Daylight on Iron Mountain

by David Wingrove

  ‘Marshal Aaltonen? You think he’d come?’

  ‘I know it for a fact. And a few of his friends, I warrant.’

  ‘Then Bremen it is. But do you think Shepherd will meet us there? After all, if Tsao Ch’un were to hear of it…’

  Shen Fu shook his head.

  ‘Shepherd is his own man. Speak to him. Ask him to meet you. He can only say no.’

  Li Chao Ch’in considered that a moment, then nodded. ‘All right. I’ll speak to him now. But Shen Fu…’

  ‘Yes, Lord Li?’

  ‘Do you think we still have time?’

  Before boarding his craft, Li Chao Ch’in gathered his sons about him for one final word.

  ‘My sons… take care of things in my absence, and do not despair. We will come through. With the help of our good friends, we shall win this war against the tyrant. I leave Li Peng in charge in my stead. He and the First Dragon will arrange things from henceforth, while I am in Europe. As for the rest…’

  He embraced them, one by one, all but the youngest, Li Chang So, who was to accompany him on his perilous journey. Looking at them this last time he felt a dark and secret fear gnawing at him. He didn’t want to leave them. It felt like abandonment. But he had to go. This wasn’t a game, it was a war for their very survival. Tsao Ch’un would take no prisoners, therefore failure was not an option. Tsao Ch’un must be overthrown, he and his sons destroyed, so that a new, more just rule – that of the Seven – could be established.

  But the hours ahead held hidden dangers. Who knew what Tsao Ch’un was up to? Maybe he was out there already, beyond the periphery of Tongjiang, waiting for Li Chao to emerge, ready to blast his craft out of the air.

  Six heavily armed cruisers were to accompany his craft, to guard and protect him against attack. But he knew what Tsao Ch’un could put into the air, and beside it his own force was insignificant. He would need luck as well as daring if he were to reach Bremen.

  He went inside and strapped himself into his chair, steeling himself against the anguish he was feeling at that moment. Only the thought of it would not go away.

  I will never ever see them all again…

  He looked across at Li Chang So. His youngest son was sitting back in his seat, his eyes closed, relaxed, or so it seemed.

  Li Chao Ch’in swallowed, his mouth gone dry. How had it come to this?

  There was a clunk as the outer hatches closed, then a low growl from the engines. A moment later they began to lift.

  Kuan Yin… keep them safe…

  But a small, still part of him knew his wish was quite forlorn. They were dead. He knew it for a fact. They were all as good as dead, and he among them.

  My loves… My pretty ones…

  But it was all too late. The die was cast. The gods alone could aid him now.

  ‘Forgive me, First Dragon, but what exactly is it that you’re doing?’

  Shen Fu turned to the young prince and bowed politely.

  ‘We are doing what we at the Ministry are best at. Using the media to communicate our message.’

  Li Peng nodded, then looked about him once again at his father’s study. It was unrecognizable. There were big screens and camera equipment everywhere, along with mixing desks and stack after stack of massive signal-boosting equipment.

  ‘Ah, I see… but…’

  ‘How are we getting the signal out when Tsao Ch’un is supposed to be jamming us? That’s very simple. We have our own feeds. Oh, he’ll find out how to shut us down in time, but before then we plan to make an impact.’

  ‘But if it’s your word against his, who will they believe?’

  ‘They don’t have to believe anything. They just have to bear witness.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, we just show them the truth for once. The total, unvarnished truth.’

  Li Peng laughed. Then he saw that the First Dragon was being absolutely serious.

  ‘The truth?’

  ‘That’s right. I know… it goes against our tradition, neh, Prince Peng? But what more powerful weapon could there be than to show Tsao Ch’un’s tyranny as it is, without exaggeration? How better win the hearts and minds of Chung Kuo’s citizens than to show them just what it is their Master has in mind for them?’

  The young prince stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head. ‘It won’t work.’

  ‘Won’t it? You should see the footage we have. Innocent men killed in their beds. Grieving widows. And more. Much more.’

  ‘He’ll fight back.’

  ‘Of course he will. And fight dirty. That is his way. But they’ll know the difference. They’ll know. See if they don’t.’

  Exhausted, at the end of a long day haggling over contract details, Reed sat at the corner table in the Red Lantern tea house in one of the West Bremen stacks, staring up in total shock at the news reports coming in from North America.

  He had never seen the like of it. Up on the screen, in vivid, garish detail, Tsao Ch’un’s elite troops could be seen kicking their way into a locked bedroom. Using fists and boots, knives, knuckledusters, iron bars and clubs, they laid into the unarmed occupants, beating them savagely, sadistically before finishing them off with their handguns.

  There was no commentary, just the images. And no sooner was one thing finished than another – equally horrifying – took its place, all of it uncensored, like it was being streamed in from the darkest heart of nightmare.

  From time to time a printed message on the screen would give the images a context, date, time and location, but otherwise there was no attempt to provide any kind of intermediary comment. None of that bland, whitewashing crap they usually fed the people. And that, for some strange reason, made it all the more compelling. Because this was happening right now.

  The levels were buzzing with rumours. But one thing was crystal clear. Tsao Ch’un was at war with his own chief ministers. Everyone knew that much.

  Rumour was that several of the T’ang were already dead. Killed for plotting against Tsao Ch’un. But many said that that was a lie, that it was simply Tsao Ch’un trying to hold on to his power by any means, and the images seemed to bear this out.

  Reed looked away, feeling sick. The day, which had begun so well, so brightly and hopefully, had ended in disaster. The contract he’d been working on was worth nothing now. He might as well just tear the fucking thing up! As for his dream of a First Level mansion, that had just popped like a soap bubble, because Tsao Ch’un, with the Banners and Security on his side, was bound to win this struggle. Only a fool would back the Seven.

  He sipped at his ch’a bowl, then spat it out. It was cold.

  Reed looked about him. This whole situation made him feel uneasy. If Tsao Ch’un did win it would mean crackdowns and purges, yes and endless executions. Because that was how they were, these Han. They didn’t mess about. Tsao Ch’un least of all.

  Purification, that’s what they’d call it. An excuse to get rid of their enemies – of anyone who in the smallest degree had opposed them.

  Yes, along with anyone who’d had dealings with their enemies.

  Which put him squarely in the firing zone.

  He stood, his hand searching in the pocket of his pau for some change to leave for the ch’a when all the screens went suddenly blank. For a moment they seemed dead. Then, with a little fanfare, they came on again, showing the familiar image of Bremen Central – not five li from where he sat. There stood a group of six men on a platform, staring uneasily into camera.

  ‘Kuan Yin…’ he said, his mouth falling open, recognizing suddenly who they were.

  Jesus Fucking Christ!

  Bremen, it seemed, had officially declared itself for the Seven. And there, on screen, as if to emphasize it, were Li Chao Ch’in, Marshal Aaltonen, Amos Shepherd, and three very grizzled old soldiers in their ancient Banner uniforms, men whom Reed recognized from the campaigns in America.

  It was a particular shock to see Shepherd there among them. But a further
shock awaited him, for as Li Chao Ch’in turned to greet and embrace each of the three old soldiers, so Reed saw his own boss in the background, among a group of other Company Heads. Wolfgang Ebert standing there, looking grimly on.

  Reed whistled to himself. It was a coup. It was a fucking coup! The Seven wanted Tsao Ch’un out. That’s what all this was about. And a number of very important people were joining them.

  Not that they had a hope in hell, but it was good to see.

  Bremen… for the Seven.

  Actually, now that he thought about it, it was quite a big thing. Because Bremen was the centre of a whole lot of stuff. The Ministry had their headquarters here, and Security. And if Amos Shepherd had thrown in his lot with them…

  That last particularly made him think. Shepherd wasn’t a stupid man, far from it, and if he thought they had a chance… Well, maybe they did. Maybe there was stuff going on that none of the City’s many citizens had heard about.

  Amos Shepherd, he knew, only backed winners. When Jiang Lei had conquered North America, who’d been his right-hand man? Shepherd. And before that? When Tsao Ch’un himself had conquered half the globe, there again was Shepherd, right alongside the great man, giving advice.

  But not this time. This time he’d abandoned his Master. This time he’d backed what at first sight appeared to be the odds-on losers.

  So what did he know that they didn’t?

  The soundtrack crackled then cut out. A moment later the screen went blank. Only this time it didn’t come on again.

  Home, Reed told himself. Get your arse back home, and make it quick now. Before it all starts up once more.

  Tsao Ch’un stood before the screen, raging at the scene that was being transmitted from Bremen Central. His chair had been thrown back, the footstool kicked away in a fit of rage. Looking on, the handful of servants that were present bowed low and backed away, terrified of what their Master might do in his anger.

  There had been some good news. Wu Hsien’s palace in Manhattan had been taken, but Wu Hsien himself had escaped and his capture was the primary aim.

  Tsao Ch’un shook his fist at the screen, cursing his good-for-nothing sons. More troops were to go in within the hour – to attack his enemies in their own strongholds – but such things took time to organize, and in the meantime the Seven were digging in, entrenching their positions.

  What concerned Tsao Ch’un most, however, was the re-formation of the North European mercenary armies. How big a force would they be able to get together? And how long would it take? Days? Weeks? If the latter, then he needn’t worry, for it would all be over long before then.

  He slowed his breathing, calming himself. And then he laughed, realizing just how much he had missed this. The excitement, the challenge of it. For the first time in years he felt alive, a sense of purpose coursing through him.

  It felt almost like his blood had slowed, become silted like a river, but now…

  Turning, he looked to his Chief Steward, Ling Yu.

  ‘Steward Ling… have my marshals report in to me, within the hour! And I want to know what the latest word is on each of the remaining T’ang. Where they are, what they’re doing, who they’ve spoken to. And my sons…’

  Tsao Ch’un smiled; a smile that might easily have been misinterpreted as a snarl, so fierce it was. For a moment he had forgotten. For the briefest moment he had let things slide, underestimating his enemies. But now he knew. The scene from Bremen had reminded him. There was still much to be done if he was to destroy them.

  Alive. Yes, he felt suddenly alive again.

  As his men ran this way and that to do his bidding, Tsao Ch’un gave a great roar of laughter and, rubbing his hands together, began again to mould events, like he had once before, back when this world was young.

  Back when it was all fresh and new.

  Chapter 22

  TIGERS AND BUTTERFLIES

  Judge Yo leaned forward in his chair, his sculpted, skull-like head tilted towards his right, where the Changs and their lawyers sat.

  ‘Advocate Hui,’ he began, his voice cold and clear and emotionless. ‘I understand you have moved to have this case thrown out.’

  Hui Chang Yeh heaved his massive bulk out of his chair and stood, head bowed, before Yo Jou Hsi.

  ‘I have, my Lord.’

  ‘May I ask on what grounds?’

  Hui remained as he was, head bowed, as if Judge Yo were the Son of Heaven himself.

  ‘I would refer my Lordship to the decision of the Ta-li ssu in the case of Chu versus Chi. My Lord has the papers. There the precedent is firmly established that any contract entered into by the past owners of a registered trading concern is not necessarily binding to the new owners.’

  ‘And on what basis was this claimed?’

  ‘It is claimed on the basis of the Ko-hou ch’ih, my Lord… the Edicts Subsequent to Regulations, which ruled…’

  Jake leaned in to Advocate Yang. ‘What is he talking about?’

  Yang glanced fearfully at Judge Yo, then whispered back.

  ‘The Ta-li ssu is the Supreme Court of Justice. And the case of Chu versus Chi has stood for more than a thousand years.’

  And this was the first time he had been told of it! Jake looked past Yang at Advocate Meng, as if something should be done to counter what he was hearing. Only Meng appeared to be dozing, as if he had no interest in the case whatsoever.

  What in God’s name is going on?

  Out in the space below Judge Yo’s chair, Advocate Hui was busy piling precedent upon precedent, citing case after case, while Judge Yo nodded from his position up on the dais, the faintest rictus of a smile animating his face.

  We’re having our arses kicked, Jake thought. And where’s the reinforcements GenSyn promised?

  Detained somewhere else, he answered, his spirits sinking. Tied up on some other case while the world falls apart!

  That morning’s news had not been good. Rumours were that at least three of the Seven were already dead. After the uncensored images that had been screened the previous day – images Jake himself had missed – people were terrified that things would escalate and everyone get dragged into the conflict. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the news channels had been shut down most of the day. And even when they were broadcasting, the news from them was mixed. The Bremen declaration was decidedly so, and whilst part of him silently cheered on the Seven and hoped they’d have the victory, another part feared the outcome. For if Tsao Ch’un were to triumph, anyone who had been associated with GenSyn and the Eberts in any way was likely to get it in the neck, his son Peter and himself included.

  Jake had been surprised that the hearing had continued, when there was every reason to postpone it until the troubles were over. But the Ministry, it seemed, had decreed that all government functions be maintained, and so here they were sitting in court, as if nothing in the outside world had changed.

  ‘Advocate Yang…’ he began, only this time Judge Yo turned to him, his eyes blazing with anger.

  ‘Shih Reed! You will be quiet or I will have you removed from the courtroom!’

  Jake bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, my Lord.’

  Yo glared at him, then turned back, smiling at the fat man who stood before him in his expensive silks. ‘Continue, Advocate Hui.’

  Before Hui could say another word, the doors at the far end swung open.

  ‘My Lord…’

  If Hui was big, the newcomer was huge, twice Hui’s size at the very least. Only unlike Hui, the newcomer had a distinct air of elegance. His long dark hair was braided with pearls, while his flowing silks were a beautiful olive green, bordered in black. Most distinctive of all, however, was the golden staff he carried.

  Jake stared at the man, astonished by the sight. Yet when he looked back at Judge Yo, he was surprised to find not derision, but a kind of shocked awe on his features.

  Yo Jou Hsi was afraid!

  Beside him, both Yang and Meng had suddenly woken up. Their faces shar
ed an expression of delighted expectation.

  Who the fuck…?

  Was this what they had promised him? Was this what Meng Hsin-fa had meant when he’d told him ‘Wait and see’?

  Judge Yo swallowed, then gestured towards the newcomer.

  ‘Shu Liang… have you an interest in this case?’

  The big man – Shu Liang, he presumed – looked puzzled. ‘An interest?’ He came down the steps, then smiled at Jake. ‘Shih Reed…’ He bowed respectfully, then turned back to face Judge Yo.

  ‘I understand Judge Wei is dead. An accident, I’m told…’

  There was no hint of threat, yet Judge Yo looked like he’d been struck.

  Shu Liang walked slowly on past Jake and Yang and Advocate Meng, until he stood just below the Judge, with his opponent, Hui, a mere arm’s length away.

  ‘Has he cited Chu versus Chi?’

  Yo nodded.

  ‘And the New Code, the Hsin-lu… has he quoted from that, too?’

  Again Yo nodded.

  ‘Hmmm… I thought as much. And you’ve allowed this, Yo Jou Hsi?’

  Yo didn’t answer. He seemed to have shrunk back into his skin.

  Shu Liang slowly shook his head, as if disappointed. ‘No doubt our friend here will be quoting from the Wu-te code next. Or is that too modern for him?’

  Beside Jake, both Yang and Meng laughed.

  ‘Too modern!’ Yang repeated delightedly, then nudged Jake, as if he too should get the joke.

  But Shu Liang wasn’t done. Suddenly the gentle, mocking tone was gone, and in its place…

  Jake felt a tingle down his spine. Suddenly it was as if a snarling tiger stood before them. The look on Shu Liang’s face was predatory and his voice…

  ‘Yo Jou Hsi…’

  Judge Yo quailed before him. ‘Yes?’ he said, his voice faint, apologetic.

  ‘Are you going to listen to this drivel, or are you going to call a recess? Because if you really are going to waste our time in this fashion…’

  Yo swallowed again, then, as if he’d made the decision unaided, reached for his gavel and brought it down hard.