"You did well," he said gently, caressing her face with his long, pale fingers. "You did very well. But I need one more thing. I want the name—the real name—of your cell leader."
There was a strange movement in her eyes—a sudden realization that, whatever she did, whatever she said, there would be no end to this. Not until she was dead.
She shook her head, her whole face creased now with pain, knowing the torment to come. Vainly she began to call out and struggle.
Looking on, Hart felt himself go cold. He had never seen anything like it. Never . . . He shuddered, then closed his eyes as the woman's screams began again, while beside him, Berrenson looked on with a sickly fascination.
LATER, in Lehmann's offices, Berrenson sat there silently, sipping ice water and chewing at a knuckle, while Hart spelled out what they wanted.
Lehmann sat casually in his chair, listening patiently, turning the tiny cassette between his fingers, time and again, staring at it thoughtfully all the while. As Hart finished he looked up at him and nodded.
"I'm glad you came to me, Alex. You did the right thing. But I think you're going about this the wrong way. Killing Tolonen . . . well, it would give a lot of people—myself included—a great deal of pleasure, but it would solve nothing. To begin with, it would make Li Yuan angry, and I don't want that. Not yet. Moreover, he would only appoint an even more intractable protector for the boy. Rheinhardt, perhaps. And where would you be then? No. We need to be more direct."
"More direct? But killing Tolonen—" Hart laughed—"what could be more direct than that? Besides, it would avenge your father."
The look Lehmann gave him made him fall silent and lower his eyes.
"Listen," Lehmann said coldly, looking to Hart and then to Berren-son. "I'll say this only once. I don't want Tolonen killed. It doesn't fit my plans. There is, however, another way. Berrenson, your people took the boy from the Ebert Mansion once, right?"
"That's so, but—"
"But nothing. If it was done once it can be done again. We'll take the boy and hold him. And if Tolonen still refuses to come to terms, we'll kill him."
"But the Marshal . . ."
Lehmann glared at Berrenson. "You will leave it to me. And you will tell no one about this meeting—not your wives, not your friends, and certainly not your business associates."
He leaned toward them threateningly, the tape held up between his fingers. "Remember what you saw this morning. Remember it well. Because if there's one thing I won't tolerate, it's indiscipline."
Swallowing nervously, the two men bowed their heads. Then, the interview over, they hurried away, the screams of the dying woman echoing ghostlike in their ears.
LI YUAN dismissed his three advisors, then turned to the twin screens facing him.
Once there had been seven of them, meeting in Council twice a year to discuss matters of State and formulate policy, but the years had slowly pared the Seven down. Now there were just the three of them.
"Tsu Ma . . . Wei Tseng-li . . ." he said, greeting his fellow T'ang. "You have heard what Marshal Tolonen and General Rheinhardt had to say, and I am sure you have taken your own specialist advice on the matter. Now, however, we must decide on a course of action. Something all three of us are happy with."
Tsu Ma was first to speak. "Tolonen talks sense. Africa has become a luxury we can ill afford. The cost of policing it, both in manpower and in funding, exceeds any benefit we derive from keeping it. Moreover, we all have more pressing problems at home, neh? While there was a shooting war in Africa our presence there at least distracted men's minds from domestic worries, but these last twelve months things have been quiet and the people have grown weary of the struggle. What's in their bellies worries them more than whether Africa is won or lost. And rightly so, perhaps. My vote is to get out."
"And you, Cousin Wei?"
Wei Tseng-li was his father's third son and had inherited only after the murder of his elder brothers. For a time he had been Li Yuan's personal secretary and, when stationed on Li Yuan's floating palace, Yang/ing, had saved Yuan's son, Kuei Jen, from certain death. As such there was a strong bond between the two young men. In many respects they were more like brothers than cousins. Just now, however, Tseng-li was deep in thought, his smooth, beardless face pale. The problems of State sat heavier on him than on the other two, and he had been ill these past months, though his surgeons could not trace the cause.
"I hear what my cousin Ma says," he began, speaking slowly, every word, it seemed, considered. "And while what he says makes sense, I am still loath to throw away what we have fought so hard to keep. History teaches that, once lost, territory can never be regained so easily. So with Africa. Withdraw and we withdraw for good. Chung Kuo will be diminished. Not only that, but it will be seen by all to be a sign of weakness; a sign so large that even the most myopic of our enemies might read it. Therefore my counsel is against withdrawal. I say we should persevere. Until times turn to our favor once again."
Li Yuan sat back. "I hear you, cousin, and, were it merely a matter of withdrawal, would agree with you entirely. It would not do to display any sign of weakness. And that is why I am suggesting that we make of this necessity a virtue."
"How so?" Tsu Ma asked.
Li Yuan smiled. "Can we meet?"
"In person?"
"It would be best."
Tsu Ma frowned. "Forgive me, Yuan, but is that wise, given the climate of the times?"
"It must be so. For what I have to say is for the ears of us three alone. The days were when we could trust such distant communications as this to be discreet are past. We must assume that every call is monitored, every communication suspect."
Wei Tseng-li nodded. "I, for one, agree."
"Then so be it," Tsu Ma said with a sigh. "We shall arrange a time and place to settle this for good and all. Until then, may the gods preserve you, cousins."
"And you," Li Yuan said, breaking contact.
Tsu Ma was right, of course. It was dangerous for all three of them to meet in person. Extremely dangerous, given the circumstances. But there was no option. He could not go ahead without their consent, and for his scheme to work absolute confidentiality was needed. So ... they would have to meet. But where? And when?
Li Yuan smiled. The answer was staring him in the face. Tsu Ma's betrothal ceremony! What better opportunity for an informal meeting? Why, they could have it here, at Tongjiang, and then Karr could look after the security.
Yes, and maybe it would prove a turning point—the first step on the long road to recovery.
Li Yuan nodded to himself, then, taking a brush from the inkstand, began to pen a memorandum for his Chancellor.
KARR SLIPPED the coded key into the lock, let the scanner register his retinal imprint, then slid the door back quietly, listening for sounds from within.
It was silent. He set down his pack and turned, looking about him. Nothing had changed. Even the smell was how he remembered it. For a moment he closed his eyes. Six months it had been since he'd last stood here. Six months.
He slid the door closed, then went through. The door to May's room was open. He stood there, looking in, bewitched by the sight that met his eyes. The three-year-old lay on her back, her mouth open, her legs splayed carelessly in sleep. Beside her lay his wife, his darling Marie, her back to him, her long dark hair spread out upon the pillow.
He felt his heart go out to them both, felt all the longing, the heartache he'd suffered being away from them, well up in him again.
Home. He was home.
He made to step back, when she turned, drowsy eyed, and looked at him.
"Gregor?" Then, suddenly more awake. "Gregor?"
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, then, with a brief glance at her sleeping child, came across to him.
They embraced, long months of denial shaping the passion of their kisses. It was eight weeks since she'd last visited him in Africa.