An Inch of Ashes (11 page)

Haavikko handed it across the table. ‘See for yourself.’

He watched as the big man thumbed through the notebook. At first Karr simply frowned, not understanding, then, slowly, he began to nod, a faint smile forming on his lips. Finally he looked up, meeting Axel’s eyes.

‘You did this all yourself?’

‘Yes.’

Chen pushed his bowl aside then leaned forward, interested. ‘What is it?’

Karr met his eyes thoughtfully. ‘It’s an analysis of the official investigation into Minister Lwo Kang’s murder. And if I’m not mistaken, there are a number of things here that were never included in the findings of the T’ang’s committee.’

Karr handed the book across to Chen, then looked back at Haavikko. ‘May I ask why you did this, Axel?’

‘I was ordered to.’

Karr laughed. ‘Ordered to?’

‘Yes, by General Tolonen, shortly before I was dismissed from his service. He asked me to compile a list of suspects, however improbable. Men who might have been behind the assassins. It was a direct order; one he never rescinded.’

Karr stared back at Haavikko, astonished. ‘I see. But, then, surely Marshal Tolonen ought to have it?’

Haavikko hesitated, then looked down, shaking his head.

‘I understand,’ Karr said after a moment. ‘And maybe you’re right. After what happened there’s no reason why he should trust you, is there? The Marshal would see it only as an attempt to get back at Ebert. He’d think you had invented this to discredit your enemies.’

Haavikko nodded, then looked up again, his eyes burning fiercely now. ‘But you two know Ebert. You know what he is. So maybe that,’ he indicated the notebook in Chen’s hands, ‘incomplete as it is, will help us nail the bastard.’

Chen looked up. ‘He’s right, Gregor. This makes interesting reading.’

‘Interesting, yes, but not conclusive.’

Chen nodded thoughtfully, smiling back at Karr. ‘Exactly. Even so, it’s a beginning.’

‘Something to work on.’

‘Yes...’

Haavikko saw how the two men smiled knowingly at each other and felt a sudden warmth – a sense of belonging – flood through him. He was alone no longer. Now there were three of them, and together they would break Ebert, expose him for the sham – the hollow shell – he was.

Karr looked back at him. ‘Is this the only copy?’

‘No. There’s a second copy, among some things I’ve willed to my sister, Vesa.’

‘Good.’ Karr turned to Chen. ‘In that case, you hang on to that copy, Chen. I’m giving you two weeks’ paid leave. Starting tomorrow. I want you to follow up some of those leads. Especially those involving men known to be friends or business acquaintances of the Eberts.’

‘And if I find anything?’

There was a hammering at the outer door to the apartment. The three men turned, facing it, Kao Chen getting to his feet. There was an exchange of voices, then, a moment later, Wang Ti appeared in the doorway.

‘It’s a messenger for you, Major Karr,’ she said, the use of Karr’s rank indicating to them all that the man was within hearing in the next room.

‘I’ll come,’ said Karr, but he was gone only a few moments. When he came back his face was livid with anger.

‘I don’t believe it. They’re dead.’

‘Who?’ said Chen, alarmed.

‘The
Ping Tiao
cell. All eight of them.’ Karr’s huge frame shuddered with indignation, then, his eyes looking inward, he nodded to himself. ‘Someone knew. Someone’s beaten us to it.’

Ebert was standing with his captain, Auden, laughing, his head thrown back, when Karr arrived. Signs of a heavy fire-fight were everywhere. Body bags lay off to one side of the big intersection, while the corridors leading off were strewn with wreckage.

Karr looked about him at the carnage, then turned, facing Ebert. ‘Who was it?’ he demanded.

‘Who was what?’ Ebert said tersely, almost belligerently.

‘Was it DeVore?’

Ebert laughed coldly. ‘What are you talking about, Major Karr? They were
Ping Tiao.
But they’re dead now. Eight less of the bastards to worry about.’

Karr went still, suddenly realizing what had happened. ‘You killed them?’

Ebert looked at Auden again, a faint smile reappearing. ‘Every last one.’

Karr clenched his fists, controlling himself. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ he said tightly. ‘Somewhere private?’

Auden indicated a room off to one side. ‘I’ll post a guard.’

‘No need,’ said Karr. ‘We’ll not be long.’

When the door closed behind them, Karr rounded on Ebert.

‘You stupid bastard! Why didn’t you report what you were doing? Who gave you permission to go in without notifying me?’

Ebert’s eyes flared. ‘I don’t need
your
permission!’

Karr leaned in on him angrily. ‘In this instance you did! Marshal Tolonen put me in charge of this investigation, and while it’s still going on, you report to me, understand me, Major Ebert? Your precipitate action has well and truly fucked things up. I had this cell staked out.’

Ebert looked up at the big man defiantly, spitting the words back at him. ‘Well, I’ve simply saved you the trouble, haven’t I?’

Karr shook his head. ‘You arrogant bastard. Don’t you understand? I didn’t want them dead. We were going in tonight. I wanted at least one of them alive. Now the whole bloody lot of them will have gone to ground and the gods know when we’ll get another chance.’

Ebert was glaring back at him, his hands shaking with anger. ‘You’re not pinning this on me, Karr. It’s you who’ve fouled up, not me. I was just doing my job. Following up on evidence received. If you can’t keep your fellow officers informed...’

Karr raised his hand, the fingers tensed, as if to strike Ebert in the face, then slowly let the tension ease from him. Violence would achieve nothing.

‘Did any of our men get hurt?’

There was an ugly movement in Ebert’s face. He looked aside, his voice subdued. ‘A few...’

‘Meaning what?’

Ebert hesitated, then looked back at him again. ‘Four dead, six injured.’

‘Four dead!
Ai ya
! What the fuck were you up to?’ Karr shook his head, then turned away, disgusted. ‘You’re shit, Ebert, you know that? How could you possibly lose four men? You had only to wait. They’d have had to come at you.’

Ebert glared pure hatred at the big man’s back. ‘It wasn’t as simple as that...’

Karr turned back. ‘You fucked up!’

Ebert looked away, then looked back, his whole manner suddenly more threatening. ‘I think you’ve said enough, Karr. Understand? I’m not a man to make an enemy of.’

Karr laughed caustically. ‘You repeat yourself, Major Ebert. Or do you forget our first meeting?’ He leaned forward and spat between Ebert’s feet. ‘There! That might jog your memory. You were a shit then and you’re a shit now.’

‘I’m not afraid of you, Karr.’

‘No...’ Karr nodded. ‘No, you’re not a coward, I’ll grant you that. But you’re still a disgrace to the T’ang’s uniform, and if I can, I’ll break you.’

Ebert laughed scornfully. ‘You’ll try.’

‘Yes, I’ll try. Fucking hard, I’ll try. But don’t underestimate me, Hans Ebert. Just remember what I did to Master Hwa that time in the Pit. He underestimated me, and he’s dead.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘Take it as you want. But between men, if you understand me. You go before the Marshal and I’ll deny every last word. Like you yourself once did, ten years ago.’

Ebert narrowed his eyes. ‘That officer with you... it’s Haavikko, isn’t it? I thought I recognized the little shit.’

Karr studied Ebert a moment, knowing for certain now that Haavikko had told the truth about him, then he nodded. ‘Yes, Haavikko. But don’t even think of trying anything against him. If he so much as bruises a finger without good reason, I’ll come for you. And a thousand of your cronies won’t stop me.’

Tsu Ma stood in the courtyard of the stables at Tongjiang, waiting while the groom brought the Arab from its stall. He looked about him, for once strangely ill at ease, disconcerted to learn that she had ridden off ahead of him.

He had tried to cast her from his mind, to drive from his heart the spell she had cast over him, but it was no use. He was in love with her.

In love. He laughed, surprised at himself. It had never happened to him before. Never, in all his thirty-seven years.

He had only to close his eyes and the image of her would come to him, taking his breath. And then he would remember how it had been, there on the island in the lantern light; how he had watched her lose herself in the tune she had been playing; how her voice had seemed the voice of his spirit singing, freed like a bird into the darkness of the night. And later, when he had been in the water, he had seen how she had stood behind her husband, watching him, her eyes curious, lingering on his naked chest.

One life?
she had asked, standing in the doorway of the ruined temple.
One life?
as if it meant something special. As if it invited him to touch her. But then, when he had leaned forward to brush her cheek, her neck, she had moved back as if he had transgressed, and all his knowledge of her had been shattered by her refusal.

Had he been wrong? Had he misjudged her? It seemed so. And yet she had sent word to him. Secretly. A tiny, handwritten note, asking him to forgive her moodiness, to come and ride with her again. Was that merely to be sociable – for her husband’s sake – or should he read something more into it?

He could still hear her words.
If I were free
...

Even to contemplate such an affair was madness. It could only make for bad blood between the Li clan and himself and shatter the age-old ties between their families. He knew that. And yet the merest thought of her drove out all consideration of what he
ought
to do. She had bewitched him, robbed him of his senses. That, too, he knew. And yet his knowledge was as nothing beside the compulsion that drove him. To risk everything simply to be with her.

He turned, hearing the groom return, leading the Arab.

‘Chieh Hsia.’
The boy bowed, offering the reins.

Tsu Ma smiled and took the reins. Then, putting one foot firmly in the stirrup, he swung up on to the Arab’s back. She moved skittishly but he steadied her, using his feet. It was Li Yuan’s horse; the horse he had ridden the last time he had come. He turned her slowly, getting used to her again, then dug in his heels, spurring her out of the courtyard and north, heading out into the hills.

He knew where he would find her: there at the edge of the temple pool where they had last spoken. She stood there, her face turned from him, her whole stance strangely disconsolate. Her face was pale, far paler than he remembered, as if she had been ill. He frowned, disconcerted, then, with a shock, recognized the clothes she was wearing. Her riding tunic was a pink that was almost white, edged with black, her trousers azure blue. And her hair... her hair was beaded with rubies.

He laughed softly, astonished. They were the same colours – the same jewels – as those he had worn the first time they had met. But what did it mean?

She looked up as he approached, her eyes pained, her lips pressed together, her mouth strangely hard. She had been crying.

‘I didn’t know if you would come.’

He hesitated, then went to her.

‘You shouldn’t be riding out so far alone...’

‘No?’

The anger in her voice took him aback. He reached into his tunic and took out a silk handkerchief. ‘Here... What’s wrong?’

He watched her dab her cheeks, then wipe her eyes, his heart torn from him by the tiny shudder she gave. He wanted to reach out and wrap her in his arms, to hold her tight and comfort her, but he had been wrong before.

‘I can’t bear to see you crying...’

She looked back at him, anger flashing in her eyes again, then looked down, as if relenting. ‘No...’ She sniffed, then crushed the silk between her hands. ‘It’s not your fault, Tsu Ma.’

He wet his lips. ‘Where is your husband?’

She laughed bitterly, staring down fixedly at her clenched hands. ‘Husbands! What is a husband but a tyrant!’

Once more her anger surprised him.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her voice bitter. ‘He sleeps with his maids. I’ve
seen
him.’

‘Ah...’ He looked down into the water, conscious of her image there in front of him. ‘Maybe it’s because he’s a man.’

‘A man!’ She laughed caustically, her eyes meeting his in the mirror of the pool, challenging him. ‘And men are different, are they? Have they different appetites, different needs?’ She looked back at the reality of him, forcing him to look back at her and meet her eyes. ‘You sound like my brothers. They think the fact of their gender makes them my superior when any fool can see...’

She stopped, then laughed, glancing at him. ‘You see, even the language we use betrays me. I would have said, not half the man I am.’

He nodded, for the first time understanding her. ‘Yet it is how things are ordered. Without it...’

‘I know,’ she said impatiently, then repeated it more softly, smiling at him. ‘I know.’

He studied her, remembering what her cousin, Yin Wu Tsai, had said: that she had been born with a woman’s body and a man’s soul. How true that was. She looked so fragile, so easily broken, and yet there was something robust, something hard and uncompromising at the core of her. Maybe it was that – that precarious balance in her nature – that he loved. That sense he had of fire beneath the ice. Of earthiness beneath the superficial glaze.

‘You are not like other women.’

He said it softly, admiringly, and saw how it brought a movement in her eyes, a softening of her features.

‘And you? Are you like other men?’

Am I?
he asked himself.
Or am I simply what they expect me to be?
As he stared back at her he found he had no answer. If to be T’ang meant he could never have his heart’s desire, then what use was it being T’ang? Better never to have lived.

‘I think I am,’ he answered. ‘I have the same feelings and desires and thoughts.’

She was watching him intently, as if to solve some riddle she had set herself. Then she looked away, the faintest smile playing on her lips. ‘Yes... but it’s the balance of those things that makes a man what he is, wouldn’t you say?’