The Broken Wheel

by David Wingrove

  Figures changed. The ice glowed green. They were a perfect genetic match. The machine stored the figures dispassionately, noting them down on the contract.

  The green tinge faded with the pictograms. Again she found herself staring into his eyes.

  He was smiling. The skin surrounding his eyes was pulled tight in little creases, his eyes much brighter than before.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ said the voice in her head. ‘We’ll be good together. Strong, healthy sons, you’ll give me. Sons we’ll both be proud of.’

  She pictured the words forming in the darkness behind his eyes: saw them lift and float across, piercing the ice between them; entering her through her eyes.

  Her fear had subsided. She was herself again. Now, when she looked at him, she saw only how cruel he was, how selfish. It was there, at the front of his eyes, like a coded pictogram.

  As the machine began its litany she calmed herself, steeling herself to outface him: You’ll not defeat me, Hans Ebert. I’m stronger than you think. I’ll survive you.

  She smiled, and her lips moved, saying, ‘Yes,’ sealing the contract, putting her verbal mark to the retinal prints and ECG traces the machine had already registered as her identifying signature. But in her head the ‘Yes’ remained conditional.

  I’ll dance my way to life, she thought. See if I don’t.

  *

  DeVore looked down at the indicator at his wrist then peeled off the gas mask. Outside, his men were mopping up, stripping the corpses before they set fire to the level.

  Gesell was unconscious on the bed, the Han girl beside him.

  He pulled back the sheet, looking down at them. The woman had small, firm breasts with large, dark nipples and a scar that ran from her left hip almost to her knee. DeVore smiled and leaned forward, running a finger slowly down the clean-shaven slit of her sex. Too bad, he thought. Too bad.

  He looked across. Gesell lay on his side, one arm cradling his head. A thick dark growth of hair covered his arms and legs, sprouted luxuriantly at his groin and beneath his arms. His penis lay there, like a newborn chick in a nest, folded softly into itself.

  Looking at the man, DeVore felt a tight knot of anger constrict his throat. It would be easy to kill them now. Never let them wake. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted Gesell to know. Wanted to spit in his face before he died.

  Yes. For all the threats he’d made. All the shit he’d made him eat.

  He drew the needle-gun from his pocket and fitted a cartridge, then pushed it against Gesell’s chest, just above the heart. Discarding the empty cartridge, he fitted another and did the same to the girl. Then he stepped back, waiting for the antidote to take effect.

  The woman was the first to wake. She turned slightly, moving towards Gesell, then froze, sniffing the air.

  ‘I’d keep very still if I were you, Mao Liang.’

  She turned her head, her eyes taking in his dark form, then gave a tiny nod.

  ‘Good… Your boyfriend will be back with us in a moment. It’s him I want. So behave yourself and you won’t get hurt. Understand?’

  Again she nodded then shifted back slightly as Gesell stirred.

  DeVore smiled, drawing the gun from inside his tunic. ‘Good morning, friend. I’m sorry to have to disturb your sleep like this, but we’ve business.’

  Gesell sat up slowly, knuckling his eyes, then went very still, seeing the gun in DeVore’s hand.

  ‘How the fuck did you get in here?’ he said softly, his eyes narrowed.

  ‘I bought my way in. Your guards were only too happy to sell you to me.’

  ‘Sell…’ Understanding came to his face. He glanced at the girl then looked back at DeVore, some eternal element of defiance in his nature making him stubborn to the last.

  ‘Mach will get you for this, you fucker.’

  DeVore shrugged. ‘Maybe. But it won’t help you, eh, Bent? Because you’re dead. And all those things you believed in – they’re dead too. I’ve wiped them out. There’s only you left. You and the girl here.’

  He saw the movement almost peripherally; saw how her hand searched beneath the pillow and then drew back; heard the tiny click as she took off the safety.

  He fired twice as she lifted the gun, the weighted bullets punching two neat holes in her chest, just below her heart. She fell back, dead.

  Gesell moved forward sharply then stopped, seeing how DeVore’s gun was trained on him, pointed directly at his head.

  ‘You were always a loudmouth, Gesell.’

  Gesell glared at him. ‘We should never have worked with you. Emily was right. You never cared for anyone but yourself.’

  ‘Did I ever say otherwise?’

  Gesell sat back, his face tense. ‘So why don’t you do it? Get it over with?’

  ‘I will… don’t worry, but not with this.’

  He threw the gun down. Gesell stared back at him a moment then made his move, scrambling for the gun. DeVore stepped back, drawing the spray can from his pocket, watching as Gesell turned and pointed the gun at him.

  ‘It’s empty.’

  Gesell pulled the trigger. It clicked then clicked again.

  DeVore smiled then stepped closer, lifting the spray, his finger holding down the button as the fine particles hissed from the nozzle.

  He watched Gesell tear at the thin film of opaque, almost translucent ice that had formed about his head and shoulders; saw how his fingers fought to free an air-hole in the soft, elastic stuff, but already it was growing hard. Desperation made Gesell throw himself about, bellowing; but the sound was distant, muted. It came from behind a screen that cut him off from the air itself.

  DeVore emptied the can then cast it aside, stepping back from the struggling figure. Gesell’s arms and hands were stuck now – welded firmly to his face. For a moment longer he staggered about then fell down, his legs kicking weakly. Then he lay still.

  DeVore stood over Gesell a moment, studying his face, satisfied by the look of panic, of utter torment he could see through the hard, glass-like mask, then looked up. Mach was watching him from the door.

  ‘He’s dead?’

  DeVore nodded. ‘And the woman, too, I’m afraid. She drew a gun on me.’

  Mach shrugged. ‘It’s all right. It would have been difficult. She was in love with him.’

  ‘And Ascher?’

  Mach shook his head. ‘There’s no trace of her.’

  DeVore considered that a moment then nodded. ‘I’ll find her for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Mach hesitated then came in, looking down at Gesell. ‘I liked him, you know. I really did. But sooner or later he would have killed me. He was like that.’

  DeVore stood then reached out, touching Mach’s arm. ‘Okay. We’ve finished here. Let’s be gone. Before the T’ang’s men get here.’

  Chapter 60

  CARP POOL AND TORTOISE SHELL

  Kim turned in his seat, looking at Hammond. ‘What do you think he wants?’

  Hammond glanced at him then looked away nervously, conscious of the overhead camera.

  Kim looked down. So it was like that. Director Spatz was putting pressure on him. Well, it made sense. After all, it wasn’t every day that Prince Yuan came to visit the Project.

  He looked about him, noting how Spatz had had his suite of offices decorated especially for the occasion, the furnishings replaced. It was a common joke on the Project that Spatz’s offices were larger – and cost more in upkeep – than the rest of the Project put together. But that was only to be expected. It was how arseholes like Spatz behaved.

  Kim had been on the Wiring Project for almost a year now, though for most of that time he had been kept out of things by Spatz. Even so, he had learned a lot, keeping what he knew from Spatz and his cronies. From the outset he had been dismayed to learn how little they’d progressed. It was not that they didn’t know about the brain. The basic information they needed had been discovered more than two centuries before. It was simply that they couldn’t apply it. They had tri
ed out various ‘templates’ – all of them embellishments on what already existed – but none of them had shown the kind of delicacy required. In terms of what they were doing, they were crude, heavy-handed models, more likely to destroy the brain than control it; systems of blocks and stimulae that set off whole chains of unwanted chemical and electrical responses. As it was, the wiring system they had was worthless. A frontal lobotomy was of more use. Unless one wanted a population of twitching, jerking puppets.

  And now, in less than five hours, Prince Yuan would arrive for his first annual inspection. But Spatz was taking no chances. He remembered the last visit he had had – from Marshal Tolonen – and was determined to keep Kim away from things.

  Well, let him try, Kim thought. Let him try.

  As if on cue, Spatz arrived, Ellis, his assistant, trailing behind him, a thick stack of paper files under his arm. He had seen this aspect of officialdom before. Most of the time they shunned real paperwork, preferring to keep as much as possible on computer, yet whenever the big guns arrived out would come thick stacks of paper.

  And maybe it worked. Maybe it did impress their superiors.

  ‘Ward,’ Spatz said coldly, matter-of-factly, not even glancing at Kim as he sat behind his desk.

  ‘Yes, Shih Spatz?’

  He saw the tightening of the man’s face at his refusal to use his full title. Spatz was a fool when it came to science, but he knew disrespect when he saw it. Spatz looked up at Ellis and took the files from him, sorting through them with a great show of self-importance, before finally setting them aside and looking across at Kim.

  ‘I understand you’ve requested an interview with Prince Yuan.’

  Kim stared back at him, making no response, wanting to see how Spatz would deal with his intransigence; how he would cope with this direct assault on his authority.

  ‘Well…’ Spatz masked his anger with a smile. His face set, he raised a hand and clicked his fingers. At once Ellis went across and opened the door.

  Kim heard footsteps behind him. It was the Communications Officer, Barycz. He marched up to the desk and handed over two slender files to add to the pile at Spatz’s elbow.

  Are you trying to build a wall against me, Spatz? Kim thought, smiling inwardly. Because it won’t work. Not today, anyway. Because today Prince Yuan will be here. And I’ll let him know exactly what you’ve been doing. You know that, and it scares you. Which is why I’m here. So that you can offer me some kind of deal. But it won’t work. Because there’s nothing you can offer me. Nothing at all.

  Spatz studied the first of the files for a while then held it out to Hammond.

  Kim saw the movement in Hammond’s face and knew, at once, that the file was to do with himself.

  Hammond read through the file, the colour draining from his face, then looked up at Spatz again. ‘But this…’

  Spatz looked away. ‘What’s the matter, Shih Hammond?’

  Hammond glanced at Kim fearfully.

  ‘Is it a problem, Shih Hammond?’ Spatz said, turning to look at his Senior Technician. ‘You only have to countersign. Or is there something you wish to query?’

  Kim smiled sourly. He understood. They had constructed a new personnel file. A false one, smearing him.

  ‘Sign it, Joel,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Spatz looked at him and smiled. The kind of smile a snake makes before it unhinges its jaws and swallows an egg.

  Hammond hesitated then signed.

  ‘Good,’ Spatz said, taking the document back. Then, his smile broadening, he passed the second file to Ellis. ‘Give this to the boy.’

  Kim looked up as Ellis approached, conscious of the look of apology in the Assistant Director’s eyes.

  ‘What is this?’

  Spatz laughed humourlessly. ‘Why don’t you open it and see?’

  Kim looked across. Hammond was looking down, his shoulders hunched forward, as if he knew already what was in the second file.

  Kim opened the folder and caught his breath. Inside was a sheaf of paper. Hammond’s poems and his own replies. A full record of the secret messages they had passed between them.

  He looked at Spatz. ‘So you knew?’ But he knew at once that neither Spatz nor Barycz was behind this. They were too dull-witted. There was no way either of them could have worked out what was going on. No, this was someone else. Someone much sharper than either of them. But who?

  Spatz leaned forward, his sense of dignity struggling with his need to gloat.

  ‘You thought you were being clever, didn’t you, Ward? A regular little smart-arse. I bet you thought you were so superior, neh?’ He laughed then sat back, all humour draining from his face. ‘For your part in this, you’re under report, Hammond, from this moment. But you, Ward – you’re out.’

  ‘Out?’ Kim laughed. ‘Forgive me, Shih Spatz, but you can’t do that. I’m Prince Yuan’s appointment. Surely only he can say whether I’m out or not.’

  Spatz glanced at him disdainfully. ‘A formality. He’ll have my recommendation, backed by the personnel file and the complaints of disruption filed against you by several staff members.’

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hammond start forward. ‘But you promised –’

  Spatz interrupted, his face hard. ‘I promised nothing. Now for the gods’ sakes, hold your tongue! Even better, leave the room. You’ve served your purpose.’

  Hammond rose slowly. ‘I’ve served my purpose, eh? Too fucking right I have.’ He leaned forward, setting his hands firmly on the edge of the desk, facing the Director. As if sensing what he intended, Spatz drew the file towards him then handed it to Ellis at his side.

  ‘If you say another word…’

  Hammond laughed, but his face was filled with loathing for the man in front of him. ‘Oh, I’ve nothing more to say, Director Spatz. Just this…’

  He drew his head back and spat; powerfully, cleanly, catching Spatz in the centre of his face.

  Spatz cried out, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his gown, then, realizing what he had done, he swore.

  ‘You bastard, Hammond! My silks…’ Spatz stood, his face livid with anger, his hands trembling. ‘Get out! Get your things and be gone! As from this moment you’re off the Project.’

  For a moment longer Hammond stood there, glaring at him, then he moved back, a tiny shudder passing through him.

  ‘Joel, I…’ Kim began, reaching out to him, but Hammond stepped back, looking about him as if coming to from a bad dream.

  ‘No. It’s fine, Kim. Really it is. I’ll survive. The Net can’t be worse than this. At least I won’t have to pawn myself every day to hsiao jen like this pigbrained cretin here!’

  Spatz trembled with rage. ‘Guards!’ he yelled. ‘Get the guards here, now!’

  Hammond laughed. ‘Don’t bother. I’m going. But fuck you, Spatz. Fuck you to hell. I hope Prince Yuan has your arse for what you’re trying to do here today.’ He turned then bent down, embracing Kim. ‘Good luck, Kim,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry. Truly I am.’

  Kim held him out at arm’s length. ‘It’s all right. I understand. You’re a good man, Joel Hammond.’

  He stood, watching him go, then turned back, facing Spatz.

  ‘So what now?’

  Spatz ignored him, leaning forward to talk into the intercom. ‘Send in the nurse. We’re ready now.’

  Kim looked at Ellis; saw how the man refused to meet his eyes. Then at Barycz. Barycz was pretending to study the chart on the wall behind Spatz.

  ‘Prince Yuan will ask about me,’ Kim said. ‘He’s certain to.’

  Spatz smiled coldly. ‘Of course he will. But you won’t be there, will you?’

  He heard the door open, the nurse come in.

  ‘And then he’ll ask why I’m not there –’ he began, but the words were choked off. He felt the hypodermic gun pressed against his neck and tried to squirm away, struggling against the strong hand that held his shoulder, but it was too late.

  The
hand released him. Slumping down into the chair, he felt a fiery cold spreading through his veins, leaving him numb, his nerve-ends frozen.

  ‘I-wb…’ he said, his eyes glazing. ‘I-jibw…’

  Then he fell forward, scattering the sheaf of poems across the floor beside him.

  Li Yuan stepped down from his craft and sighed, looking about him. The roof of the City stretched away from him like a vast field of snow, empty but for the small group of officials who were gathered, heads bowed, beside the open hatchway.

  He looked north to where the City ended abruptly on the shores of the icy Baltic, then turned to smile at his personal secretary, Chang Shih-sen.

  ‘Have you ever seen it when the cloud is low, Chang? The cloud seems to spill from the City’s edge like water over a fall. But slowly, very slowly, as in a dream.’

  ‘I have never seen that, my lord, but I should imagine it was beautiful.’

  Li Yuan nodded. ‘Very beautiful. I saw it once at sunset. All the colours of the sky seemed captured in those endless folds of whiteness.’

  Chang Shih-sen nodded, then, softly, mindful of his place, added. ‘They are waiting, my lord.’

  Li Yuan looked back at him and smiled. ‘Let them wait. The day is beautiful. Besides, I wish a moment to myself before I join them.’

  ‘My lord…’ Chang backed away, bowing.

  Li Yuan turned, moving out from the shadow of the craft into the mid-afternoon sunlight. Chang was a good man. Kind, hard-working, thoughtful. But so had been his father’s Master of the Inner Palace, Wang Ta Chuan. It made one think. When the fate of so many were in one’s hands, who could one trust?

  He took a deep breath, enjoying the freshness, the warmth of the sunlight on his arms and back. Last night, for the first time since he had married Fei Yen, he had summoned a woman to his bed – one of the serving girls from the kitchens – purging himself of the need that had raged in his blood like a poison. Now he was himself again.

  Or almost himself. For he would never again be wholly as he had been. Fei Yen had changed that.

  Who was it? he wondered for the thousandth time. Who slept with you while I was gone? Was it one of my servants? Or was it someone you knew before our time together?