The Broken Wheel

by David Wingrove

  He huffed out his sudden irritation. It was no good dwelling on it. Madness lay that way. No, best set such thoughts aside, lest he find himself thinking of nothing else.

  And what use would I then be to my father?

  He shivered, then, calming himself, turned back and summoned Chang.

  ‘Is this all?’

  Spatz, standing before the seated Prince, bowed his head. ‘I am afraid so, my lord. But you must understand – I have been working under the most severe restraints.’

  Li Yuan looked up, his disappointment clear. ‘Just what do you mean, Director?’

  Spatz kept his head lowered, not meeting the Prince’s eyes. ‘To begin with, I have been effectively two short on my team throughout my time here.’

  Li Yuan leaned forward. ‘I do not understand you, Director. There is no mention in your report of such a thing.’

  ‘Forgive me, my lord, but the matter I am referring to is in the second file. I felt it best to keep the main report to matters of… science.’

  The Prince sat back, irritated by the man’s manner. If he’d had his way, Spatz would have been replaced as Director, but Spatz had been his father’s appointment, like Tolonen.

  He set the top file aside and opened the second one. It was a personnel report on the boy, Ward.

  Li Yuan looked up, surprised. Could Spatz have known? No. He couldn’t possibly have known about Kim and the special projects. But that too had been a disappointment. After the first report he had heard nothing from the boy. Nothing for ten months. At first he had assumed that it was taking much longer than the boy had estimated or that his work on the Project was taking up his time, but this explained it all.

  He read it through then looked up again, shaking his head. The boy had been at best lethargic, uncooperative, at worst disruptive to the point of actual physical violence.

  ‘Why was I not told of this before now?’

  Spatz hesitated. ‘I… I wished to be charitable to the boy, my lord. To give him every chance to change his ways and prove himself. I was conscious of his importance to you. Of your special interest. So…’

  Li Yuan raised his hand. ‘I understand. Can I see the boy?’

  ‘Of course, my lord. But you must understand his condition. I am told it is a result of his “re-structuring” at the clinic. Occasionally he falls into a kind of torpor where he won’t speak or even acknowledge that anyone is there.’

  ‘I see.’ Li Yuan kept the depth of his disappointment from his face. ‘And is he like that now?’

  ‘I am afraid so, my lord.’

  ‘And his tutor, T’ai Cho?’

  Spatz gave a small shrug of resignation. ‘A good man, but his loyalty to the boy is… shall we say, misguided. He is too involved, my lord. His only thought is to keep the boy from harm. I’m afraid you’ll get little sense from him either.’

  Li Yuan studied Spatz a moment longer then closed the file.

  ‘You wish to see the boy, my lord?’

  Li Yuan sighed then shook his head. ‘No. I think I’ve seen enough.’ He stood. ‘I’m disappointed, Spatz. Hugely disappointed. I expected far greater progress than this. Still, things are on the right lines. I note that you’ve made some headway towards solving things on the technical front. That’s good, but I want more. I want a working model twelve months from now.’

  ‘My lord…’ The note of pure panic in the Director’s voice was almost comical, yet Li Yuan had never felt less like laughing.

  ‘Twelve months. Understand me? For my part, I’ll make sure you have another dozen men – the best scientists I can recruit from the Companies. As for funding, you’re quite correct, Director. It is inadequate. Which is why I’m tripling it from this moment.’

  For the first time Spatz’s head came up and his eyes searched him out. ‘My lord, you are too generous.’

  Li Yuan laughed sourly. ‘Generosity has nothing to do with it, Director Spatz. I want a job done and I want it done properly. We under-funded. We didn’t see the scale of the thing. Well, now we’ll put that right. But I want results this time.’

  ‘And the boy?’

  Li Yuan stood, handing the main copies of the files to Chang Shih-sen, then looked back at Spatz.

  ‘The matter of the boy will be dealt with. You need worry yourself no further in that regard, Director.’

  Barycz locked the door of the communications room then went to his desk and activated the screen. He tapped in the code and waited, knowing the signal was being scrambled through as many as a dozen sub-routes before it got to its destination. The screen flickered wildly then cleared, and DeVore’s face stared out at him.

  ‘Is it done?’

  Barycz swallowed nervously then nodded. ‘I’ve despatched copies of the files to your man. He should have them within the hour.’

  ‘Good. And the boy? He’s out of it, I hope?’

  Barycz bowed his head. ‘I’ve done everything as you ordered it, Shih Loehr. However, there is one small complication. The Director has ordered Hammond off the Project. With immediate effect.’

  DeVore looked away a moment then nodded. ‘Fine. I’ll see to that.’ He looked back at Barycz, smiling. ‘You’ve done well, Barycz. There’ll be a bonus for you.’

  Barycz bowed his head again. ‘You are too kind…’ When he looked up again the screen was dark.

  He smiled, pleased with himself, then sat back, wondering how generous Loehr planned to be. Maybe he’d have enough to move up a deck – to buy a place in the Hundreds.

  Barycz sniffed thoughtfully then laughed, recalling how Hammond had spat in the Director’s face.

  ‘Served the bastard right…’ he said quietly. Yes. He was not a spiteful man, but he had enjoyed the sight of Spatz getting his deserts.

  Lehmann stood in the doorway, looking in. ‘Ebert’s here.’

  DeVore looked up from the wei chi board and smiled. ‘Okay. I’ll be up in a while. Take him through into the private suite and get one of the stewards to look after him. Tell him I won’t be long.’

  DeVore watched his lieutenant go then stood. He had been practising new openings. Experimenting. Seeing if he could break down old habits. That was the only trouble with wei chi – it was not a game to be played against oneself. One needed a steady supply of opponents, men as good as oneself – better if one really wished to improve one’s game. But he had no one.

  He stretched and looked about him, feeling good, noticing his furs where he had left them in the corner of the room. He had been out early, before sunrise; had gone out alone, hunting snow foxes. The pelts of five were hanging in the kitchens, drying out, the scant meat of the foxes gone into a stew – a special meal to celebrate.

  Yes, things were going well. Only a few weeks ago things had seemed bleak, but now the board was filling nicely with his plays. In the north, the Ping Tiao were effectively destroyed and Mach’s Yu were primed to step into the resultant power vacuum. In the east his men were in position, awaiting only his order to attack the Plantations, while to the west he was building up a new shape – seeking new allies among the elite of City North America. Added to these were two much subtler plays – the poisoned statue and his plans for the Wiring Project. All were coming to fruition. Soon the shapes on the board would change and a new phase of the game would begin – the middle game – in which his pieces would be in the ascendant.

  And what was Ebert’s role in all this? He had ambitions, that was clear now. Ambitions above being a puppet ruler. Well, let Ebert have them. When the time came, he would cut him down to size. Until then he would seem to trust him more.

  DeVore laughed. In the meantime, maybe he would offer him the girl, the lookalike. She had been meant for Tolonen – as a ‘gift’ to replace his murdered daughter – but Jelka’s survival had meant a change of plans. He studied the board thoughtfully then nodded. Yes, he would give Ebert the lookalike as an early wedding gift. To do with as he wished.

  He smiled then leaned across and placed a white stone o
n the board, breaching the space between two of the black masses, threatening to cut.

  Hans Ebert stood by the open hatchway of the transporter, his left hand gripping the overhead strap tightly as the craft rose steeply from the mountainside.

  DeVore’s ‘gift’ was crouched behind him against the far wall of the craft, as far from the open hatchway as she could. He could sense her there behind him and felt the hairs rise along his spine and at the back of his neck.

  The bastard. The devious fucking bastard.

  He smiled tightly and waved a hand at the slowly diminishing figure on the hillside far below. Then, as the craft began to bank away, he turned, looking at the girl, smiling at her reassuringly, keeping his true feelings from showing.

  Games. It was all one big game to DeVore. He understood that now. And this – this ‘gift’ of the girl – that was part of the play, too. To unsettle him, perhaps. Or mock him. Well… he’d not let him.

  He moved past her brusquely and went through into the cockpit. Auden turned, looking at him.

  ‘What is it, Hans?’

  He took a breath then shook his head. ‘Nothing. But you’d best have this.’ He took the sealed letter DeVore had given him and handed it across. ‘It’s to Lever. DeVore wants you to hand it to him when you meet the Americans at the spaceport. It’s an invitation.’

  Auden tucked it away. ‘What else?’

  Ebert smiled. Auden was a good man. He understood things without having to be told. ‘It’s just that I don’t trust him. Especially when he “puts all his stones on the table”. He’s up to something.’

  Auden laughed. ‘Like what?’

  Ebert stared out through the frosted glass, noting the bleakness of their surroundings. ‘I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. And then there’s his gift…’

  Auden narrowed his eyes. ‘So what are you going to do with her?’

  Ebert turned back, meeting his eyes briefly, then jerked away, pulling the cockpit door closed behind him.

  The girl looked up as Ebert came back into the hold, her eyes wide, filled with fear. He stopped, staring at her, appalled by the likeness, then went across and stood by the open hatchway, looking outwards, his neat-cut hair barely moving in the icy wind.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, against the roar of the wind. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ He glanced round, smiling. ‘Here… come across. I want to show you something.’

  She didn’t move, only pressed tighter against the far wall of the cabin.

  ‘Come…’ he said, as softly as he could against the noise. ‘You’ve nothing to be afraid of. I just want to show you, that’s all.’

  He watched her, saw how fear battled in her with a need to obey. Yes, he thought, DeVore would have instilled that in you, wouldn’t he? She kept looking down, biting her lip then glancing up at him again, in two minds.

  Yes, and you’re like her, he thought. Physically, anyway. But you aren’t her. You’re just a common peasant girl he’s had changed in his labs. And the gods alone know what he’s done to you. But the real Jelka wouldn’t be cowering there. She would have come across of her own free will. To defy me. Just to prove to me that I didn’t frighten her.

  He smiled and looked down, remembering that moment in the machine when she had glared back at him. It had been then, perhaps, that he had first realized his true feelings for her. Then that he had first articulated it inside his head.

  I’m in love with you, Jelka Tolonen, he had thought, surprised. In love.

  So unexpected. So totally unexpected.

  And afterwards, when she had gone, he had found himself thinking of her. Finding the image of her, there, entangled in his thoughts of other things. How strange that had been. So strange to find himself so vulnerable.

  And now this…

  He went to her and took her arm, coaxing her gently, almost tenderly across, then stood there, one arm holding tightly about her slender waist, the other reaching up to hold the strap. The wind whipped her long, golden hair back and chilled her face, but he made her look.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that magnificent?’

  He looked sideways at her; saw how she opened her eyes, fighting against the fear she felt, battling with it, trying to see the beauty there in that desolate place.

  DeVore’s thing. His ‘gift’.

  For a moment there was nothing. Then the tiniest of smiles came to her lips, the muscles about her eyes relaxing slightly as she saw.

  He shivered then drew his arm back and up, forcing her head down.

  He watched the tiny figure fall away from the craft, twisting silently in the air, a tiny star of darkness against the white, growing smaller by the second, then shuddered again, a strange mixture of pain and incomprehension making him shake his head and moan.

  No. There would be no impediments. Not this time. No possessive old women or mad whores with their love children. And certainly no copies.

  No. Because he wanted the real Jelka, not some copy. Even if she hated him. Or maybe because she hated him. Yes, that was it perhaps. Because underneath it all she was as strong as him and that strength appealed to him, making her a challenge. A challenge he could not turn his back on.

  For you will love me, Jelka Tolonen. You will.

  He watched the body hit in a spray of snow then turned away, the roar of the wind abating as he drew the hatch closed behind him.

  Emily Ascher turned from the door then caught her breath, the pay-lock key falling from her hand, clattering across the bare ice floor.

  ‘You…’

  DeVore looked back at her from where he sat on the edge of her bed and smiled. ‘Yes, me.’

  He saw her look from him to the key, judging the distance, assessing the possibility of getting out of the room alive, and smiled inwardly.

  She looked back at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘How did you find me?’

  He tilted his head, looking her up and down, his keen eyes searching for the tell-tale bulge of a concealed weapon.

  ‘It wasn’t so hard. I’ve had someone trailing you since that meeting at the meat warehouse. I knew then that you were planning to get out.’

  ‘You did?’ She laughed, but her face was hard. ‘That’s strange. Because I had no plans to. Not until last night.’

  He smiled. ‘Then you got out in good time. They’re all dead. Or had you heard?’

  He saw the way her breathing changed, how the colour drained from her face.

  ‘And Gesell?’

  He nodded, watching her. ‘I made sure of him myself.’

  Her lips parted slightly then she looked down. ‘I guess it was… inevitable.’ But when she looked back at him he saw the hatred in her eyes and knew he had been right. She was still in love with Gesell.

  Such a waste, he thought. Had the worm understood how lucky he had been to share his bed with two such strong women?

  No. Probably not. Like all his kind, he took things without thinking of their worth.

  ‘Mach helped me,’ he said, watching her closely now, his hand resting loosely on the gun in his pocket. ‘He arranged it all.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I don’t understand. He wanted it to work more than any of us.’

  ‘He still does. But he wants to start again, without the taint of Bremen. New blood, with new ideals, fresh ideas.’

  She stared back at him a moment then shook her head. ‘But still with you, neh?’

  ‘Is that why you got out? Because of my involvement?’

  She hesitated then nodded, meeting the challenge of his eyes. ‘It changed, after you came. It was different before, sharper, but then… well, you saw what happened. It wasn’t like that before.’

  ‘No…’ He seemed almost to agree. ‘Well, that’s past, neh?’

  ‘Is it?’

  He nodded, sitting back slightly, the gun in his pocket covering her now.

  ‘So what now? What do you want of me?’

  His smile broadened. ‘It’s not what I want. It’s what M
ach wants. And he wants you dead.’

  Again that slight tremor of the breasts, that slight change in breathing, quickly controlled. She had guts, that was certain. More, perhaps, than any of them. But he had seen that much at once. Had singled her out because of it.

  ‘I’m unarmed,’ she said, raising her hands slowly.

  ‘So I see,’ he said. ‘So?’

  She laughed, almost relaxed. ‘No… It wouldn’t worry you at all, would it? To kill an unarmed woman.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t. But who said I was going to kill you?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Aren’t you, then?’

  He shook his head then reached into his left pocket and pulled out a wallet. It held a pass, a new set of identity documents, two five-hundred yuan credit chips and a ticket for the intercontinental jet.

  ‘Here,’ he said, throwing it to her.

  She caught it deftly, opened it, then looked up sharply at him. ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘There’s a price,’ he said. ‘I promised Mach I’d bring something back. To prove I’d dealt with you. A finger.’

  He saw the small shiver pass through her. ‘I see.’

  ‘It shouldn’t hurt. I’ll freeze the hand and cauterize the wound. There’ll be no pain. Discomfort, yes, but nothing more.’

  She looked down, a strangely pained expression on her face, then looked up again. ‘Why? I mean, why are you doing this? What’s your motive?’

  ‘Do I have to have one?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s how you are.’

  He shrugged. ‘So you’ve told me before. But you’re wrong.’

  ‘No strings, then?’

  ‘No strings. You give me a finger and I give you your freedom and a new life in North America.’

  She laughed, still not trusting him. ‘It’s too easy. Too…’ She shook her head.

  He stood. ‘You’re wondering why. Why should that cold, calculating bastard DeVore do this for me? What does he want? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s very simple. I wanted to prove that you were wrong about me.’

  She studied him a moment then went across and bent down, recovering the pay-key.

  ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Have we a deal?’