"Still," DeVore said after a moment, "you've contained the damage rather well. I couldn't have done better myself."
He saw how Gesell glanced uncertainly at Ascher and knew at once that he'd had nothing to do with the ritual suicides. He was about to make comment when a voice came from the darkness to his left. "You liked that? It was my idea."
DeVore turned slowly, recognizing Mach's voice. He narrowed his eyes, not understanding. Mach was the last person he would have expected to have tried to save the reputation of the Ping Tiao. No. The collapse of the "Levelers" could only bolster the fortunes of his own secret movement-within-a-movement, the Yu. Unless ... He turned back, watching Gesell's face as Mach came toward him. Of course! Gesell was out! Mach was now the de facto leader of the Ping Tiao. It was what he had sensed earlier—why Gesell had been so touchy, why he had begun to surround himself with thugs. Gesell knew. Even if it hadn't been said, he knew. And was afraid.
Mach seemed taller, broader at the shoulder than before. Then DeVore understood. He was wearing a uniform—the uniform of the Security Reserve Corps. His long dark hair was coiled tightly in a bun at the back of his head and he had shaved off the beard he usually wore. He strode across casually, smiling tightly at Gesell, then turned his back on his colleagues.
"You've got balls, Turner, I'll grant you that. If I'd been in your shoes, this is the last place I'd come."
DeVore smiled. "I gambled. Guessed that the surprise of seeing me here would make you listen to me. Even your friend, the hothead over there."
Gesell glared back at him, but said nothing. It was as if Mach's presence neutralized him.
Mach was nodding. "I'm sorry about that. Bent lets things get on top of him at times. But he's a good man. He wants what I want."
DeVore looked from one to the other, trying to make out exactly what their new relationship was. But one thing was clear: Mach was number one. He alone spoke for the Ping Tiao now. Overnight the illusion of equality—of committee—had dissipated, leaving a naked power struggle. A struggle that Mach had clearly won. But had he won anything of substance? Had he won it only to see the Ping Tiao destroyed? If so, he seemed remarkably calm about it.
"And what do you want?" he asked. "Something new, or the same old formula?" Mach laughed. "Does it matter? Are you interested any longer?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
Mach nodded, a slightly more thoughtful expression coming to his face. "Yes." Again he laughed. It was strange. He seemed more relaxed than DeVore had ever seen him. A man free of cares, not burdened by them.
"You know, 1 was genuinely surprised when you contacted us. I wondered what you could possibly want. After Bremen I thought you'd have nothing to do with us. I did what I could to repair the damage, but. . ." He shrugged. "Well, we all know how it is. We are small fish in the great sea of the people, and if the sea turns against us . . ."
DeVore smiled inwardly. So Mach knew his Mao. But had he Mao's dour patience? Had he the steel in him to wait long years to see his vision made real? His creation of the Yu suggested that he had. And that was why he had come. To keep in touch with Mach. To cast off the Ping Tiao and take up with the Yu. But it seemed that Mach had not yet finished with the Ping Tiao. Why? Were the Yu not ready yet? Did he need the Ping Tiao a while longer—as a mask, perhaps, for his other activities?
He looked down, deciding how to play it; then he smiled, meeting Mach's eyes again.
"Let's just say that I believe in you, Shih Mach. What happened was unfortunate. Tragic, let's say. But not irreparable. We have patience, you and I. The patience to rebuild from the ashes, neh?"
Mach narrowed his eyes. "And you think you can help?"
DeVore reached into his tunic pocket and took out the ten slender chips, handing them across to Mach.
Mach looked at them, then laughed. "Half a million yuan. And that'll solve all our problems?"
"That and four of my best propaganda men. They'll run a leaflet campaign in the lower levels. They'll reconstruct what happened at Bremen until even the most cynical unbeliever will have it on trust that the Seven butchered fifteen thousand of their own to justify a campaign against the Ping Tiao."
Mach laughed. "And you think that will work?"
DeVore shook his head. "No. 1 know it'll work. The Big Lie always does."
"And in return?"
"You attack the plantations."
Mach's eyes widened. "You're mad. They'll be waiting for us now."
"Like they were at Bremen?"
Mach considered. "I take your point. But not now. We've lost too many men. It'll take time to heal our wounds, and even more to train others to take the place of those we lost."
"How long?"
"A year, perhaps. Six months at the very least."
DeVore shook his head. "Too long. Call it a month and I can promise twenty times the money I've just given you."
Mach's mouth opened slightly, surprised. Then he shook his head. "For once it's not a question of money. Or haven't you heard? The T'ang's men raided more than a dozen of our cells this afternoon. To all intents and purposes the Ping Tiao has ceased to exist in large parts of City Europe. Elsewhere we're down to a bare skeleton. That's where I Ve been, inspecting the damage. Touring the ruins, if you like."
DeVore looked past Mach at the others. No wonder the woman had been so quiet. They had known. Even so, his reasoning remained sound. Until the fortresses were ready, he needed an organization like the Ping Tiao to burrow away at the foundations of the City and keep the Seven under pressure. The Ping Tiao, or maybe the Yu. When the Yu were ready.
He was silent a moment, then nodded. "I see. Then you had best use my men to bolster your numbers, Shih Mach. Five hundred should be enough, don't you think? I'll arrange for Schwarz here to report to you two days from now. You'll have command, naturally."
Mach narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand. Why don't you just attack them yourself? I don't see what you get out of doing it this way."
"You don't trust me, then?"
"Damn right, I don't!" Mach laughed and half turned away, then turned back, coming right up close to DeVore.
"Okay. Let's have no more games between us, Major. I know who you are, and I know what you've done. I've known it some while now. It explains a lot. But this • • . this just doesn't fit together."
DeVore stared back at him, undaunted. Of course he knew. Who did he think let him know?
"Start thinking clearly, Mach. How could I get that many men into position without Security finding out about it? No. I need you, Mach. I need you to find false identities for these men. To find them places to live. To organize things for me. Beyond that we both need this. In my case to placate my backers, to let them see that something real, something tangible, is being done against the Seven. You to bring new blood to your movement, to prove that the Ping Tiao isn't moribund."
Mach looked away thoughtfully, then nodded. "All right. We'll do as you say. But I want the funds up front, and I want them three days from now. As token of your good faith."
It would be difficult, but not impossible. In any case, Ebert would pay. He'd fucked things up, so he could foot the bill. DeVore offered his hand. "Agreed." Mach hesitated, then took his hand. "Good. Three days then. I'll let you know where we'll meet and when."
As he made his way back to the transporter, DeVore considered what had been said and done. Whatever happened now, Gesell was dead. After the raid on the plantations if necessary, but before if it could be arranged. That was the last time he would put himself at risk with that fool.