I should have pulled the plug at once. I should have—
“Chieh Hsia? I have the Representative on hold.”
“Good. Then put him through. It’s time he learned a few truths.”
the man groaned . It was a small sound, almost forgetful in nature, as if
he had suffered so much already that this little extra were as nothing to
him, yet Nan Ho, watching him, could see he was on the edge. Either he
would confess and it would be over, or he was innocent and he would go
mad.
It was not much of a choice.
Nan Ho stepped outside, then stood there, taking a long deep breath of the cleaner air of the corridor. Two men lay in the cells, their bodies racked, their flesh burned and mutilated. One of them had been bought, the other was completely innocent. Yet which was which? Only these two—clerks to the Master of the Inner Chambers—had had access to detailed information of the staff here at Tongjiang, and only one of them could have passed on that information to An Sheng for his list. It was possible, of course, that both were guilty, but that was not usually the way of it. To buy two men was more dangerous than hiring one—for when there were two, one might think to sell the other or, after some quarrel, betray him out of spite, whereas a single spy—
He stopped, realizing where his thoughts had led. Five years ago he had stood beside Tolonen, watching an innocent man being torn apart in these same cells, and all to save the worthless reputation of his Master’s wife. Back then he had thrown up, appalled by the physical damage that had been done to the young man; horrified that, after so much pain, the boy should still resist. And yet just now . . .
If the truth be told, he had felt nothing, or at best a vague regret at the necessity Had he changed so much in that brief time? Had his skin grown so thick that nothing touched him now? Had power made him callous? Or maybe the world had changed, and his expectations of it likewise. Not that he had any option in this case, for if there was a traitor in their midst—and the list more than suggested that there was— then it was his duty to unearth him. Feelings . . . they did not enter into this. He turned, listening. There was a shouting farther down, in the first cell. A moment later the door swung back and one of the guards stepped out, his face flushed, his bare chest misted with sweat. “Excellency! I think we’re there!”
“Ah. . .” He went across, then ducked inside. The prisoner had lifted his head and was staring across at him, wild-eyed. “Well?” he asked. “What have you to say?”
“Forgive me, Master Nan—I never meant. . .” His head fell back and he broke down, sobbing.
“No.” Nan Ho felt sorry for him now that it was done. He turned, waving one of the guards through to stop the torture in the other cell, then looked back at the man, placing his hand softly, almost tenderly, on his brow. “Tell me, Chen So. How did it happen?” He looked away, swallowing, unable to meet Nan Ho’s eyes, clearly ashamed.
“It was the girl, Excellency.”
“The girl?” He caught his breath. “What girl?” “The Master’s maid, Heart’s Delight—she was my lover. I—“ “Aiya!”
Nan Ho turned and left at once, hurrying up the stairs. At the top he burst through the door, knocking the guard aside, and began to run, his heart in his mouth. Then, finding his voice again, he called the guards to him, frantic now, wondering if he wasn’t already too late.
KENNEDY TURNED FROM THE SCREEN, Wu Shih’s words ringing loudly in his ears.
“This is your last chance, Mr. Kennedy. Just silence that damned woman, all right? Silence her!”
Sure. But how? There wasn’t anything he could offer Mary Lever, and there seemed to be no way he could threaten her, so what did that leave? Gentle persuasion? Seduction? Murder?
He shivered, uneasy with that last thought, then looked up, realizing that his wife, Jean, was standing in the doorway watching him. “What is it?” she asked. “You look troubled.” He shrugged, then went across and held her a moment. “What would you like—I mean, what would you really like to do, if you had the choice?” She looked up at him, frowning. “What is this? Have you gone mad or something?”
“No. Just answer me. One thing.”
She thought for a moment, then smiled. “I know. I’d like to paddle in the sea—you know, the real sea. Just walk along the shoreline, like in one of those old trivids.”
“Okay. We’ll do it. Tomorrow. And we’ll take the boys. Make a day of it.”
She laughed. “Now I know you’ve gone mad!”
“First though, I’ve got to contact someone. Arrange a meeting.”
nan ho burst into Li Yuan’s rooms unceremoniously, half running down the corridor, afraid what he would find. He was about to go through to the bedroom when he came face-to-face with his T’ang as he emerged from one of the side rooms.
“Chieh Hsia!” he exclaimed, falling to his knees, relieved beyond words. “What is the matter, Master Nan? You looked for a moment as if you had seen a ghost!”
Nan Ho bowed his head. “Forgive me, Master, but for one brief moment I feared that that was all I would see!”
Li Yuan tensed. “What is it?”
“Your maid, Chieh Hsia. Heart’s Delight. . .”
“What of her?”
“One of the Clerks of the Inner Chamber—she was his lover. It seems ...” Li Yuan raised a hand, ahead of his Chancellor. “I understand. And you thought—“ He shuddered. “It’s strange. I asked for her earlier and one of the other maids said she hadn’t been feeling well and had gone to her room. I didn’t think . . .”
“Nor I, Chieh Hsia,” Nan Ho said, his voice heavy with apology. “Go find her, Master Nan. Then bring her here. I want to know why. I want—“ He stopped, clearly pained, then shook his head. “It is difficult to believe. I slept with her, Master Nan, not once but many times. Such a sweet and loving girl. I’d never . . .” He shivered again, then, “Go bring her, Master Nan. Now!”
Nan Ho bowed again, then hurried off to find her.
the entrance to the corridor was decked out in blue and gold. To one side a group of shaven-headed boys—orphans, picked for their photogenic qualities—lined up behind a rope, waiting for their handouts. In front of them, dressed in the simple brown of the Eldest Daughter, stood Mary. She turned, waving the handcarts through, then stepped back, looking up into the lens of the floater-camera.
“This, then, is the first phase of our work down here. As you can see, we have recruited workers from these levels to do the actual manual work—the loading and distribution of the food and clothing. Others are repairing those shops we’ve already bought—shops which will be used not merely as distribution points but as help and advice centers. We have begun with a core of five hundred, but as our campaign grows it’s hoped that there’ll be at least one of these shops in every stack in City North America, providing not only food and clothing but also advice and useful pamphlets on all manner of issues. Each of these shops will be instantly recognizable—like our carts and helpers—by the distinctive livery of blue and gold. The gold represents the life-giving sun, the blue the nurturing water.”