Chen nodded. “Maybe I will.” Then, realizing that the Captain had the operation file under his arm, he grew serious again. “I hear you lost two men.”
“That’s right. One of them was married. Two young boys.” “I’m sorry.” Chen pocketed the resonance box, then put his hand out, taking the file from the Captain. “And between us, Captain Johnson, I’m as unhappy as you at being here. I don’t want to tread on your toes. But General Rheinhardt is under a lot of pressure to get results on this. You understand?”
The Captain smiled. “I understand, Major Kao. We’ll cooperate all we can. But this one baffles me. We tore the whole deck apart to find the File, but nothing. As for anyone smuggling it out, well, we strip-searched everyone who came or went. The list of names is there. A few minor criminals, but otherwise nothing. A complete blank.” Chen studied the list a moment, flicking forward and backward, then looked back at Johnson. “You’re sure this is complete? Are you certain there wasn’t anyone else?”
Johnson hesitated. “Well. . .”
Chen sighed, exasperated. “Who was it? A senior official? Someone from another Security force? Who?”
“A girl. Well, a young woman, I guess you’d call her.” Chen stared at the Captain, astonished. “You mean, you let someone walk out of a top security area without searching them?”
“There were exceptional circumstances, sir. Besides, she wasn’t a
suspect.”
“Kuan Yin! In this kind of operation everyone is a suspect!” “You don’t understand, sir. She was the daughter of a Junior Minister. And not just any Junior Minister. She was Shang Mu’s daughter.” “Shang Mu? You mean that Shang Mu? The I Lung’s right-hand man?”
Johnson nodded.
“Ah. . .”
“You understand, then?”
“You’re absolutely certain it was she?”
“Absolutely, sir. I had two of my men escort her home.”
“I see.” Chen considered a moment. The Captain was probably right. Shang
Mu’s daughter was the last person likely to be involved in this. Nor would
he, in Johnson’s place, have risked offending the Junior Minister by
strip-searching his daughter—not unless it was really necessary. Even so
...
“Who saw her beside yourself?”
“My lieutenant. . . Oh, and a young guard. He was the one who brought her to the barrier.”
“The guard ... is he on duty now?”
“No, but I can have him brought here if you wish. He’s stationed on this deck. It’ll only take a moment or two.”
“Okay. Do that. I’ll see him here. Meanwhile . . .” Chen half turned, indicating the huge piles of bits and pieces that remained to be sifted through.
“Good luck,” Johnson said, grinning. “I hope you find something.” As the Captain left, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. “Your ch’a, Major Kao.”
Chen smiled. “Wonderful!” He glanced at the timer inset into his wrist. It was ten minutes after four. “Just put it down there. And thanks, Lieutenant. I’m grateful.”
“Sir!”
Alone again, Chen lifted the lid of the chung and sniffed. It smelled good. Just what he needed.
He crouched, looking back at the nearest pile, studying the exposed strata. For a moment or two he saw only the unwanted detritus of a typical deck, then, with mounting interest, he began to pick things from the pile. When the young guard came, Chen was sitting on one of the lower piles, the chung cradled in his lap. In a small polyethylene bag beside him was a jumble of black lacquered computer parts. The guard stopped just inside the door and came to attention, his head bowed. “Private Lauer, sir. I’m told you wanted to speak to me.” “Yes, Lauer. Relax, lad. I only want to ask you a few questions, that’s all. About the young woman you helped yesterday. I understand you kept her out of trouble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chen took a long sip from the chung, then looked back at the guard. He was still a boy. Seventeen, eighteen at most. Only three years older than his son, Jyan.
“Relax, Lauer, please . . .” He smiled, trying to reassure the young man. “All I want to know is what you did, what you saw. You’re not in any trouble. Oh, and I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that because I’m special services I want to trap you. That’s not so. You did nothing wrong. All you did was help a young woman who was out of her level. You saw the danger to her and you acted, neh?” “Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s commendable.” Chen held out the chung, offering it to the young man, encouraging him to take it, forcing him to come closer. “So when did you first notice her?”
The guard lowered the chung and wiped his mouth, then handed the chung back to Chen. “She was standing in the corridor, sir, not far from where I was, at the guard post. She was watching the hua pen, the storyteller, and sketching what she saw—“ “Sketching?”
“Yes, sir. You know, with one of those computerized sketchboards. I thought it was odd. I could see she was . . . well, not from this level. Her clothes, the cut of her hair. I could see it at once.”
“See what?”
The young man smiled, looking past Chen momentarily, remembering. “First Level . . . that’s what I told myself. She’s First Level.” Chen stared at the young man, surprised by the awe in his voice, the longing in his eyes, then set the chung down. “What did you see?”
“Her . . . Well, she’s . . .” The young man shook his head, suddenly flustered, a color appearing at his neck. “I don’t know, sir. It’s just what I felt, looking at her. So intense, she was. So—so there.” Chen looked down. He had it all. All he needed. All, that was, except a reason.
“Okay,” he said gently. “That’s all I need. You can go now, Lauer. And thanks. . . .”
“Sir!” The young guard came to attention, then backed away. Chen took a long breath, then, lifting the polyethylene bag, he stood, stretching his limbs. It was too early yet to go and see the girl. He’d leave it a few hours, get himself some breakfast, then pay a visit. And then? Chen touched his tongue to his top teeth and shook his head. And then he’d do his job. After all, General Rheinhardt wanted results.
as the great doors swung open, Shang Mu turned, watching as his Master, the First Dragon, backed out of the audience chamber, his head bowed low. Like his Master, Shang Mu had been summoned from his bed and brought here through the darkness to Tsu Ma’s palace on the shore of the Caspian Sea. As the doors thudded shut, the First Dragon turned, his face like a wall, expressionless. As he passed, Shang Mu fell in behind him silently, knowing, from the tension in the great man’s back, that the audience had not gone well.
Tsu Ma had been clever. Very clever indeed. He had had them brought separately, giving them no time to consult or prepare for the meeting. Moreover, in not waiting on the First Dragon to make the first move, he had seized the initiative and thus taken the upper hand. As in a game of wei chi, they were forced now to defend.
The First Dragon’s cruiser was waiting on the pad outside the palace. An honor guard lined the broad path leading from the building to the craft, flaming torches held aloft, lighting the predawn darkness. Shang Mu followed his master between the torches and up into the battle cruiser. As the doors hissed shut and the engines fired, he stood to one side, watching his Master settle in his great chair, servants fussing about him. “He knows,” the First Dragon said, looking across at his Junior Minister, his voice competing with the engines’ roar. The servants—deaf mutes, raised in the First Dragon’s own household—continued to tend to the great man, oblivious of what was being said.