Xin?

  Knowing that the enormous height did nothing to him suddenly freed Grand Cherokee’s limbs of their paralysis. His mind made up, he put one foot on the track, took one step, another. Half a kilometre below him he saw the green forecourt in front of the World Financial Center, criss-crossed with footpaths. Cars moved like ants along the two levels of the Shiji Dadao, running from the river to the Pudong hinterland. The sun burned down on him through the enormous hole in the tower as he left the protection of the glassed-in boarding platform and went along the track, one metre at a time. Gusts of warm wind tugged at him. To his left, the glass façade of the tower grew further away with every step, or more exactly, he was getting further away from it. To the right he could see the roof of the Jin Mao Tower. The business high-rises of Pudong grouped themselves around and behind it, with the shimmering curve of Huangpu, and Shanghai stretching all around, unimaginably vast.