Chen turned, then stood. “Forgive me, this is Hannah. Karr you’ve met. This is his wife, Marie, and their baby, May. And this is my wife, my dear Wang Ti.”
Hannah smiled and came forward. “She’s beautiful,” she said, homing in on the baby, “and so very like her mother.”
“Do you think so?” Karr asked.
“Daddy!” Ch’iang Hsin exclaimed loudly, tugging at Chen’s trouser leg.
“You didn’t introduce me!”
“Oh, yes,” Chen said, drawing her around in front of him. “And this is my little darling, Ch’iang Hsin.”
Hannah turned, offering a hand. “I’m Hannah, and I’m very pleased to meet you, Ch’iang Hsin.”
Ch’iang Hsin beamed, then gave an awkward bow of welcome. “Do you work with Daddy?”
“Do I. . . ?” She laughed, then stood. “Kao Chen ... do I work with you?” “You do indeed,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “Hannah, I’d have you know, is a writer. A very good writer, though she’s had very little published yet.”
Wang Ti looked up, intrigued. “Really? What do you write?” Hannah looked to Chen, then to Karr. “I—I don’t know, really. Reports, I guess you’d call them.”
“Essays,” Chen said authoritatively, then looked meaningfully at his wife.
“But come, I’ll make some ch’a. You must be dry as a bone.”
Wang Ti stared blankly at him a moment, then looked down, understanding. Leaning forward, she sniffed at the bundle in her arms, then looked across at Marie.
“I may be wrong, but I think May might need changing. I’ll take her through if you want to come.”
Marie glanced at Karr, who nodded.
“Okay,” she said, a wry smile on her lips. “I know when we’re not wanted.” “Business to discuss,” Karr said, laughing gently and slapping her butt as she squeezed past him. “We’ll send in some ch’a if you want.” “Oh, don’t you go bothering yourselves,” Wang Ti said, threading her way between them. “Marie and I will be indulging in something a little bit stronger than ch’a, won’t we, Marie?”
“We most certainly will!”
As the door closed, Hannah turned to Chen. “She’s not how I expected her.
When you said—“
“She’s improved a lot,” Chen said, cutting in. He turned, smiling, looking at the space his wife had just vacated. “For a long time it was like she was dead. I gave up hope. But now . . .” He laughed. “Well, the baby helps a lot. She loves it now that Marie comes around. It was a brilliant idea, Gregor. I was afraid. I thought . . . well, I thought it would only make her more bitter, but look at her. You’d think May was her own.” “I’m pleased for them both,” Karr said, leaning toward them across the table. “Marie hated it where she was. She had nothing in common with those service wives. But here . . . well, it’s like she’s a different person. They’re good for each other. Better than a dozen surgeons.”
Chen grinned, nodded.
“So?” Karr said, as Chen busied himself preparing the ch’a. “How did it go?”
“It went well,” Chen answered. “Those people you knew . . . they were interested. Very interested. It seems like we did business.” “That’s great. And what about the material itself?” Karr looked to Hannah, smiling. “Any feedback on that?”
Hannah came across and sat facing him. “There were already rumors—vague things about an accident at Nantes, but nothing certain. The Ting Wei did a good job, but not quite good enough. There are two eyewitnesses, it seems, who escaped the security trawl. But there was no proof, and you know how these things are. The more time that passes, the vaguer things become. However, the very fact that there was a rumor was enough to make people begin to ask questions.”
“So what did you say when they asked who’d provided the documentary evidence?”
“I said it was stolen from a senior official’s Mansion. Which was true in a way. They liked that. Liked the sense that the leak was . . . well, accidental.”
Karr sat back, nodding his satisfaction. “It sounds good. But we’ll see, neh? If they do their job, your pamphlet will be all over the Lowers by tomorrow evening. If they don’t. . .”
“. . . we try again,” said Chen, bringing ch’a bowls and a plate of soft pastries across. “Until we find someone who can get the things out in the quantities we need.”
Karr looked up, meeting his eyes. “Does it still worry you, Chen?” Chen smiled. “Strangely, no. I feel. . . freer somehow than I’ve felt for years. Happy almost.” He turned away, busying himself with the ch’a. “In fact, I’ve decided to resign my commission. We’re going to sell up and get out.”
“Out?”
Chen returned, placing the steaming ch’a pot in the middle of the table.
“To the Plantations. I spoke to Wang Ti about it last night. She agreed.
In fact, she loves the idea.”
“And the children?”
“Ch’iang Hsin and Wu both seem to share her enthusiasm. Jyan . . . well, he’s at a difficult age. All of his friends are here. But he’ll come around. I plan to take him there. To let him see it for himself. I’m sure he’ll Chen turned, looking. Jyan was standing in the doorway. “Dad?”
“Not now, Jyan. We’re busy.”
“But, Dad, there’s something on I think you ought to see. You and Gregor.
A news flash.”
They followed Jyan into the clutter of his room, then stood there watching the images on the screen over Jyan’s bed, while the anchorman gave the commentary.
“The first outbreaks began, it seems, in the ports of Marseilles and Naples, where workers on the big intercontinental freighters were among the first to contract the disease.”
“Aiya ...” Chen said softly, as a picture of a young child—no more than three or four years of age—was flashed onto the screen, his corpse-pale flesh covered in strangely shaped weals and sores. “Poor little bugger!” “Something big’s happening,” Karr said quietly, talking over the commentary. “Look at it. Have you ever seen them screen anything like this before?”
Chen shook his head. “No. The Ting Wei wouldn’t let them. It’ll cause panic throughout the levels.”
“Then why?”
The answer came a moment later, over images of the great port facilities lying idle, visored guards blocking the entrances. “In these unprecedented and exceptional circumstances Chancellor Nan has taken the decision to suspend trade with City Africa and isolate the port facilities until the situation has been brought under control. The authorities have asked that anyone suffering any of the preliminary symptoms of the disease should report at once to their deck surgeon. It is stressed that early treatment can prevent loss of life.” “So that’s it,” Karr said, releasing a long breath. “They’ve closed the ports. Wang Sau-leyan won’t like that. He won’t like that one tiny little bit.”
“No. But if I were Nan Ho I’d be far more worried about the sickness than the odious Wang. How long is it since something like this happened? A hundred, a hundred and twenty years? And what protections have we got? If this spreads any farther, it’ll sweep through the levels like ...” Chen shook his head, then, remembering suddenly that Jyan was there, turned to his son. Jyan was looking up at him, a naked fear in his face. “Here,” he said, opening his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Will it be bad?” Jyan asked, a faint tremor in his voice. “I don’t know,” he answered, stroking Jyan’s brow. “But we’ll be okay. I promise you.”
“There’s a curfew,” Karr said, pointing to the screen. “That makes sense. I imagine they’ll close down the transits and most of the interstack transportation. It’ll be chaos for a day or two.” Hannah, silent until then, spoke up. “It reminds me of something I read in one of my father’s books. One of the proscribed texts he kept on his shelves.” She paused, recollecting the words, then spoke again. “Then the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomor’rah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven; and he overthrew those cities, and all the valley, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and what grew on the ground.” She stopped, then, with an embarrassed glance at Chen, looked down. “Brimstone and fire, eh?” Karr said, his face grim. “Maybe that’s not so far from the truth. Well... we must look to our own these next few weeks and hope the gods are kind.”