‘Mary…’
The girls squealed and rushed forward, hugging Jake, while Peter stood back, with Mary, looking on.
She looked to the boy. Tears were streaming down his face, but he was smiling. Grinning like an idiot.
Jake kissed all of the girls, then, stepping away from them, came down and hugged Peter, clasping the boy to him fiercely.
‘Thank god… thank fucking god!’
Peter squeezed him back, then released him.
Jake turned, facing Mary.
‘Well? You coming along?’
Mary still looked uncertain. ‘That craft…?’
‘Is Jiang Lei’s own. His men are to fly us to the camp.’
‘Another camp?’
‘Yes, but a better one than this. That’s where we’re going to begin to become citizens.’
‘Ah…’ And she almost smiled.
But Jake was smiling now. ‘You know, I thought I’d never see you again. I thought…’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t tell you, Mary. Those people…’
‘But it’s okay now?’
‘Yeah…’ He sighed, then, ‘Well? Do I get a kiss?’
She stepped across and put her arms about him, putting her lips to his. For a moment there was only that. Then, realizing that the children were watching, the two moved back, awkward again, like teenagers.
Beth looked to her sisters. ‘Let’s get inside. And Jake…?’
‘Yes, my darling girl?’
‘We’re glad you’re back.’
Jiang Lei looked on as his men took down and packed his tent.
They were moving today, setting up a new encampment, ready for the push on Dorchester. Their job here was done, the villages emptied, the people processed. Across the way, near one of the big cruisers, he could see Wang Yu-Lai, talking with the men.
Wang had become more arrogant since the incident with Reed. What had been difficult before was now, Jiang felt, impossible, for Wang and his Masters had taken Wen P’ing’s instruction to cooperate as an invitation to interfere.
That little skirmish the other day, at the processing, was, Jiang Lei knew, just the start. It had caused the death of yet another fine, upstanding man, a potential citizen, punished for something which, in essence, had been entirely Wang’s fault.
A broken nose was the very least he himself would have given Wang.
And Wang would do yet more mischief. He would take every opportunity now to insinuate himself and make things hard for Jiang. Any pretence Wang had shown at showing him respect had vanished. He was there now to make Jiang’s life hell, to wear him down until he quit and let one of their puppets take his place.
No doubt they already had a candidate in mind…
Only the business with Reed had hardened him. Had reminded him just why he had taken this appointment.
He was there to give some degree of reality to the semblance. To fulfil the ancient dream of wisdom in government – the Confucian ideal. If he let go his belief in that, then what was left? Only barbarism. Only the rule of naked force.
Even so, he found it hard some days, keeping that particular lamp alight.
Ma Feng, his new stripes showing on his arm, approached him.
‘We are ready, General. Do you wish to come on board?’
Jiang hesitated. It was tempting to leave Wang where he was. To lift off, leaving him to travel in another of the craft, but that would only have resulted in yet another tiresome report, another petty complaint.
Besides which, Wen P’ing had ordered him to cooperate.
‘Captain Ma… go and invite Wang Yu-Lai to travel with me. Tell him… I would welcome him as my guest.’
Ma Feng’s eyes widened.
‘Yes, General!’
As Jiang climbed aboard, lifting his silks up as he went, so he found himself frowning. Was this a punishment for some former incarnation? Had he, in some previous life, incurred this awful penalty?
To suffer at the hands of smaller men…
Jiang took his seat, strapping himself into the plush black leather, calming himself inwardly, knowing, even before Wang appeared a moment later, that he would need all of his patience in the coming weeks.
See it as a test, he told himself. Rise above such pettiness.
Only the very sound of Wang’s voice grated on his ears, and as the man came into the cabin, Jiang found himself staring at him with contempt, unable not to.
He tried to smile. ‘Wang Yu-Lai… please, make yourself comfortable.’
Wang’s smile was equally fake. His eyes met Jiang’s for the briefest moment, then looked away, like they had better things to look at.
‘Pilot Wu…’ Jiang called, leaning forward slightly, to look into the cockpit. ‘Fly us over the old castle, neh? I’d like to see it one final time before we leave.’
He settled back, aware that Wang was watching him, no longer concealing it, like he was studying some specimen in a jar.
It made his flesh crawl. To be the subject of observation of such a man.
‘What is it, Wang Yu-Lai?’
‘I was just thinking… about Reed…’
‘What about him?’
‘Just that I would like to see him one last time. He seemed… special to you. It would be interesting to find out why.’
Jiang looked down at his hands, saw how they were gripping each other. Such little things no doubt gave him away, but he was damned if he would react in any other fashion.
Besides, Reed was safe. There was no way Wang could touch him now. He was in the programme. He and his family. As far from here as Jiang could send them.
He looked to Wang. ‘Have you any family, Wang Yu-Lai? A wife? Brothers?’
Jiang knew the answer. Knew it because The Thousand Eyes did not use any other kind. Wang was an orphan. Nor was he allowed to marry. For the agents of the Ministry were to have no distractions. And no weaknesses to be exploited by others. A family made a man weak. Made him vulnerable. As Jiang knew to his cost.
Wang had turned away, scowling.
Good, Jiang thought, smiling to himself. Then there’s still a chance I might stay sane. If I can get under his skin as he gets under mine.
Only would it be enough?
The craft lifted.
‘Pilot Wu,’ he called. ‘Give me the front view.’
‘Yes, General.’
At once the big screen in front of Jiang lit up, showing the view from the cockpit. As they climbed, so the view opened up before them, the countryside a tapestry of greens and browns to their left, the sea in the distance, while to their right were the city’s new-built outposts, great hexagonal slabs of whiteness that rested like marbled mausoleums on the land.
‘It’s an impressive sight, neh, Wang Yu-Lai?’
Wang shrugged. It seemed his purpose not to agree with Jiang.
‘Tell me, Cadre Wang… are you specially trained to be such an arse?’
Wang glared at him. ‘I would be careful what you say, General Jiang…’
Jiang was watching the screen, seeing, as the craft turned, the mound of the ancient castle come into view to the far left of the picture.
‘Oh, I know what Wen P’ing said, it’s just…’
The words died in his mouth. They were gone! The great stone towers were gone! And the mound itself… it had been gouged in several places. Eaten away, it seemed. Massive diggers with caterpillar tracks were working away at it, chewing it up, whole teams of men shovelling the earth and rock into big tippers. Long lines of them that covered the once-green slopes.
Jiang felt a sadness at the sight. It was just as he’d said – they were not going to let such a small thing interrupt their path – only seeing it made him realize what a shame it was. Yes, and how much was being lost.
One whole world traded in for another. A world made of plastic, filled with reconstituted men.
That much he didn’t envy Reed. Jiang looked down, remembering something. There was a film he’d seen, years ago, before the Colla
pse, when he was still a young man. Even then the film had been old. But it had been a classic. One of the West’s finest critiques of itself. Jack Nicholson had starred, and a whole bunch of other eccentric characters. The one who’d caught his attention, however, was the nurse. The one in charge of the asylum. He couldn’t remember now what the film had been called, but its ending had always haunted him. How the Nicholson character had finally been crushed, his brain lobotomized, his memories and his rebellious spirit taken from him.
That, it seemed to Jiang, was what they were doing here, only on a massive scale. Doing it not to an individual but to a whole population. Reducing it. Lobotomizing it. And, in so doing, turning it into a world where people weren’t given a choice; where they were forced to conform, to toe the line. Or die.
And how, in supervising that, did he differ from the likes of Wang?
Too far, he told himself. Much, much too far.
For wasn’t that the ethos that had driven them, these past three millennia? To build a society based on conformity and acceptable behaviour? To reward virtue and punish errant behaviour?
Yes, only Jiang knew this was different. For the Hung Mao especially. For what they were in effect creating here was a breed of zombies, of amnesiacs, schooled to forget their collective past and embrace the lie.
Jiang swallowed, bitter suddenly, unsettled and angry at having had these thoughts awoken in him.
He looked across. Wang was watching him still, the vaguest suggestion of amusement in the corners of his mouth.
The castle was behind them now, ahead lay only countryside.
‘Cadre Wang…?’
‘Yes, General Jiang?’
‘Do not try my patience. Not today.’
Jake woke, startled into wakefulness. Then he realized. It was Peter. Peter had been shaking him.
‘Wha-ah?’ he drawled lazily. He had been having a dream. About his childhood. About the time before the accident.
He closed his eyes again. ‘’S’ too early…’
Peter shook him again. ‘Dad… you gotta get up. Didn’t you hear? We’ve got to go to the main hall. We’ve got to assemble there…’
Assemble. Now there was a word he hadn’t heard in years.
‘In a minute…’
He tried to pull the sheets up over him, but Peter pulled them off.
‘Come on… we’ll get in trouble if we’re late.’
Jake sat up, yawning. ‘Trouble?’
Then he saw it all. The long rows of beds. The identical-looking people with their shaven heads and ochre-coloured one-pieces.
He reached up, felt the stubble on his scalp.
No dream then. This is it.
He turned sharply, looking to see where Mary and the girls were.
They had arrived late last night. He remembered that now. Remembered the showers, the electric shavers, how all dignity had been stripped from them. Oh, and especially the guards, who’d seemed to take a salacious delight in watching their public humiliation.
The four of them were there, only yards away.
‘Yes,’ Mary said, as if she read his mind. ‘I know what it looks like. But it’ll grow back.’
Cath, standing beside her mother, looked like she might cry at any moment, so too Meg, but Beth stood taller, looked stronger for it.
‘Like Ripley,’ he said, and saw her smile at that.
Peter too had been shaved. Only on him it looked almost natural.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ve been called twice now!’
‘Called…? What, for breakfast?’
‘Here…’ Peter said, shoving a sheet of paper into his hand. ‘You’re supposed to have read it.’
Jake yawned again. ‘What’s this? Wan Chi Kong Ch’ian, Wo Chiang Lai…’
‘No, Dad… The other side…’
Jake turned the flimsy sheet of paper over. ‘Forget Past, Grasp Future… A lecture…’
‘And we’re obliged to attend. So come on…’
He let Peter drag him by the arm, Mary and the girls following behind.
Jake looked round, blew Mary a kiss. ‘You look stunning…’
‘And you look like a wrinkled prune…’ she said, and laughed.
The lecture hall was just ahead. Guards were hurrying people inside.
Jake slowed, then turned to them.
‘Listen… whatever happens, we have each other, yeah? And we’re going to get through this. We’re survivors. We always have been. And this new city of theirs… we’re going to make a new home there. That’s the important thing, to make a new home. Somewhere safe. Somewhere we’re not going to be moved on from.’
Mary stepped across, taking his arm.
‘You heard your dad. Now come on… let’s see what’s in store for us.’
‘Ma Feng…’ Jiang said, talking into the radio connection. ‘What’s happening down there?’
They were hovering above the town. Below them they could see bitter hand-to-hand fighting as Jiang’s men tried to take it from Branagh’s men. Several buildings were on fire, and there was sporadic gunfire.
There was a hiss and crackle, and then Ma Feng’s voice came through. ‘It’s no good, General Jiang… they’re fighting to the last. We’ve lost a dozen men… maybe more…’
Jiang sat back. He had persevered for an hour now, and there’d been no sign of the locals giving an inch. There was only one thing for it.
‘Okay, Captain Ma… pull our men out.’
‘Sir!’
The hiss and crackle died.
Jiang took a long breath.
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’
Jiang turned, looking to Wang. ‘Are you still here?’
‘Where else would I be?’
Where else, indeed, but close enough to torment me.
Jiang sighed. It was no good. He would have to give it up.
There was a hiss and crackle. ‘Okay, sir… we’re out.’
Jiang could see his men down below, spilling out of the main gate, small groups of them giving covering fire.
All smart and efficient, Jiang thought. Only sometimes it wasn’t enough. Especially against desperate men.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘withdraw as far as the landing craft.’
The craft were further down the Weymouth road, some half a kilometre distant.
Jiang returned his attention to the town. Now that they were not under fire, some of the townsfolk were taking pot shots at Jiang’s ship. He could hear the bullets pinging off the outer hull.
Jiang took a long breath.
‘Okay… Pilot Wu… return their fire.’
He felt the whole ship shudder as the rockets were released, four great salvoes of them, whooshing down into those ancient streets, the shock wave lifting them even as Pilot Wu edged the craft away from the roiling mushrooms of flame.
Jiang Lei screened his eyes. The city could not be stopped, nor delayed, and if these people did not want to be part of the new world, then they would die.
Even so, as he watched the burning town, he felt a profound sense of failure. A sense that he was somehow tainted by the act. Brave men had died. And women and children too.
‘Okay,’ he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. ‘Let’s be gone from here.’ But as he sat back, he saw how Wang was watching the screen, a look of sheer delight lighting his face.
‘Kuan Yin! Look at those bastards burn!’
Jiang had them set down by the landing craft, going out to speak with his men. Dorchester was gone, and Branagh’s little army with it. It was now only a question of processing the surrounding countryside. But first there was one last thing to do.
‘Captain Ma,’ he said, beckoning him across.
Ma Feng bowed low. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Bring two of your best men. There’s something I want to look at.’
‘Yes, sir!’
He was back in a minute, the trusty Shen and Chang in tow. Seeing them, Jiang Lei smiled.
‘Okay…
inside… we’ve work to do.’
As they spilled into the cabin, Wang looked disgruntled at having to share it with common soldiers.
‘General Jiang… is this necessary?’
Jiang barely glanced at him. ‘There’s something I’ve got to go and see… If you want to be dropped off…?’
Wang looked intrigued. Jiang knew what was going through his head. He was wondering what they could possibly have to go and do so urgently.
‘No, no… you can drop me afterwards.’
‘Okay… then everyone strap in tightly. Pilot Wu…’
‘Yes, General?’
‘Set a course north.’
He saw how Wang narrowed his eyes at that.
The craft lifted, slowly turning in the air, then headed north.
‘Captain Ma…?’
‘Yes, General?’
‘Remember what we were talking about, oh, a few weeks ago now…?’
Ma Feng began to shake his head, then stopped, surprise creeping onto his face. ’You mean…?’
‘I mean precisely that.’
‘But General…’ Only, seeing the certainty in Jiang Lei’s face, he bowed his head.
Ma Feng unbuckled his belt, then, looking to Shen and Chang, nodded towards Wang Yu-Lai.
‘Shen… Chang… give me a hand a moment. We need to show the good Cadre something…’
Wang looked about him, suspicion in his eyes. ‘What is this? What…?’
Shen punched him in the face, silencing him, then lifted the semiconscious Wang onto his shoulder with Chang’s help.
‘I want him conscious,’ Jiang said coldly. ‘I want him to know what’s happening to him.’
The three men nodded. Shen and Chang went through, carrying Wang, but Ma Feng lingered.
‘General…’
‘Yes, Ma Feng?’
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Jiang nodded.
‘You know they will only send a replacement.’
‘I know.’
Ma Feng hesitated again, then, ‘You know he might be worse.’
‘Worse than Wang Yu-Lai? He might. But until one of them learns how to fly…’
Jiang Lei chuckled to himself.
Ma Feng’s eyes widened, then he too laughed, seeing the joke.
Wiping away a tear, Ma Feng straightened up then and made a deep bow to his general, his whole manner serious again. His eyes respectful.
Son of Heaven Page 41
