The White Mountain (24 page)

Hsiang's head fell. He had clearly not expected it to be so hard. For a time he seemed to struggle against some inner demon, then he straightened, pushing out his chest exaggeratedly, his eyes meeting Wang's.

‘We are tied, you and I. Tied by our hatred of this man. There must be some way of using that hatred, surely?'

Wang's eyes narrowed slightly. ‘It is true. I dislike my cousin. Hatred may be too strong a word, but…' He leaned forward, spitting out the seeds. ‘Well, let me put it bluntly, Hsiang Shao-erh. Li Yuan is a T'ang. My equal and your master. So what are you suggesting?'

It could not have been put more explicitly, and Wang could see how Hsiang's eyes widened fearfully before he looked down again. Wang reached out and took another fruit, waiting, enjoying the moment. Would Hsiang dare take the next step, or would he draw back?

‘I…' Hsiang shuddered. His hands pulled at the silk over his thighs. Then, after another titanic inner struggle, he looked up again. ‘There is a substance I have heard of. An illegal substance that was developed, I am told, in the laboratories of SimFic.'

‘A substance?'

Hsiang moved his head uncomfortably. ‘Yes,
Chieh Hsia
. Something that destroys the female's ability to produce eggs.'

‘A …' Wang sat back, staring up into the blueness. ‘And this substance? You have it, I take it?'

Hsiang shook his head. ‘No,
Chieh Hsia
. It was taken in a raid on one of Shih Berdichev's establishments. Your late father's Security forces undertook that raid, I believe, yet the substance…'

‘Was destroyed, I should think,' Wang said brusquely. ‘But tell me, cousin. Had it existed – had there been some of this substance remaining,
held, perhaps, illegally, in defiance of the Edict – what would you have done with it?'

Again it was too direct. Again Hsiang shied back like a frightened horse. Yet the desire for revenge – that burning need in him to reverse the humiliation he had suffered at Li Yuan's hands – drove him on. He spoke quickly, nervously, forcing the words out before his courage failed.

‘I plan to hold a party,
Chieh Hsia
. In celebration of Li Yuan's official birthday. He will accept, naturally, and his wives will accompany him. It is there that I will administer this substance to them.'

Wang Sau-leyan had been sitting forward, listening attentively. Now he sat back, laughing. ‘You mean, they will sit there calmly while you spoon it down their throats?'

Hsiang shook his head irritably. ‘No,
Chieh Hsia
. I… The substance will be in their drinks.'

‘Oh, of course!' Wang let out another burst of laughter. ‘And the
She tou
, the official taster – what will he have been doing all this while?'

Hsiang looked down, biting back his obvious anger at Wang Sau-leyan's mockery. ‘I am told this substance is tasteless,
Chieh Hsia
. That even a
She tou
would be unable to detect any trace of its presence.'

Wang sat forward, suddenly more conciliatory. He looked across at Sun Li Hua, then back at Hsiang Shao-erh, smiling.

‘Let me make this absolutely clear, Hsiang Shao-erh. What you are suggesting is that I provide you with a special substance – an illegal substance – that you will then administer secretly to Li Yuan's three wives. A substance that will prevent them from ovulating.'

Hsiang swallowed deeply, then nodded. ‘That is it,
Chieh Hsia
.'

‘And if our young friend marries again?'

Hsiang laughed uneasily. ‘
Chieh Hsia
?'

‘If Li Yuan casts off these three and marries again?'

Hsiang's mouth worked uselessly.

Wang shook his head. ‘No matter. In the short term your scheme will deny Li Yuan sons. Will kill them even before they are born, neh?'

Hsiang shuddered. ‘As he killed mine,
Chieh Hsia
.'

It was not strictly true. Hsiang's sons had killed themselves. Or, at least, had fallen ill from the
yang mei ping
– the willow-plum sickness – that had spread among the Minor Families after the entertainment at Hsiang's estate.
If Li Yuan had helped Hsiang's sons end their worthless lives a few days earlier than otherwise, that was more to his credit than to theirs. They had been fated anyway. But Wang was unconcerned with such sophistry. All that concerned him was how he might use this. Hsiang's sense of humiliation made him useful, almost the perfect means of getting back at Li Yuan.
Almost
.

Wang Sau-leyan leaned forward, thrusting out his right hand, the matt black surface of the
Ywe Lung
, the ring of power, resting like a saddle on the index finger.

Hsiang stared at it a moment, not understanding, then, meeting Wang's eyes, he quickly knelt, drawing the ring to his lips and kissing it once, twice, a third time before he released it, his head remaining bowed before the T'ang of Africa.

Karr had washed and put on a fresh uniform ready for the meeting. He turned from the sink and looked across. Marie was in the other room, standing before the full-length mirror. In the lamp's light her skin was a pale ivory, the long line of her backbone prominent as she leaned forward.

For a moment he was perfectly still, watching her, a thrill of delight rippling through him. She was so strong, so perfectly formed. He felt his flesh stir and gave a soft laugh, going across.

He closed his eyes, embracing her from behind, the warm softness of her skin, that sense of silk over steel, intoxicating. She turned, folding into his arms, her face coming up to meet his in a kiss.

‘You must go,' she said, smiling.

‘Must I?'

‘Yes, you must. Besides, haven't you had enough?'

He shook his head, his smile broadening. ‘No. But you're right. I must go. There's much to be done.'

Her smile changed to a look of concern. ‘You should have slept…'

He laughed. ‘And you'd have let me?'

She shook her head.

‘No. And neither could I with you beside me.'

‘The time will come…'

He laughed. ‘I can't imagine it, but…

She lifted her hand. ‘Here.'

He took the two pills from her and swallowed them down. They would keep him awake, alert, for another twelve to fifteen hours – long enough to get things done. Then he could sleep. If she'd let him.

‘Is it important?' Marie asked, a note of curiosity creeping into her voice.

‘It is the T'ang's business,' he answered cryptically, stone-faced, then laughed. ‘You must learn patience, my love. There are things I have to do… well, they're not always pleasant…'

She put a finger to his lips. ‘I understand. Now go. I'll be here, waiting, when you get back.'

He stood back from her, at arm's length, his hands kneading her shoulders gently, then bent forward, kissing her breasts. ‘Until then…'

She shivered, then came close again, going up on tiptoe to kiss the bridge of his nose. ‘Take care, my love, whatever it is.'

‘Okay, Major Karr. You can take off the blindfold.'

Karr looked about him, genuinely surprised. ‘Where are we? First Level?'

The servant lowered his head respectfully, but there was a smile on his face. He was too wary, too experienced in his master's service, to be caught by such a blatant attempt to elicit information, but he was also aware that, blindfolded as he was, Karr knew he had been taken down the levels, not up.

‘If you would follow me…'

Karr smiled and followed, taken aback by the elegance of the rooms through which they passed. He had not thought such luxury existed here just above the Net, but it was not really that surprising. He had read the report on the United Bamboo; had seen the financial estimates for the last five years. With an annual turnover of one hundred and fifteen billion
yuan
, Fat Wong, the big boss of United Bamboo, could afford luxuries like these. Even so, it was unexpected to find them in such a setting. Like finding an oasis on Mars.

Karr looked down, noting that the floor mosaic mirrored that of the ceiling overhead. Nine long, thick canes of bamboo were gripped by a single, giant hand, the ivory yellow of the canes and the hand contrasted against the brilliant emerald green of a paddy field. Karr smiled, thinking of how often he had seen that symbol, on the headbands of dead runners trapped in Security ambushes, or on the packaging of illicitly smuggled goods that had
made their way up from the Net. And now he was to meet the head behind that grasping hand – the 489 himself.

The servant had stopped. Now he turned, facing Karr again, and bowed deeply. ‘Forgive me, Major Karr, but I must leave you here. If you would go through, my master will be with you in a while.'

Karr went through, past a comfortably furnished anteroom and out into a long, spacious gallery with a moon door at each end. Here, on the facing walls, were displayed the banners of the thirty or more minor Triads that the United Bamboo had conquered or assimilated over the centuries. Karr made his way down the row, stopping at the last of the banners.

He reached up, touching the ancient silk gently, delicately, conscious that it was much older than the others that hung there. The peacock blue of the banner had faded, but the golden triangle at its centre still held something of its former glory. In the blue beside each face of the triangle was embroidered a Han word, the original red of the pictograms transformed by time into a dull mauvish-brown, like ancient bloodstains. He gave a little shudder, then offered the words softly to the air.

‘Tian. Nan Jen. Tu.'

Heaven. Man. Earth
. He turned, then stopped, noticing the figure that stood inside the moon door at the far end of the gallery.

‘You walk quietly, Wong Yi-sun. Like a bird.'

Fat Wong smiled, then came forward, his cloth-clad feet making no sound on the tiles.

‘I am delighted to meet you, Major Karr. Your reputation precedes you.'

Contrary to public expectations, Fat Wong was not fat at all. Quite the contrary – he was a compact, wiry-looking man who, in his peach silks and bound white feet, looked more like a successful First Level businessman than the reputedly savage leader of one of the seven biggest Triads in City Europe. Karr had read the file and seen holos of Wong; even so, he found himself unprepared for the softspokenness of the man, for the air of sophistication that seemed to emanate from him.

‘I am honoured that you would see me, Wong Yi-sun. A thousand blessings upon your sons.'

‘And yours, Major. I understand you are recently married. A fine, strong woman, I am told.' Wong's smile broadened. ‘I am happy for you. Give her my best regards. A man needs a strong wife in these unhappy times, neh?'

Karr bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Wong Yi-sun. I will pass on your kind words.'

Fat Wong smiled and let his eyes move from Karr's figure for the first time since he had entered the room. Released from his gaze, Karr had a better opportunity of studying the man. Seen side on, one began to notice those qualities that had made Wong Yi-sun a 489. There was a certain sharpness to his features, a restrained tautness, that equated with reports on him. When he was younger, it was said, he had gone into a rival's bedroom and cut off the man's head with a hatchet, even as he was making love to his wife, then had taken the woman for his own. Later, he had taken the name Fat Wong, because, he claimed, the world was a place where worm ate worm, and only the biggest, fattest worm came out on top. From then on he had worked day and night to be that worm – to be the fattest of them all. And now he was. Or almost.

‘I noticed you were admiring the ancient silk, Major. Do you know the history of the banner?'

Karr smiled. ‘I have heard something of your history, Wong Yi-sun, but of that banner I am quite ignorant. It looks very old.'

Wong moved past Karr, standing beneath the banner, then turned, smiling up at the big man.

‘It is indeed. More than four hundred years old, in fact. You say you know our history, Major Karr, but did you realize just how old we are? Before the City was, we were. When the City no longer is, we shall remain.'

Wong Yi-sun moved down the row of banners, then turned, facing Karr again.

‘People call us criminals. They say we seek to destroy the social fabric of Chung Kuo, but they lie. Our roots are deep. We were founded in the late seventeenth century by the five monks of the Fu Chou monastery – honourable,
loyal
men, whose only desire was to overthrow the Ch'ing, the Manchu – and replace them with the rightful rulers of Chung Kuo, the Ming. Such was our purpose for a hundred years. Before the Manchu drove us underground, persecuting our members and cutting off our resources. After that we were left with no choice. We had to improvise.'

Karr smiled inwardly.
Improvise
. It was a wonderfully subtle euphemism for the crudest of businesses: the business of murder and prostitution, gambling, drugs and protection.

‘So you see, Major Karr, we have always been loyal to the traditions of Chung Kuo. Which is why we are always pleased to do business with the Seven. We are not their enemies. All we wish is to maintain order in those lawless regions that have escaped the long grasp of the T'ang.'

‘And the banner?'

Fat Wong smiled. ‘The banner comes from Fu Chou monastery. It is the great ancestor of all such banners. And whoever leads the Great Council holds the banner.'

Wong turned slightly, his stance suggesting that Karr should join him. Karr hesitated, then went across, his mind racing. Fat Wong
wanted
something. Something big. But to ask for help directly was impossible for Wong: for to admit to any weakness – to admit that there was something,
anything
beyond his grasp – would involve him in an enormous loss of face. And face was everything down here. As Above.

Karr shivered, filled with a sudden certainty. Yes. Something was happening down here. In that veiled allusion to the Triad Council and the banner, Fat Wong had revealed more than he'd intended. Karr looked at him in profile and knew he was right. Fat Wong was under pressure. But from whom? From inside his own Triad, or from without – from another of the 489s?