An Inch of Ashes (6 page)

Karr was in the first lift, packed in with twenty or thirty others. As the cage descended, Tolonen raised a hand in greeting but stayed where he was, just back from the others waiting there – maintenance crew, customs men and guards. Karr was carrying a small briefcase, the handle chained to his arm. At the barrier he was first in the queue, his Triple-A pass held out for inspection. Even so, it was some three or four minutes before he passed through.

The two men greeted one another warmly, Tolonen hugging the big man to him.

‘It’s good to see you, Gregor. You did well out there. I’m proud of you!’

‘Thank you, sir. But you’re looking well yourself.’

Tolonen nodded, then pointed at the briefcase. ‘But what’s this? Don’t we pay you enough that you have to go into the courier business?’

Karr leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘It’s my gift for the T’ang. I didn’t want to say anything about it until I got back. You know how it is.’

Tolonen sighed. ‘I know only too well. But tell me, what is it?’

Karr smiled. ‘Berdichev’s files. His personal records. Coded, of course, but I’m sure we can crack them. If they’re what I think they are, we can polish off the Dispersionists for good.’

‘Unless someone’s done it already?’

Karr narrowed his eyes. ‘The Executive killings?’

‘It’s one of the theories we’re working on. Which is why I wanted you to take over the investigation from young Ebert. You’ve the nose for it.’

‘Hmm...’ Karr looked down. ‘I’ve read the files.’

‘And?’

‘They make no sense. There’s no real pattern to it. Good men and bad. It seems almost random. Except for the timing of it all.’

‘Yes. But there has to be a connection.’

‘Maybe...’ Karr’s face was clouded a moment, then he brightened. ‘But how’s that darling daughter of yours? She was a little tiger!’

Tolonen’s face lit up. ‘Gods, you should see her now, Gregor. Like Mu Lan, she is. A regular little warrior princess. Yes... you must come and train with us some time!’

Karr bowed low. ‘I would be greatly honoured.’

‘Good, then let’s...’

Tolonen stopped. A man was standing just to Karr’s right. Karr turned, reacting to the movement in Tolonen’s eyes, then relaxed, smiling.

‘First Advocate Kung!’ Karr gave a small bow and put out his left hand to shake the outstretched hand of the Advocate. ‘I hope all goes well for you.’

‘Thank you, Major. And your own ventures... I hope they prove successful.’

The Advocate hesitated, looking at Tolonen. Karr saw what his hesitation implied and quickly made the introduction.

‘Forgive me. First Advocate Kung, this is Marshal Tolonen, Head of the Council of Generals.’

Tolonen accepted the Advocate’s bow with a tight smile. He knew this game too well to be caught in the web of obligation.

‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Marshal Tolonen,’ Kung said, bowing again. Then he turned and clicked his fingers. At once his valet approached, handing him a small case. ‘However, it was you, Major Karr, whom I wanted to see. I was most grateful for your hospitality on board ship, and wanted to offer you a small token of my appreciation.’

Tolonen smiled inwardly. He would have to brief Karr afterwards on how to escape from this situation, otherwise First Advocate Kung would be calling upon him for favours from here until doomsday, playing upon the Major’s need not to lose face.

‘Thank you, Advocate, but—’

Karr saw the case falling away, Kung raising the handgun, both hands clasping the handle, and reacted at once, straight-arming Tolonen so that the old man went down. It was not a moment too soon. The explosion from the big old-fashioned gun was deafening. But he was already swinging the case at the Advocate’s head. He felt it connect and followed through with a kick to the stomach. Kung fell and lay still.

There was shouting all about them. The valet had gone down on his knees, his head pressed to the floor, his whole body visibly shaking. It was clear he’d had nothing to do with the assassination attempt. Karr turned, looking for further assassins, then, satisfied there were none, looked down at Tolonen. The Marshal was sitting up, gasping, one hand pressed to his ribs.

Karr went down on one knee. ‘Forgive me, Marshal, I...’

Tolonen waved aside his apology, the words coming from him wheezingly. ‘You... saved my... life.’

‘I wouldn’t have believed it. He was Senior Advocate on Mars. A highly respected man.’

‘Major!’ The call came from behind Karr. He turned. It was one of the spaceport’s Security captains.

‘What is it?’ he answered, standing, looking across to where the captain was kneeling over the fallen man.

‘There’s no pulse.’

Karr went across and knelt beside Kung, examining the body for himself. It was true. Advocate Kung was dead. Yet the wounds to the head and stomach were minimal. If he had
meant
to kill the man...

‘Shit!’ he said, turning to look at Tolonen, then frowned. ‘What is it, sir?’

Tolonen’s eyes were wide, staring at the corpse. As Karr watched him, the old man shuddered. ‘Gods...’ he said softly. ‘It’s one of them.’

Karr stared back at him a moment, then his eyes widened, understanding. ‘A copy...’ He turned and looked across at the valet. The man had been forced to his feet and was being held between two Security men, his head bowed in shame, his hands trembling with fear.

‘
You!
’ Karr barked at him, getting up and going across to him. ‘Tell me, and tell me fast, did you notice anything different about your master? Anything unusual?’

The man shook his head abjectly. ‘Nothing, honoured sir. Believe me. I knew nothing of his intentions.’

Karr studied the man a moment longer, then waved the guards away. ‘Take him away and interrogate him. Whatever it takes. I want the truth from him.’ He turned back. Tolonen was getting to his feet, one of the guards giving him a hand.

Tolonen turned, smiling his thanks, then put out his hand. ‘Give me your knife, Sergeant.’

The guard did as he was told, then stood back, watching as Tolonen limped slowly across to the corpse.

He met Karr’s eyes. ‘If it’s like the others...’ Karr nodded. They both remembered that day when Han Ch’in had been assassinated. Recalled the team of copy humans who had come in from Mars to kill him. And now here they were again. A second wave, perhaps. Tolonen knelt by the body, setting the knife down at his side.

‘Here,’ Karr said, coming round to the other side of Kung. ‘I’ll do it.’

If it was like the others it would have a metal plate set into its chest. The real Kung would have been killed months ago.

Tolonen handed Karr the knife, then sat back on his knees, rubbing at his ribs again, a momentary flicker of pain in his face. ‘Okay. Let’s see what it is.’

Karr slit the Advocate’s tunic open, exposing the flesh, then, leaning right over the body, he dug deeply into the flesh, drawing the blade across the corpse’s chest.

Blood welled, flowed freely down the corpse’s sides. They had not expected that. But there was something. Not a plate, as they’d both expected, but something much smaller, softer. Karr prised the knife beneath it and lifted it out. It was a wallet. A tiny black wallet no bigger than a child’s hand. He frowned, then handed it across.

Tolonen wiped it against his sleeve, then turned it over, studying it. It seemed like an ordinary pouch; the kind one kept tobacco in. For a moment he hesitated. What if it was a bomb? He ought to hand it over to the experts. But he was impatient to know, for the man – and he
was
a man, there was no doubting that now – had almost killed him. He had been that close.

Gently he pressed the two ends of the wallet’s rim towards each other. The mouth of the pouch gaped open. He reached in with two fingers, hooking out the thing within.

He stared at it a moment, then handed it across to Karr. He had known. The moment before he had opened it, he had known what would be inside. A stone. A single white
wei chi
stone. Like a calling card. To let the T’ang know who had killed him.

Tolonen met Karr’s eyes and smiled bitterly.

‘DeVore. This was DeVore’s work.’

Karr looked down. ‘Yes, and when he hears about it he’ll be disappointed. Very disappointed.’

Tolonen was quiet a moment, brooding, then he looked back at Karr. ‘Something’s wrong, Gregor. My instincts tell me he’s up to something. While we’re here, distracted by this business. I must get back. At once. Jelka...’

Karr touched his arm. ‘We’ll go at once.’

DeVore turned in his chair and looked across at his lieutenant.

‘What is it, Wiegand?’

‘I thought you should know, sir. The Han has failed. Marshal Tolonen is still alive.’

‘Ah...’ He turned, staring out of the long window again, effectively dismissing the man. For a while he sat there, perfectly still, studying the slow movement of cloud above the distant peaks, the thin wisps of cirrus like delicate feathers of snow against the rich blue of the sky. Then he turned back.

He smiled. Like Wiegand, they would all be thinking he had tried to kill Tolonen, but that wasn’t what he’d wanted. Killing him would only make him a martyr. Would strengthen the Seven. No, what he wanted was to destroy Tolonen. Day by day. Little by little.

Yes. Tolonen would have found the stone. And he would know it was his doing.

There was a secret lift in his room, behind one of the full-length wall charts. He used it now, descending to the heart of the warren. At the bottom a one-way mirror gave him a view of the corridor outside. He checked it was clear, then stepped out. The room was to the left, fifty
ch’i
along the corridor, at the end of a cul-de-sac hewn out of the surrounding rock.

At the door he paused and took a small lamp from his pocket, then examined both the locks. They seemed untouched. Satisfied, he tapped in the combinations and placed his eye against the indented pad. The door hissed back.

The girl was asleep. She lay there, face down on her cot, her long, ash-blonde hair spilling out across her naked shoulders.

He had found her in one of the outlying villages. The physical resemblance had struck him at once. Not that she would have fooled anyone as she was, but eighteen months of good food and expert surgery had transformed her, making the thousand
yuan
he’d paid for her seem the merest trifle. As she was now she was worth a million, maybe ten.

He closed the door and went across, pulling the sheet back slowly, careful not to wake her, exposing the fullness of her rump, the elegance of her back. He studied her a moment, then reached down, shaking her until she woke and turned, looking up at him.

She was so like her. So much so that even her ‘father’ would have had difficulty telling her from the real thing.

DeVore smiled and reached out to brush her face tenderly with the back of his hand, watching as she pushed up against it gratefully. Yes. She was nearly ready now.

‘Who are you?’ he asked her gently. ‘Tell me what your name is.’

She hesitated then raised her eyes to his again. ‘Jelka,’ she said. ‘My name is Jelka Tolonen.’

Jelka was kicking for Siang’s throat when the far wall blew in, sending smoke and debris billowing across the practice arena.

The shock wave threw her backwards, but she rolled and was up at once, facing the direction of the explosion, seeing at a glance that Siang was dead, huge splinters jutting from his back.

They came fast through the smoke: three men in black clingsuits, breathing masks hiding their features, their heads jerking from side to side, their guns searching.

Ping Tiao
assassins. She knew it immediately. And acted...

A backflip, then a single-handed grab for the exercise rope, her other hand seeking the wallbars.

The middle assassin fired even as she dropped. Wood splintered next to her. She had only to survive a minute and help would be here.

A minute. It was too long. She would have to attack.

She went low, slid on her belly, then was up, jumping high, higher than she had ever leaped before, her body curled into a tight ball. All three were firing now, but the thick smoke was confusing them; they couldn’t see properly through their masks.

She went low again, behind Siang, taking a short breath before turning and kicking upward.

One of the men went down, his leg broken. She heard his scream and felt her blood freeze. The other two turned, firing again. Siang’s body jerked and seemed to dance where it lay. But Jelka had moved on, circling them, never stopping, changing direction constantly, dipping low to breathe.

In a moment they would realize what she was doing and keep their fire at floor level. Then she would be dead.

Unless she killed them first.

The fact that there were two hindered them. They couldn’t fire continuously for fear of killing each other. As she turned, they had to try to follow her, but the rapidity of her movements, the unpredictability of her changes of direction, kept wrong-footing them. She saw one of them stumble and took her chance, moving in as he staggered up, catching him beneath the chin with stiffened fingers. She felt the bones give and moved away quickly, coughing now, the smoke getting to her at last.

Fifteen seconds. Just fifteen seconds.

Suddenly – from the far end of the arena where the wall had been – there was gunfire. As she collapsed she saw the last of the assassins crumple, his body lifted once, then once again as the shells ripped into him.

And as she passed into unconsciousness she saw her father standing there, the portable cannon at his hip, its fat muzzle smoking.