Ts'ui Wei stared at him a moment longer, his mouth working soundlessly, then he fell to his knees, pressing his head to the floor in front of Chen, his body shaking with fear. "Have mercy," he pleaded. "For the gods' sakes, have mercy!"
Chen took a shuddering breath, remembering how Wang Ti had looked, remembering how it had felt, knowing he had not been there for her—and Jyan, poor Jyan . . . how had it felt for him, knowing he could do nothing? And this . . . this piece of shit. . . wanted mercy?
He raised the knife, his whole body tensed, prepared to strike . . .
"Father! No! Pkase . . ."
He turned, letting the knife fall from his hand. It was Jyan. It was his son, Jyan The boy ran across and threw his arms about him, embracing him, holding hit so tightly that Chen felt something break in him. He began to sob, the wore spilling from him. "Oh, Jyan . . . Jyan . . . I'm so sorry ... I didn't know . didn't know. Was it awful, boy? Was it really awful?"
Jyan clutched his father fiercely, looking up at him, his face wet with tears. "It's all right, Father . . . It's all right now. You're back. You're here now."
He kissed his son's brow, then lifted him up, hugging him tightly. Yes. But it would never be the same.
He turned, looking back into the shadows. Karr was standing there, a troop of his guards behind him. "Are you all right, Kao Chen?"
Chen nodded. "I . . ." He laughed strangely. "I would have killed him."
"Yes," Karr said quietly. "And I would have let you. But Jyan . . . Well, Jyan knew best, neh? After all, you have a life ahead of you, Kao Chen. A good life."
Chen shivered, tightening his grip on his son, then nodded. Karr let his hand rest on Chen's shoulder briefly, then moved past him, taking command of the situation. "All right!" he barked, towering over the frightened men. "Let's get this sorted out, right now! You!—all of you!—against the back wall, hands on your heads! You're under arrest, as principles and accessories to the murder of a child, and for conspiring to pervert the course of justice."
karr sat on the ledge of the stone boat, staring across at the floodlit shape of the Memorial Stone. It was after nine and the lotus lake was dark. Elsewhere, beneath the lamps that lined the narrow pathways, lovers walked, talking softly, keeping a proper distance between them. Behind Karr, seated among the shadows of the teahouse, Chen sat, his head fallen forward, his story told.
For a moment longer Karr sat there, motionless, and then he sighed and shook his head, as if waking from a dark and threatening dream.
"And that is the truth?"
Chen was silent.
Karr closed his eyes, deeply pained. Of course it was the truth. A tale like that— it was not something one made up about oneself. No. But it was not only Chen he felt sorry for. He had liked the woman greatly. Had respected her. If he had known for one moment. . .
He turned and stood, looking back at his friend. "This is wrong, Kao Chen. Very wrong."
Chen looked up and nodded.
"Then what are we to do?"
"Do?" Chen laughed coldly. "What can we do?"
Karr was quiet a moment, fingering the dragon pendant about his neck, then he drew it out, staring at it. He was Chia ch'eng, Honorary Assistant to the Royal Household. By right he could claim audience with his T'ang.
He sat, facing Chen across the table. "I will see Li Yuan. I will tell him everything you told me just now."
"You think he does not know?"
Karr nodded. "I am convinced of it. He is a good man. Someone is keeping these things from him. Well, then, we must be his eyes and ears, neh? We must let him know what is being done in his name."
Chen turned his head. "And Tolonen? He will have the report of my debriefing by the morning. What if he says you are to do nothing?"
Karr looked down. That was true. He was Tolonen's man, and by rights he should talk to the old man first. But some things were greater than such loyalties.
"Then I must do it now."
THE wall had changed. Had become a view of Tai Shan, the sacred mountain misted in the early morning light, the great temple at the summit a tiny patch of red against the blue of the sky, perched atop that mass of gray and green. Within the room a faint breeze blew, spreading the scent of pine and acacia.
Fat Wong turned from the wall, looking back at his guests, then raised his cup. "Brothers. . ."
There were five men seated around the low table, each the equal of Wong Yi-sun, each the Big Boss of one of the great Triads that ran the lowest levels of City Europe. It had cost him much to get them here tonight, but here they were. All of them. Or, at least, all that mattered.
They stared back at him, cold-eyed, returning his smile with their mouths alone, like alligators.
"I am glad you could all come. I realize what sacrifices you have made to come here at such short notice, but when you have heard what I have to say, I know you will agree that I was right to convene this meeting of the Council."
"Where is Iron Mu?"
Wong turned, facing the old man seated at the table's end. "Forgive me, General Feng, but I will come to that."
The Big Boss of the i4K stared back at him humorlessly. "The Council has seven members, Wong Yi-sun, but I see only six about this table. I thought it was agreed. . ."
"Hear Wong out, Feng Shang-pao," the short, shaven-headed man seated two down from Feng said, leaning forward to take a cashew from a bowl. "I am sure all your questions will be answered."
Feng sat back, glaring at his interrupter. "We must have laws among us, Li Chin. Ways of conducting ourselves."
Li Chin—Li the Lidless as he was known, for obvious reasons—turned his bony head and looked at Feng, his overlarge eyes fixing the older man. "I do not dispute it, Feng Shang-pao. But the Wo Shih Wo would like to know what Fat Wong has to say, and unless you let him say it. . ."
Feng looked down, his huge chest rising and falling, then he nodded.
"Good," Wong said. "Then let me explain. This afternoon, I received a letter."
Whiskers Lu, Boss of the Kuei Chuan, leaned forward, the melted mask of his face turned toward Wong, his one good eye glittering. "A letter, Wong Yi-sun?"
"Yes." Wong took the letter from within his silks and threw it down in front of Lu. "But before you open it, let me say a few words."
Wong drew himself up, his eyes moving from face to face. "We of the Hung Mun are proud of our heritage. Rightly so. Since the time of our founding by the five monks of the Fu Chou monastery, we have always settled our disputes amicably. And that is good, neh? After all, it is better to make money than make war." He smiled, then let the smile fade. "This once, however, the threat was too great. Iron Mu sought more than simple profit. He sought to build a power base—a base from which to overthrow this Council. To replace it." He nodded, his face stern. "Let us not hide behind words any longer. Iron Mu sought to destroy us."
Dead Man Yun of the Red Gang cleared his throat. "I hear your words, Wong Yi-sun, but I find them strange. You speak of things we all know, yet you speak of them in the past. Why is this?"
Wong smiled, then turned, going across to the tiny pool. For a moment he stood there, watching the seven golden fish swim lazily in the crystal waters; then with a quicksilver motion, he scooped one up and turned, holding it up for the others to see. For a moment it flapped in the air, then Wong threw it down onto the dry flagstones.
There was a murmur of understanding around the table.
"So Iron Mu is dead. But how?" Three-Finger Ho asked, eyeing Wong warily.
Wong came closer, a trace of self-satisfaction at the corners of his mouth. "I will tell you how. All thirty-seven decks of the Big Circle heartland were hit simultaneously, thirty minutes ago. A force of one hundred and twenty thousand Hei went in, with a backup of fifteen hundred regular guards."