The Middle Kingdom (92 page)

"What are
you waiting for? You told him what would happen! All dead if they
played any tricks. That's what you said."

Auden glanced
across at the stairs, then looked back at Chen. "I've offered
our friend Peskova a new deal. He's thinking it over."

Chen shuddered
again, then looked down again. Pavel's face was ugly, his twisted
features set in a final snarl of pain. Even in death he had been
denied the peace that most men found. Damn you, Pavel! he thought,
torn by the sight. It was supposed to be a job. Just a simple
infiltration job.

He turned
sharply. The door at the head of the stairs had opened slightly. A
moment later there was a clattering on the steps. Chen looked. Two
weapons lay there at the sergeant's feet—a rifle and a knife.

"Okay,"
Peskova called down. "I'll do what you say."

Chen turned
back, swallowing dryly. His stomach had tightened to a cold, hard
knot. A deal. They were going to make a deal with the bastard. He
lowered Pavel gently, carefully, then turned back, looking across at
Auden. But Auden had turned away. He had forgotten him already.

"All
right," Auden was saying. "I'm coming up. Throw the door
open wide, then go to the far side of the room and stay there with
your hands in the air. If I see
any
movement I'll open fire.
Understand me?"

"I
understand, Lieutenant."

Chen pushed his
hands together to stop them shaking, then pulled himself up onto his
feet. The effort made him double up, coughing. For a moment his head
swam and he almost fell, but then it cleared. He straightened up,
wheezing for breath, and looked across.

Auden was
halfway up the stairs now, moving slowly, cautiously, one step every
few seconds, his gun tracking from side to side. Then he was at the
top, framed by the doorway. Without turning he called his sergeant up
after him.

Chen stood there
a moment, breathing deeply, slowly, getting his strength back. He
swallowed painfully, then looked about him. Where . . . ? Then he saw
it. There, on the floor by the wall where they had placed him. His
handgun.

He went across
and picked it up, then turned back, following two of Auden's men up
into the top room.

Peskova stood
against the back wall, his hands resting loosely on his head. He was
looking across at Auden, his chin raised arrogantly, his eyes smiling
cruelly, almost triumphantly, knowing he was safe.

Chen shivered
and looked away, sickened by the sight of the man, barely in control
of himself now. He wanted to smash that arrogant face. To wipe the
smile from those coldly mocking eyes. But it was not Peskova he
wanted. Not really. It was DeVore.

He lifted his
head, forcing himself to look at him again. Yes. He could see the
pale shadow of the man in this lesser creature. Could see the same
indifference behind the eyes. A kind of absence. Nothing that a
retinal print could capture, but there nonetheless. Like his master,
Peskova had nothing but contempt for his fellow creatures. All-he did
was shaped by a cold and absolute dismissal of their separate
existence. They were things for his amusement. Things. . . .

Chen looked down
again, the trembling in him so marked now that he had to clench his
left fist again and again to control it.

Such power
DeVore had. Such awful power, to cast so many in his own dark image.

"Kuan Yin!
Look at this!"

The sergeant had
been moving about the room, searching. In the far comer he had come
across a large shape covered by a sheet. Now he turned, facing them,
the color drained from his face.

"Watch him
closely!" Auden said to the man at his side, then went across to
where his sergeant stood. Chen followed.

He was not sure
what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. The man was stretched naked
over the saddle, his hands and feet bound tightly to the stirrups.
Dark smears of congealed blood coated his legs and arms and the lower
part of his back, and he was split from ass to stomach.

"Gods. ..."
Auden said softly, walking about the body. "I'd heard of this,
but I never dreamed . . ." He fell silent.

Chen felt the
bile rise to his throat. The man's eyes bulged, but they were
lifeless now. He had choked to death. Not surprisingly. His balls had
been cut from him and stitched into his mouth.

"Who is
this?" Auden asked, looking across at Peskova.

Peskova stared
back coldly, almost defiantly. "A guard. His name was Chang Yan.
He had been stealing."

"Stealing.
. . ." Auden made to shake his head, then turned away. "Cover
it up," he said to his sergeant, meeting his eyes a moment, a
look of disgust passing between them.

"You made a
deal," said Chen, glaring at Auden. "Was this a part of
it?"

Auden glanced at
him, then turned away, moving back toward Peskova.

"I made a
deal."

Chen followed
him across, something still and cold and hard growing in the depths
of him.

Auden stopped,
three, four paces from Peskova, looking about the room. Then he
turned and looked directly at the man. There was something like a
smile on his lips. "Is that how you deal with thieves out here?"

Peskova's face
had hardened. He had been worried momentarily. Now, seeing that hint
of a smile, he relaxed again, misinterpreting it. His own smile
widened. "Not always."

"So it was
special?"

Peskova looked
down. "You could say that. Mind you, I'm only sorry it wasn't
his friend, Teng. I would have liked to have seen that bastard beg
for mercy." He looked up again, laughing, as if it were a joke
only he and Auden could share. "These Han . . ."

Chen stared at
him
coldly.
"And Pavel? What about him? He wasn't Han."

Peskova turned
and smiled at him contemptuously. An awful, smirking smile. "Why
split hairs? Anyway, that little shit deserved what he got."

Chen shuddered
violently. Then, without thinking, he lunged forward and grabbed
Peskova, forcing the man's jaws open, thrusting the handgun into his
open mouth. He sensed, rather than saw, Auden move forward to stop
him, but it was too late—he had already pulled the trigger.

The explosion
seemed to go off in his own head. Peskova jerked back away from him,
his skull shattered, his brains spattered across the wall behind like
rotten fruit.

Chen stepped
back, looking down at the fallen man. Then Auden had hold of him and
had yanked him around roughly. "You stupid bastard!" he
shouted into his face. "Didn't you understand? We needed him
alive!"

Chen stared back
at him blankly, shivering, his jaw set. "He killed my friend."

Auden hesitated,
his face changing, then he let him go. "Yes," he said
quietly. "Yes." Then, angrily, "But we're even now,
Kao Chen. Understand me? You saved my life downstairs. But this . . .
well, we're even now. A life for a life."

Chen stared at
him, then looked away, disgusted. "Even," he said, and
laughed sourly. "Sure. It's all even now."

EBERT WAS
waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.

"Well?"
he demanded. "Where is he? I'd like to see him once more, before
we send him on. He was a good officer, whatever else he's done."

Chen looked
down, astonished. A good officer!

Beside him Auden
hesitated, then met his captains eyes. "I'm afraid there's no
sign of him, sir. We're taking the place apart now, but I don't think
he's hiding in there. One of the guards says he flew off earlier this
evening? but if so it wasn't in his own craft. That's still here, as
Kao Chen said."

Ebert turned on
Chen, furious. "Where the fuck is he, Chen? You were supposed to
be keeping an eye on him!"

It was unfair.
It also wasn't true, but Chen bowed his head anyway. "I'm
sorry—" he began, but was interrupted.

"Captain
Ebert! Captain Ebert!"

It was the
communications officer from Ebert's transporter.

"What is
it, Hoenig?"

The young man
bowed deeply, then handed him the report.

Ebert turned and
looked back toward the west. There, in the distance, the sky was
glowing faintly. "Gods," he said softly. "Then it's
true."

"What is
it, sir?" Auden asked, knowing at once that something was badly
wrong.

Ebert laughed
strangely, then shook his head. "It's the Lodz garrison. It's on
fire. What's more, Administrator Duchek's dead. Assassinated thirty
minutes back." Then he laughed again; a laugh of grudging
admiration. "It seems DeVore's outwitted us again."

FEI YEN stood
there in her rooms, naked behind the screen, her maids surrounding
her. Her father, Yin Tsu, stood on the other side of the heavy silk
screen, his high-pitched voice filled with an unusual animation. As
he talked, one of Fei Yen's maids rubbed scented oils into her skin,
while another dried and combed her long, dark hair. A third and
fourth brought clothes for her to decide upon, hurrying backward and
forward to try to please her whim.

He had called
upon her unexpectedly, while she was in her bath, excited by his
news, and had had to be physically dissuaded from going straight in
to her.

"But she is
my daughter!" he had complained when the maids had barred his
way.

"Yes, but I
am a woman now, Father, not a girl!" Fei Yen had called out
sweetly from within. "Please wait. I'll not be long."

He had begged
her forgiveness, then, impatient to impart his news, had launched
into his story anyhow. Li Shai Tung, it seemed, had been in contact
with him.

"I'm almost
certain it's to tell me there's an appointment at court for your
eldest brother, Sung. I petitioned the T'ang more than a year ago
now. But what post, I wonder? Something in the T'ang's household, do
you think? Or perhaps a position in the secretariat?" He laughed
nervously, then continued hurriedly.

"No. Not
that. The Tang would not bother with such trivial news. It must be a
post in the ministry. Something important. A junior minister's post,
at the very least. Yes. I'm almost certain of it. But tell me, Fei
Yen, what do you think?"

It was strange
how he always came to her when he had news. Never to Sung or Chan or
her younger brother Wei. Perhaps it was because she reminded him so
closely of her dead mother, to whom Yin Tsu had always confided when
she was alive.

"What if it
has nothing to do with Sung, Father? What if it's something else?"

"Ah, no,
foolish girl. Of course it will be Sung. I feel it in my bones!"
He laughed. "And then, perhaps, I can see to the question of
your marriage at long last. Tuan Wu has been asking after you. He
would make a good husband, Fei Yen. He comes from a good line. His
uncle is the third son of the late Tuan Chung-Ho and the Tuans are a
rich family."

Fei Yen looked
down, smiling to herself. Tuan Wu was a fool, a gambler, and a
womanizer, in no particular order. But she had no worries about Tuan
Wu. Let her father ramble on—she knew why Li Shai Tung was
coming to see them. Li Yuan had spoken to his father. Had done what
she had thought impossible.

"I know
what you're thinking, Fei Yen, but a woman should have a proper
husband. Your youth is spilling from you, like sand from a glass.
Soon there will be no more sand. And then?"

She laughed.
"Dearest Father, what a ridiculous image! No more sand!"
Again she laughed, and after a moment his laughter joined with hers.

"Whatever .
. ." he began again, "my mind is made up. We must talk
seriously about this."

"Of
course." Her agreement surprised him into momentary silence.

"Good. Then
I shall see you in my rooms in three hours. The T'ang has asked to
see us all. It might be an opportune time to discuss your
remarriage."

When he had gone
she pushed aside her maids, then hurried across the room and stood
there, studying herself in the full-length dragon mirror. Yes, she
thought; you are a T'ang's wife, Fei Yen. You always were a T'ang's
wife, from the day you were born. She laughed and threw her head
back, admiring her taut,

full breasts,
the sleekness of her thighs and stomach, the dark beauty of her eyes.
Yes, and you
shaft
have a proper husband. But not just any
fool or Minor Family reprobate. My man shall be a T'ang. My son a
T'ang.

She shivered,
then turned from the mirror, letting her maids lead her back to her
place behind the screens.

But make it
soon, she thought. Very soon.

KARR DRIFTED in
from the darkside, the solar sail fully extended, slowing his speed
as he approached. His craft was undetectable—just another piece
of space junk.

They would have
no warning.

Twenty
ti
out
he detached himself and floated in, a dark hunched shape, lost
against the backdrop of space. As planned he landed on the blind spot
of the huge ship, the curved layers of transparent ice beneath his
boots.

He stood there a
moment, enjoying the view. The moon vast and full above him, Chung
Kuo far to his right and below him, the sun between, magnificent even
through the visor of his suit. It surprised him how much he felt in
his element, standing there on the curved hull of the starship,
staring fearlessly into the furnace of creation, the void pressing in
upon him. He laughed soundlessly and then ducked down, his movements
slow at first as he climbed toward the air lock, then more fluent as
he caught the proper rhythm.

He slowed
himself with the double rail, then pushed into the semicircular
depression. Beside the hexagonal door-hatch was a numbered touch-pad.
He fingered the combination quickly, almost thoughtlessly, then
leaned back as the hatch irised, its six segments folding back upon
themselves.