Ebert was looking at him, fear in his eyes. "What does this mean, Knut? Why would they want to copy me? I don't understand."
The General shuddered. Nor I, he thought, not fully, anyway, but now I'm forearmed. We can rig up checkpoints. Scan for copies. Make sure nothing like this gets into the Forbidden City.
There would be more than a hundred thousand guests at the wedding. And not one of them could be allowed to pass through without being tested. For if just one of these . . . things got through, it might prove disastrous.
He reached out and took his old friend's arm. "I'm sorry, Klaus, but I think they meant to substitute this thing for you at the wedding. It was their way of getting at the T'ang."
"You mean they meant to kill me, Knut?"
Tblonen met his eyes. "I think so. They know how close you are to Li Shai Tung, and this. . ." He hesitated, then looked away, shaking his head. "Look, I don't know who's behind this, Klaus, but it couldn't have come at a worse time."
"Or more fortunate?"
Tolonen turned back. "What do you mean?"
Ebert was looking down at the replicant's left hand; at the ring on the second finger with its insignia of two separated strands of DNA—an exact co'py of his own. He looked back at Tolonen. "It just seems odd, Knut, that's all. Odd how easily we caught this one. And yet I can't believe they would want us to know about this. This"—he pointed at the corpselike thing on the table—"It must have cost . . . what? eighty, maybe a hundred million yuan to build. And that's without the initial R-and-D costs. Why, there's memory technology involved here that we haven't even begun to explore at GenSyn. That alone would have cost them two or three hundred million yuan minimum. And maybe three, four times that. They wouldn't throw that away casually, would they?"
"No. I suppose they wouldn't."
But Tolonen was already thinking things through—aware of the huge administrative nightmare this would create. They would have to set up a network of gates in front of the Forbidden City. Secure rooms. Thousands of them, specially equipped to check for fakes. And they would need to rehearse more than twenty thousand stewards in the subtle questions of etiquette and "face" involved.
The General sighed, then tugged his uniform gloves tighter, aware that his craft had been waiting twenty minutes now. He would have to leave soon if he was to meet DeVore off the Mars shuttle. "This will cause a great deal of bad feeling, Klaus. But you're right, it was fortunate. And now we know these things exist we can't afford to take chances. The lives of the Seven are at risk, and I'd offend every last man and woman in the Above to protect the Seven."
Ebert laughed. "I do believe you would, Knut Tolonen." Then he grew serious. "But why now, Knut? Things are good, aren't they? We've built a good world, haven't we? Why do they want to tear it down, eh? Why?"
Tolonen looked up and saw how Ebert was watching him. Saw how, in this, he was looking to him for answers.
"Because the cycle's ending, Klaus. I feel it in my bones. Change is coming."
Yes, he thought. And things we thought true are no longer so.
He looked at the dead thing on the table and thought of DeVore. At least this fake was honest to itself. Was buih a fake. But men? Who was to say what molded them for ill or good?
IT WAS JUST after four in the morning and Nanking Port lay in darkness, a loose-spaced ring of lights, five li from the central hub, tracing the periphery of the vast apron.
Tolonen stood in the topmost office of the towering Port Authority Building, the duty Captain at attention before him.
"Gone? What do you mean, he's gone?"
The young Captain bowed deeply to the visiting General, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
"He's not aboard the ship, sir. When our men went to arrest him, he simply wasn't there. And no one could say where he'd gone."
Tolonen shook his head in disbelief.
"That's impossible! How could he get off the ship? It's moored at the orbital station isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well? He was aboard only eight hours ago, wasn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"So he's either still aboard or on that station, no?"
"No, sir. We've searched both ship and station thoroughly."
Tolonen's anger exploded. "Incompetents! How could you let him get away from you?" He snorted. "Where could he be, eh? Out there? In the vacuum? No! Think, boy! He must be here. On Chung Kuo. But how did he get here? Who brought him down?"
"Sir?" The Captain was totally flustered now.
"What service craft have visited the station in the past four hours? What ships, besides your own, have left the station since the colony ship docked?"
"None, sir."
"None? Surely—"
"We put a cordon sanitaire about the station as soon as you instructed us, General. No service craft has docked at or left the station in the past thirteen hours."
The General shivered. "Who was aboard your craft?" he asked softly.
"Sir?" The Captain stared.back at him blank faced, not understanding.
"I want them brought here. Now. Everyone who was aboard your patrol craft."
"Sir!" The Captain bowed, then turned away.
Tolonen went to the window and looked up into the circle of darkness overhead, his thoughts in turmoil.
Then it was true what the kwai Kao Chen had said. DeVore was the traitor. Tolonen shuddered. It was hard to believe. DeVore . . . the man had been such an excellent soldier. Such a fine, efficient officer. More than that, he had been a friend. A good friend. Had been a guest in the General's home many a time. Had held Tolonen's baby daughter, Jelka, in his arms.
Tolonen turned, facing the doorway. If DeVore were to come into the room right now and swear he'd had no part in things, would I believe him? Yes! Even now I find the whole idea of DeVore as a traitor unbelievable. I would have known. Surely I would have known?
And yet his absence . . .
The Captain returned, followed by a dozen others. They formed up, awaiting the General's pleasure.
"This is all?"
The Captain bowed his head deeply, then went down onto his knees. "Sir, I—I don't know how this happened." He kept his head bent low, his eyes averted. His shame seemed to radiate from him.
"They're gone, too, eh?"
The Captain continued to kneel. "Yes, sir."
"How many?"
"Two officers. Eight men."
Tolonen shook his head in disbelief. Ten men! Was DeVore's influence that strong, then? Or was it something else? He turned away, deeply agitated. Of course. Dispersionist money. Vast sums of it. Enough to buy out two Security officers and eight underlings.
"Gods!" he said softly. How much would it have cost them? A million yuan? Ten million? Fifty? He shivered, then turned and looked down again at the kneeling officer. "Get up, Captain."
The Captain remained as he was. "I have failed you, sir. I ask permission to seek an honorable death."
Angered now, Tolonen reached down and pulled the man to his feet.
"I'll not have good officers killing themselves for nothing. It is not your fault. Do you understand me, Captain? DeVore was too clever for you. Too clever for us all."
No, he thought, meeting the Captain's eyes. It's really not your fault at all. But now DeVore's at large. What mischief will he do?
The Captain backed away, white faced, bowing. Then, at Tolonen's curt, angry command, he turned and led his men away.
Alone again, Tolonen let his anger drain from him. He went to the window and stood there once more, looking out over the still, dark forms of a hundred different craft, grounded at his order.
The certainty of DeVore's treachery sickened him. More than that, it undermined him, because it ran contrary to all he thought he had known about men. His thoughts ran back over the last few years, trying to make sense of things. Could he have known? Was there any way he could have known?