Chung Kuo - The Marriage Of The Living Dark Part 62

"That makes sense. The power's been fluctuating all morning." Karr sighed, then: "d.a.m.n it I should have brought my gun."

"Gun?" Jelka looked alarmed. "You think they might be in trouble, then, Gregor?" "Who knows? But it might be best to prepare for the worst, neh? You wouldn't by any chance have a weapon?"

"A weapon?" Jelka hesitated, then turned and left the room.

Karr watched her go, then looked to Kao Chen. "Are you up to this, Chen?"

Chen stared back at his old friend, wide-eyed. "You mean, step through that?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

Chen swallowed. "I don't..." Then, steeling himself: "If you go, I go."

Karr smiled. "Good. Then maybe I should ask Jelka for another weapon."

"You think we'll need them?"

"Who knows? But my guess is that if what's through there is anything like this world, then we'll find turn there."

"DeVore?"

"Or whatever he calls himself there."

Chen appeared sobered by the thought He was silent a moment, then shook his head. "You know me, Gregor. I fear no man. Yet the merest thought of this sets my flesh creeping. If we should lose our way in there ..." Karr nodded. "I understand. But we'll be together, Chen. Whatever's there on the other side, you'll not be alone. And we shall come back. I promise you." Chen nodded, yet for once he did not seem cheered by the big man's rea.s.surances. That worried look remained in his eyes, which flitted from time to time to the darkness at the centre of that roiling circle of flame, as if at any moment something horrific would emerge from it There were footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later Jelka came back into the room. She was carrying two weapons. Big automatics that were clearly not Kim's.

Karr stood, then took one of the guns from her and hefted it, putting it up to his shoulder to look through the sight "G.o.ds!" he said enthusiastically, stroking the casing of the weapon almost lovingly. "A JPK-4! Best gun ever made!" He lowered it and looked at Jelka, shaking his head. "I didn't know any of these had survived."

Kao Chen was staring at his own gun, as if at a long-lost friend. Looking up, he grinned. "You know, I feel better already, Gregor." He met Jelka's eyes. "These are beautiful. Real works of art Were they the Marshal's?" But Jelka was staring at the weapons coldly. "No, Chen. Those were a.s.sa.s.sins' weapons. I don't know why we kept them, but my father insisted."

"a.s.sa.s.sins?" Chen looked at the weapon in a new light

Jelka nodded, her eyes looking back, as if seeing it all again. "They tried to kill me. I got one of them, and then my father came home. He shot the others dead." She sighed, then shook her head. "It was a long time ago. I... I'd almost forgotten."

Karr gave a sympathetic nod, then, more practically, asked, "We'll need munitions."

Jelka nodded and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out six slender clips of bullets. They were still packed in their ice-wrap covers, as if new. Karr smiled. "Ever the Marshal's daughter."

"Of course." She was quiet a moment, then. "Bring them back, Gregor. Please.

Just find them and bring them back."

The man sat before the bank of screens, watching the figures change moment by moment as the markets went into free fall. "So..." he said quietly, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk. Then, conscious that, at that very moment, measures he had set in place long ago were being activated, he leaned forward and began to tap out the pre-prepared codes that would set the second stage of his scheme into operation.

That done he sat back, a faint smile on his lips. DeVore would never know. Why, he'd never even guess. And even if he did, it would be too late. Much, much too late.

He turned slightly, looking at the portrait of his mother that hung on the wall to his left. She had died over twelve years ago now, but his memories of her were still fresh.

Five hundred dollars. That's what she sold me for. A mere five hundred dollars. Not that he blamed her for it. After all, she'd been a mere serving-girl, not even sixteen years of age, when she had fallen with him. It must have seemed a good deal, to have the fertilised egg removed, her indiscretion expunged from the records. Why, he could imagine that she'd hardly felt a thing when she signed the paper that gave over legal custody. After all, it was not like giving up a baby.

And so he'd been implanted in another's womb and raised as their son. But she was the mother. Not that he'd known it until his first "mother" had died and he'd inherited her papers. The knowledge had come as a shock to him. And the father?

His real mother hadn't wanted to say at first, but slowly he'd wheedled it out of her. It had been at a ball at the great house where she had lived and worked. The man had been a mere five years older than her, but already an important man. A rich young man with influential friends. Beguiled by him, she had let him have his way with her in one of the small storerooms that led off the servants' quarters. She'd thought that was it, but five weeks later she found out she was pregnant with his child.

Not that she'd ever told him. As far as he was concerned, she had been just another meaningless f.u.c.k. An evening's entertainment and nothing more. No, Edmund Wyatt hadn't an inkling that the son he'd conceived that night was now the most powerful financier on the planet. More powerful even than his friend DeVore. Yes, and more secretive.

He looked back at the screens. Already the rate of fall was slowing as the great web of companies and agents he had set up to counter DeVore, bought shares and stocks at inflated prices. Already he had lost more than fifteen billion dollars. Not that it mattered now. All that mattered was to stop the sharp decline. Lifeboats, that's what he called them: lifeboat companies, designed for one purpose only, to save as many as he could from the great financial flood. News was coming in now of bombs going off prematurely, of foiled a.s.sa.s.sination attempts, of important men having fortunate escapes. This too was his doing.

Information. Oh, he knew his Sun Tzu as well as any man. Information was the key, and he had gathered every snippet of information on his foe that he could. And today it all paid off.

He pushed back, away from his desk, then stretched and stood.

"Mister Joseph?"

He turned, then frowned, surprised to find one of his junior partners there.

"Emily?"

"I thought you'd gone, Mister Joseph. I was working late, I..." Then, seeing what was happening on the screens, she gasped. "Kuan Yin! What's going on?" He smiled. "I've been playing a little game, Emily. Me and him. Only he doesn't even know I'm on the board."

"Him?"

But Joseph barely heard her. The tide had turned. Slowly, very slowly, the figures were rising once again.

DeVore was laughing, toasting his own success in the back of the glide, when the news came through.

"Howard ... you'll not believe this ..."

As the screen lit up, he blinked, then gasped. "Impossible..."

"Thaf s what I thought," Wyatt went on, "But if s true. And thaf s not all.

Wetton's alive. And Sinclair. And Beaton."

"But..."

"None of the bombs. .h.i.t target. Not a single a.s.sa.s.sin got through."

DeVore felt his mouth go dry. Someone had betrayed him. Someone had f.u.c.king st.i.tched him up!

Wyatt' It had to be Wyatt!

He kept his voice calm. "Meet me, Edmund. At the Yellow Emperor. Go there now and wait for me."

"But Howard ..."

"Just go there!"

He cut the connection and sat back, fuming now. Impossible. It simply wasn't possible.

DeVore spoke to the air. "Gemma?"

Immediately his personal a.s.sistant was on the line. "Yes, Mister DeVore?"

"Get me a computer a.n.a.lysis of whafs been happening in the markets."

"Over the last month, sir?"

"No, dammit! The last hour! In fact, make that the last half hour!"

"But Mister DeVore ..."

"Don't argue with me woman, just do it!"

Again he cut connection. He had never spoken to her like that before - had been careful never ever to speak to any of his staff with anything but the utmost courtesy before - but now the gloves were off. Someone was f.u.c.king with him, and he wanted to know who and how, and no one - no one - was going to get between him and that knowledge!

"Sir?"

It was his chauffeur, Haavikko, speaking on the internal line. DeVore bristled, feeling a momentary anger, then answered him. "What?" "There's a call, sir. On your private line."

"A call?"

"Yes, sir. I... I think you ought to take it" He hesitated, then. "Okay, Axel. Patch it through." A moment's pause, then, "Howard?"

The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite make it out "Do I know you?" Laughter. Laughter that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; that sent a ripple down his spine. DeVore leaned forward, punching the pad that would give him vision. As he sat back a face appeared on the screen. His own face.

"Yes, Howard, if s me. I've come to help you in your hour of need."

Karr staggered and almost fell. The smell of chrysanthemums was so overpowering that it felt as though he were breathing cotton wool. And the brightness of everything! As Chen came through, he almost fell against Karr, then straightened, looking about him wide-eyed, like an animal that has fallen into the steel mesh of a trap.

The rasp of Chen's breath was like the sound of an iron bar

grating against a rock "Where are we?"

The words boomed at Karr.

"I don't..." Karr stopped abruptly, his eyes focusing on what lay on the bed.

"Aiya" he groaned.

Chen turned, then gave a cry of pain. "Oh, G.o.ds ..." Kim lay on the bed, naked and unmoving. His eyes were open, but they saw nothing. His hands and feet were bound with wire, his flesh so white and waxen that it seemed to glow, but in the middle of his forehead was a single bright red hole, like the hole a worm might have made in an apple. Chen dropped his gun and fell to his knees, beginning to retch. Karr stared a moment, mesmerised - horrified - by the sight, then turned. Where was K.? Where ...?

He took two steps then saw him, hanging from the light-fitting in the tiny bathroom. A piece of wire had been tightened round his throat. His eyes bulged, but like Kim's they saw nothing.

The sight emptied him; took away his courage. Thinking of Jelka, he groaned, wondering how he would ever break the news to her.

Oh, he had seen men die before, and broken the news to more widows than he cared to remember, but this ...

This was the death of hope.

His head swam. Something was wrong here. It felt like he'd been drugged. Behind him Chen retched and retched, the sound and the smell of it so awful it made him gag himself.

Dreaming ... he had to be dreaming. Forcing himself he walked across and touched the limp hand that dangled at K.'s side. It was cold; colder than anything he had ever touched, but real.

He s.h.i.+vered. Out He had to get out.

Karr stumbled back, almost falling over his friend, then turned. He took a step towards the hoop, then stopped dead, realising with a start that it had gone. He whirled about, turning full circle, staring wildly at the walls, certain that there must have been a mistake, but the air was empty, the gateway closed. "Kuan Yin preserve us!"

Chen looked up, wide-eyed. "Gregor?"

"The gate ..."

Chen turned to look, then gave a whimper of fear. Karr stared at his friend, astonished, then understood. Kao Chen's worst fear had just come to pa.s.s, and the poor man was petrified. The thought of it dispelled Karr's own fears. It was up to him now.

"Kao Chen," he said, speaking as a commander speaks to one of his foot-soldiers, "stand up!"

Chen struggled up onto his feet, then glanced at Karr uncertainly. But Karr was staring back at him sternly.

"Good. Now pick up your gun, Major Kao. We've work to do."

As DeVore's glide touched down on the southern edge of Tientsin s.p.a.ceport, his a.s.sistant, Gemma, patched through to him again. "Well?" he asked unceremoniously, raising a hand to ensure that Wyatt, who sat beside him on the long, luxurious seat, kept silent. "Do we know what's happening?"

She smiled confidently. "It looks like there's been a concerted effort to stabilise the markets, sir. A lot of buying at highly inflated prices. Companies taking ma.s.sive losses with no thought to their own economic survival. Eco-altruism, as one of our brokers has termed it" "And do we know who owns these companies?"

She hesitated, then, frowning, shook her head. "No, sir. As far as we can tell, they're subsidiaries. But who owns them..."

"Get someone on it Jenner, maybe. Or King, he's good at burrowing into other peoples' databases. I want to know who's behind this. I want a name, you got me?"

"Sir!"

As the screen blanked, he turned and looked to Wyatt "What do you think?"

But Wyatt seemed as nonplussed as the woman. "I don't know. I can't see why anyone should do it Why, looking at those figures, I'd say that whoever it was must have sustained ma.s.sive losses. Twenty, thirty billion, maybe more." He paused, then shook his head. "I don't know about you, Howard, but I can't think of a single financier in the market who could take that kind of beating and survive. So why do it?"

"To beat me, thaf s why."

Wyatt laughed. "But no one knows. .." He stopped, seeing the look on DeVore's face. "You don't think ...?"