"Forgive me, Master, but I think there's another news item will interest you. Shall I patch it through?"
Michael frowned, then gestured to the air. "Okay. Put it up." He walked across as the screen lit up, then stood there, watching as the images changed, the talk-over subtitled in Mandarin at the foot of the screen.
"Reports are breaking of a mystery disease that has struck down more than two dozen victims in the past twelve hours. Whilst all the incidents so far reported have been isolated, the authorities have asked citizens to take sensible precautions against the possible spread of the disease, which is as yet unidentified."
The camera dwelt on one of those victims, a young boy whose peaceful face suggested he was merely sleeping.
"Government investigators are currently hard at work tracking down both the source and nature of the mysterious illness and are confident that they will have the situation under wraps by nightfall."
The screen went blank. Michael turned, looking to the voice-sensor in the centre of the ceiling.
"Is that it?"
There was a pause, then. "The other channels are beginning to pick up on the item, Master, but they've nothing new as yet. Do you want me to keep you informed?"
THE HOLLOWER Michael pressed his top teeth into his bottom lip, then nodded. "Okay. Make it at half-hourly intervals." He hesitated, then. "Does Emily know?"
"You want me to tell her, Master?"
"Yes. . . Yes. And tell her... tell her I'll be in the breakfast room in half an hour."
"Yes, Master."
In the silence that followed, Lever understood. It had been there in the tone of the newsfac commentator. This was the big one. This was . ..
He swallowed, then frowned, his face wrinkling deeply, the fear he had felt seeing those images returning to him strongly.
Two weeks ago he had been at the big rare diseases conference in Strasbourg. Only two weeks! He laughed, but it sounded hollow; a noise of despair. The words of one of the specialists came back to him:
. . .and given the lack of any general immunity to such diseases, the likelihood of a major outbreak in the next five years is not, as one of my colleagues has asserted, a low statistic possibility, but a probability. In fact, it would be no exaggeration to say that - should hygiene standards continue to deteriorate at their current rate - it is almost a certainty.
A certainty. Yes, he had known then that it was true. Time. . . it was only time before it struck. He had even set up a team within his management to see what could be done. But it was too late now, for here it was.
"Wei Yu?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Send in the maid to dress me."
"Yes, Master."
Michael went over to the bed and sat, drumming his fingers on the mattress while he waited, his mind wrestling with the question of what action he should take.
Emily will know, he told himself, realising that he had no ready answers. She'll tell me what to do. She always does.
Yes, and meanwhile he'd make sure the boys stayed home, within the compound, because if this was what he thought it was ...
He stopped, his fingers gripping the bed, then said it openly for the first time, naming it. "The plague. The bloody plague is here among us." Yes, like a thief, a cut-throat, stealing not purses but souls, invisible and deadly. The Hollower . . .
He looked up as the door on the far side of the room opened and the maid entered. She took two steps into the room and then stopped, bowing low. "You wanted me, Master?"
Michael stared at her, for the briefest moment forgetting why he'd asked her to come. The "accident" had been twenty years ago - the bomb that had killed his best friend and damn near finished him for good. Since then, he had rebuilt himself, inside and out. But sometimes, like now, the old aches ached, like rheumatoid bones in damp weather. The kind that could not be gotten rid of with drugs or massage or ...
For that one brief instant it was like he was standing before that door once again, before the bomb had gone off. But this time he knew what was about to happen, and, because he knew, he wanted to warn her - to send her home to her family and tell her to get in supplies and lock their doors and . . . "Here," he said dully. "Dress me."
Head bowed, she came across, moving past him to the built-in cupboards.
He watched her, saddened. If he were to order her to strip and kneel, she would do it. If he told her to hop on one leg and sing a silly song, she would do that, too, without a moment's thought, for he was a rich man and she the third daughter of an ,._ unsuccessful street merchant. But all that would change in the coming days. Rich and poor ... it did not matter now, for the great Hollower would level all.
He sighed heavily, conscious of the irony, for hadn't that been Emily's great aim, back in those days when she had been Ping Tiao ... to level everything?
Well, now the Levellers had their wish. Michael looked at the maid again, realising as he did that he was not the kind of man who was happy using others. Rich as he was, the instinct to abuse did not exist in him.
THE HOLLOWER Or was that strictly true? After all, he was his father's son. No. The instinct remained, encoded in him like the colour of his eyes, the shape of his fingernails, but he had learned how to channel it; how to control it Emily had taught him, long ago now.
The maid turned back, looking to him, blithely unaware of the shape of his thoughts, holding up a choice of pau so he could see.
"You want the blue, Master? Or would you like the green today?"
He stared at her, then shook his head. "Go home, Chan Sang. Go home at once, while you still can."
Heng Yu knelt, his head bowed, before his Master.
"The news is bad, Chieh Hsia. The lab report on the girl we found says that she died of a new and as yet unidentified strain of viral infection. It seems the virus is perfectly harmless until it comes in contact with human genetic material. Then. . .well, it is a killer, Chieh Hsia."
Heng Yu glanced up, noting how distracted Li Yuan seemed, how tired. No doubt he had been up all night, entertaining his young wife, if entertainment was the word for what they got up to.
"In the circumstances, Chieh Hsia, might I strongly recommend that we isolate the southern city straight away and close all public meeting places - schools, markets and the like - in the rest of the city."
Dragon Heart, who had been listening to him in a desultory fashion, now leaned forward.
"We shall do no such thing, Master Heng. Close the southern city? Why, what would our citizens think? And think of the damage it would do to trade. No, Master Heng. Find out some more about this . . . this bug, then report back. Later, after lunch, perhaps. Until then, do not trouble us with your scare-mongering."
Heng Yu stared at his Mistress openly, forgetting himself for that brief moment, appalled by her attitude. Didn't she understand? Hadn't she listened to a word he'd said? This was a killer. And if it spread ...
"Master?" he said, looking to Li Yuan. "Is this your word?"
But Li Yuan wasn't interested in his objections, it seemed. "Do as my wife has told you, Master Heng. Oh, and send in Master Chang on your way out. I need to speak to him."
Heng Yu bowed then backed away.
Outside he stood there in a daze, barely conscious of Chang Nai shan as he swept past and on into the great room, the huge doors slamming shut behind him. For a moment Heng felt light-headed and wondered if he were about to faint, then he collected himself.
Off-planet. He had to get his family off-planet. Yes. And there were others to warn, too. Jelka and Karr and . ..
He sniffed in deeply, a sudden determination returning his strength to him. He would use the next few hours to do some good. Whatever good he could.