Daylight on Iron Mountain (25 page)

Li Chao Ch’in let out a breath. The mere sight of them made his stomach turn. And the stench!

He turned away, before he said something, or let his disgust show in his face. Tsao Ch’un was testing them. What else could it be? Testing their loyalty, their ability to tolerate such treatment.

Even so…

He swept away, lifting his cloak high above the marble flags, barely seeing the servants who bowed low as he passed, his anger threatening for once to make him do something he would most certainly regret.

We are our Master’s hands.

Maybe so. Only one did not show such disregard, such carelessness, with one’s hands. Not if one wished to keep them.

That thought, coming upon him unbidden, made him slow his pace then stop.

It was not the first time Tsao Ch’un had let them down. Not the first time he had tested them. Increasingly, over the last five or six years, he had acted thus – letting his baser side dictate his behaviour towards them. Only this…

This took things to a whole new level of disrespect.

Returning to his fellow T’ang, Li Chao Ch’in looked about him, seeing in every eye how out of temper this had made them. Nothing was said. Nothing
would
be said. Yet there was a quiet understanding among them.

So Tsao Ch’un was. So he had ever been. Unpredictable. Extremely unpredictable. But never this extreme. Never this thoughtless, this lacking in sensitivity towards them. To keep the cream of the elite waiting for six hours…

‘Come,’ Li Chao Ch’in said, swallowing his pride, trying to make the best of what had become a very bad situation. ‘Let us go and greet our Master.’

As the craft set down, they kowtowed in its direction, even as the hatch hissed open and Tsao Ch’un stepped slowly out.

Slowly and unsteadily, for Tsao Ch’un was drunk. There was no mistaking it. He stood there, looking about him with the eyes of one startled awake. Then, leaning forward, he passed wind loudly, laughing as he did. As if he had made some terribly witty remark.

He smiled and gave a mocking bow. ‘
Ch’un tzu
…’

Tsao Ch’un sniggered, then scratched at his belly, as if unwatched at home, and not standing there before the Seven.

‘Go,’ he muttered. Then, when they did not move, he raised his voice, waving them away. ‘Go on, go! Go away!’

Again, it was not the first time he had been thus with them, yet this once they looked to each other angrily. Wang Hui So, the eldest of them, lowered his head and took a step towards Tsao Ch’un.

‘Master, we…’

‘Oh fuck off, Wang Hui So… stop all this drivelling servitude. A drink… I need a fucking drink!’

Li Chao Ch’in swallowed bitterly. This was worse than he’d imagined. He knew Tsao Ch’un when he was in this kind of mood. Incorrigible. Unbearable and boorish. And deadly.

He gestured to his fellow T’ang to back off, then stepped forward.

‘Come, my Lord,’ he said, offering his arm to the older man. ‘Let me find you a whisky. We have some vintage Laphroaig…’

It could not surely have got worse. Only it did.

For the next few hours, Tsao Ch’un behaved like the worst type of tavern bully, fondling the daughters of important men, and letting his bodyguards swagger about without a word to restrain their actions. And when the speeches were given to celebrate Li Peng’s coming-of-age, Tsao Ch’un managed to talk throughout, making foul and sneering remarks. For Li Chao Ch’in it was almost too much, and when Tsao Ch’un finally departed,
he was joined by the others in his study where, behind locked doors, they let their grievances spill out.

It was the first time that they had aired their opinions quite so openly. The depth of irritation, of annoyance and simple disgust, was a surprise to them all. It seemed that not a single one of them truly respected Tsao Ch’un. Not as they had before. He had been a great man once upon a time – a very great man indeed – but now?

‘We will keep our own counsel,’ Li Chao Ch’in said, winding things up, ‘and meet again a week hence. Let us see how our Master is over the coming days. Whether perhaps he apologizes, or sends gifts, or…’

‘You think he will?’ Tsu Chen asked scathingly.

‘I think he has much on his mind,’ Li Chao Ch’in said, more generous in his words than in his feelings at that moment. ‘Since his wives died…’

‘Does that excuse things?’ Wu Hsien said, brushing aside Li Chao Ch’in’s words. ‘That, today… talking throughout the ceremony, like some idle bully… it was a disgrace, cousin. An insult to your son and thus to you.’

‘And therefore to us too,’ Tsu Chen said, nodding his head in agreement.

‘Maybe so,’ Li Chao Ch’in said with a sigh. ‘Yet what are we to do? He is our Lord. Without his power, what are we?’

He looked about him as he said it, seeing how, for once, eyes looked away and heads were lowered. Tsao Ch’un’s actions that afternoon had embarrassed them. Worse, the incident had made them question the very source of their power.

It was Wu Hsien who had the final word. ‘Let us hope our Master comes to his senses, neh? If not…’

He shrugged. But his face was troubled. More troubled than it had been in many years.

Buck phoned just after six.

‘I’ve got the contract,’ he said. ‘At least, a draft agreement. You want to meet for a drink and something to eat? We can celebrate.’

It wasn’t what Reed had been expecting. He’d phoned his team only half an hour earlier, to tell them to stay on; he’d have details of the contract to them as soon as possible. He’d been expecting it to be delivered to his room and that he’d spend the night working his way through it, clause by clause,
until it was done. But Buck sounded as if he was expecting Reed to sign it there and then.

They had agreed to meet up at the Golden Phoenix. Reed didn’t know the place, but it was apparently in his stack, three decks down from where he was staying.

‘What time do you want to meet?’

‘Let’s say eight,’ Buck answered. ‘I’ll have some champagne on ice ready for us and a couple of fat cigars.’

Reed sat there for a while afterwards, wondering if he should let Ebert know. Then again, Wolfgang probably knew already. He was certain to have at least one spy in Reed’s team, and what was there to say until he knew the details?

But Buck’s tone gave him hope.

What they’d asked for was a small fortune. No more than it cost, but still a small fortune. Six billion
yuan
. That covered research costs and development over a ten-year period, with further payments if things worked out.

The truth, however, was that he’d be happy with half that. A quarter, even. If things worked out, they’d still turn a profit.

He showered again and put on his best
pau
, the silver silk with the bamboo pattern that Meg had bought him last Autumn Festival, then he set off for the restaurant. He got there half an hour early and sat there, nursing a Scotch, until Buck arrived.

It was a luxuriously decorated place, with beautiful, hand-painted screens and meandering paths between the tables. At first he had a sense of déjà vu, then realized what it reminded him of – the Ministry of Contracts’ waiting room.

Over the years, Reed had come to love the Han style of things. Had come to feel it almost his own. Some, he knew, never got used to it. They lived and died in exile, his father among them. For himself, however, he had long since stopped thinking it strange or an imposition. It was his culture now and fitted him just as comfortably as the long robe – the
pau
– he wore.

Buck was dead on time.

‘Peter…’

They shook hands, then Buck handed him the folder, snapping his fingers as he did to summon a waiter and order the champagne he’d promised earlier.

‘You don’t need to read it,’ Buck said. ‘Just send it to your legal people, though I doubt they’ll have much work to do.’

Reed frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean the contract’s fine. We’ve not changed a thing. If you can do what you say you’re going to do on budget then we’re happy with that.’

Reed’s mouth had fallen open. ‘You mean…’ He laughed, then gave a whoop.

Six billion yuan!

‘And Chen So I…?’

Just then the waiter reappeared with the champagne. Buck was silent a moment, watching the young Han open the bottle and pour.

When he was gone, Buck handed Reed one of the crystal glasses, then clinked his against Reed’s.

He grinned. ‘To our success! But to answer your question… Master Chen was impressed. He knew about the original project. In fact, as a younger man he’d worked on it… from our side of things, naturally.’ Buck smiled, enjoying Reed’s surprise, and nodded. ‘Oh yes. I’m not making that up. So, as you can imagine, your approach was extremely fortuitous. Had another man been minister…’

‘And our client…?’ He said it quietly, not wanting to use any names, or any description that might alert some listening ear, some watchful eye. As Chen So I had said, there was a need for extreme discretion when talking of this part of things.

Buck leaned across, lowering his voice. ‘Our client will not know anything. Not yet. Not until we’ve something to show him. But again, your timing is fortuitous. Such a scheme, right now… None of us grow any younger. Not yet, anyway. And he of whom we speak… well… men decline… even the best of them.’

Three hours later, feeling slightly drunk, Reed sat in the sedan Buck had ordered for him, smoking the tail end of a cigar and waiting for the lift that would take him back up to his hotel room.

It had been a good evening. A very good evening. He’d thought, maybe, some of Buck’s team would join them, but Buck had kept it personal.

‘The way I see it,’ Buck had said, ‘we need to keep things tight. Two small,
hand-picked teams, one working for GenSyn, one for us. No more than eight in all, ourselves included. Our superiors will have to know about the bigger brush strokes, certainly, but the fine detail… well, we can develop all of that in camera. Even the researchers shouldn’t know how it all fits together. That way there’s much less chance of something going wrong…’

And so it had gone, until, by the time they’d finished, they’d had it all sketched out down to the last little detail. Only the contract was left to be signed.

Six billion yuan…
Reed laughed, then lifted the folder to his lips and kissed it. It was a massive sum of money, and he couldn’t quite believe that he had pulled it off. But Minister Chen’s signature was on the draft, next to his chop. He had only to get Wolfgang to okay the deal.

He closed his eyes, imagining. His own cut would be huge. At least, he hoped it would. Big enough maybe to allow him to afford a First Level mansion. He laughed aloud, then shook his head.

‘Don’t count your chickens,’ he said quietly. Then he frowned, wondering where that particular phrase, a favourite of his father’s, originally came from.

Counting chickens… And then he thought of what it all meant, and he felt a little shiver of wonder pass through him.

They were going to clone Tsao Ch’un. To make copies of the great man. Young, vigorous copies they could grow in their vats.

And once they’d made them?

Reed smiled. That was up to Tsao Ch’un himself.

Tsao Ch’un belched, then rolled over slowly, squinting against the sunlight that poured in from the window to his right. That was the trouble with growing old. It took so much longer to recover from one’s debaucheries.

He laughed, then sat up.

‘Steward Ling!’

The man came running, bowing low as he ran, then prostrated himself at Tsao Ch’un’s feet. ‘Yes, Master…’

‘I want you to send a gift to Li Chao Ch’in. Something totally ostentatious and over the top.’

‘A
gift
, Master?’

Ling’s habit of repeating his Master when nervous was annoying at the best of times, but added to a hangover…

‘Yes, a fucking gift! And I want it sent
today
, not tomorrow!’

Ling’s head went down again, attempting to merge with the hardwood floor as he made his obeisance. ‘A new concubine, perhaps, Master?’

‘A new…’ Tsao Ch’un’s face lit up. ‘The very thing. That pretty one, perhaps… you know, the fourteen-year-old… the princess… send her.’

Ling’s head lifted an inch or two, then went down again. ‘Consider it done, Master.’

‘Good. Then send for my eldest son, Tsao Heng. It’s time he earned his allowance, neh? Time the lazy bastard learned to be a prince!’

Unable to sleep, Li Chao Ch’in had dressed and gone down to his study. It was there that Li Peng found him.

‘Father? Are you all right?’

He turned, looking at the boy. At least that much he could be proud of; that for all yesterday’s troubles, Li Peng had not complained. He’d been a rock. A pillar of untarnished virtue amidst it all.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, beckoning the young man over. ‘Mulling over everything that happened.’

‘And?’

Li Chao Ch’in shrugged. He wished he could say he made sense of it all, only he didn’t. All he knew was that he needed time and distance on this.

He hesitated, then, ‘I’m cancelling all my engagements for the next few days. I thought…’

Li Peng waited silently for his father to continue, and in time he did.

‘I think what strikes me most about yesterday’s events, is that it was not entirely unexpected.’

Li Peng looked shocked. ‘Father?’

‘Oh, I don’t mean it was any less disgraceful… just that it’s been coming for a long time now. Perhaps I ought not to even whisper it aloud… but I believe that what happened yesterday was significant. It wasn’t just that Tsao Ch’un was rude. He is often so. This once, however, he overstepped the mark.’

‘And that frightens you?’

Li Chao Ch’in met his son’s eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what frightens me. As I
stood there watching him, a thought came to me. Three words of great significance. Three words I’d never thought before – not in the context of Tsao Ch’un.’

‘And those words?’

‘
This cannot continue.
’

‘Ah…’

‘Worse than that. Those three words were like a key, opening a door that had not been opened. For as I watched him lurch drunkenly about among our guests, I thought to myself “Tsao Ch’un is losing his grip. He has become a liability. And his sons…”’