Son of Heaven

by David Wingrove

Jiang Lei imagined it, holding the thought a moment, seeing how he could make a poem of it. A poem of ice and time and broken lives. Especially the last. A delicate, elegant poem. An observation from the edge of the world.

  He turned, looking back down the hill. There, not fifty metres away, Ma Feng and the youngster, Li Ying, were waiting for him, sharing a cigarette, the glow of its stub the only sign of them in the darkness.

  Jiang smiled. Today, for once, had been a good day. His talk with Reed… it was rare that he had such conversations. But then Reed seemed a rare kind of man. It was a pity he was Hung Mao. Much more a pity that he was on Wang’s list.

  Jiang sniffed in the cool night air. He was not sure what he would do about that yet. He had given Reed a new identity. One that would keep him from discovery for the next few days. But after that…

  ‘Ma Feng…’

  The man hurried up the slope, taking form from the darkness.

  ‘Yes, General?’

  ‘My talk this afternoon… with the prisoner… I want no word of it to get back to Cadre Wang, you understand?’

  Ma Feng’s head bent lower. ‘Yes, General. I shall speak to the men.’

  ‘Good. Then I am finished here.’

  Ma Feng remained as he was, head lowered. He showed no sign of ever moving from that pose.

  Jiang knew what it meant. Knew, of old, that Ma Feng would not ask directly, and so asked the question for him.

  ‘You want to know why, neh? Why I, Tsao Ch’un’s general, should be so interested in a simple villager? Well… I am… only the truth is, our friend Wang Yu-Lai would be even more interested.’

  He paused, then, ‘The man is on the list…’

  Ma Feng looked up, shocked, then quickly down again.

  ‘You understand, then? Why Cadre Wang must not know?’

  ‘No, General, only… you must have a reason.’

  ‘I do indeed. But what I said… no word, yes?’

  Ma Feng hesitated, then, ‘Yes, General.’

  ‘Good. Then let’s be gone from here.’

  Jake stepped down from the craft and looked about him. It was a camp. A detention camp, complete with barbed wire fences and guard towers. As far as history was concerned, he might as well have been living a hundred years before. Only now that he’d met the man in charge, he found this strange. To be so cultured and yet so cruel. Or was it mere necessity?

  He had not thought to live out the day. When he’d been sitting in that room, alone, his hands bound, he had thought himself a dead man. Only here he was, alive and, in a minute or so, to be reunited with his loved ones.

  He looked back at the guard, but the Han wasn’t interested in him any longer. He waved Jake on, gesturing vaguely towards the huts. There were people over there – prisoners, Jake thought, for what else were they? There was a single light on a pole in the centre of the camp, and the low hum of a generator.

  He made his way across. A number of people were gathered beneath the lamp, next to a standing water tap. Jake looked about him, recognizing some of the faces from nearby villages. Some of them had even been there in Corfe the other night, when they’d had the barbecue.

  The ‘huts’ were further on, twelve long low buildings laid out in three straight lines, their opaque material glowing faintly from within. Vague shadows moved within that glow.

  Beyond them lay the fence, lit every twenty metres or so by spotlights.

  Light spilled from the doorway to each hut.

  ‘You seen the Church Knowle crowd?’

  ‘Middle row,’ one of them answered, pointing. ‘Down near the end. Can’t miss ’em.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He heard them long before he made out who it was. A few of them were standing by the door, just outside, talking like they were back home. Like this wasn’t some bad dream they had stumbled into.

  Will Cooper was there, and John Lovegrove from Corfe, and – to his surprise – Jack Hamilton from Wareham and his new wife, Becky.

  Jake stepped out from the darkness, surprising them. Will Cooper said it for them all. ‘Jake… fuck me, mate, where you been?’

  ‘Thought you were for it,’ John Lovegrove chipped in.

  Becky stepped over to him and gave him a hug. ‘Good to see you, Jake,’ she said in his ear. ‘Best go see Mary and the others… they’ve been worried sick…’

  ‘They inside?’

  ‘Down the end on the left… poor Petie… been crying ’is eyes out, poor boy.’

  Jake gave her a gentle squeeze then went inside.

  It all looked very spartan: a cross between a large dormitory and a massive tent made out of what looked like thick plastic. There were light sources actually embedded in the walls. Beneath those, pallet beds had been set up either side of the central aisle, army style.

  He saw Mary at once, sitting on one of the beds at the far end, Cathy and Beth sat either side of her, holding her hands. Nearby, two beds down, Peter lay face down, Meg sat next to him, smoothing his hair.

  The sight of them moved him deeply. For a while, earlier, he thought he’d lost them; thought he’d never see them again.

  He walked across. They all had their backs to him. They didn’t realize he was there, until Meg glanced up and saw him.

  ‘Uncle Jake!’ she squealed, jumping up. ‘It’s Uncle Jake!’

  In the chaos that followed he was hugged and kissed, their happiness at seeing him again making his heart leap, the tears come flooding from his eyes.

  Peter clung to him, as if he’d never let him go.

  As it calmed, he sat between them all, Peter cuddled in beneath his arm, as he told them everything that had happened. Others had gathered about them, eager to hear Jake’s news, fascinated by Jake’s description of the man who seemed to hold all of their fates in his hands.

  Only Jake didn’t tell them everything. For once, instinct made him hold back; made him relate only the bare bones. He didn’t know why, but he felt it a kind of betrayal. The man had clearly spared his life, and he ought to feel grateful for that, not repay him with idle chatter.

  As for the false identity… Of that he said nothing. Not even to Mary. For who knew, in these changed circumstances, which of his erstwhile friends and neighbours would betray him?

  Later, as he lay there, stretched out on his bed, Mary came across.

  She sat down beside him, putting her hand on his brow, and smiled. ‘Hi…’

  He let his eyes take in how beautiful she was.

  ‘Hi…’

  He put his arm about her, pulled her down and kissed her.

  ‘You know what? I never thought I’d ever do that again…’

  ‘What, kiss me?’

  ‘Yes… I sat there in that room and… oh god… I dunno… I thought I was dead. And I kept thinking…’

  Jake swallowed, choked up by the thought.

  ‘I kept thinking of my promise, to Tom, and…’

  She put her finger to his lips. ‘I’m glad, you know… really glad you came back. I wasn’t sure before… you know, about what I felt… about us… but when I thought I’d lost you…’

  Jake stared back at her, surprised by the tear that rolled down her cheek.

  ‘I missed you, you know.’

  ‘Did you?’ She tried to smile, but she was crying now. ‘Oh, Jake… what’s going to happen to us? Why are we in this dreadful place?’

  Wang Yu-Lai stood there on the podium, in the centre of the yard, looking out over the heads of the gathered prisoners. A handful of guards stood close by, their big automatics held casually, almost lazily. They knew nothing would happen. These people were as docile as sheep.

  Wang himself had slept well. For once he was in the very best of moods. That little ‘excursion’ yesterday had whet his appetite for more. Which was why he was here, now, at this unearthly hour, welcoming the dawn.

  He looked about him at the captives. They were a ragged bunch. Most of them had no more than the clothes they’d been wearing when they were taken.
Few had coats. Most stood there, shivering in the cold morning air.

  Wang smiled. He oughtn’t to have been there. Not officially. This wasn’t really his job. But what Jiang Lei didn’t know about couldn’t possibly hurt him. And besides, it would make the general’s job much easier.

  He summoned Cho, then spoke to him in a low whisper, so that none of the others could hear.

  ‘Cho… I want you in the office. I don’t want any of these fuckers trying to contact General Jiang, understand?’

  Cho bowed low, then ran off to do as he was bid.

  Wang straightened, pulling his cloak tighter about him against the chill. With Jiang absent, he was the senior ranking official here, and what he said went.

  He jumped down, walking among them, seeing how they were cowed by his power, his eminence. Hate him they might, but they also feared him.

  ‘This one,’ he said, touching the arm of one of them. ‘And this one, too,’ he said, indicating another.

  One of his men was filming this from the podium, while another, beside him, noted down those he selected. Others waded into the crowd to take those whom Wang had picked and dragged them off to one side of the main mass.

  Wang shook his head, a sneer of disgust crossing his features. Jiang Lei was far too soft, far too undiscerning in those he let through. And that was bad for the city. For the city, if it was to have Hung Mao at all, must surely have the best of them, the strongest genetically.

  No, his Master, the First Dragon, was right. General Jiang was far too lenient. If he can’t make the choice, I’ll have to make it for him.

  He could see the old man in his mind, his Steward fussing about him, making him ch’a and bringing him a fresh sheet of paper, so he might compose another poem.

  It made Wang want to spit. To have such a man as a general.

  He did not like to criticize Tsao Ch’un, even in his thoughts, but in appointing Jiang Lei to such a rank, he had surely been mistaken. Jiang was not hard enough, not ruthless enough, for the task.

  He chose another, then another, most of them older men, though there were one or two women among them. Women of advanced years.

  Wang stopped. Now what was this? He gave a grunt, then shook his head. No, no… they couldn’t have this. Look at the woman’s eye!

  He touched her arm. ‘This one…’

  ‘No!’ someone nearby bellowed, trying to push through to grab at Wang. ‘Leave her be!’

  Wang backed off a step or two, almost bumping in to one of them, even as two of his guards interceded, using the butts of their guns to club the man to the ground.

  ‘Take her!’ Wang ordered, his heart beating fast. ‘And that one, too.’

  They dragged the pair of them away.

  Those surrounding him were watching Wang now, a shared look of hostility in their faces.

  Wang sniffed. ‘Enough for now…’

  He backed away, letting his guards force a way back through the crowd.

  It was a start, anyway. Another thirty or so they’d not have to bother processing.

  ‘Load them up,’ he said to the captain of the guard as he passed him. ‘We’ll do it now. Get it out of the way.’

  The man bowed, his face a blank, then barked out orders to his men.

  Yes, and maybe I’ll have her, he thought, looking back at the one he’d selected at the end – the one with the lazy eye. Wang smiled. Better than that… I’ll tie her husband up and have him watch us at it.

  Like he’d done with the two crippled women last night. Kuan Yin! That had been good! He grew hard simply thinking about it.

  And then, later on, he’d contact the Ministry and let them know what he had done – what he’d achieved.

  Wang Yu-Lai turned, drawing up his silks so they would not be soiled, then hurried towards the craft.

  Jiang Lei yawned, then stepped out from the tent.

  It was a fine, clear day, the air crisp and chill.

  ‘Can I clear the breakfast things, Master?’ Steward Ho asked, hovering close by.

  ‘Of course…’ Jiang glanced at him, took a step away, then turned back. ‘Ho… have you seen our friend this morning?’

  ‘Our friend…? Ah, Cadre Wang, you mean?’

  ‘Yes… the good Cadre… have you seen him?’

  ‘Not for an hour, General. He left.’

  ‘Left? But he’s not due anywhere.’

  Jiang frowned. What in the name of the gods was he up to now?

  He was tempted to leave it. After all, it was quite pleasant without the Cadre here, following him about, making his nasty little comments. But if Wang Yu-Lai wasn’t here making trouble, he was making it elsewhere.

  He called out. ‘Ma Feng… get the men together. I want to reconnoitre.’

  Jiang didn’t know where Wang had got to, but he could guess.

  The camp. He had to be at the camp.

  And if he was?

  Jiang let out a sigh of exasperation. He looked to Ho again. ‘An hour, Ho… you’re sure?’

  ‘He crept away at dawn, General. Why… should I have told you?’

  ‘Yes, Ho… when it comes to Cadre Wang you tell me everything.’

  Ho bowed low. ‘Forgive me, Master…’

  Jiang shook his head. What was that bastard up to now?

  He turned, not quite sure what to do, then hurried across to the communications tent. ‘Li Fa,’ he called, addressing the young technician at the desk as he stepped inside. ‘Connect me with the holding camp. And no delays or excuses. Anyone who attempts to stall me will be in severe trouble, make that clear. I need to know – at once – if Cadre Wang is there.’

  Li Fa bowed, then turned and made the connection. He made his request. A moment later he turned back, looking up at Jiang.

  ‘He was there, General, only he left five minutes back.’

  ‘Put me in touch with the craft directly… Now!’

  If this was what he thought it was, he’d have the man tried in the field, then stripped and flogged for his insubordination.

  Only Wang had anticipated him. He was flying blind, with a full communications blackout, as if he was on a special mission.

  That confirmed it for Jiang. The only question now was this – was it done at Wang Yu-Lai’s own discretion, or was he following the orders of his Masters at the Ministry? If the latter, then Jiang might find it difficult prosecuting a field trial against the man.

  ‘Curse the little fucker!’

  He left the tent. Ma Feng and his squad were waiting there just outside, their heads bowed.

  ‘Come,’ he said, heading across to the landing pad, the men falling in behind. ‘Let’s hope we’re not too late.’

  Jake slumped down onto the bed, all of the hope he’d carried away from that meeting with Jiang Lei crushed by what he had seen that morning.

  That – that other odious little cunt – was the real face of China. That son of a prick, with his self-important sneer and his callous disregard for life.

  He had no illusions as to what would happen now. The only hope he had was that it would be quick. That that dung-ball didn’t toy with his friends. Didn’t ‘get off on’ torturing them.

  When he’d seen poor Jack clubbed to the ground by the guards he’d wanted to throw himself at them, to fight them to the death. Only what would it have achieved? He knew, from what Jiang had said, that that was what a lot of these guards wanted – the excuse to wipe them out. To not have to do their job properly.

  And then there was his family. The promise to Tom. If he’d fought them, then they’d all have been killed. Peter and Meg and Cathy and Beth… and Mary.

  He closed his eyes and groaned. Poor Becky. That poor darling girl, whose only earthly flaw was her lazy eye. How did she deserve that? Why should some bastard be allowed to come along and take her away just like that? If there was any justice…

  Only there wasn’t. Not one single fucking shred of it.

  Jake looked up, saw Mary standing there, staring at him, her own
eyes desolate.

  ‘I thought you said it was going to be all right…’

  He lowered his head. ‘I know,’ he said quietly, apologetically.

  ‘So what was that?’

  Jake shrugged. He didn’t know. And maybe Jiang Lei didn’t know. Maybe this was how they behaved behind his back.

  Mary sat down beside him, took his hand. ‘One thing, Jake. We’re going to live through all of this, yes? We’re going to do everything we can to survive. For the children’s sake.’

  He looked to her, then looked away again. He hadn’t yet told her about the fake identity. About the trouble he was possibly still in.

  ‘I’ll try,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘You know I’ll try, only…’

  ‘Only what?’

  He took a long deep breath, then shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said, hoping it would never become an issue. ‘Only nothing.’

  Jiang Lei pointed, almost jumping up out of his seat as he did.

  ‘There he is… There’s the bastard! Set us down, Pilot Wu, right bang on top of him!’

  Ma Feng looked to his colleagues and made a face. They had never seen their general so angry. Where had the mild, considerate man they knew gone? And who was this demon who had taken him over?

  Jiang turned to the men. ‘You will take him and bind him, understand? And if he struggles, I give you permission to slap him, yes?’

  The men seemed delighted by that order. ‘Yes, General Jiang!’ they said as one.

  ‘Good… then let’s hope…’

  A fusillade of shots rang out. Jiang leaned forward, trying to see what had happened, then gave a sharp intake of breath.

  Jiang slumped, he physically slumped, back into his chair.

  Some men were just plain evil…

  Yes, but he would have him now.

  As the craft set down, not twenty metres from where Wang stood, on the ramp of his security cruiser, Jiang Lei barked an order.

  ‘Arrest that man, Ma Feng… I want him roped!’

  Ma Feng and two others jumped down and ran across. As they did, so Wang’s men made to intercede.

  ‘And if they try to stop you, shoot them!’

  Li and Cho backed away at that, leaving Wang Yu-Lai exposed. Ma Feng grabbed him roughly, almost pulling him off his feet.