Hell to Heaven (31 page)

‘Not my students,’ I said. I waved him away again. ‘Be back in twenty.’

He bowed over his front legs. ‘Ma’am.’

‘I
want to see the demon-research facility first,’ I yelled over the roar of the jeep’s engine. ‘Then look at the suit after. Is that okay?’

The Tiger hit the handbrake and spun the jeep, skidding on the gravel, then took off again in a different direction. I slipped off the seat and slammed into the back of the front seat, then slid across the floor to hit the door tail-first.

‘You nearly tipped me out!’ I yelled at him.

‘You okay?’ he shouted.

I pulled myself back up onto the seat. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just take it easy.’

‘You
sure
you can’t wear a seatbelt?’

‘Nothing to hold,’ I said. ‘I just slide through.’

‘If you got thrown out it would be bad,’ he said, slowing down to about a hundred kilometres an hour.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

We drove back past the Western Palace complex and onto a paved road without guttering that cut through the desert in a completely straight line.

‘How far is it?’ I said, leaning my head on the back of the front seat.

‘Two hundred li, in the foothills of the mountains.’

‘I must come back one day and check out the towns in the mountains,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard great things about them.’

‘You’re heading to Kun Lun later anyway,’ he said. ‘You can use them as stops on the journey.’

I gazed up at the red mountains, their slopes covered with snow. Behind them even higher mountains soared, their jagged tops decorated with glowing plumes of ice where the high-altitude winds swept it into the sunlight.

‘It’s a long way up,’ I said.

‘That’s why you have the Snakemobile.’

‘No way. They’re not calling it that.’

‘They wanted to fit an MP3 player and have it cycle the
Inspector Gadget
theme.’

‘That would drive me nuts.’

‘That’s the idea.’

Half an hour later we reached the mountains. There was no gentle incline; they rose like a sheer cliff out of the desert. The road turned right and went up a ramp cut into the cliff face, winding like a switchback up the rock. I turned and looked back as we rose, enjoying the view of the desert. The palace complex spread before us, a darker shade of red than the desert, with the desert landscape stretching as far as the eye could see beyond it. Occasionally water glittered between the buildings: the fountains, watercourses and swimming pools of the complex.

‘I didn’t realise your palace was so big,’ I said. ‘It’s at least five times the size of John’s.’

‘Smaller than his real palace,’ the Tiger said. ‘The complex at Wudang. We measured; Wudangshan is slightly larger in area than the Western Palace.’

I turned to him. ‘You
measured
? What an incredibly male thing to do!’

‘Not the only thing we’ve measured,’ he said, smiling smugly at the steering wheel.

We seemed to be incredibly high up by the time the Tiger drove inland from the cliff onto a flat area. I turned away from the view below to see where we were. A four-storey complex stood on the thickly snow-covered slope before us, with a large paved circular drive. Balconies skirted each floor, and peaked windows gave glimpses of luxurious hotel rooms inside. An indoor pool was visible on the ground floor of one of the wings, leading further into a health and beauty spa.

‘This is a ski resort,’ I said.

‘That it is,’ the Tiger said, driving up to the front door where a white-and-gold-liveried footman opened the jeep’s doors for us. ‘It’s for the wives. Full right now with the snow so good; the girls have to take turns coming up.’

‘I see,’ I said, slithering out of the jeep and looking around. ‘Nice.’

He guided me into the reception area. Polished marble covered the floor, enormous candle-lit chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and a Renaissance-period mural covered one wall. Antique chairs and tables were placed around the lobby, giving it a European feel. The staff behind the reception desk bowed to us, smiling.

A few wives sat in their ski outfits in the bar on the other side of reception, chatting over their drinks. They all rose and kneeled when they saw us.

The Tiger led me up some stairs to where a corridor decorated with antique mirrors and dressers spanned the width of the building. The lift lobby was ahead;
inside the lift, the Tiger put his hand over the panel without pressing a button. The doors closed and the lift went down.

We descended for more than three minutes, and I glanced at him. ‘We’re going all the way back down again.’

‘Buffer zone. Some of the demons can be slightly dangerous,’ the Tiger said. ‘Don’t want them scaring the wives.’

The doors opened and we entered an area about four metres wide and two deep, with no other doors or windows. The Tiger held his hand up at the wall and a pair of massive steel doors, like those of a bank vault, appeared. He waved his hand at the doors, the handles spun and they opened.

‘How many of your kids can do that?’ I said.

‘Sixty-seven,’ he said. ‘I have sixty-seven Immortal progeny. Oh, but sixty-eight can open the doors; one non-Immortal is exceptional and can manipulate metal like an Immortal.’

‘Michael,’ I said.

‘That’s the one.’ He gestured towards the corridor. ‘This way, ma’am.’

‘Am I going to be back in time for dinner? This is taking forever.’

‘Nearly there,’ he said without looking at me.

We walked down the bare concrete corridor, neon lights the only illumination. Every twenty metres or so, we arrived at a heavy steel gate that the Tiger had to open with his metal-manipulation abilities.

‘What happens if someone gets stuck down here?’ I said.

‘If someone’s stuck down here then they’re a demon,’ he said with finality.

The end of the corridor opened out into a train station, with a cable car suspended in front of us in the tunnel. The doors opened as we approached and we boarded.

‘No guards?’ I said.

‘Guards at the sharp end.’

The doors closed and the cable car started with a jerk that nearly made me slide off the seat again.

‘You really weren’t made for chairs, were you,’ the Tiger said with amusement.

‘Only slippery ones give me trouble.’

We ascended through the tunnel, the only break in the monotony being the occasional single neon tube attached to the wall, appearing very close to the sides of the car.

‘We’re going way further up,’ the Tiger said, leaning one arm over the back of the chair and looking up the way we were headed. ‘At least twice as high as the resort. The floor beneath us is electrified, and the walls have electrified barriers every ten metres.’

‘Did you design this?’

He turned to see me. ‘One of the wives did. Used to be French Intelligence, knew all the tricks of the trade.’ He turned back towards the tunnel. ‘Funny how life is sometimes. She designed all of these safety features and died in a car accident in Paris in 1987.’

‘Just like Princess Diana?’ I said.

‘Just like her. Not her, if that’s what you were thinking.’ He winked at me. ‘It was a close thing though.’

‘She turned you down?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah, I turned her down. Bit too edgy, too brittle. Not my type.’

‘I thought they were all your type.’

‘You stick your finger down your throat it’s all over,’ he said. He rose, holding the pole in the centre of the car. ‘Here we are. Let me out first; they’ll shoot you on sight.’

Two guards, equipped like those at the Tiger’s bunker, stood on duty at the cable-car platform. They pointed their guns at the Tiger as he stepped down.

‘Help, I’m in trouble, the demon with me is holding me hostage,’ the Tiger said. ‘I’m not the real White Tiger, I’m a copy.’

The guards nodded and lowered their weapons.

The Tiger gestured with his head. ‘Come on out.’

‘They’ll shoot me after that little speech,’ I said.

‘That’s the code phrase, ma’am,’ one of the guards said. ‘A copy or someone being held hostage is very unlikely to say that.’

I hesitated, and the Tiger gestured impatiently. ‘Come on out, Emma, it’s fine.’

‘This is Emma?’ one of the guards said, and they shared a look. ‘Lady Emma, the Dark Lady?’

I slithered out of the cable car. ‘That’s me. I’m perfectly harmless, I promise. No need to shoot me.’

The guards fell to one knee, then one of them slipped his gun onto his back and approached, falling to one knee again. ‘You’re a legend, ma’am,’ he said with awe. ‘I wish I had a book or something to get your autograph. We’ve heard the stories, and both of us are honoured to meet you.’

The other guard nodded vigorously, still holding his weapon in ready position.

‘You wouldn’t be able to get my autograph anyway, I can’t write in snake form,’ I said.

‘My Lord, could you arrange for her to send something up through you?’ the guard said.

The Tiger hesitated, his expression conflicted, then he nodded. ‘If I have to. Now, to your post, soldier.’

The guard grinned broadly, rose, bowed slightly to me and strode back to his post. He unslung his gun and stood on guard again.

‘
I
don’t have a fucking fan club,’ the Tiger grumbled as he led me down the corridor away from the station.

‘Neither do I,’ I said, following.

‘It’s on Facebook,’ one of the sons said behind me.

I stopped. ‘You’re kidding.’

The Tiger gestured for me to keep going. ‘I thought you wanted this done by dinnertime. And yeah, it’s on Facebook.’

‘I don’t use Facebook.’

‘One of your students created it,’ he said. ‘It has all your comings and goings.’

‘That’s a breach of security and is going to be removed,’ I said.

‘Ah, let them have their fun.’ He put his hand out to a blank wall at the end of the corridor.

‘What does it say if I’m on the Celestial?’ I said, becoming concerned.

Another pair of vault doors appeared and the Tiger opened them. ‘It says you’re on the Celestial. It’s not public viewing, don’t worry. You have to be approved before you can see it.’

‘Wait a minute, you talk like you’ve seen it,’ I said, following him through the doors.

‘Oh, I’m your biggest fan,’ he said.

We entered a room about three metres to a side. This one had three guards, all armed and ready, as well as a security desk behind a sheet of bulletproof glass.

‘Help, I’m in trouble, the demon with me is holding me hostage,’ the Tiger said. ‘I’m not the real White Tiger, I’m a copy.’

The guards presented arms. ‘Sir!’

‘You need to change that phrase,’ I said.

‘It changes once a week, ma’am,’ one of the guards said. ‘The wording is slightly different each time.’

I nodded my serpent head.

‘And if I might say, ma’am, I’m a huge fan,’ the guard added. ‘Any chance of getting an autograph?’

‘I’ll get you one,’ the Tiger said, exasperated. He took a step back and gestured with his hand. ‘We’re nearly there.’

The guard at the security desk unlocked the door and the Tiger opened it for us. The corridor on the other side had a marble floor, large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and antique European chairs and dressers along the wall.

I looked around. ‘We’re back where we started.’

‘That’s deliberate,’ the Tiger said. ‘Stick close, the corridors are a maze. Deliberately so. They twist, and have a lot of dead ends, to make escape more difficult.’

‘So where are my demons?’

‘Do you want to check them first, or look at the labs first?’

‘My demons.’

‘This way.’

He led me down the corridor, turned right, then took a hard left at a T-intersection. We walked for about five metres, then turned right and then left again. Every corridor we went down appeared to be the same length and was decorated with the same furniture, and all had another corridor branching out halfway along.

After about a hundred metres of twisting identical
passages, we went through a set of double vault doors to another security station that appeared very much like the first one we’d gone through. I tasted the air; we were definitely not in the same room.

‘Don’t do that, it’s creepy,’ the Tiger said, and the guards raised their weapons. ‘Oh, damn, I have to use the code words first, otherwise they’ll shoot us.’ He put his hands up. ‘Help, I’m in trouble, the demon with me is holding me hostage. I’m not the real White Tiger, I’m a copy.’

‘Double confirmation, please, sir,’ one of the guards said. The Tiger nodded and raised his hands higher. The guard touched each of us in turn, concentrating. He stepped back. ‘All clear. Dad was just talking too much again.’

‘Sir,’ the guard at the station said, and buzzed us through.

‘You don’t like seeing me taste the air? What, you don’t have any serpent wives?’ I said.

‘I’ve never had a serpent wife, they freak me out,’ the Tiger said. ‘Look what that concubine of Ah Wu’s got up to—not going to happen to me, I tell you.’

‘I researched that,’ I said. ‘Do you know a good spin doctor?’

‘No way of putting a positive spin on that.’

The room on the other side was identical to the reception area of the hotel. A couple of demons in human form lounged in chairs to one side, talking quietly. They looked up and smiled when they saw us.

The Tiger went to the reception desk. ‘Let me see the register.’

The woman behind the desk turned the computer monitor so he could see it, and he held one hand against it. The data scrolled over the screen. ‘Round up
demons 12,209 to 12,216, send them to the conference room.’

The receptionist nodded. ‘My Lord.’

‘This way,’ the Tiger said, and led me up stairs identical to those in the other lobby. A bank of lifts stood on the left; this time he pressed the button for the first floor.

A simple corridor with rooms on either side, similar to a hotel, led to a set of double doors that opened to another similar corridor, but shorter. A busy restaurant operated on the right, where many demons were sitting at tables and eating from a standard human-style buffet. Two doors opened on the left, and the Tiger led me through the further one into a conference room.