"But what if nothing comes of it?"
"Then nothing comes of it. It's not as if we'll be sitting on our hands. Why, it'll take us the best part of a decade to develop some of the stuff you've already given us. And as I said, it would mean our competitors didn't have you."
"So when do I sign?"
"Look, I'm not trying to pressure you."
"No. I'm serious. If that's the deal, I'll take it."
Neville smiled. "Well—"
There was a knock. Kim stood. "Excuse me a moment."
It was Curval. "Sorry, Kim, but I didn't know if you knew. A package came for you about an hour back. It's in reception. And this." He handed Kim the bright red envelope. "It's Tolonen's hand, isn't it?"
Kim nodded, staring at the envelope suspiciously. The last time he had had a note from the old Marshal it had been to warn him to stay away from his daughter. He turned, looking to Neville. "Forgive me, Jack. Something's come up."
He stepped outside and closed the door, then slit the envelope open with his nail.
"What is it?" Curval asked. "Is the old bastard still playing his stupid games?"
"No." He handed Curval the card. "You said there was a package. Did it come with the card?"
Curval made a noise of surprise, then handed it back. "That's right. The guard said a young woman delivered them. Tall, long ash-blond hair. Sound like anyone you know?"
"I . . ." Kim hesitated, then touched Curval's arm. "Look, take care of Neville awhile, will you? I won't be long."
He walked through to the reception area, trying to keep calm, but feeling all the while like he wanted to run, to whoop and punch the air. It had come. After all these years she had finally made contact again.
He shivered, thinking of her; of the startling blue of her eyes, and of her smile. She was here, he thought, wondering what she had left him. She actually came here.
The guard rose from his chair behind the desk as Kim approached. "Shih Ward . . ." He reached down and removed something from one of the drawers, then placed it on the desk in front of Kim. "If you'd sign . . ."
"Of course." But Kim's palms were wet and his fingers were trembling. Steadying himself, he took the stylus and made his mark against the screen, then lifted the package.
It was a simple rectangular box, like a standard tray of samples, wrapped in dark green ersilk paper. Kim shook it gently, hearing a faint rattle from within, and frowned. The guard was watching him.
"The young woman who brought this. Did she say anything?"
"Sir?"
Kim waved a hand. "It doesn't matter." Then, making his way across to one of the interview rooms, he closed the door behind him.
He took a long, calming breath, then slit the seal on the side of the box with his nail, pulled the paper back, and slid out the box.
Tapes . . . the box held a dozen tiny tapes. He lifted one from its indented slot and studied the handwritten label.
Enceladus, Tethys, Diane, and Rhea.
He understood at once. She had recorded it all. All of her travels out there in the System, knowing his fascination with it; knowing he'd want to see.
He slotted it back, then picked out another, then another, nodding to himself. It was all here. Everything she'd seen. Everything she'd done. He shivered. She had waited. She had kept her promise. That was what this meant.
He leaned past the box and tapped out an activation code on the desk comset. There was a second or two's delay and then the screen lifted up out of the surface.
"Get me the Ebert Mansion," he said as a young Han male's face appeared on the screen. "It's Kim Ward from SimFic. I wish to speak—"
"I'm sorry, Shih Ward," the operator interrupted, "but I cannot take calls for that destination at present. If you would call later—"
"Look, this is important. Extremely important. I—"
The young Han's face shimmered, then disappeared, replaced by the face of a high-ranking Security officer in his early forties, his blond hair cut stubble neat, his eyes as blue as sapphires.
"Shih Ward? I understand you've been trying to get through to the Ebert Mansion urgently. I'm Major Haavikko, in charge of the investigation. Have you any information with regard to the whereabouts of the boy?"
"The boy?" Kim frowned, confused. "I'm sorry, I don't follow you, Major. I wished only to talk to Nu Shih Tolonen. I—" He stopped, what Haavikko had said hitting him suddenly. "What's happened?"
Haavikko smiled tightly. "You have no information, I assume."
"No. No, but look—"
"I'm sorry, Shih Ward, but time really is tight right now."
"Jelka ... is Jelka all right?"
Haavikko had leaned toward the screen to cut connection. Now he sat back again, a weariness in his face. "The Marshal's daughter is fine, Shih Ward. Now, please. There's a great deal to be done."
"Of course. And thank you. . . ."
The screen went dead. Kim straightened, realizing how tense he'd been, then let a long, shuddering sigh escape him. For a moment he'd thought ...
He sat, staring at the box of tapes. The boy. Someone must have taken the boy, Pauli.
"Machine?" he said, addressing the camera overhead. "What's happening?"
LEHMANN STUDIED the boy through the glass, then turned to his lieutenant, touching his arm.
"You did well, Jiri. But your man—"
"He's dead already."
"Good. Can't have any loose ends, can we?"
Soucek nodded, then. "So what now? Do we tell the old man we'v£ got him?"
"No. We let Tolonen sweat awhile. Two days, maybe three. Then we give him back."
Soucek stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Trust me, Jiri. I know how to play this. Now go. There's a lot to be done."
When Soucek was gone, he turned back, watching the boy again. Pauli was sitting in the corner once again, head down, his dark hair fallen over his eyes as he chewed the knuckles of his right hand.
That morning's audience with Karr had gone well. The big man had bought the whole package, lock, stock, and barrel. All that stuff about having seen the tape of Berdichev's death—that was a lie; an audacious guess, based on what he knew of Li Yuan's father. And an accurate guess, too, he thought, remembering the shock in Karr's face. The rest . . . well, it had been easy to buy Karr's wife's surgeon. Yes, and a cheap purchase, too, considering.
It could not have been better timed. With Karr already on his way, word had come that Karr's wife was pregnant—news even Karr himself had not known.
Lehmann turned from the one-way glass. Information ... it was sometimes more deadly than armies, as the great Sun Tzu had known.
Yes, he had planted the seed of paranoia deep. That single truth— gained cheaply—would confirm the veracity of the rest. As Colonel of Internal Security, Karr would embark on a witch-hunt at Tongjiang.
Disruption—maximum disruption, that was his aim. To wrong-foot them and feed them with a stream of misinformation. To play upon their weakest points and milk them. Karr he had touched, and Tolonen. Rheinhardt and Nan Ho would follow. And then Li Yuan himself. One by one he would make them uncertain of themselves.
Yes, for war was not a simple thing of armies and battles: it was a state of mind, a psychological regime. War was not won with bullets and bombs, but with the raw materials of fear, uncertainty, and self-doubt.
He laughed—a cold, clear laugh—then left the room, keen to get on with things. Why, before he was finished with them, he would make them look before they shat!
THE CEREMONIES had begun before the dawn, as fourth bell sounded across the palace grounds. At that dark hour Prince Tsu Kung-chih, eldest nephew of Tsu Ma, had stepped from the gate of the Northern Palace, dressed in the gowns of the Imperial Commissioner, the chieh—a beribboned staff that symbolized imperial authority—held out before him. Two torchbearers lit his way, while behind him came a great procession of courtiers and servants, bearing the betrothal presents on raised platforms, as well as the Golden Scroll and Seal and the feng yu—the great bridal chair. They made their way across the gardens at the center of the four palaces, then stopped before the gate to the Southern Palace where, on a crimson cushion, Liang K'o Ting, father of the Empress, knelt, awaiting them, as if at the door of his own house.