Li Yuan swallowed. It would be so easy. There was nothing
· nothing, that was, but his loyalty to his brother - to stop him.
She stepped close, her warmth pressing against his knees, then leaned into him, so that her breasts pressed against his chest He felt her lips close upon his own and found himself responding, found himself placing his hands upon her back, his fingers slowly smoothing their way down the length of that silken flesh until they rested on her buttocks. Her kisses were like wine. As she lowered herself into his lap, her legs wrapped about him, he groaned and, unable to stop himself, pulled her tight against him, beginning to rub himself against her.
“Slowly now,” she said, moving her face back from his, her smile as different now as any smile could be from the first look she had given him. He was a customer now. And she a whore. An actress.
Yet even though he knew that even though he knew what he was doing was wrong -
as wrong as anything he had ever done
· he could not pull away. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he had wanted anything, or anyone, in his life.
“Aiya,” he moaned, as she reached down and freed his penis from within the cloth of hispau. As her fingers gently caressed the tip of it The feel of it was indescribable.
She chuckled, then leaned into him again, her lips on his once more, her movements against him making him whimper now.And then, suddenly, she lifted herself up and he was inside her, fucking her, pushing up into her as if nothing else in the universe existed but this.
He came explosively, shuddering against her, his hands gripping her buttocks, pulling her down into him, as if he could tear her in two, or push through her. And she, he knew, had come, too. He could feel it, and knew it was no act. And as they surfaced from that darkness, he saw the surprise in her eyes, the unfeigned shock.
“No strings,” he said, moving his hands up onto her shoulders, his fingers gently caressing her neck “No strings at all.”
They went down by lift, then crossed the hall and out onto a crowded walkway that, so K. later told him, was reasonably empty by the standards of this world. Kim paused a moment, noticing the heavy metallic meshes that surrounded every building, every balcony, then looked to the traffic in the skies and understood. Different ways, different rules. He walked on, keeping up with K. A walkway took them up into the heart of another massive building, on the twenty-seventh floor of which K. had hired an office.
“I don’t understand,” Kim said, once they were safely inside the tiny room, the door locked behind them, the “silence baffle”, as K. termed it, in place around the desk.
K. smiled. “First time I arrived here, I stepped out into the middle of a park. I almost didn’t get back. But after a few visits I decided I’d have to buy my way into this world and so I stole a few things. Took them back and forged them. Then I came back and hired this place, and the apartment. Made myself an identity in this world.”
Kim laughed. “So who are we?”
“Culver. George Culver.”
Kim narrowed his eyes, searching his memory, then nodded. “DeVore ... he used that name once, didn’t he?”
“In our worlds. Not in this. Here he has no need for aliases. He has pawns enough to do his business for him.”
As he spoke, K. tapped out a code on the keyboard that was embossed into the desk’s surface. Almost at once a pair of screens rose from the surface, lighting up as they did so.
“First, however, let me show you what he’s up to. But bear with me. This gets somewhat technical...”
K. turned, looking to him, then laughed. “Forgive me, Kim. Sometimes I forget I am talking to myself.”
Kim smiled. “No matter. Just show me how he means to make it all collapse.”
As the exhaust from the great rockets cleared, the band started up, playing a vigorous Chinese version of the Star-Spangled Banner, the anthem of the 69 States of the great American Empire.
As the ramp came down and President Newell stepped out onto the platform of Airforce One, a cheer went up from the invited crowd. Han Ch’in, watching from his position at the front of that crowd, smiled, then began to walk across. He had met Newell on several occasions, though not since he’d been elected President. A nice man, if ineffectuaclass="underline" that was the official view. But Han knew better. Han knew how hard Newell had fought to keep Sino-American relationships on an even keel, especially after the Nebraska incident. Showing his pass to the two guards at the barrier, Han Ch’in stepped through, then walked across, getting to the foot of the ramp even as Newell stepped from it Han Ch’in stopped directly in front of Newell and bowed low. As he straightened up, Newell smiled broadly and put out a hand. “Major Li! How good to see you again! If s been three years, almost’” “Two years, eleven months,” Han said, returning the smile even as he grasped Newell’s hand firmly. “If s good to see you again, Mister President” “Call me Bob,” Newell said quietly, leaning closer. “Lef s cut the shit while we’re here, eh, old friend?”Han Ch’in laughed. “Whatever you say, sir.” Newell raised his head, grinning for the cameras, then walked on, speaking through the side of his mouth. “I’ve managed to leave the wife at home this once, Han Ch’in, so see what you can do for me, okay? I hear your army fellas are about to announce their choice of Consul for Washington, so you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You understand?”
‘Til see what I can do.”
“Blonde and busty. You know the type.”
Han looked down, trying to keep from laughing. “Whatever you say, sir.”
Newell lowered his head, as if he’d given the cameras quite enough of his grin, and looked to Han Ch’in again. “You know, I often wonder just how many of those bastards out there watching this on their screens actually bother to read our lips, or whether they just think we’re talking matters of state.” “Does it matter?” Han asked, interested by this insight into the man. “Hell, no. So long as my wife ain’t one of them!”
Kim stared at the screen long after it had been cleared, then shook his head.
“Amazing. And you think no one suspects a thing?” “I know they don’t If they did, they’d do something. His setup breaks the market’s rules in every possible way.”
Kim nodded. DeVore owned major companies and their subsidiaries, and their subsidiaries’ subsidiaries. He also owned certain trading companies - those who specialised in buying and selling shares - and commodities agents. He owned suppliers and retailers, and the security companies that serviced all of these people. But most important of all, he owned the communications companies through which all of these people traded.
DeVore owned the numbers on this world. And tomorrow he would set off a chain reaction in the system.
“I’m only guessing,” K. said, “but if I were him I’d start low down, among the little companies. Get a few of them to sell at a loss, just as if they know something that the rest of the market doesn’t. Then I’d use my buyers to stoke up the process - have one or two bigger companies involved. A couple of the top hundred. Start a mild panic. Then I’d hit with one of the big boys. Botch, perhaps. Or UCM. Or, best of all, Murdoch Inc. Something basic. Something essential to everybody’s lives.” “A slitting of his wrists.”
“His and everyone’s, because once this gets going there’ll be no stopping it The markets will drop like stones, especially if, at first people’s attention is drawn elsewhere.”