“A prisoner?”
“Yes, sir. He won’t say much, but I did get something out of him. Says he works for a man called Kemp. First Level, he says. When we pulled him out we found some fairly grisly stuff on him.” “Like what?”
Wells swallowed. “Like a sealed bag full of severed penises.”
“What? Did I hear that right, Captain Wells?”
“I’m afraid you did, sir. He says he gets paid for them.” “Shit! What do you think they are? A delicacy up there? You think this guy Kemp is in the restaurant business?”
“I don’t know, sir. The system’s down here, so I couldn’t make any checks. ...” Again there was the sound of one of the big units shattering. The shadows deepened. “Oh, and sir ... you’d better hurry with that backup squad. If they don’t come soon, we’ll be in total darkness down here!” “Right! They’re on their way. And, Wells . . .”
“Sir!”
“Hang on to that bastard, neh? I want to know what this Kemp guy’s up to.”
the delivery came just after four. Gloria had gone and Michael was resting after his afternoon exercises. Confident of being alone, Mary took the tiny package into his study and sat at his desk, running the tape through, seeing what she’d got for her money.
She was still sitting there an hour later when she realized someone had come into the room. Turning, she found Michael just behind her. “What is that?” he asked, nodding past her at the frozen image.
“You want to know?”
“No secrets. . . .”
She leaned forward, unfreezing the image, then moved it back ten minutes and let it run.
He made a tiny sound of surprise. “Porn? You’re watching porn?” Then, as the man’s face came around, he understood. “Shit! Where did you get that?”
She moved it back farther, stopping it at the part where Kemp had been talking to Jackson, then paused it.
“I did a bit of thinking,” she said, turning around and looking up at him again. “And I asked myself, who’s in a position to do us a great deal of harm? And then I made a list. And after I’d made a list, I made a call, and hired myself a team of investigators, and they found out where the people on my list spent their recreation time. Hotels, sports clubs, that kind of thing. And you know what I found? I found that Kemp had recently paid a visit to Denver Hsien. And you know who’s at Denver?” “Fairbank.”
“Right. And not only Fairbank. A bit of checking turned up the fact that the Heads of all our other three main trading rivals were in Denver at the same time—Green of RadMed, Egan of NorTek, Chamberlain of WesCorp. A bit of a coincidence, huh? So I thought I’d dig a little deeper and find out how our friend Kemp spends his recreation time. And this is what I turned up. Underage girls and shady deals. Jackson’s a free-lancer. He works for himself. But recently he’s taken on a contract with a company called VasChem. Nothing sinister there, you might think, only VasChem are a subsidiary of HydGel, who themselves are a partly owned subsidiary of—“ “AmLab.”
“You knew?”
“No. Just a good guess. So Kemp’s working for our opposition.” He heaved a sigh. “Shit! I’ve never liked the man, but I’d never have thought...” He looked from the screen to Mary. “So what do we do? Confront him with this?”
“No. We wait,” she answered, clearing the screen. “And build up a file. But now we know, eh? Old Men. We’re at war with the Old Men, Michael. And they’ll do anything—anything—to destroy us.”
“okay, what’s your fucking game, Shih Kemp?” Kemp stood there in the hallway of his Mansion, his mouth flapping. “This is outrageous, Major! You march in here uninvited and the first thing you do is insult me! I demand an apology!”
“Crap!” Seymour glared at him, then pointed to the fleshy remains he’d thrown down on the hall table. “I want to know what’s going on. I want to know just why you’re paying a pack of jackals to go marauding around the Lowers cutting the cock off anyone they take a dislike to! Thanks to you I’m having to put in extra squads to keep the peace down there. It’s a fucking butcher’s shop! If I lose one man through this—just one man—then I’m going to hold you personally responsible.”
“This has nothing to do with me. As I said—“
“I’d save your talking for the tribunal, friend. As it is I’ve got signed statements from two of the men in my custody swearing they were employed by you.”
Kemp snorted indignantly. “I don’t care if you’ve got it tattooed on your bollocks, Major Seymour! Unless you’ve got proof—real proof, and not just the word of some scumbag liumang!—that I was in any way involved in this—this obscenity, I’d kindly keep your accusations to yourself. If you don’t. . . well, I shall have great pleasure in suing the ass off you!” Seymour laughed coldly. “I’d be careful just who you threaten, Shih Kemp. These are difficult times. Under the special regulations I am empowered to arrest anyone I think is guilty of incitement. I’d say this qualified, wouldn’t you?”
“Are you threatening me, Major?”
Seymour stood back a little. “No. I’m just warning you. Any more of this and I’ll be down on you like a fly on shit. My job’s hard enough as it is without you adding to it, okay? So leave off. Whatever it is you’re up to, just can it, right? That’s my last word.” Kemp opened his mouth, then, realizing what the Major had said, closed it again and nodded.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. That shit there ... do whatever you have to with it. But no more. Not unless you want me back here. And next time—“ “I understand.”
“Good. Then good day, Shih Kemp. Have a pleasant meal!” Kemp stared at the officer’s retreating back, wondering what he meant, then went straight to the vid-phone and tapped out the special contact number he’d been given.
There was a moment’s pause and then a face swam into view. “General Althaus?” Kemp said, bowing his head respectfully. “Forgive me, but a mutual friend of ours said I might contact you if there was any trouble. . . .”
wu shih stood on the high stone balcony of his palace, looking out over the Garden of Manhattan. The sky was a perfect blue, yet it would be dark within the hour. Already the sun rested low over the distant City, while below him much of the Garden already lay in shadow. A pleasant, late evening breeze blew from the east, carrying the scent of blossom, while from below the call of a magpie drifted up to him, punctuating the stillness.
He stretched his neck, then reached up with one hand, kneading the tired muscles of his neck. He heard a soft footfall behind him, then felt his hand gently removed and another take its place, its touch more expert than his own. It was his First Wife, Wei-kou.
“It’s beautiful, neh?” she said softly, to his ear. He smiled. “The best view in the world, my father called it. I know what he meant. Some days I think I could not cope if I did not have its quiet paths and silent spaces.”
“You looked worried earlier. I thought—“
“I am fine, Wei-kou. These last few days. . . there was so much to be done, but now . . . well, the worst is over now.” He turned, facing her, and put his hand up to her cheek, brushing it gently, then drew her head down onto his breast. “It must be hard for you when I am like this.”
“I do not complain, my husband.”
“No. And yet you are much neglected, neh?”
“I do not—“
She gave a small laugh, realizing she was repeating herself, then looked up at him and smiled.
He put his arm about her shoulder, then turned, looking out across the vastness of the twilit Garden. Here had once stood the greatest City of the Hung Mao—an island fortress, a temple to their economic dominance, the pumping heart of the sixty-nine states of the great American Empire. Yet their City had fallen. His great-greatgrandfather had swept it into the sea and built this garden—the Garden of Supreme Excellence—in its place. In truth it was a whole series of gardens, copies of the great gardens of Suchow and Wushi, Shanghai arid Pei Ch’ing, but looking out across it, it was easy to think of it as a single thing—his “Green Dream,” as he sometimes called it.