The Middle Kingdom (21 page)

He watched the
Han turn and go to the seat, then looked away, paying no more
attention to the man.

A minute later
the duty officer was back. "You're in luck, Haavikko," he
said, handing him a bowl of
ch'a
from the tray, then taking a
sealed packet from his jacket pocket and putting it on the desk in
front of him. "It's just come through. Your new posting."

Axel stared at
it a moment, then took it and broke the seal. He read it, then looked
down, his face momentarily registering his disgust. England! They
were sending him to England, of all the godsforsaken places!

He tucked the
orders away in his tunic pocket, masking his bitter disappointment,
then drained his bowl at a go. "Thanks," he said, letting
the other take his seat again. "I'll get my kit and go."

"Yes, you'd
better." The duty officer smiled sadly at him; an understanding
smile. "Hey! And good luck!"

After he'd gone,
the Han rose slowly from his seat and went across to the desk. The
duty officer looked up, then set his
ch'a
down.

"Yes?"

"I need
protection," the Han said tiredly, conscious he had used these
same words earlier. "There are men trying to kill me."

The officer
nodded, then reached for his lap terminal, ready to take details.
"Okay. What's your name?"

"Pi
Ch'ien," the Han answered. "My name is Pi Ch'ien."

Well,
what are we to do?"

Lehmann turned
away, looking out at the calm of the lotus-strewn lake; watching as
one of the three cranes he had bought only the day before lifted its
long, elegant wings, then settled again, dipping its bill into the
water. Behind him DeVore was pacing back and forth restlessly,
slapping his gloves against his thigh with every second step. Lehmann
had never seem him so agitated or so upset. Who would have believed
that Yang Lai's message carrier, his third secretary, Pi Ch'ien,
would turn up again, like an envoy from the land of the dead?

"What do
you suggest, Howard?"

DeVore came and
stood by him at the open window. "You know what we have to do.
It's what we planned for. In case this happened."

"You think
it's really necessary? I mean . . . Yang Lai is dead. And Cho Hsiang
and the two assassins. There seems nothing more to connect us. So
what if the General has Pi Ch'ien? Pi Ch'ien knows nothing."

"Not so,
I'm afraid. Pi Ch'ien has named Heng Chi-Po as his contact."

Lehmann turned
abruptly, facing him. "Minister Heng? Gods! And he has proof of
this?"

DeVore shook his
head. "No. But it isn't a question of proof any longer. The
General plans to go to the T'ang with what he knows, surmise or not,
proof or not. And the T'ang will tell him to investigate. We have to
act now. To preempt the investigation." He paused, taking
breath. "We have to sacrifice him, Pietr. We have to give them
Wyatt."

Lehmann turned
back, facing DeVore. "You're certain, Howard? Certain it's the
only way?"

DeVore gave a
curt nod. "It's necessary."

Lehmann was
silent a moment, then he nodded. "All right. Do what you have
to."

DeVore reached
out and touched his arm. "Keep heart, Pietr. It's a hard road, I
know, but we'll triumph. I'm sure of it."

"Maybe. . .
." Lehmann looked down. "You know, I didn't think it would
be like this. I thought. . ."

"You
thought you could keep your hands clean, eh?"

Lehmann shook
his head. "No. Not that. Just. . . well, he's a good man,
Howard. If there's any other way . . . ?"

He looked up,
meeting DeVote's eyes again, but the latter shook his head.

"Don't
blame yourself, Pietr. There is no other way." DeVore huffed.
"Our hands are tied, don't you understand? Chung Kuo itself is
to blame. This world of ours . . . it's incestuous. The connections
are too tangled. You have only to scratch your ass and your enemy
sighs with relief."

Lehmann laughed
sadly. "That's so."

DeVore pressed
on. "Do you think I'd not be open if I could? Do you think I
like this game of deceit and double-dealing?" He spat out neatly
onto the water below. "If I was open for a moment I'd be dead.
And you. And all of us. So think of that, Pietr, before you get
sentimental over Edmund Wyatt. He was a good man. Maybe. But he also
wanted what we want. Change. A break with the old order. Keep that in
mind, Pietr. Don't waver from it. Because if you doubt it for a
moment you're dead. You and all of us."

Lehmann
shivered, hearing how DeVore spoke of Wyatt in the past tense. But he
could not argue with him. Their course was set now. To the end.

"Then I
must seem his friend?"

"And I your
mortal enemy."

"Yes."
Lehmann looked out, watching one of the cranes glide slowly to the
bank, then lift itself up onto the pale white rocks, ruffling its
feathers as it settled.

THE GENERAL
waited on the central dais, holding himself stiffly upright in the
tall-backed Summons Chair. To either side of the dais stood an honor
guard of the T'ang's own bodyguard, resplendent in their crimson
combat silks, big men with shaven heads and naked feet, while all
around him the T'ang's servants moved silently through the great
hall, going about their business.

Only six hours
ago he had contemplated this meeting with some misgivings, but now he
felt confident, almost elated, the frustrations of the past three
days behind him. He held DeVore's file tightly in his lap, smiling
inwardly. I've got you now, he thought. Both of you. You won't
wriggle out of this one.

He gazed ahead
fixedly. Facing him, some fifty paces distant, was the entrance to
the Hall of Eternal Truth, where the T'ang held audience.

The double doors
were massive, twice as tall as they were broad. In silver across the
black leather surface, its circumference five times the height of a
man, was drawn a great circle of seven dragons. At its center the
snouts of the regal beasts met, forming a roselike hub, huge rubies
burning fiercely in each eye. Their lithe, powerful bodies curved
outward like the spokes of a giant wheel while at the edge their
tails were intertwined to form the rim. It was the
Ywe Lung,
the
Moon Dragon, symbol of the Seven. Tblonen could never look at it
without a feeling of great pride—glad beyond words that it had
fallen to him to play so large a part in defending that great and
powerful circle; that his T'ang honored him so.

Two bells
sounded, the first sweet and clear, the second deep and resonant.
Slowly, noiselessly, the great doors swung back.

The General
stood, then stepped down from the dais, the file and the other papers
held tightly against his breast. He turned to his left, then to his
right, bowing his head stiffly to the two lieutenants, then marched
forward ten paces and stopped, letting the honor guard form up behind
him.

The doors were
fully open now. He could see the T'ang at the far end of the Hall,
seated on the high throne, atop the Presence Dais.

The T'ang's
Chamberlain, Chung Hu-yan, came forward, greeting him.

"General
Tolonen," he said, smiling and bowing low. "You are most
welcome. The T'ang is expecting you."

"It is good
to see you, Hu-yan," the General said quietly, returning both
smile and bow. "I hope you're well. And all your family."

"And yours,
Knut," he answered softly, straightening up. "But come.
YouVe waited far too long already."

Chung Hu-yan
turned, facing the T'ang again. He bowed low, going down onto his
knees and pressing his forehead briefly against the tiled floor. Then
he stood and walked slowly into the Hall. The General moved forward,
following him. Beneath the great lintel he halted and made his own
obeisance to the T'ang, the whole of the honor guard behind him
making the gesture at the same moment, then rising when he rose. But
when he moved forward again they stayed where they were. No one—not
even a member of the honor guard—was allowed into the Hall
without the T'ang's express permission.

At the foot of
the steps Tblonen paused, the Chamberlain to the left of him, others
of the T'ang's retinue gathered to the right of the Dais.

"
Chieh
Hsia
," he said, making his
k'o t'ou
a second time.

The literal
translation of the Mandarin was "below the steps," but the
phrase had long acquired a second, more important meaning—"Your
Majesty."

"
Chieh
Hsia
" dated from those ancient days when ministers, summoned
to an audience with the emperor, were not permitted to address the
Son of Heaven directly, but spoke through those officials gathered
"below the steps" of the high-raised throne.

The T'ang rose
from his throne and started down the broad steps of the Presence
Dais.

"Knut. I'm
sorry I kept you waiting."

Li Shai Tung was
wearing his official robes; long, flowing silks of pale gold, trimmed
with black, and honey-colored boots of soft kid. His fine gray hair
was pulled back severely from his forehead and bound tightly at the
back of his head. He wore a simple necklet of gold and, on the
fingers of his right hand, two rings; the first a simple band of thin
white gold, his dead wife's wedding gift; the other a heavier,
thicker ring of black iron, bearing on its face a silvered miniature
of the
Ywe Lung,
the seal of power.

Li Shai Tung was
a tall man; as tall as his General, but willowy. He came down the
twelve steps briskly, his movements lighter, more energetic, than one
might have expected from a man of sixty years. It was often said that
the T'ang moved like a dancer, elegantly, powerfully—and it was
so; his athletic grace a result of the rigorous training he put
himself through each morning. But there was also a dignity to his
bearing—an authority—that only those bom to rule seem to
possess.

Facing his
General, he reached out to touch Tolonen's arm, his pale, lined face
breaking into a smile. Then the hand fell back; moved to touch, then
stroke, his long but neatly trimmed beard. "I've been kept busy,
Knut. This matter of the vacancy. Four families have petitioned me
for the appointment. I have been seeing the candidates this very
morning."

"Then what
I have to say will be of interest,
Chieh Hsia
."

Li Shai Tung
nodded, then looked about him. Besides the Chamberlain there were a
dozen others in the Hall; members of his private staff. "How
confidential is this matter?"

The General
smiled, understanding. "It would not do for all to know it yet."

The T'ang smiled
back at him. "I understand. We'll speak alone. In my
grandfather's room." He motioned to his Chamberlain. "Hu-yan.
You will stand at the door and make certain no one disturbs us until
we are done."

They went
through, into one of the smaller rooms at the back of the Hall. The
T'ang pulled the doors closed behind him, then turned, looking at
Tolonen, his expression unreadable. He crossed the room and sat
beneath the twin portraits of his grandfather and Wen Ti, motioning
for his General to come to him.

"Sit there,
Knut. Facing me."

Tolonen did as
he was bid, yet he felt awkward, being seated in his T'ang's
presence. He looked at the nearby fire and unconsciously put out-one
hand toward its warmth.

The T'ang
smiled, seeing the gesture. "You have something new, then?
Something more than when we last spoke?"

"Yes,
Chieh
Hsia
. I know who ordered Lwo Kang killed."

The T'ang
considered. "Enough to prove this thing in law?"

The General
nodded. "And maybe cause the fall of a Great Family."

"Ah. ..."
Li Shai Tung looked down, into his lap. "Then the Minister is
involved in this?"

Tblonen leaned
forward and passed across the file, leaving the other papers in his
lap. "It is all in there,
Chieh Hsia
. All the evidence.
Trading connections. Payments and names. Who was used and when. Yang
Lai, Fu Lung-ti, Hong Cao, Cho Hsiang—a whole network of names
and dates, connecting all the levels of the thing. It was well
orchestrated. Too well, perhaps. But we would never have made these
connections unless my man DeVore had followed his nose. Wyatt was the
hub—the center of this web of dealings."

The T'ang
nodded, then looked down at the document. For the next fifteen
minutes he was silent, reading. Then, finished, he closed the file
and looked up. "Yes," he said softly, almost tiredly. "This
is good, Knut. This is what I wanted. You have done very well."

The General
bowed his head. "Thank you,
Chieh Hsia
. But as I said,
the praise is not mine. This is Major DeVore's work."

"I see."
The T'ang looked back down at the document. "Then I shall see
that the Major is rewarded."

"Thank you.
And the Minister?"

Li Shai Tung
gave a short, humorless laugh. "Heng Chi-Po is a careful man, as
this document bears out. Though the finger points at him, at no point
does it touch." He shook his head. "No matter the weight of
circumstantial evidence, we have nothing substantial."

"Yet it was
he who warned Yang Lai. Who sent the message."

"Maybe so.
But it would not hold. Assumptions, that's all we have when it comes
down to it, Knut. Junior Minister Yang Lai is missing and the message
card Pi Ch'ien held on to was blank. It is not strong evidence."

The General was
quiet a moment. It was true. The message card that Pi Ch'ien had
carried from Minister Heng to Yang Lai was worthless as evidence, the
message it held having decayed within thirty seconds of Yang Lai
activating it with his thumb-print.