The White Mountain (40 page)

‘There were complications,' she said, afraid to meet his eyes. ‘I waited. Three hours I waited, but he never came. Jyan tried…'

‘Never came?' Chen said, outraged. ‘He was notified and never came?'

She gave a tight little nod. ‘I got Jyan to run up to the Medical Centre, but no one was free.' She met his eyes briefly, then looked away again, forcing the words out in a tiny, frightened voice. ‘Or so they said. But Jyan says that they were sitting there, in a room beyond the reception area, laughing – drinking
ch'a
and laughing – while my baby was dying.'

Chen felt himself go cold again; but this time it was the coldness of anger. Of intense, almost blinding anger. ‘And no one came?'

She shook her head, her face cracking again. He held her tightly, letting her cry in his arms, his own face wet with tears. ‘My poor love,' he said. ‘My poor, poor love.' But deep inside his anger had hardened into something else – into a cold, clear rage. He could picture them, sitting there, laughing and drinking
ch'a
while his baby daughter was dying. Could see their well-fed, laughing faces and wanted to smash them, to feel their cheekbones shatter beneath his fist.

And young Jyan… How had it been for him, knowing that his mother was in trouble, his baby sister dying, and he impotent to act? How had that felt? Chen groaned. They had had such hopes. Such plans. How could it all have gone so wrong?

He looked about him at the familiar room, the thought of the dead child an agony, burning in his chest. ‘No…' he said softly, shaking his head. ‘
Nooooo!
'

He stood, his fists bunched at his sides. ‘I will go and see Surgeon Fan.'

Wang Ti looked up, frightened. ‘No, Chen. Please. You will solve nothing that way.'

He shook his head. ‘The bastard should have come. It is only two decks down. Three hours… Where could he have been for three hours?'

‘Chen …' She put out a hand, trying to restrain him, but he moved back, away from her.

‘No, Wang Ti. Not this time. This time I do it my way.'

‘You don't understand…' she began. ‘Karr knows everything. He has all
the evidence. He was going to meet you…'

She fell silent, seeing that he was no longer listening. His face was set, like the face of a statue.

‘He killed my daughter,' he said softly. ‘He let her die. And you, Wang Ti… you might have died too.'

She trembled. It was true. She had almost died, forcing the baby from her – no,
would
have died, had Jyan not thought to contact Karr and bring the big man to her aid.

She let her head fall back. Maybe Chen was right. Maybe, this once, it was right to act – to hit back at those who had harmed them, and damn the consequences. Better that, perhaps, than let it fester deep inside. Better that than have him shamed a second time before his son.

She closed her eyes, pained by the memory of all that had happened. It had been awful here without him. Awful beyond belief.

She felt his breath on her cheek, his lips pressed gently to her brow, and shivered.

‘I must go,' he said quietly, letting his hand rest softly on her flank. ‘You understand?'

She nodded, holding back the tears, wanting to be brave for him this once. But it was hard, and when he was gone she broke down again, sobbing loudly, uncontrollably, the memory of his touch glowing warmly in the darkness.

The room was cold and brightly lit, white tiles on the walls and floor emphasizing the starkness of the place. In the centre of the room was a dissecting table. Beside the table stood the three surgeons who had carried out the post mortem, their heads bowed, waiting.

The corpse on the table was badly burned, the limbs disfigured, the head and upper torso crushed; even so, the body could still be identified as GenSyn. In three separate places the flesh had been peeled back to the bone, revealing the distinctive GenSyn marking – the bright red ‘G' forming a not-quite-closed circle with a tiny blue ‘S' within.

They had cornered it finally in the caves to the north of the estate. There, Hung Mien-lo and a small group of élite guards had fought it for an hour before a well-aimed grenade had done the trick, silencing the creature's
answering fire and bringing the roof of the cave down on top of it. Or so Hung's story went.

Wang Sau-leyan stood there, looking down at the corpse, his eyes taking in everything. Hope warred with cynicism in his face, but when he looked back at his Chancellor, it was with an expression of deep suspicion. ‘Are you sure this is it, Hung? The face…'

The face was almost formless. Was the merest suggestion of a face.

‘I am told this is how they make some models,
Chieh Hsia
. A certain number are kept for urgent orders, the facial features added at the last moment. I have checked with GenSyn records and discovered that this particular model was made eight years back. It was stolen from their West Asian organzation – from their plant at Karaganda – nearly five years ago.'

Wang looked back at it, then shook his head. ‘Even so…'

‘Forgive me,
Chieh Hsia
, but we found some other things in the cave.' Hung Mien-lo turned and took a small case from his secretary, then turned back, handing it, opened, to the T'ang. ‘This was amongst them.'

Wang Sau-leyan stared down at the face and nodded. It was torn and dirtied and pitted with tiny holes, but it was recognizable all the same. It was his brother's face. Or, at least, a perfect likeness. He set it down on the chest of the corpse.

‘So this is how it did it, eh? With a false face and a cold body.'

‘Not cold,
Chieh Hsia
. Or not entirely. You see, this model was designed for work in sub-zero temperatures or in the heat of the mines. It has a particularly hard and durable skin that insulates the inner workings of the creature from extremes of heat and cold. That was why it did not register on our cameras. At night they are programmed to respond only to heat patterns, and as this thing did not give off any trace, the cameras were never activated.'

Wang nodded, his mouth gone dry. Even so, he wasn't
quite
convinced. ‘And the traces of skin and blood that it left on the stone?'

Hung lowered his head slightly. ‘It is our belief,
Chieh Hsia
, that they were put there by the creature. Deliberately, to make us think it really was your brother.'

Wang looked down, then gave a small, sour laugh. ‘I would dearly like to think so, Chancellor Hung, but that simply isn't possible. I have checked with GenSyn. They tell me it is impossible to duplicate individual DNA from scratch.'

‘From scratch, yes,
Chieh Hsia
. But why should that be the case? All that is needed to duplicate DNA is a single strand of the original. This can even, I am assured, be done from a corpse.'

‘And that is what you are suggesting? That someone broke into the tomb before this creature broke out from it again? That they took a piece of my brother's body and used it to duplicate his DNA?'

‘That is one possibility,
Chieh Hsia
, but there is another. What if someone close to your brother took a sample of his skin or blood before his death? Took it and kept it?'

Wang shook his head. ‘That's absurd. I know my brother was a weakling and a fool, but even he would not sit still and let a servant take a sample of his blood.'

‘Again, that is not what I meant,
Chieh Hsia
. What if your brother had a small accident and one of his servants tended to him? And what if that servant kept the materials they used to tend your brother's wound – a piece of bloodied gauze, perhaps, or a bowl with bloodied water?'

‘And you think that's what happened?'

Hung nodded. ‘That is exactly what happened,
Chieh Hsia
. We have a signed confession.'

‘A confession? And how was this confession obtained? By your usual means?'

Hung turned, taking the scroll from his secretary, then handed it across.

‘Wu Ming!' Wang laughed with disbelief. ‘And is that all the proof you have – Wu Ming's confession?'

Hung Mien-lo shook his head. ‘I am afraid not,
Chieh Hsia
. I went back through the household records for details of any small accident to your brother. It seems there were several such incidents over the past five years, but in all but one instance the materials used to tend his wounds were properly incinerated.'

‘And that single instance where it was not – that involved Wu Ming, I take it?'

‘Yes,
Chieh Hsia
. Wu Ming and one other. The traitor, Sun Li Hua.'

Wang made a noise of surprise. ‘This is certain?'

‘Absolutely,
Chieh Hsia
. We have a tape of the incident, showing Wu and Sun tending your brother, but no subsequent record of the dressings being destroyed.'

‘Ah…' Wang turned, looking down at the corpse again, his fingers reaching out to touch and trace the contours of his brother's face. ‘Then it was my cousin's hand behind all this,' he said softly. ‘This was Li Yuan's doing.'

‘So it seems,
Chieh Hsia.'

‘So it seems…' Yet something still nagged at him. He turned back, facing his Chancellor. ‘How long ago did this happen?'

‘Two years ago,
Chieh Hsia.'

‘Two years, or almost two years? Be precise, Hung Mien-lo.'

‘Twenty-two months, to be exact,
Chieh Hsia.'

‘A month before his death?'

‘That is so,
Chieh Hsia.'

Wang took a deep breath, satisfied. Any earlier and it would have made no sense, for his father would still have been alive, and Li Yuan would have had no motive for his actions. As it was…

He smiled. ‘You have done well, Chancellor Hung. You have more than repaid my trust in you. But there are still two things that remain to be answered. First, how did the creature get into the tomb without the cameras seeing it? Second, where is the body of my dead brother?'

Hung Mien-lo bowed low. ‘Both questions have troubled me greatly,
Chieh Hsia
, but I think I have the answer.'

Straightening up, he drew something from his pocket and held it out, offering it to his T'ang. It was a small, glassy circle, like the lens cap to a camera.

Wang turned it in his hand, then looked back at his Chancellor. ‘What is this?'

‘It is an imager,
Chieh Hsia
. Placed over a camera lens, it fixes the image in the camera's eye and maintains it for a predetermined period. After that time, the imager self-destructs – at a molecular level – dispersing in the form of a gas. While it is there, over the lens, you can walk about quite freely before the camera without fear of it registering your presence, and afterwards it leaves no trace.'

‘I see. And you think a similar kind of thing – or several of them – were used to mask the cameras about the tomb?'

Hung smiled. ‘It would explain how the tomb door was opened without the cameras seeing anything.'

‘And my brother's body?'

‘Of that there is no sign,
Chieh Hsia
. However, we did find a trace of ashes in a hollow near a stream to the north of the palace. Halfway between here and the foothills.'

‘So the creature burned the body?'

Hung gave a slight shrug. ‘I am not so sure. If he did, then why did we see no sign of it? It takes a great deal of heat to consume a human body and, from the moment the alarms were sounded, every guard in the palace was on alert for anything suspicious. If the creature
had
burned the body, we would have seen it. So, no,
Chieh Hsia
, I would guess that the ashes were from something else – some small religious ceremony, perhaps. As for the body, I think it is still out there, hidden somewhere.'

Wang considered a moment, then laughed. ‘Which is where we shall let it rest, neh? Amongst the rocks and streams, like an exiled Minister.' Again he laughed, fuller, richer laughter now, fed by relief and an ancient, unforgiving malice. He turned, looking down at the corpse and the box holding his brother's face. ‘As for these things, have them burned, Chancellor Hung. Outside, before the palace gates, where all can see.'

It was quiet in the lobby of the Medical Centre. As Chen entered, the nurse behind the desk looked up, smiling, but Chen walked straight by, pushing through the gate in the low barrier, heading for where he knew they kept their records.

Someone called out to him as he passed, but Chen ignored them. There was no time for formalities. He wanted to know right now who had killed his child, and why.

Two men looked up from behind their screens as he entered the records room, surprised to see him there. One made to object, then fell silent as he saw the gun.

‘I want details of a child mortality,' Chen said, without preamble. ‘The name is Kao. K.A.O. A week ago it was. A female child. Newborn. I want the registered time of death, the precise time the call-out enquiry was made at this office, and a duty roster for that evening, complete with duty records for all on the roster.'

The clerks glanced at each other, not sure what to do, but Chen's fierce bark made them jump. He pointed his gun at the most senior of the two.
‘Do it.
Now
! Hard print. And don't even think of fucking me about. If I don't get what I want, I'll put a bullet through your chest.'

Swallowing nervously, the man bowed his head and began to tap details into his comset.

As the printout began to chatter from the machine, there was a noise outside. Chen turned. Three of the orderlies – big, heavily built men – had come to see what was happening. From the way they stood there, blocking the way, it was clear they had no intention of letting him leave.

‘Get back to work,' he said quietly. ‘This is none of your business.'

He looked back. The younger of the clerks had his fingers on the keys of his machine. Chen shook his head. ‘I wouldn't, if I were you…'