The lieutenant marched up to the gate, then came to attention, holding his pass up for inspection. Two of the overhead guns had swiveled about, covering him; but now, on the computer's recognition signal, they swung back, focusing once more on the mouth of the corridor beyond.
He moved forward, placing one eye to an indented pad set into the gate, then stepped back. Three seconds passed, then a panel irised back, chest high to him, revealing a keyboard. The lieutenant inserted his card, then tapped out the coded signal.
At once the gates began to open.
Elsewhere, at a gate on the far side of the stack and at another one fifty levels down, the same thing was happening. Much now depended on timing. If just one of the gates remained unsecured, the odds would swing against them.
DeVore waited, tensed, counting. At thirty the screen of the handset went blank and he gave the signal. Immediately his men spilled out of the corridor and began to cross the bridge. If his inside man had failed they would be cut down instantly. But the guns remained silent. Beyond them, on the far side of the bridge, the great doors stayed open.
DeVore switched channels on the handset quickly, making sure. All three were blank, the transmission signals dead. He smiled, then, tucking the set inside his one-piece, followed his men out onto the bridge.
Inside, he found things well advanced. The level had been sealed off and all four of the big transit elevators secured. On the floor to one side a line of captives lay face-down, bound hand and foot. Most of the prisoners were only partly dressed, while two were completely naked. Only the five-man duty squad was fully dressed, but even they had been too surprised to put up any fight. Down below his men would be moving through the levels, securing all major entry points to the arsenal itself, isolating any remaining defenders scattered about these uppermost levels.
Much depended now on how the Ping Tiao fared, fifty levels down. If they could seal off the barracks and hold their gate, all would be well. But even if they didn't, it would be more their loss than his. He needed the weapons, it was true, but there was something far more important here. Something he hadn't bothered to mention in the briefing.
He turned and called the lieutenant across to him.
"Which of these is the Duty Captain?"
The lieutenant went down the line, then stopped and bent down to touch the back of one of the half-dressed men.
"Good. Take him into the guard room."
While two of his men lifted the Captain under the shoulders and dragged him away, DeVore turned to Lehmann. Of all of them he looked most at ease in the simple Ping Tiao clothes they were wearing.
"Stefan . . . Come here."
Lehmann came across, then followed him into the guard room.
The Captain had been placed in a chair, his back to them. One of the men was busy binding him about the chest and legs.
"Who are you?" he was demanding as DeVore entered. "You're not Ping Tiao. I can see that, despite your clothes and those fish symbols about your necks. You're too sharp, too well organized. Those scum wouldn't know how to break into a food store."
"You're quite right, Captain," DeVore said, coming around and sitting on the table edge, facing him.
The man's eyes widened. "DeVore!"
DeVore laughed softly, then signaled for the two men to leave. When they were gone he looked past the man at Lehmann, who nodded and turned to lock the door.
"Good," DeVore smiled. "Now to business."
The Captain glared at him defiantly. "What business? I have no business with you, DeVore."
"No?" DeVore reached into the breast pocket of his one-piece and took out something small and flat and round, its white casing like a lady's compact. Looking across at the Captain he smiled. "You have a nice family, Captain Sanders. A beautiful wife, two fine sons, and a baby girl. Well, she's divine; a pretty little thing." Sanders watched, horrified, as DeVore opened the casing and activated the hologram within.
"You have them?" Sanders looked up at DeVore, swallowing dryly; then looked back down at the tiny holo of his family, noting the look of anguish on his wife's face, the way the boys huddled against her.
DeVore smiled. "As I said. To business."
"What do you want?"
"Six numbers and five letters."
Sanders understood at once. "The elevator . . ."
"Yes."
It was a secret one-man shaft that went down from this level to the floor of the stack. He had seen it once, when he had inspected Helmstadt eleven years earlier, had traveled down and seen first-hand how it was defended. Now he would use what he knew.
Sanders hesitated, staring at the hologram. "And if I do ... they'll go free?" "Of course." DeVore snapped the case shut and slipped it back into the pocket of his one-piece. "You might consider me a traitor, Captain Sanders, but I'm still a man of my word."
Sanders studied DeVore a moment longer, doubt warring with fear in his eyes;
then he nodded. "All right. But it won't help you."
"No?" DeVore leaned back slightly. "Well, we'll see, eh? Just give me the code.
I'll do the rest."
FIVE THOUSAND it to the east, in the great palace at Astrakhan on the shore of the great inland sea, the Seven were in Council. As was their way, they sat not at a great table but in low comfortable chairs drawn into a circle at one end of the room. Their manner seemed casual, as though they had met as friends to drink and talk of old times; yet here, on such occasions, all major policy decisions were made. Behind the T'ang, on simple stools, sat those sons who were attending—four in all, including Li Shai Tung's son, Li Yuan—while at a desk behind Tsu Ma sat two scribes. In this, the second session of the day, they had come at last to the central issue: the matter of the Confiscations. Tsu Ma was just coming to the end of his speech, leaning forward in his chair, his words a strong echo of Li Shai Tung's.
". . . but that would be folly. There's no better way to put an end to all this bitterness and rivalry. At one stroke we can stabilize the market and placate those who, however mistakenly, might otherwise feel ill-served by our generosity to those who sided with us."
Tsu Ma paused and looked about the circle of his fellow T'ang, self-assured, his mouth and eyes forming a smile. "Which is why I have no hesitation in seconding Li Shai Tung's proposal. The stewardship system will achieve the end we seek."
There was a murmur of agreement from the older T'ang, but even as Tsu Ma sat back, Wang Sau-leyan leaned forward, his round face tensed with anger, his eyes hard. He spoke bitterly, staring about him angrily, challengingly.
"Can I believe what I hear? Have we not just fought a war? A war that by the power of Heaven we won. If that is so, why should we fear the bitterness of our enemies? Why should we seek to placate them? Would they have done the same? No! They would have destroyed us. And what then? What would they have offered us? Nothing! Not even the dignity of a decent burial. And yet you sit here worrying about your enemies and their feelings. Well, I say forget them! We must reward our friends! Publicly, so all can see. What better way to encourage support for the Seven?"
Wei Feng sat forward in his chair, his face grim, his hands spread in a gesture that suggested his despair at Wang's words. "That's foolish talk, Wang Sau-leyan! Loyalty cannot be bought. It is like a tree. Long years go into its making. Your scheme would have us buy our friends." He laughed scornfully. "That would reduce our friendships to mere transactions, our dealings to the level of the marketplace."
Wang Sau-Leyan stared back at Wei Feng, his eyes narrowed.