by G R Matthews
“Persuasive, honoured Yunru,” Hai San began and I felt a hole open in the pit of my stomach, “but what motive could Mr Hayes have to take the sword?”
“For wealth,” she snapped back. “He is poor. An ex-soldier with a drink problem and no family. Money from selling the sword would set him up for life.”
“But he would not know of the sword or its importance, would he? Cultural artifacts are worth a great deal of money, that I will grant, but to whom would he sell such a thing as the sword? If that sword appeared anywhere on the markets we would know about it within moments. His plan, if such it was, was not well thought out.”
The pit still yawned, but its jaws were closing without me being stuck between them.
“His plan?” Yunru laughed. A horrible grating sound, a thousand dry bones being snapped, a million casket lids clicking shut. I shuddered. “Your plan, honoured Hai San. You suggested an outsider to recover the sword. It is not hard to see the machinations behind it all. The traded favours, the debts called in and new ones owed. You arranged for him to come to me. The fact he is sat here, mocking me with his presence, and not handed over to be tortured for the truth is proof enough of that.”
There was a shuffling on my side of the table and I caught the slight nod that Bojing made.
“You seek to shift the blame, the shame, Yunru,” Hai San answered and not for one minute did I miss the lack of the ‘honoured’ prefix. “Mr Hayes is here because he brought my daughter back to me. An honourable act. He did so whilst being threatened, chased and fired upon. More, in my own city, your assassin tried to kill my daughter before my very eyes and yet you bring him here to sit at my table as an honoured guest. Have things fallen so far in your city, your heavenly expression of the old land, that you think I will not be insulted?”
The fingertips he had rested upon the table became tense, rigid poles whose only purpose was, at this moment, to stop him leaping over the board room table and strangling the old woman. I admired his self-control.
“I didn’t take the sword, it wasn’t in the case,” I said into that moment. All heads swivelled in my direction. I gulped and gave them a little wave. “Hi. Look, Yunru, I came here, well, not here but to your city, to do a job that someone had contracted my little branch of NOAH to help with. Nothing big, go on a wreck and retrieve something. I didn’t even know what until you told me. I did everything you asked and brought you the case. It’s not my fault the sword is gone. Maybe it wasn’t there or maybe whoever owned the sword took it when the ship was sinking. I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“You allow your pet dog to speak to us?” Yunru said, and frost lay across the table.
“Woof?” I said and almost regretted it.
Chapter 41
“Corin,” Hai San said after Yunru had gathered up her staff and left. No more words had passed her lips or Hai San’s. None were needed.
“I know,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he waved his hand at me, “do not apologise. We were never going to solve the problem in that meeting. It would have lasted long into the afternoon as we talked around whose fault it was and how to put it right. In truth, that was impossible. I trusted her with my daughter and she sent an assassin. It was an unforgivable act and one I could not let go.”
“Then why meet her?”
“Because these things must be done according to the form,” was his answer.
“And now?”
“Now we finish our preparations,” he said and stood from the table.
“What for exactly? You not going to have running battles in the street?” No matter who was fighting and where it was, security would take a dark view of it all. No city could allow that happen. The risk was too great, not just to the bystanders but to the integrity of the domes themselves.
“No,” Hai San agreed. “Well, not normally. It has been a few decades since war between the societies broke out. Some of the battle will be fought on the stock market, but there will some bloodshed too.”
“When?”
“We have tonight. Any overtures of peace must be received by the morning. Another tradition. We will use to tonight to make the last of our plans and to be ready.”
“I don’t understand. This is your city, your base. She cannot have brought enough soldiers, assassins or whatever to seriously threaten you,” I said, standing too.
“It only takes one man to kill me, you, or my daughter. She will have many such men with her.” He started towards the door.
“And what will you do?”
“The same. I have such men and women too. They will be briefed and sent out to do their jobs. It will be a messy affair, Corin. You’ve done your part and returned my daughter to me. Feel free to go. Passage has been booked for you on tomorrow’s departure.”
“What about Lijuan and Chunhua?”
“I will send them away,” he said, stopping and turning to me. “They will be safe.”
“Which is a lie,” I shot back. “No offence, Hai San, but we both know that. Yunru knows that your daughter is a vulnerability. She will be a target.”
“I will keep her safe, Corin.”
“I’m not about to let another man lose his daughter, Hai San. I can’t stand by and do nothing.” I caught up with him, standing face to face, eye to eye. “There must be something I can do.”
“I will think on it,” Hai San conceded. “For now, I need to speak to my aides. Go and rest. Pack your belongings too. You may change your mind.”
“Unlikely,” I said. The thought of walking away was appealing, but the thought of little Lijuan or Chunhua being caught in the crossfire of my mistakes was always going to win that argument.
# # #
Dinner was a quiet affair. A small table in one of the side rooms and a simple meal of rice, meat in various sauces and vegetables steamed, shredded, sliced and everything else done to them. That I thought this was a simple meal when, in NOAH, this would have set me back a few months’ wages, was a symptom of how quickly you could get used to luxury.
Lijuan ate little. Her head kept drooping towards the bowl and her eyes were heavy with sleep. Chunhua excused herself early and took the little girl to bed. Hai San afforded them both a small hug before they left.
We finished the meal in silence. It tasted wonderful, but my appetite was for the calories not the flavour. Fear had stolen my sense of taste and there was no pleasure in the meal. Soon after I’d eaten my fill, I excused myself and went to bed.
I got lost three times trying to find my room, but eventually climbed into bed and closed my eyes.
It is strange to go to sleep without the aid of alcohol. Nothing to stem the flood of memories, nothing to blur or obscure them. No little molecules of ethanol to cloud my thoughts or slow the firing of synapses. Neurons no longer bathing in the narcotic effect of the beer, whiskey, or wine. The caffeine in the green tea just didn’t have the same effect. I tossed and turned for an hour or so and finally, I assume, drifted off.
My dreams were full of war and death. Reminisces of my time on the few missions I’d been involved in. The fear and tension, the sweat sticking my uniform to my skin, trembling hands and the flashes of terror as we went into action. Silent moments between shots and explosions. Pressure waves buffeting the suit. Dead bodies, mangled and torn, floating before my eyes. Every face Tyler’s.
I saw the city, domes and Boxes joined by corridors and canals. Inside the transparent carapaces, the inhabitants wandered back and forth. Some with purpose, some in idleness. Children played and couples walked arm in arm alongside the river. Leaves wafted in the gentle breeze and small boats traversed the city’s waterways. In the arboretum a family spread a cloth upon the precious grass and unpacked containers of food while their children ran bare foot to feel the soft, green blades tickling their toes.
Floating over the city, I looked down upon them all. The glow of my HUD highlighting threats and weaknesses, picking out targets, overlaying measurements and dista
nces. Flicking the glove controls, I zoomed the view in on the family picnicking upon the grass. A man and woman, three children running around. Using the motors I moved round a little to get a better angle upon them. I could see the food, magnification bringing it all into sharp focus, the bottles of wine and soda in their hamper, but not their faces. He took her hand in his, I saw the knuckles on his hand whiten as he squeezed. She turned his head to him, leaned in and planted a kiss upon his lips. At the bottom of the little hill the children rolled about on the grass, moving too quickly for the suit’s imager to pick up a clear face.
Back to the couple. The suit steadied me in the current. The kiss ended and I watched him lay back on the grass, hand across his face as he sought to block out the bright lights above. He didn’t move as she moved around, sorting out the picnic, creating more room on the blanket.
His hand fell away and my face stared back up at me. I gulped in a lungful of Oxyquid, the cool, thick gel sticking in my throat. She lay down next to him and looked up at me, my wife. I started, coughed and a shudder ran through me. The children looked up, Chunhua, Lijuan and stood between them, Tyler.
Fire rolled through the city dome. A great tsunami of orange that swept from one side to the other in the space of a few seconds. I couldn’t look away.
The dome cracked, an eggshell fracturing, imploding. Millions, billions of tonnes of ice cold sea water crushed the life from the trees and family below. Bubbles of air erupted upwards carrying me with them, away from the city and the ruins of a family.
I started, coughed, rolled over and woke. The knife sliced along my ribs.
Chapter 42
Fuck that hurt.
If I hadn’t rolled over the knife would have gone straight into my heart and I’d be gurgling out my last breath right about now with no one around to catch my last words. Posterity would never have forgiven me.
The knife went up again, the edge silver in the half-illumination of the sleeping lights. I could already feel blood leaking from the slash in my side, but if I wanted to keep my heart pumping the good stuff out for a while longer I needed to move. My arm went up, catching my attacker’s downward stroke on the forearm.
Covers entangled me, but whoever had decided to try and kill me tonight hadn’t sat on me so I kicked out with one leg, using the other to brace myself. Blankets slowed my strike but it was enough to force my shadowed attacker off of me and onto the floor.
I rolled the other way, dropping off the low bed, still wrapped in the blanket. Scrabbling to my feet, I kicked the cover away. Looking up, the shadow with the sharp knife leaped across the bed, one foot planted in the mattress, giving spring to his jump.
A slash from right to left and I fell backwards a step. The blade missed, cutting the air with hiss, and my attacker landed on both feet in front of me.
“Lights,” I called out and the illumination went up. Not the immediate flash of brightness I’d hoped might disorient or blind my attacker, but a slow increase in lighting. No doubt designed to ease the just woken into the new day. No help.
He, and I was sure it was he from the stubble I could see on his cheeks, stabbed forward. A lunge, the tip of the thin dagger aimed at my heart. I backed away another step. The room was big, but I’d run out of room soon enough.
I didn’t recognise him and really, right now, the knife was more of a concern. He had to be from the Sio Sam Ong, but how he’d got into the house and not tripped the alarms was a worry. I cast about for something to use as a weapon and all I found was a hair brush. Still, it was better than nothing so I snatched it from the dresser. I saw his eyes glance towards my new weapon and a smile spread across his face.
Dagger versus hair brush. I didn’t fancy my chances.
Stepping right, I tried to circle and give myself some room, keeping away from the wall. He followed, knife leading the way. Don’t attack the weapon, I remembered being told during my military training, attack the wielder. Easy to say when you’re sat in sub or had a rifle in your hands. When all you had was a hairbrush with soft bristles it was a little more problematic. I wished I’d kept hold of the blanket, I could have wrapped it around my arm to block slices.
“How did you get in here?” I asked, sleep and fear making my voice husky.
No response but a jab with the knife. A feint. His reach not long enough, but the temptation to try and parry it was strong. I resisted.
“You won’t get out alive,” I tried and the thought occurred to me that I wouldn’t either.
A slash this time, right to left and another invitation to step into range which I didn’t take. He was testing me out, I knew that. Knowledge wasn’t what I needed. A handgun, a rifle, a torpedo, now those would have come in handy. I cast a glance toward the door, hoping someone was going to burst in and rescue me. No one did.
“If you leave now, I won’t say a word,” I said. “Promise.”
No response except a sliding step forward which I echoed with a step back, keeping him at range. I’ve seen knife fights in the Boxes. They tend to be over quick. The enraged knife wielder runs forward and attempts to rapidly stab the one they want to kill. If the other person has a knife it gets bloody very quickly and both are carted off to the medical wing with either a short life expectancy or a catalogue of scars to show their grandkids.
Another slice and he slid forward, I jumped back pulling in my stomach in reflex. In the air, you have no traction, sad but true, and he saw that. Reversing his swipe he stepped forward into a lunge. My right hand, the one holding the hairbrush, descended catching his wrist and pushing the knife out wide.
I caught my balance and he withdrew a step. He’d asked the question and I’d answered it. Now the pussy-footing around would stop. The next strike would be aimed to kill.
“Help!” I shouted as loud as I could.
He turned, glancing at the door.
“What do you require?” the room’s computer responded.
I lunged, hairbrush held out in a mockery of his sharp tipped and much more deadly knife. But here’s the thing, when you’re fighting for your life, or to end someone else’s, you don’t always have time to think. If he had, he would have known the hairbrush wasn’t much of a threat and he’d have gutted me there and then. Instead, the blade rose to deflect the brush and I let it carry my arm high, none of the resistance he expected.
The brush had never been intended to hurt or harm, the left uppercut which mirrored the brush’s path towards the ceiling caught him under the chin. There was a crack, a grunt and a scream. I’m pretty sure the former and latter were mine with the middle sound being his. He stumbled back and I followed, dropping the brush and grabbing his knife arm in a downward snatch, pulling him forward and into a head-butt. Even as the stars raced around my vision, I twisted his arm and stepped further into his space. A foot, one of mine, hooked his ankle and down he went. I didn’t let go of his arm and a loud snap sounded in the room.
When you’re winning, keep winning. I twisted further. It was unpleasant, the feel of an arm coming apart and moving in directions it wasn’t meant to. Instinctive understanding of anatomy is something we all share. We know when things are wrong. He certainly did as the pitch of his guttural, primal scream rose higher. I stepped over his fallen body, still turning and dropped my knee on his head.
Silence.
I let go of the ruined arm. A jagged twist of bone had torn through the skin and fabric of his clothes. Blood streamed from the wound. More dripped from his broken nose, but he was still. The knife lay on the floor and I was sorely tempted to join it. Staggering the few steps to the bed, I slumped down.
My head hurt. Smashing your forehead into someone else's head was a recipe for a headache. Get it right and they’d be out of the count. Get it wrong and you could knock yourself out cold.
The room stopped spinning and ever so slowly came back into focus.
I really needed to get dressed. Battling for life in your underwear was never going to catch on.
; “Lijuan,” I started, my brain finally kicking itself into gear. “Fuck, no alarms.”
Standing, the room spun for a moment, but settled without too much trouble. I struggled into my trousers and slipped on the soft soled shoes they’d given me. Grabbing the discarded knife from the floor I considered ending the life of my assailant. A swift stab through the ribs, twist the blade up and into his heart. Drag the edge around his neck from ear to ear, opening his arteries and windpipe. Stab down through his ear, smashing the thin bone out of the way and stirring his brain matter with the tip of the blade. I’m a lot of things, some of them not pretty, many of them nothing to be proud of, but a murderer?
There I drew the line. For the moment, at least.
Chapter 43
I slammed the door open and burst out into the hallway. A quick check left and right, the corridor was empty.
The house was big. At the front, the double courtyard and in the back, where I was now, it was more modern. All the corridors had door after door leading to rooms beyond. One of those might be Hai San’s and another might be Lijuan’s or Chunhua’s. The problem was I had no idea whose was where. There was a Panel on the wall, near the first turn in the corridor and I raced down to it, my feet loud on the carpeted floor.
Scrolling through the menu I searched for a floor plan. I should have done this when I first arrived but it had seemed impolite. It would also have been fruitless by the looks. There were no maps, floor plans or architect drawings of the house. I did find the alarm and set it off.
Silence.
Either it wasn’t working or it was a silent alarm. Somewhere, I hoped, all of Hai San’s guards were receiving the warning and even now grabbing their weapons, spilling out into the house. None of the doors on my corridor were open and I didn’t hear any curses or shouts of warning. Maybe the guards were billeted elsewhere.
