"My name is Lieutenant Auden of the T'ang's Security forces. As you know, you're totally surrounded by my men. Worse than that, you're in a bad situation. The Overseer, the man you knew as Bergson—his real name was DeVore. Yes, DeVore, the traitor. Which means that in helping him you, too, are traitors. Dead men. Understand me? But the T'ang has empowered me to make a deal with you. To be lenient. Surrender now and we deal with you lightly. If you come out, unarmed and with your arms raised where we can see them, we'll treat this whole matter as a mistake. Okay? Any tricks, however, and you're all dead."
•Chen crouched by the back wall, watching. He had heard the sudden murmur of voices from above at the revelation of Berg-son's true identity. So now you know, he thought. But what are you going to do? • The door slid open a fraction.
"Good," said Auden, turning to Chen. "They're coming out—"
Chen heard the grenade bump-bump-bump down the stairs before he saw it, and threw himself to the side, his handgun clattering away from him across the floor. He tensed, fearing the worst, but instead of an explosion, there was a tiny pop and then a furious hissing.
"Gas____"
It was a riot gas; a thick, choking gas that billowed out of the split canister, spreading quickly in the tiny space. He had to get up, above it. Forgetting his gun, Chen crawled quickly on his hands and knees, his breath held, making for the stairs. But they were quicker than he.
Chen glanced up. The first of them was already halfway down the narrow stairs. He was wearing a breathing mask and held a stiletto in his right hand. Seeing Chen, his eyes narrowed and he crouched, preparing to spring. But Chen moved quickly. As he jumped, Chen rolled to the side.
The man landed next to him and turned, slashing out wildly with the knife. It flashed past Chen's face, only a hand's width from his eyes. Chen scrambled backward, cursing softly to himself.
More masked men were coming down the stairs now, spilling out into the tiny smoke-filled space, while from the two side corridors Auden's men emerged, their knives drawn, afraid to use their guns in the confusion.
Chen's man had turned, looking for him. He took a step toward Chen, his knife raised; then, with a small strangled noise, he staggered forward, collapsing to his knees. Behind him Auden smiled fiercely through his mask, then quickly turned away, rejoining the fight.
Chen's eyes were streaming now, his throat on fire. He had to get air. He dragged himself forward, making for the stairs, then stopped.
"No-o!"
Pavel was halfway up the stairs, his hoe held out before him. He turned, surprised, looking back down at Chen. "It's Peskova!" he said hoarsely, as if that explained it all. Then his face changed and he fell forward slowly, a knife protruding from his back.
For a moment Chen struggled to get to his feet, then he fell back, a wave of blackness overwhelming him.
IT SEEMED only a moment before he came to again. But the corridor was almost clear of-the gas, and five bodies lay neatly to one side. Three men sat trussed and gagged in one corner. The door at the top of the stairs was locked again, the stairway covered by the sergeant.
Chen sat up, his head pounding, then remembered. " "Pavel!" He mouthed the word, his heart wrenched from him.
He crawled across to where they had laid the bodies, and saw him at once.
Chen pulled the young man's body up into his arms, cradling him a moment. He was still warm. "You silly bastard!" he moaned softly.' "You poor, silly bastard!" He shuddered and straightened up, looking across to where Auden was standing, watching him. Chen's cheeks were wet with tears, but it didn't matter. It was like losing a son, a brother. He felt a black rage sweep through him.
"What are you waiting for? You told him what would happen! All dead if they played any tricks. That's what you said."
Auden glanced across at the stairs, then looked back at Chen. "I've offered our friend Peskova a new deal. He's thinking it over."
Chen shuddered again, then looked down again. Pavel's face was ugly, his twisted features set in a final snarl of pain. Even in death he had been denied the peace that most men found. Damn you, Pavel! he thought, torn by the sight. It was supposed to be a job. Just a simple infiltration job.
He turned sharply. The door at the head of the stairs had opened slightly. A moment later there was a clattering on the steps. Chen looked. Two weapons lay there at the sergeant's feet—a rifle and a knife.
"Okay," Peskova called down. "I'll do what you say."
Chen turned back, swallowing dryly. His stomach had tightened to a cold, hard knot. A deal. They were going to make a deal with the bastard. He lowered Pavel gently, carefully, then turned back, looking across at Auden. But Auden had turned away. He had forgotten him already.
"All right," Auden was saying. "I'm coming up. Throw the door open wide, then go to the far side of the room and stay there with your hands in the air. If I see any movement I'll open fire. Understand me?"
"I understand, Lieutenant."
Chen pushed his hands together to stop them shaking, then pulled himself up onto his feet. The effort made him double up, coughing. For a moment his head swam and he almost fell, but then it cleared. He straightened up, wheezing for breath, and looked across.
Auden was halfway up the stairs now, moving slowly, cautiously, one step every few seconds, his gun tracking from side to side. Then he was at the top, framed by the doorway. Without turning he called his sergeant up after him.
Chen stood there a moment, breathing deeply, slowly, getting his strength back. He swallowed painfully, then looked about him. Where . . . ? Then he saw it. There, on the floor by the wall where they had placed him. His handgun.
He went across and picked it up, then turned back, following two of Auden's men up into the top room.
Peskova stood against the back wall, his hands resting loosely on his head. He was looking across at Auden, his chin raised arrogantly, his eyes smiling cruelly, almost triumphantly, knowing he was safe.
Chen shivered and looked away, sickened by the sight of the man, barely in control of himself now. He wanted to smash that arrogant face. To wipe the smile from those coldly mocking eyes. But it was not Peskova he wanted. Not really. It was DeVore.
He lifted his head, forcing himself to look at him again. Yes. He could see the pale shadow of the man in this lesser creature. Could see the same indifference behind the eyes. A kind of absence. Nothing that a retinal print could capture, but there nonetheless. Like his master, Peskova had nothing but contempt for his fellow creatures. All-he did was shaped by a cold and absolute dismissal of their separate existence. They were things for his amusement. Things. . . .
Chen looked down again, the trembling in him so marked now that he had to clench his left fist again and again to control it.
Such power DeVore had. Such awful power, to cast so many in his own dark image.
"Kuan Yin! Look at this!"
The sergeant had been moving about the room, searching. In the far comer he had come across a large shape covered by a sheet. Now he turned, facing them, the color drained from his face.
"Watch him closely!" Auden said to the man at his side, then went across to where his sergeant stood. Chen followed.
He was not sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. The man was stretched naked over the saddle, his hands and feet bound tightly to the stirrups. Dark smears of congealed blood coated his legs and arms and the lower part of his back, and he was split from ass to stomach.
"Gods. ..." Auden said softly, walking about the body. "I'd heard of this, but I never dreamed . . ." He fell silent.
Chen felt the bile rise to his throat. The man's eyes bulged, but they were lifeless now. He had choked to death. Not surprisingly. His balls had been cut from him and stitched into his mouth.
"Who is this?" Auden asked, looking across at Peskova.
Peskova stared back coldly, almost defiantly. "A guard. His name was Chang Yan. He had been stealing."