He looked about him one last time, watching the thinly fleshed shape of Jyan bend and stretch behind the plastic curtaining. Then, his mind made up, he left quietly. It wasn't toys he wanted. He wanted something real. A new life. Better than this. More real than this. A child, maybe. A son.
He was tired of being wang pen—rootless, his origins forgotten. It was time he was connected. If not to the past, then to the future. He sighed, knowing he could do nothing about the past. But the future—that was unwritten. . . .
As he walked back to his own apartment the thought went through his mind like a chant, filling his head, obsessing him— a child. A son. A child. A son. The words coursing through him like the sound of his feet as they pounded the bare ice flooring of the corridors. A child. A son.
Very well. He must be ready, then. There was no other way.
YANG LAI knelt at Lehmann's feet, his head bowed low, his hands gripping the hem of Lehmann's paw tightly.
"You're a good man, Pietr Lehmann. A good, good man. IVe been so scared. So frightened that they would find me before you or Edmund came."
Lehmann looked about him. The room was filthy. It looked as if no one had tidied it in years. Had Yang Lai fallen this low, then? Had he no friends of higher rank to help him in his need? He drew the man to his feet and freed his hand, then reached across to lift his chin, making Yang Lai look at him.
"I'm glad you called, Yang Lai. Things are difficult. If Security had found you..."
Yang Lai averted his eyes. "I understand."
"How did you get out?"
The Han hesitated. "Does it matter?"
Lehmann noted the undertone of suspicion in Yang Lai's voice. The man had had time enough to work it out. Yet he wasn't certain. His trust in Wyatt had acted like a barrier against the truth. It had prevented him from piecing things together. Well, that was good. It meant things would be easier.
"I'm interested, that's all. But anyway . . ." He feigned indifference, changing tack at once; moving past Yang Lai as he spoke. "The Minister's assassination. It wasn't us, you see. Someone preempted us." He turned and looked back at the Han. "Do you understand me, Yang Lai? Do you see what I'm saying? Whoever it was, they almost killed you."
"No! No. . . ."Yang Lai shook his head, confused. "That's not how it was. They—they warned me. Told me to get out of there."
Yang Lai shuddered violently and looked away. He was red eyed and haggard from lack of sleep, and his clothes smelled. Even so, there was something in his manner that spoke of his former authority. He was a man accustomed to command.
For a moment Yang Lai seemed lost in thought. Then, like someone suddenly waking, he looked up at Lehmann again, a smile lighting his face. "Then Edmund had nothing to do with it?"
"Nothing." This time it was the truth.
For a moment Lehmann pondered the connection between Wyatt and the Han. Why did Yang Lai trust Edmund so explicitly? Was it only friendship? Or was it deeper than that? Were they lovers?
"Who warned you?" he asked, moving closer. "You have to tell me, Yang Lai. It's very important."
Yang Lai glanced up at him, meeting his eyes briefly. Then he looked down sharply, his shame like something physical. "A messenger came," he said softly. "My Third Secretary, Pi Ch'ien."
Pi Ch'ien. Lehmann caught his breath. Pi Ch'ien hadn't been on the list of names DeVore had given him. Which meant he was probably still alive. Lehmann turned away, pressing his left hand to his brow, trying to think. Then he turned back. "This Pi Ch'ien . . . where is he?"
Yang Lai shrugged. "I don't know. I assume he was killed." He looked away, his voice going very quiet. "I think I was the last to get out before the solarium went up."
Lehmann was still a moment; then, abruptly, he turned and made to go.
Yang Lai rushed after him and caught him at the door, holding tightly to his arm, his face pressed close to Lehmann's.
"What's happening? Please, Pietr, tell me what's happening!"
Lehmann turned back, taking Yang Lai's hands in his own. "It's all okay, Yang Lai. It will all be all right. Trust me. Trust Edmund. But there are things we have to do. For all our sakes."
Yang Lai studied his face intently for a moment. Then he looked down, giving no sign of what he'd seen. "All right. Do what you must."
Outside, Lehmann paused and glanced across at the two men standing against the far side of the corridor. Behind him he heard the door slide shut and the door lock click into place.
It would not help him. Hitmen had the combination to the lock.
It's necessary, Lehmann told himself. All of this. All the killing and the lying and the double-dealing. All necessary.
He met the eyes of the taller man and nodded, then turned away, making his way quickly to the waiting transit elevator.
Necessary. For all our sakes.
CHOH SIANG put the envelope on the table in front of Jyan, then leaned back, watching him carefully.
"What's this?" Jyan looked up guardedly.
"Open it and see. I'm only the messenger."
Cho Hsiang saw how suspicious Jyan was of the envelope. He had not seen anything like it before. It was all tape or mouth-work down here. No subtleties.
"You tear it open," he explained. "The message will be written on the sheet inside."
Jyan hesitated, then picked up the envelope and examined it. On one side of the whiteness was written his name. The other seemed to have been slit open diagonally, then sealed with something hot that had left the imprint of a double helix. Seeing that, he laughed.
"I guessed right, then?"
Cho Hsiang said nothing, merely inclined his head toward the envelope.
Jyan tugged gently at the seal, trying to prise it open. Then, more brutally, he tore at the silken paper. The seal gave suddenly and the message spilled out onto the table, coming to rest beside Cho Hsiang's hand. It was a single folded sheet. Gingerly, using only his fingertips, Cho Hsiang pushed it across to him.
On the paper was a figure. Jyan studied it a moment, then whistled softly.
"Will it do?"
There was the faintest trace of sarcasm in Cho Hsiang's voice.
Jyan had folded the paper. He unfolded it and stared at the figure again. Then he looked up over the paper at Cho Hsiang.
"Do you know what it says?"
Cho Hsiang shook his head slowly. "As I said, I'm only the messenger. But I know this. There'll be no haggling. Understand? You either take what's offered or you get nothing."
"Nothing. . . ." Jyan laughed tensely. "That would be rather stupid of them, don't you think?"
Cho Hsiang leaned forward. "You heard me. Take it or leave it."
"And if I leave it? If I take what I know elsewhere?"
Cho Hsiang allowed himself a cold smile. "You're an imaginative man, Kao Jyan. Work it out for yourself."
Jyan looked down, unfolding the paper yet again. Cho Hsiang watched him, amused. They knew how to deal with such types up Above. Theirs was the way of ultimatum. Take it or leave it—it was all the same to them. Either way they would come out on top. He reached out and took his glass, draining it, then reached across and pressed the button on the wall that would summon Big White.
"I have to go now, Kao Jyan. What shall I say to my friends?"
Jyan looked up. From his face Cho Hsiang could see he was still undecided. He pressed him. "Well?"
There were sounds, outside. The door lock popped softly and the door began to slide back.'Jyan looked past Cho Hsiang, then back at him.
"Okay. We'll take it. And tell your man ..."
He stopped, seeing Big White there.