The Middle Kingdom (24 page)

Lehmann smiled.
"Let's talk of living, eh?"

There was a
pounding on the mansion's huge front doors.

Wyatt looked up,
past him. "They're early. I didn't think they'd be early."

They went
through, out into the marbled hallway. Wyatt's Chamberlain, a stout,
middle-aged Han, greeted them with a bow.

"Shall I
open the door, master?"

Wyatt shook his
head. "No. Let them wait, Fu Hsien."

There were
footsteps on the stairs overhead and a murmur of talk.

"Ch'un
tzu.'" Lehmann went to the foot of the stairs and greeted the
three elderly Han as they came down to him. It had cost him over a
million
yuan
simply to bring them here this morning. If the
case went on for months, as it was likely to do, it would cost his
faction somewhere between thirty and fifty million. Wyatt had been
told nothing of this, but his sisters and aunts had been briefed
already. In time they were certain to let Wyatt know whose money it
was that was paying for his defense.

Lehmann turned,
smiling, and watched the three graybeards greet Wyatt once again. At
the introduction, earlier, all three advocates had seemed impressed
by Wyatt's protestations of innocence. As indeed they ought. Edmund
didn't merely seem innocent, he was. The full force of his
self-belief had carried any remaining doubts the three had had. They
had agreed to take the case.

But things were
not as simple as they seemed. On paper Wyatt's case seemed good. In
court he would make a fine impres-

sion. Public
sympathy was sure to be in his favor. But Wyatt had to lose. He had
to be made to seem a victim of conspiracy and power-brokering.

New evidence
would be introduced as and when necessary, for his good friend Edmund
Wyatt was to be a martyr.

The hammering
came again. A voice shouted from behind the door. "Open up! We
come on the T'ang's business!"

Again the
Chamberlain looked to Wyatt. This time he nodded.

Tolonen came
through first, in full dress uniform, the chi (ing, or unicorn patch
of a first-rank officer, resplendent on his chest. Behind him strode
two officers and an elite squad of eight armed soldiers.

"General
Tolonen," said Wyatt, with cold politeness, offering his hand.
But Tolonen walked past him, ignoring him.

"Who
represents the prisoner?" he demanded brusquely.

One of the three
Han stepped forward. "I am Advocate Fou, General. I act for
Shih
Wyatt in this matter. And I'll remind you that my client is not a
prisoner but should be addressed as the accused."

Tolonen snorted
and turned away. One of the officers at once handed him a long
silvered tube. He hefted it a moment, then passed it to the advocate.

"Please
read the document. All three of you, if necessary. Copies will be
provided at your offices."

Advocate Fou
tipped the scroll out into his hand, passed the tube to one of his
colleagues, then unfurled the document. Wyatt moved past Tolonen and
stood at the advocate's side, trying to make sense of the sheet of
blood-red pictograms.

"It's in
Mandarin," he said. "That's illegal, isn't it?"

Advocate Fou
shook his head, then muttered something in Han to his colleagues and
rolled the document up again.

"What is
it?" Lehmann asked, coming up beside Wyatt.

The advocate
looked across at Tolonen, then back at Lehmann. "I am afraid we
cannot help you, Under Secretary. I am most sorry. This matter has
been taken out of the jurisdiction of the courts. Please . . ."
He handed the document across to Wyatt. "Our apologies, Shih
Wyatt. We wish you luck. If innocence has weight in law you will
triumph yet."

As one, the
three Han bowed and took their leave.

Wyatt stood
there a moment, dumbfounded, watching them go. Then he turned to
Lehmann. "What in the gods' names is happening here, Pietr?"
He thrust the document into Lehmann's hand. "What is this?"

Lehmann looked
away. Gods! he thought. This changes everything.

He turned back.
"It's an edict, Edmund. The Seven have passed a special edict."
He unfurled the white, silken roll. "See here." He pointed
out the rigid line of hardened wax. "These are their seals. The
Ywe Lung,
symbol of their power. All seven of them. They must
have met in an emergency session and agreed to this."

Wyatt had gone
very quiet, watching him, a new kind of fear in his face.

"An edict?"

"Yes. You
are to be tried in
camera,
by a council of the T'ang's
ministers." Lehmann swallowed then looked across at Tolonen, an
unfeigned anger in his eyes. "This changes things, Edmund. It
changes everything. It means they want you dead."

HENO KOU paused
in the doorway, then knelt down and touched his brow to the cold
floor.

"Nephew Yu.
I am most sorry to disturb your afternoon sleep. I would not have
come, but it is a matter of the utmost urgency."

Heng Yu tied the
sash to his sleeping robe and came across the room quickly. "Uncle
Kou, please, get up at once. In private you are still my uncle."

Heng Kou let
himself be drawn to his feet, then stood there, embarrassed, as Heng
Yu bowed to him in the old way.

All that has
changed, he thought. The T'ang gave you years when he gave you power.
Now you are our head and the family must bow before you. So it is. So
it must be. Or Chung Kuo itself would fall.

Heng Yu
straightened. "But tell me, what brings you here, Uncle?"

"I'm sorry,
Yu, but I bring bad news. Your uncle Chi-Po is unwell."

Heng Yu started.
"Unwell?"

"Please . .
." Heng Kou bowed and moved aside. "I felt you should come
yourself. At once. My own doctors are seeing to him even now. But..."

Heng Yu gave the
slightest nod. "I understand. Please, lead me to him."

Heng Chi-Po's
bedroom was dimly lit. The four doctors stood at one end of the room,
beside the only light source. Seeing the two men in the doorway, they
came across.

"How is my
uncle?" asked Heng Yu at once, concerned.

The most senior
of them bowed low, then answered him.. Like all four of them he had
been briefed beforehand concerning Heng Yu's new status in the
household.

"I regret
to say that your uncle passed away five minutes ago. His heart failed
him."

Heng Kou,
watching, saw Heng Yu's mouth fall open, his eyes widen in surprise;
saw the real pain he felt at the news and knew he had been right not
to involve him in the scheme. Let him believe things are as they are.
That disappointment killed my brother. Only I and these four men know
otherwise.

Heng Yu had a
servant bring them a lamp, then they went over to where Heng Chi-Po
lay on his oversized bed. His eyes had been closed and his face now
was at peace. The flesh of his arms and chest and face was pale and
misted with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Did he
suffer much?" Heng Yu asked.

Heng Kou saw how
the doctors looked at htm, then looked away.

"Not at
all," he lied, remembering how it had taken all five of them to
hold him down while the poison had taken effect. "Of course,
there was pain at first, but then, thankfully, it passed and he
lapsed into sleep."

Heng Yu nodded
then turned away with a tiny shudder.

Heng Kou
remained a moment longer, looking down at the brother he had always
loathed; the brother who, since he had been old enough to walk, had
bullied him and treated him like the basest servant. He smiled. You
would have had us kill Tolonen, eh? You would have brought us all
down with your foolishness?

Yes, but you
forgot who held the power.

He turned,
indicating to the doctors that they should leave. Then, when they
were gone, he went to where Heng Yu was standing. He was about to
speak when Heng Yu surprised him, raising a hand to silence him.

Heng Yu's whole
manner had changed. His voice was low but powerful. "Don't think
me blind, Uncle Kou. Nor dull witted. I know what happened here."

"And?"

Kou held his
breath. If Heng Yu insisted, all would be undone.

"And
nothing, Uncle. Understand me?"

Heng Kou
hesitated, studying the smooth lines of his nephew's face; seeing him
for the first time as the T'ang must have seen him.

He smiled, then
bowed low. "I understand, Minister Heng."

THE DOOR slammed
shut. DeVore turned and looked back across the .cell at Wyatt. They
were alone now. Just the two of them.

"Shouldn't
there be others?" Wyatt said, watching him warily. "I
thought it was usual for there to be several officers at an
interrogation."

DeVore laughed.
"You don't understand, do you? You still think you're safe. In
spite of all that's happened."

Wyatt turned
away. "If you mistreat me—"

DeVore
interrupted him. "You really
don't
understand, do you?"

He moved closer,
coming around the side of Wyatt until he stood there face to face
with the slightly taller man. "Let me explain."

Wyatt had turned
his face slightly, so as not to have to meet DeVore's eyes. But the
suddenness of the slap took him by complete surprise. He staggered
backward, holding his cheek, staring at DeVore, his eyes wide with
astonishment.

"Strip
off!" DeVore barked, his face suddenly mean, uncompromising.
"Everything. Top clothes. Underclothes. Jewelry. We'll remove
your electronic implants later."

Wyatt shook his
head uncertainly. "But you can't do this."

"Do what?"
DeVore laughed. "You're a murderer. Understand? You killed the
T'ang's minister. You'll be tried and found guilty. And then we'll
execute you."

DeVore took a
step closer, seeing how Wyatt flinched, ex-, peering another blow.
His cheek was bright red, the weal the shape of DeVore's hand, each
finger clearly delineated. "That's the truth of this, Edmund
Wyatt. You're a dead man. When you killed Lwo Kang you stepped
outside the game. You broke all the rules. So now there are no rules.
At least, none that you would recognize."

He reached out
and took Wyatt's wrists, savagely pulling him closer, until Wyatt's
face was pressed against his own.

"Are you
beginning to understand?"

Wyatt shivered
and made an awkward nod.

"Good."
He thrust Wyatt back brutally, making him fall. "Then strip
off."

He turned his
back. The cell was bare. He could almost see Wyatt look about him,
hesitating. Then he heard the jingle of his thin gold bracelets as he
set them down on the floor, and smiled. I have you now, my proud
false Chinaman. I'll strip the Han from you, pigtail,
pau,
and
all. Yes, and we'll see how proud you are when I'm done with you.

When he turned
back. Wyatt was naked, his clothes neatly bundled on the floor beside
him. His white, soft body seemed so frail, so ill suited to the trial
that lay ahead: already it seemed to cower, to shrink back into
itself, as if aware of what was to come. Yet when DeVore looked up
past the narrow, hairless chest and met Wyatt's eyes he was surprised
to find defiance there.

So, he thought.
That first. They say the Han are strong because they resign
themselves to fate. In thirty centuries they have never fought fate,
but have been its agents. Flood, famine, and revolution have all been
as one to them. They have bowed before the inevitability of death and
so survived, stronger for their long and patient suffering. So it
will be with you, Edmund Wyatt. I'll make a true Han of you
yet—stripped bare of all you were; resigned and patient in your
suffering.

He smiled. "You
knew Yang Lai? Lwo Kang's junior minister?"

Wyatt looked up
sharply, real hatred in his eyes. "He's dead. You know he's
dead. He died with Lwo Kang in the solarium."

"That's not
what I asked. Did you know him well?"

"He was a
friend. A good friend. I was at college with him."

DeVore laughed
coldly. "How good a friend, would you say?"

Wyatt swallowed,
then lowered his head. "He was my lover."

"You admit
it?"

Angered, Wyatt
yelled back at him. "Why not? I expect you knew already! Anyway,
what has Yang Lai to do with this?"

DeVore smiled
and turned away. "Yang Lai was murdered. Three days after the
assassination. The only thing we found on the body was a small
hologram of you."

Wyatt had gone
very still. When DeVore next looked at him he was surprised to find
tears in his eyes.

"There,"
said Wyatt softly. "Surely that says something to you? Would I
kill a man I loved, then leave my hob on him?"

DeVore shook his
head. "You don't understand."

Wyatt frowned.
"What do you mean?"

"He had it
up his ass."

Wyatt looked
away. A shuddering breath racked his body.

"Oh, and
there's more. Much more. Kao Jyan's tape. Your trading connections
with Hong Cao and Cho Hsiang. The internal flight schedules which
coincide perfectly with our reconstruction of the attack on the
solarium. Your company's experiments with harmonic triggers. And, of
course, your secretary Lung Ti's evidence."

Wyatt looked
back at DeVore blankly. "Lung Ti?"

This was
DeVore's masterstroke; the thing that had cemented it all in place.
Lung Ti had been with Wyatt from his tenth year. He was his most
trusted servant. But eight years ago DeVore had found Lung Ti's
weakness and bought him. Now Lung Ti was his creature, reading from
his script.

DeVore let the
silence extend a moment longer, then lowered his head. "Lung Ti
has confessed to his part in everything. He is to give evidence under
the T'ang's pardon."

Wyatt's mouth
worked loosely, but no sound came out.