“You want to do something about it, you knock the fucking door down and drag her out. But I don’t think the President would be very pleased about that, do you?” “I may just fucking do that1” Turner bellowed back at him. “But from here on you butt out, alright, Major Li? You keep your fucking nose out of our fucking business!”Han Ch’in raised his hands, as if to make peace, but Turner still wasn’t satisfied.
“Shit knows what went through your fucking head, man! Why, you didn’t even check the fucking woman out, did you?” Han Ch’in bristled. “She was with a reputable gentleman, who assures me he got her from one of the top escort agencies. The woman’s been with them five years, and not a hint of trouble.” He sneered. “What’s your problem, Major Turner. You think she’s going to fuck the President to death?”
Turner lifted his chin a little. He clearly wasn’t used to be answered back, and besides, Han Ch’in was theoretically his equal in rank. But he was still not happy.
“Okay. But you ask me from now on. In fact, you get my fucking permission before
you do anything that involves the President, okay?’ “Okay.” Turner eased back a
little. “Then good. I’m glad we’re
agreed on that”
Han Ch’in stared at him a moment, then asked. “What does he usually do on these kind of trips, go in his room and wank?”
Turner’s lips curled slightly at that, amusement replacing anger. “Hell no.
Usually he doesn’t have sex at all.”
“No?” Han Ch’in sounded incredulous. “But the guy’s got a libido that”d take two firetrucks to put out!”
“What I mean is, usually he’s got Mrs. Newell along with him. The Ice Queen, we call her.”
“Ah ...” Han Ch’in stared at the man a moment, admiring his loyalty to Newell, then, “Hey, I’m sorry. If I’d known I was treading on your toes ...”
Turner gave a little nod. “If s in the past. We go forward
from here, right?” “Right!” There was a crash. Distant but loud. Both men turned
and
frowned.
“What the fuck ...?”
The door to the President’s rooms flew open. A security guard, gun drawn, looked out at Turner. “It was inside, sir! From inside his room!” Turner rushed through, followed closely by Han Ch’in. Two men were already at the door, trying to break it down. Turner charged it with his shoulder. The hinges gave and popped as he slammed into it.
Han Ch’in, stopping in the doorway, saw at once what had happened. Newell lay on the bed, his mouth gagged, his hands tied behind his back. His throat was cut from ear to ear, blood pooled darkly on the pillows and sheets. Beyond him, on the far side of the room, the curtains drifted in and out in the breeze from the shattered window.
The girl was gone.
Han Ch’in felt his stomach drop away. This was his fault One hundred per cent down to him. The visiting President was dead, assassinated in a safe house, and he had introduced him to the killer.
He dropped to his knees.
Turner examined the body quickly, then turned. His eyes took in the kneeling form of Han Ch’in by the door, then looked past him at his own men, who stood in the doorway, wide-eyed with horror.
“Hansen, Josephs ... go down and get the body. Then get the mess cleared up. And don’t say a fucking word to anyone, right? Not a fucking word!” They nodded, then turned and disappeared. Turner shivered, then looked to Han Ch’in again. “As for you, Major Li, you’d better contact your people at once and find out what you can about this Wyatt fellow. And you’d better let President Wei know while you’re at it” Han Ch’in glanced up, distraught “I’m sorry, Major, I...” ‘Just fucking leave it!” Turner barked, all of his pent-up tension in those four words. “He was a good man. And now he’s dead, fuck iti So don’t give me sorry, Major LLI don’t wanna hear.”
Han Ch’in gave the smallest nod, then, standing, hurried from the room. Aiya, he thought, thinking of what his superiors would say when they found out Ai-fucking-ya!
Cho Yi was alone in the trading room. As Li Yuan closed the door and walked across, the old man looked up.
“If s happening,” he said, as if Li Yuan should understand what he meant “I can’t believe it, but it is.”
Yuan sat on the far side of the desk, puzzled by the look on Cho’s face. He didn’t seem troubled so much as bemused.
“Okay, what is it? We bought some valueless stock?” “You might say,” Cho answered, vague to the point of irritating Li Yuan. “Look ... I could be in bed now, Master Cho. Have we a problem, or haven’t we?”
Cho laughed. Again, it was strange, because Li Yuan could not grasp what was meant by it Was he amused or not? And if he was, then why! “Well?” he asked, when Cho did not answer. “Look for yourself,” Cho said, sitting back and folding his arms’ across his chest “See what you make of it.” Yuan frowned, then activated the screen in front of him. For a moment he simply stared, then his mouth fell open. “Fuck ...”
“Yes, fuck. Fuck times eighty billion neh?” “Eighty.. .?” Li Yuan looked up and met the old man’s eyes. This time he did understand. “But can’t we ...?” “Stop it?” Cho Yi laughed again. This time Li Yuan had no difficulty placing Cho Yi’s laughter. It was the ironic laughter of a man who saw that his time was up. “But there are controls, surely?” “Whoever started this removed them.” “Removed them? That’s not possible, is it?” “Oh, I’d say anything was possible, if you wanted to commit financial suicide. You simply have to bribe men, or threaten them, or have them killed. And then replace those you’ve had killed. Until you control the system. And then ... see, Yuan? ... see how if s happening before our eyes? ... you just kick away the props.”
Yuan stared at the screen, bemused now. “But who would do that? Who’d have the power? And if they had the power, then why? It would be like shooting oneself in the head!”
“Exactly. But someone has. Someone big.”
Li Yuan shook his head slowly. “You’ve made projections?”
Cho nodded.
“And?”
“Freefall,” Cho answered, smiling a beaming smile at Yuan. “Straight to the bottom and out the other side.”
“But why? I mean, surely someone’s spotted whaf s going on? Surely someone’s taking action?”
In answer Cho Yi turned and switched on the news screen just above him and to his right. As it came alight it showed the image of a woman lying on top of what looked like an airduct of some kind. She was quite clearly dead, blood oozing from her in a dozen different places.
As the commentary switched in, the camera travelled up the external window-wall of what appeared to be a plush hotel of some kind, until it focused on the shattered window of a room.
“... of what was President Newell’s own suite in the prestigious Eight Dragons Hotel. While the President’s spokesman refuses to give details of the incident, it is understood that the President himself was not involved, and was actually at an official reception across town in Ching Shan Park ...” Cho cut the sound then looked back across at Li Yuan. “Rumour is that Newell’s dead. Assassinated by the girl. She too committed suicide Threw herself out of a thirty-eighth-storey window. Strange that neh? A curious synchronicity, wouldn’t you say?”
“You think the two things are connected?”
Cho laughed. “Don’t you, Yuan? What better distraction than the assassination of a visiting President? What better way of keeping eyes off one screen and on another?”
Li Yuan gestured towards the screen. “But this is more important, surely?” “You know that, and I know that... but our friends in the media don’t Not yet, anyway. They’re still speculating as to whether Newell has been killed, and if so, whether there will be a war.”