An Inch of Ashes (23 page)

She crouched and reached out, putting her fingers to the dark, soft-crumbling surface, then lifted one to her mouth, tasting the darkness. It was sour, unappetizing. Wiping her fingers against her knee, she stood and moved further in, until she stood at the very centre of the circle.

‘Kuan Yin! What happened here?’

She turned and looked back at Erkki. He stood at the circle’s edge, his eyes wide with wonder.

‘It was the lightning,’ she said, but saw at once that he didn’t understand.
Of course
, she thought;
you slept through it, didn’t you? In that you’re like my father – like all of them – you carry the City within you, wherever you are.

She turned back, looking down. This evening, after supper, her father was coming to take her back. She sighed. It would be nice to see him again, and yet the thought of returning to the City was suddenly anathema. She looked about her, desperate to see it all one last time, to hold it fast in memory, in case...

She shuddered, then finished the thought. In case she never came again.

The nightmares no longer haunted her, the three gaunt men no longer came to the edge of the lake, their mocking eyes staring across at her. Even so, the threat remained. She was the Marshal’s daughter, and while he remained important to the T’ang so her life would be in danger.

She understood it now: saw it vividly, as if her mind had been washed as clear as the sky. They had not been after her father. They had been after her. For her death would have left her father drained, emotionally incapacitated, a dead man filling the uniform of the Marshal.

She saw it clearly now. Saw how her death would have brought about her father’s fall. And if the keystone fell, how could the arch itself hold up?

She knew her father’s weaknesses; knew that he had four of the five qualities Sun Tzu had considered dangerous in the character of a general: his courage too often bordered on recklessness; he was impulsive and quick-tempered and would, if provoked, charge in without considering the difficulties; his sense of honour was delicate and left him open to false accusations; and, lastly, he was deeply compassionate. Against these she set his strengths, chief of which was the loyalty he engendered in those who served under him. As Sun Tzu had said in the tenth book of the
Art Of War
, ‘Because such a general regards his men as infants they will march with him into the deepest valleys. He treats them as his own beloved sons and they will die with him.’

She nodded to herself. Yes, and weaknesses sometimes were strengths and strengths weaknesses. Take Hans Ebert, for instance. A fine, brave soldier he might be, handsome too and well mannered, yet her father’s eyes saw a different man from the one she had seen that day in the Ebert Mansion. To her father he was the son he had never had and was thus born to be his daughter’s life companion. But that was to forget her own existence – to leave out her own feelings on the matter.

She turned, chilled by the thought, then looked across at the young guard. ‘Come, Erkki. Let’s get back. I ought to pack.’

She looked about her as she walked, seeing it all as if it had already passed. Yet she would never wholly lose it now. She had found herself here – had discovered in this harsh and forbidding landscape the reflection of her inner self, her
true
self, and once awakened to it she was sure she would never feel the same. The scent of pine and earth, the salt tang of the sea; these things were part of her now, inseparable, like the voices of the island. Before she had been but a shadow of her self, entranced by the dream that was the City, unaware of her inner emptiness. But now she was awake; herself – fully herself.

The Mess orderly set the glasses down on the table between the two men, then, with a smart bow, left the room.

‘
Kan pei
!’ said Tolonen, lifting his glass to his future son-in-law.

‘
Kan pei
!’ Ebert answered, raising his glass. Then, looking about him, he smiled. ‘This is nice, sir. Very nice.’

‘Yes...’ Tolonen laughed. ‘A Marshal’s privileges. But one day you’ll be Marshal, Hans, and this room will be yours.’

‘Maybe so,’ Ebert answered, setting his glass down. ‘But not for many years, I hope.’

Tolonen smiled. He liked young Ebert hugely, and it was reassuring to know that Jelka would be in such good hands when she was married. Just now, however, there was work to be done – other matters to preoccupy them.

‘I’ve come from the T’ang,’ he said, sitting back. ‘I had to deliver the interim report on the Executive killings.’ He paused and sniffed, his features re-forming themselves into a frown. ‘Li Shai Tung wasn’t pleased, Hans. He felt we ought to have got somewhere by now, and perhaps he’s right. But the very fact that we’ve drawn so many blanks convinces me that DeVore’s behind this somehow.’

‘Do you think so, sir?’ Ebert looked away, as if considering the matter, then looked back, meeting Tolonen’s eyes. ‘But surely we’d have found
something
to connect him. It would be rather too clever of him, don’t you think, not to have left some trace somewhere? So many people were involved, after all.’

‘Hmm...’ Tolonen sipped at his drink – a fruit cordial – then set his glass down again. ‘Maybe. But there’s another matter, Hans. Something I didn’t know about until the T’ang told me of it today. It seems that more was taken in the raid on Helmstadt than the garrison expenses. Jewellery for the main part, but also several special items. They were in the safe the
Ping Tiao
took. Three items of T’ang pottery. Items worth the gods know how much on the collectors’ market.’

Tolonen reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out three thick squares of black ice. They were ‘flats’, hologramic stills.

‘Here,’ he said, handing them across.

Ebert held them up, looking at them a moment, then placed one on the table beside his drink and pressed the indented strip that ran along one edge. At once a hologram formed in the air above the ‘flat’.

He studied each in turn, then handed them back to the Marshal. ‘They’re beautiful. And as you say, they’d fetch astronomical prices, even on the black market.’ He hesitated, looking down. ‘I realize it’s awkward but... might I ask what they were doing in the safe at Helmstadt?’

Tolonen tucked the flats away and picked up his glass again. ‘I have the T’ang’s permission to discuss this with you, Hans. But remember, this is mouth-to-ear stuff.’

Ebert nodded.

‘Good. Well, it seems Li Shai Tung was planning an experiment. The statuettes were to be sold to finance that experiment.’

‘An experiment?’

‘Yes. There have been talks – highly secretive talks, you understand – between the T’ang’s private staff and several of the Net’s biggest Triad bosses.’

Ebert sat back, surprised. ‘I see. But what for?’

Tolonen sniffed. ‘Li Shai Tung wants to try to reclaim parts of the Net. To bring them back into the fold. He’ll guarantee basic services and limited travel in the lower levels, as well as huge cash injections to bring facilities up to standard. In return the Triad bosses will guarantee to keep the peace, within the framework of existing law.’

Ebert looked down. ‘Forgive me for being candid, sir, but I’d say it was highly optimistic, wouldn’t you?’

Tolonen lowered his voice. ‘Just between us, Hans, I fully agree. But ours is not to question policy, ours is to carry that policy out. We are our master’s hands, neh?’

There was a moment’s silence between the men, then Tolonen continued. ‘Anyway, it seems that the loss of the three statues has thrown things into flux. The T’ang is reluctant to part with any more of his treasures until we learn what happened to these three. If the Triads
were
involved – if they
are
trying to have their cake and eat it – Li Shai Tung wants to know that. It may answer other questions, too. We’ve had our suspicions for some while that the
Ping Tiao
were working with another group in their raid on Helmstadt. If they were acting in conjunction with one or other of the larger Triad bosses, it would explain a lot. Maybe it would even give us a handle on these murders.’

‘I see. And you want me to investigate?’

‘That’s right. Some of the jewellery has already shown up on the black market. I want you to find out who’s been trading the stuff. Then I want you to trace it back and get some answers.’

Ebert was silent a moment, considering, then he looked up again, meeting the Marshal’s eyes. ‘Why not Karr?’

‘Major Karr has quite enough on his hands already.’ Tolonen leaned forward and covered Ebert’s hand with his own. ‘No, Hans, you look after this for me, neh? Get me some answers that’ll please the T’ang. It’ll do you no harm, I guarantee. The murders, they’re one thing. But this... Well, it could prove far more important in the long run.’

Ebert smiled. ‘Of course. When do you want me to report?’

‘The T’ang has given me three days.’

‘Then three days it is. Whatever it takes. I’ll find out who’s behind all this.’

‘Good.’ Tolonen beamed. ‘I knew I could count on you, Hans.’

It was thirty minutes later and he was in the corridor outside his apartment when the woman approached him, grabbing his arm and shrieking into his face.

‘You bastard! You
bought
her, didn’t you? To humiliate me!’

Ebert turned and shook her off. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Madam Chuang. Bought whom?’

‘You know fucking well
whom
!’ Her face was pale, her eyes dark with sleeplessness, while her clothes...

‘Gods, woman, look at you! You’re a mess! And such language! You forget yourself, Madam Chuang. A Minister’s wife!’

He gave her a look of disgust and made to turn away, but she grabbed at him again. He turned back angrily, taking her hand from his arm and squeezing it painfully. ‘If you don’t desist...’ he said quietly, but threateningly.

She tore her hand away, then leaned towards him, spitting full in his face.

He swore, rubbing at his face, then, glaring at her, turned away. But as he did so, she pulled a knife from among her clothes and struck out at him, catching him glancingly on the arm.

‘Shit!’

He was turning as she struck the second blow, lifting his wounded arm to try to fend her off. She grunted as she delivered the blow, her full weight behind it, her face distorted with a mad lust of hatred as she thrust at him. This time the knife caught him squarely on the back of the head, knocking him forward on to his hands and knees. But the knife had gone scattering away.

Madam Chuang looked in horror. Where the knife had caught him the hair had ripped away, revealing a shining metal plate. He half turned his head, looking up at her, stunned by the force of the blow, yet still alive. She shrieked and made to leap on him, but strong hands pulled her back, then threw her down roughly. A moment later she felt something hard press down brutally against her temple and knew it was a gun. She closed her eyes.

‘No! Leave her!’ The voice was Ebert’s. He got to his knees, trying to steady himself. ‘Leave her...’

Auden looked across at his Major, then, with a small shudder, pulled the gun back from the woman’s temple and returned it to the holster. ‘She would have killed you, Hans.’

Ebert looked up, smiling through his pain. ‘I know. She’s got spirit, that one! Real spirit. Wouldn’t you like to fuck her?’

Auden looked away.

Ebert laughed. ‘No. Maybe not. But perhaps we should frighten her off, neh? After all, I can’t always be watching my back, can I? There are times...’ He laughed again, then reached up and touched the back of his head tenderly.

‘What do you suggest?’ Auden asked, looking back at him.

‘Her breasts,’ Ebert said, wincing. ‘She was always proud of them. Cut her breasts.’

Auden turned, pushing the woman down, and tore her silks open roughly, exposing her breasts. Then he knelt over her, pinning down her arms.

She looked up at him, horrified, her voice a mere breath. ‘You can’t...’

He hit her savagely with the back of his hand, splitting her lip, then drew his knife from his belt. There was a moment’s hesitation, then, pinning her neck down with his left hand, he drew the knife across her breasts, once, twice, a third time, ignoring her screams of pain, the razor-sharp blade ripping open the skin.

He stood, sheathing his knife, looking down at the distraught woman, then turned back, seeing at once how Ebert had been watching; how his eyes were wide with excitement; how his chest rose and fell.

‘Thanks,’ Ebert said quietly. ‘You’ll see to her?’

Auden nodded, then bent down, recovering the package he had dropped in coming to Ebert’s aid. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to Ebert. ‘It came this morning.’

Ebert glanced at it, then looked across at the woman again. ‘Who would have believed it, eh? Who’d have thought the old girl had it in her?’ He laughed, then got unsteadily to his feet, swaying, closing his eyes momentarily. Auden went to him and put his arm about him, supporting him.

‘Are you sure you’re all right? Should I get a medic?’

Ebert shook his head, slowly, smiling through the pain he clearly felt. ‘No. I’ll rest a while. It’ll be all right.’

Auden turned, looking across at the Minister’s wife. She had turned on to her side now, huddled into herself, whimpering, her bloodied silks pulled about her torn and ruined breasts. ‘I’ll see to her. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll say she was attacked in the corridors by a gang. Fest will back me up.’

Ebert swallowed, then put his hand on Auden’s arm. ‘Good. Then get moving. I’ll go inside and lie down for a while. There’s help there if I need it.’

He watched Auden go over to the woman and crouch down, speaking into his wrist-set, summoning assistance, then turned away. It would be all right. Auden would sort things out. He touched his arm. It was only a superficial wound, but the blow to his head... Well, perhaps Auden was right. Perhaps he should have the medics in. She had caught him a cracking blow, after all. He could easily be concussed.

He turned to face the door. ‘Fancy that...’ he said softly, placing his hand against the lock and lifting his face to look directly into the overhead camera. At once the door hissed open. ‘She could have killed me,’ he said, going inside. ‘The fucking woman could have killed me!’