The Middle Kingdom (72 page)

He felt like
laughing, or whooping for joy, but knew hidden cameras were watching
his every movement, so he feigned disinterested boredom. He flicked
through, as if only casually interested, but behind the mask of his
face he could feel the excitement course through him, like fire in
his blood.

Where in the
gods' names had Kim got all this? Had he invented it? No. Berdichev
dismissed the thought instantly. Kim
couldn't
have invented
it. Just a glance at certain details told him it was genuine. This
part about Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire, for instance. And
here, this bit about the subtle economic influence of the Medici
family. And here, about the long-term effects of the great sea battle
of Lepanto—the deforestation of the Mediterranean and the
subsequent shift of the shipbuilding industry to the Baltic where
wood was plentiful. Yes. He had seen shards of this before—bits
and pieces of the puzzle—but here the picture was complete.

He shuddered.
Andersen was a fool. And thank the gods for it. If he had known what
he had in his possession. If he'd had but the slightest inkling . . .
Berdichev looked down, stifling the laugh that came unbid-

den to his lips.
Gods, he felt elated! He flicked back to the title page again. THE
ARISTOTLE FILE. Yes! That was where it all started. Back there in the
Yes/No logic of the Greek.

He tapped the
stack of papers square, then slid them back into the folder. What to
do? What to do? The simple possession of such information was
treasonous. Was punishable by death.

There was a
knock on the door.

"Come in!"

Andersen bowed,
then brought the tray over to the desk and set it down on one side,
well away from the folder. Then he poured the
ch'a
into a bowl
and held it out, his head slightly lowered.

Berdichev took
the bowl and sipped, then set it down.

"How many
people know about this, Director?"

Andersen allowed
himself a tiny smile. "Four, including yourself and Kim,
Excellency."

"The boy's
tutor . . . Tai Cho, isn't it? I assume he's the Other?"

"That's
correct, Excellency. But I've already instructed him to mention it to
no one else."

"Good. Very
good indeed. Because I want you to destroy the files at once.
Understand?"

Andersen's smile
drained away, replaced by a look of utter astonishment. He had
thought Berdichev would be pleased.

"I'm
sorry?"

"I want all
evidence of this foolishness destroyed at once, understand me,
Director? I want the files closed and I want you to warn Kim not to
indulge in such idle fancies any longer." He banged the file
violently with the flat of his hand, making Andersen jump. "You
don't realize how much this worries me, Director. I already have
several quite serious misgivings about the whole venture,
particularly regarding the matter of the boy's safety. I understand,
for instance, that there was a fight, and that youVe had to send one
of the older boys away. Is that right?"

Andersen
blanched then bowed, wondering who Berdichev's spy was. "That is
so, Excellency."

"Yes . . .
and now this." Berdichev was silent a moment, the threat
implicit in his silence. The purpose of his visit today had been to
make the latest stage payment on Kim's contract. There had been no
mention of the matter so far, but now he came to it. "My feeling
is that the terms of our contract have not been fully met. You are in
default, Director Andersen. You have failed to adequately protect my
investment. In the circumstances, I feel I must insist on some . . .
compensation. A reduction of the stage payment, perhaps?"

Andersen lowered
his head even further. His voice was apologetic. "I am afraid I
have no discretion,
Shih
Berdichev. All contractual matters
have to be referred to the board."

He glanced at
Berdichev, expecting anger, but the Head of SimFic was smiling. "I
know. I spoke to them before I came here. They have agreed to a
reduction of one hundred thousand
yuan."
He held out the
document for Andersen to take. "I understand it requires only
your signature to make it valid."

Andersen
shivered, suppressing the anger he felt, then bowed and, taking the
brush from the stand, signed the paper.

"We'll
verify this later," Berdichev said, his smile fading. "But
with regard to the files, you'll do as I say. Yes?"

"Of course,
Excellency."

He reached for
the folder, but Berdichev held on to it. "I'll keep this copy.
I'd like my company psychiatrists to evaluate it. They'll destroy it
once theyVe done with it."

Andersen looked
at him, open mouthed, then hastily backed offa pace. "I'm sure.
. ." he began, then fell quiet and bowed his head.

"Good,"
said Berdichev, reaching across for the
ch'a
kettle. "Then
bring another bowl, Director. I believe you have some money to
collect from me."

"And how's
little rat's ass this morning?"

Kim kept his
eyes on his plate, ignoring the figure of Janko, who stood beside
him. Chan Shui had gone off to the toilets saying he would only be a
moment, but Janko must have seen him go and had decided this was his
chance.

He felt Janko's
hand on his shoulder, squeezing, not hard as yet, but enough to make
him feel uncomfortable. He shrugged it off, then reached out to take
the biscuit. But Janko beat him to it. Laughing, he crammed it in his
mouth, then picked up Kim's bowl to wash it down.

Kim went very
still. He heard Janko's cronies laugh, then heard the unmistakable
sound of the boy hawking into his bowl.

Janko set it
down in front of him with a bang, then poked him hard. "Drink
up, rat's ass! Got to keep our strength up, haven't we?"

The inane
laughter rang out once again from beyond Janko. Kim looked at the
bowl. A nasty greenish gob of spit floated on the surface of the
ch'a.

Kim stared at it
a moment, then half turned in his seat and looked up at Janko. The
youth was more than half again his size. He would have made Matyas
look a weakling by comparison. But unlike Matyas, he wasn't
dangerous. He was merely flabby and stupid and a touch ridiculous.

"Go fuck
yourself, windbag," Kim said, loud enough for Janko alone to
hear.

Janko bellowed
and grabbed at Kim, half lifting him from his seat, then thrust the
bowl at his face. "Drink, you little piece of shit! Drink, if
you know what's good for you!"

"Put him
down!"

Janko turned.
Chan Shui had come back and was standing there on the far side of the
room. Several of the boys glanced up at the cameras nervously, as if
expecting Nung to come in and break things up. But most of them knew
Nung well enough to guess he'd be jerking off to some PomoStim, not
checking up on what was happening in the refectory.

Janko released
Kim, then, with an exaggerated delicacy, let the bowl fall from his
fingers. It shattered on the hard tile floor.

"Best clear
it up, rat's ass. Before you get into trouble."

Kim looked
across at Chan Shui, a faint smile on his lips, then turned and went
to the counter to get a brush and pan.

Chan Shui was
standing there when he came back. "You don't have to do that,
Kim."

Kim nodded, but
got down anyway and started collecting the shattered pieces. He
looked up at Chan Shui. "Why don't they make these out of ice?"

Chan Shui
laughed, then knelt down and began to help him. "Have you ever
tasted ch'a from an ice bowl?"

Kim shook his
head.

"It's
revolting. Worse than Janko's phlegm!" Chan Shui leaned closer,
whispering. "What did you say to him, Kim? I've never seen Janko
so mad."

Kim told him
what he had said.

Chan Shui roared
with laughter, then grew quiet. "That's good. But you'd better
watch yourself from now on, Kim. He's a fool and a windbag, too, but
he doesn't want to lose face. When I go for a pee, you come too. And
fuck what these bastards think about that."

WHEN T'AI CHO
met him, just after twelve, he had two guards with him.

"What's
happening?" Kim asked when they were outside.

T'ai Cho smiled
reassuringly. "It's okay, Kim. Just a measure the Director is
insisting on from now on. He's concerned for your safety outside the
Center, that's all."

"So we've
got them every day?"

T'ai Cho shook
his head. "No. It's not necessary just for the Casting Shop. But
we're going somewhere special this afternoon, Kim. There's something
I want to show you. To set the record straight, if you like."

"I don't
understand you."

"I know.
But you will. At least, much better after this."

They went up
another twelve decks—a full one hundred and twenty levels—until
they were in the heart of the Mids, at Level 181. Stepping out of the
elevator Kim noticed at once how different things were from the level
where the Casting Shop was. It was cleaner here, tidier, less
crowded; even the pace at which people moved seemed more sedate, more
orderly.

They waited at a
Security barrier while a guard checked their permits, then went
inside. An official greeted them and took them along a corridor, then
up a narrow flight of stairs into a viewing gallery, its front sealed
off from the hall below by a pane of transparent glass.

In the hall
below five desks were set out in a loose semicircle.

In front of them
were a number of chairs, grouped in a seemingly random fashion. Five
gray-haired Han sat behind the desks, a small comset—or
portable computer—in front of each.

"What is
this?" Kim asked quietly.

T'ai Cho smiled
and indicated two seats at the front of the gallery. When they were
sitting, he turned to Kim and explained. "This is a deck
tribunal, Kim. They have them once a week throughout the levels. It
is the Han way of justice."

"Ah. . . ."
Kim knew the theory that lay behind Han justice, but he had never
seen it in action.

T'ai Cho leaned
forward. "Note how informal it all is, Kim. How relaxed."

"A family
affair," Kim said, rather too patly.

"Yes,"
T'ai Cho said at once. "It is exactly that."

They watched as
the hall filled up, until not a chair was free and latecomers had to
squat or sit on the floor. Then, without anyone calling anything to
order, it began. One of the elders leaned forward across his desk and
began to speak, his voice rising above the background murmur. The
other voices dropped away until the Elder's voice sounded alone.

He was reading
out the circumstances of the first case. Two cousins had been
fighting. The noise had awakened neighbors who had complained to Deck
Security. The Elder looked up, his eyes seeking out the two Han
youths. They stood at once.

"Well? What
have you to say for yourselves?"

Beside them an
old man, gray-haired like the elders, his long beard plaited, stood
and addressed the Elder.

"Forgive
me, Hsien Judge Hong, but might I speak? I am Yung Pi-Chu, head of
the Yung family."

"The
tribunal waits to hear from you,
Shih
Yung."

The old man
bowed his thanks, then brought his two great-nephews out into the
space in front of the desks and had them strip off their tops. Their
backs were striped from recent punishment. He made the two youths
turn, showing the elders first and then the gathered audience. Then,
bidding them return to their seats, he faced the elders.

"As you
see, respected elders, my great-nephews have been punished for their
thoughtlessness. But the matter of my neighbors' inconvenience
remains. In that regard I propose to offer compensation of six
hundred
yuan,
to be shared equally among the complainants."

Hsien Judge Hong
bowed, pleased, then looked out past the old man. "Would the
complainants stand."

Three men got to
their feet and identified themselves.

"Are you
willing to accept
Shih
Yung's generous compensation?"

All three
nodded. Two hundred
yuan
was a generous figure.

"Good. Then
the matter is settled. You will pay the clerk, SWhYung."

Without
preamble, and before the old man had returned to his seat, another of
the elders began reading out the circumstances of the second case.
Again it involved two young men, but this time they had been charged
with unsocial behavior. They had vandalized a row of magnolia trees
while drunk.

At the Elder's
request the two men stood. They were Hung
Mao,
their dress
neat, respectable, their hair cut in the Han style.

"Well?"
the Elder asked. "What have you to say for yourselves?"

The two men hung
their heads. One looked momentarily at the other, who swallowed, then
looked up, acting as spokesman for the two.

"Respected
elders, we make no excuses for our behavior and are deeply ashamed of
what we did. We accept full responsibility for our actions and would
fully understand if the respected elders should punish us to the full
severity for what we did. However, we ask you to consider our past
exemplary record and would humbly submit the testimony of our
employers as to our conduct. We propose to pay for the damage in full
and, in respect of the damage to the harmony of the community, we ask
that we should be given a month's community service."

The Elder looked
briefly at his fellows, who all nodded, then faced the two youths
again.

"We have
read the submissions of your employers and take into account your
past exemplary conduct. Your shame is clear and your repentance
obvious. In the circumstances, therefore, we accept your proposals,
your term of public service to commence in two weeks' time. However,
should you come before this tribunal a second time on a similar
charge, it will result in immediate demotion. You understand?"