Son of Heaven (49 page)

Whatever he said, he knew, was to some degree irrelevant, for Tsao Ch’un was a man of extreme moods, governed often by the merest whim. It was what made him so unpredictable, so dangerous.
What had kept him in charge all this while.

Even so, Jiang was a poet beyond all else, and, just as he took care with his calligraphy, so he took equal care with the words he chose to set down.

It was possible – maybe even likely – that what he was writing here would be the last thing he wrote. That Tsao Ch’un would be so annoyed by his request that, in a fit of
pique, he would hand him to the First Dragon, to do with as he wished.

But there was no other course. Even if he killed Wang, and all those Wang had contaminated, the matter of Reed’s identity would come out sooner or later, and there would be an
investigation. The Ministry would insist. So why not face it now? Why not state his objection to it loud and clear to the one man who had the power of life or death over him? Why not say what a
waste it was, to give one such as Reed to those idle sadists in the cells of the Ministry building in Bremen?

Why break such a man when one could use him gainfully?

He wrote that down, ending with a small flourish of the brush.

There… All that remained was to place his seal upon the letter.

Jiang reached across and, taking two sheets of paper towel, lay them beneath the sheet. Then, having carefully inked the seal, he pressed it firmly at the bottom of the page.

The bright red ink of the seal seemed to glisten in the candlelight momentarily, the scent of the ink almost as strong as that of the burning candle.

There was a poem in that, too. Only tonight he’d had enough of poetry. Tonight he was just a general, begging his liege lord to forgive him and spare his life. And the life of a man whom,
until two days ago, he did not know.

How strange that was. Or not, now that he thought about it. For this had been brewing many months now. This disaffection.

Jiang Lei stood, taking a moment to yawn and stretch. Then, seeing that the ink had almost dried, he picked up the sheet and, looking to the entrance flap, summoned his servant.

‘Steward Ho…’

Ho appeared at once. ‘Master?’

‘Send for Ma Feng… Tell him I have a message I need delivered.’

‘Yes, Master.’

Ho bowed and was gone.

Jiang took one of his official folders and placed the letter inside. There was no guarantee that it would ever get to his old friend, let alone to its intended destination. Even now, agents of
The Thousand Eyes might be watching for such a missive, ready to intercept it, to assassinate Ma Feng then come for him. Who knew what the state of things was, and whether Wang Yu-Lai had had time
to tell them what he knew? Only, fragile as this was, it was the only way. All other doors were barred to him. If this failed, he was a dead man.

Incongruously, Jiang Lei smiled at the thought.

Jake woke.

It was dark, and for an instant he could not remember where he was. There was a strong smell of wood polish and oil, so he knew he was not back in the camp.

He sat up.

‘Hello?’

No answer.

Jake reached out, feeling blindly. The mattress he was on was resting on the floor. Nearby was a big tin of some kind. Paint or something. For some reason it felt like he was in a garage or an
outhouse of some kind, only he couldn’t remember how he’d got there.

What he did remember was the interrogation. That had been in the back bar of the Bankes Arms Hotel, only…

Only when he thought about it, he couldn’t remember how it had ended.

Had they slipped him something? Given him some kind of drug?

Jake got to his feet, feeling unsteady. They’d filmed it all, that much he recalled. Everything he’d said. Everything he’d admitted to. Though what they’d do with it
after all these years he couldn’t guess.

He felt his way across the room, almost stumbling over a box filled with what felt like old wallpaper samples.

A garage. It had to be.

His head was pounding now, like he’d drunk too much.

He tried again, louder this time. ‘Hello?’

There was silence for a moment, then, from outside, footsteps on the gravel. Jake turned towards the sound, then shielded his eyes as the big door swung up and back, spilling brilliant sunlight
into that dark space.

He stumbled out. Through squinted eyes he saw that the guard held a big semi-automatic. It was aimed at him.

‘You come now… See General Jiang…’

He hadn’t seen Jiang Lei since he’d come to him at the camp. As he followed the soldier, he wondered what Jiang wanted with him now.

Jake looked about him, as his eyes grew accustomed to the daylight, not recognizing where he was. Wherever it was, it wasn’t Purbeck. At least, not a part of it that he knew. So Jiang had
had him moved for some reason. Maybe to keep him out of someone else’s hands.

Jiang was waiting in his craft.

‘
Shih
Reed,’ he said, offering Jake a seat. ‘Are you all right? I’m afraid the drug we had to give you—’

‘It
was
a drug, then?’

‘Yes, but its effects will wear off soon.’ Jiang looked tired. He smiled apologetically. ‘I did not wish to tie you up, so drugging you was the only real
alternative.’

Jake looked down. ‘Any news?’

Jiang shook his head. ‘It is all in the hands of the gods. I have given it my best shot, as you say in the West, only…’

‘Only what?’

‘Only it’s hard to gauge sometimes… how much power you have, how much influence you exert. Me…? Well, I consider myself a very small piece of the puzzle. And yet I have
access to those at the very highest level. It is the world I was born into. A world of privilege. And, for once, I have used my connections in that world.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean, I have written to Tsao Ch’un himself, asking for a pardon.’

Jake stared at him, astonished. ‘A pardon…’

Jiang nodded. ‘Yes... I have thrown myself on his mercy.’

Jake laughed. ‘Jesus!’

Jiang too was smiling now. ‘It
is
funny, neh? I mean… it isn’t… and yet…’

‘And until we hear from him?’

Jiang gestured towards a spot just across the cabin from him. There, beside the seat, were two fishing rods and a basket full of food.

Jiang stood and went across, picking up one of the rods and studying it with what looked like an expert eye. ‘It is something I understand both our peoples are very fond of… You
like fishing, Jake?’

Jake nodded.

‘Then it is decided.’ Jiang raised his voice, speaking to the cockpit. ‘Pilot Wu… take us to that excellent stream we saw, three, no four days back. The one with the
pretty stone bridge.’

He looked back at Jake.

‘And Wang Yu-Lai?’ Jake asked. ‘What’s happening to him?’

‘Ah…’ Jiang said, his face shadowed momentarily. ‘Cadre Wang is with friends, let us say. Our friends, fortunately, not his.’

And Jiang laughed again, a warm and pleasant laugh that Jake decided he liked. Liked very much.

Wang Yu-Lai sat back, shocked, his cheek stinging from where the man had slapped him.

You’ll die for that, he thought, glaring at him. I’ll fucking have the skin stripped from your body, when I’m free again.

He knew they’d come for him. They always came. When he hadn’t reported in last night, they would have put an enquiry in – to find out why he’d not been in touch, for that
was their way – that was why they were so effective.

And for all Jiang Lei’s stalling and subterfuge, they would find out where he was, and then…

Wang shuddered with indignation. He’d had the very worst of nights, sleeping on a damp, uncomfortable mattress that they’d grudgingly given him, on the floor of a cold cell, the
stench of the drain nearby making him want to retch.

He would have his revenge, though. They might have their fun now, only he would have the last laugh, and oh how he’d enjoy that!

Wang had seen such ‘work’, in the special rooms in the cellars of the great fortress in Bremen. Had seen with his own eyes how a strong man could be reduced to a terrified child. How
pain could be used to unstitch a man.

And that, he promised himself, was what he would do to these.

With his Masters’ permission, of course. But then why would they not grant it? For he had, in his head, details of Jiang Lei’s misdemeanour. Of his attempt to hide the man called
Reed. That was his trump card. Was the kind of thing his Masters loved to hear. Not that they would expose Jiang Lei. Oh no. They would use it, rather, to control him. To make him
theirs
.

For that was how they operated. How they cemented their control over Tsao Ch’un’s great city.

For some time now it had grated on his nerves whenever Jiang had given him an order or contradicted him. The very falsity of their positions had irked him. But that would soon be ended. Just as
soon as he was released from this.

He had begun to smile again, just thinking of it, when the soldier slapped him again, hard, making his eyes water.

Yes… but this one first. How he’d make the fucker sing out…

Seeing them down below, through the cockpit window, Jiang Lei knew the game was up.

They had brought a regular little army with them: six transporters and a massive cruiser. Their black, unmarked craft sat in the field beside his own men’s tents. Some of them had remained
there, guarding the ships, but the rest, a hundred or more in total, including four very important-looking figures, were waiting just outside Jiang Lei’s tent.

‘It looks like we have visitors,’ Jiang said quietly.

‘D’you think they’ve come for me?’

‘Possibly… but it’s more likely that it’s because their man, Wang, is missing. They keep a sharp eye on their agents, especially one as prominent as Wang.’

Jiang took a long breath, then: ‘Pilot Wu… Set us down.’

‘Stay in the craft,’ Jiang said to Jake, pulling on his dark blue jacket. ‘If you need to come, I’ll send for you.’

Jake nodded. He had enjoyed their afternoon together. Had found him self seduced by the simple charm of the man, his warmth and culture. He had seen for himself the brutality of China. But in
Jiang Lei he saw another side to things. Saw in this one man the pure essence of the Confucian ethic.

Good luck, Jiang Lei
, he thought, watching the man as the craft set down and Jiang walked down the ramp to approach the seated officials.
And don’t take any shit from the
bastards
…

Jiang Lei bowed low, even as the four men rose from their seats.

‘
Ch’un tzu
… it is a great delight to have you here… to what do I owe this most pleasant and welcome visit?’

It was said plainly, without any obvious irony, yet they knew as well as he that they were as welcome as the plague.

The eldest – a minor Dragon of the Seventh Rank – returned his bow and answered him. He clearly felt he had no need to be polite, even to a general.

‘Where is he? Where is Wang Yu-Lai?’

Jiang lowered his head respectfully. ‘Cadre Wang is under arrest. He—’

The old man interrupted him. ‘You will bring him here. Now!’

Jiang kept his eyes averted. ‘Of course, my lord.’

He turned away, looking to his duty officer. ‘Captain Shan… bring Cadre Wang here, at once…’

‘Yes, General…’

Shan ran off.

Jiang turned, meeting the old man’s eyes. ‘As I said…’

But the old man was having none of it. ‘Wang Yu-Lai will answer to us, and no one else, General Jiang. Just how long has he been detained?’

‘Several hours…’

‘And you did not think to contact us?’

Jiang lowered his head again. They were not going to let this go, it seemed. What Wang had done would be ignored or smoothed over.

It was evil. Purest evil.

But Jiang’s priority now was to keep his family out of trouble, whatever happened to himself.

He met the man’s eyes again; saw that he was still looking for an answer to his question.

‘Oh… forgive me, my lord… it was just that I was busy…’

‘
Busy?
’ The old man stood. He had a long, sneering face, in which the deep-set eyes were as cold as a lizard’s. ‘So busy as to neglect your duty?’

It was a leading question, and Jiang Lei realized suddenly just what was happening. They were filming this. Trying to incriminate him.

‘I know my duty,’ he said coldly, vowing not to say another word.

Jiang thought suddenly of Reed, sat there back in the craft, waiting to see how things turned out. The old man had not mentioned him, so maybe he didn’t know about him yet. Maybe Wang
hadn’t had the chance.

Had he been another man, Jiang might have considered using Reed as a bargaining chip. But he was as he was and had instantly dismissed the notion. For Reed was the whole point of this. To keep
such as he inside the system. Good men. Sound, intelligent men. For if one did not carefully discriminate between who should be citizens and who excluded, then it might as well all be handed over
to Wang and his kind. For their cynical amusement.

Jiang Lei met the old man’s eyes once more, noting the contempt there.

Oh, this changed things. Definitely. But not his tactics. His only hope was still to hang on until word came from Tsao Ch’un.

And if it doesn’t?

The Dragon’s men stepped over to Jiang, surrounding him. They showed him enough respect not to manhandle him, yet they had drawn their guns against him, indicating that he should return to
his tent.

The Thousand Eyes were in charge here now. As he turned towards his tent, he saw them, beginning to go about their business, getting every last piece of information they could find and piecing
it all together.

He had misjudged them. He knew that now. To him, Wang had simply been a nuisance. An irritation. But to them…

This was how they worked. Stamping down on any challenge to their power. Protecting their own. Making sure their eyes were kept open, their vigilance maintained. It was almost admirable.

Only it bred such men as Wang. Sneaks and bullies and sadists. Half-men parading as heroes. Little shits with vile, inbred imaginations.