Read Online The Art of War by David Wingrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Wingrove
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that.’
‘I know.’
Good , thought DeVore. He understands. He’s learned his lessons well. There’s no room for sentimentality in what we’re doing here. What’s past is past. I owe him nothing for the use of his money.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, leaning forward and picking up the paper again.’You’re on the payroll now, Stefan. I’m appointing you lieutenant, as from this moment. Ranking equal with Wiegand.’
Yes , he thought. That should take the smile from Wiegand’s face.
When Lehmann had gone he stood and went across to the map again. In the bottom left-hand corner the carp-shaped area that denoted the Swiss Wilds was criss-crossed with lines, some broken, some solid. Where they met or ended were tiny squares, representing fortresses. There were twenty-two in all, but only fourteen of them – boxed in between Zagreb in the south-east and Zurich in the north-west – were filled in. These alone were finished. The eight fortresses of the western arm remained incomplete. In four cases they had yet to be begun.
Money. That was his greatest problem. Money for wages, food and weaponry. Money for repairs and bribes and all manner of small expenses. Most of all, money to complete the building programme: to finish the network of tunnels and fortresses that alone could guarantee a successful campaign against the Seven. The Confiscations had robbed him of many of his big investors. In less than three hours the remainder were due to meet him, supposedly to renew their commitments, though in reality, he knew, to tell him they had had enough. That was why Helmstadt was so important now.
Helmstadt. He had wooed the Ping Tiao with promises of weapons and publicity, but the truth was otherwise. There would be weapons, and publicity enough to satisfy the most egotistical of terrorist leaders, but the real fruit of the raid on the Helmstadt Armoury would be the two billion yuan DeVore would lift from the strongroom. Money that had been allocated to pay the expenses of more than one hundred and forty thousand troops in the eight garrisons surrounding the Wilds.
But the Ping Tiao would know nothing of that.
He turned away from the map and looked across at his desk again. The Notice of Confiscation lay where he had left it. He went across and picked it up, studying it again. It seemed simple on the face of it: an open acknowledgment of a situation that had long existed in reality – for Lehmann’s funds had been frozen from the moment Berdichev had fled to Mars, three years ago. But there were hidden depths in the document. It meant that the Seven had discovered evidence to link Stefan’s father to the death of the Minister Lwo Kang, and that, in its turn, would legitimize Tolonen’s action in the House in killing Lehmann Senior.
It was an insight into how the Seven were thinking. For them the War was over. They had won.
But DeVore knew otherwise. The War had not even begun. Not properly. The Confiscations and the death of T’angs notwithstanding, it had been a game until now; a diversion for the rich and bored; an entertainment to fill their idle hours. But now it would change. He would harness the forces stirring in the lowest levels. Would take them and mould them. And then?
He laughed and crumpled the copy of the Notice in his hand. Then Change would come. Like a hurricane, blowing through the levels, razing the City to the ground.
Major Hans Ebert set the drinks carefully on the tray, then turned and, making his way through the edge of the crowd that packed the great hall, went through the curtained doorway into the room beyond.
Behind him the reception was in full swing, but here, in the T’ang’s private quarters, it was peaceful. Li Shai Tung sat in the big chair to the left, his feet resting on a stool carved like a giant turtle shell. He seemed older and more careworn these days, his hair, once grey, a pure white now, like fine threads of ice, tied tightly in a queue behind his head. The yellow
‘I know.’
Good , thought DeVore. He understands. He’s learned his lessons well. There’s no room for sentimentality in what we’re doing here. What’s past is past. I owe him nothing for the use of his money.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, leaning forward and picking up the paper again.’You’re on the payroll now, Stefan. I’m appointing you lieutenant, as from this moment. Ranking equal with Wiegand.’
Yes , he thought. That should take the smile from Wiegand’s face.
When Lehmann had gone he stood and went across to the map again. In the bottom left-hand corner the carp-shaped area that denoted the Swiss Wilds was criss-crossed with lines, some broken, some solid. Where they met or ended were tiny squares, representing fortresses. There were twenty-two in all, but only fourteen of them – boxed in between Zagreb in the south-east and Zurich in the north-west – were filled in. These alone were finished. The eight fortresses of the western arm remained incomplete. In four cases they had yet to be begun.
Money. That was his greatest problem. Money for wages, food and weaponry. Money for repairs and bribes and all manner of small expenses. Most of all, money to complete the building programme: to finish the network of tunnels and fortresses that alone could guarantee a successful campaign against the Seven. The Confiscations had robbed him of many of his big investors. In less than three hours the remainder were due to meet him, supposedly to renew their commitments, though in reality, he knew, to tell him they had had enough. That was why Helmstadt was so important now.
Helmstadt. He had wooed the Ping Tiao with promises of weapons and publicity, but the truth was otherwise. There would be weapons, and publicity enough to satisfy the most egotistical of terrorist leaders, but the real fruit of the raid on the Helmstadt Armoury would be the two billion yuan DeVore would lift from the strongroom. Money that had been allocated to pay the expenses of more than one hundred and forty thousand troops in the eight garrisons surrounding the Wilds.
But the Ping Tiao would know nothing of that.
He turned away from the map and looked across at his desk again. The Notice of Confiscation lay where he had left it. He went across and picked it up, studying it again. It seemed simple on the face of it: an open acknowledgment of a situation that had long existed in reality – for Lehmann’s funds had been frozen from the moment Berdichev had fled to Mars, three years ago. But there were hidden depths in the document. It meant that the Seven had discovered evidence to link Stefan’s father to the death of the Minister Lwo Kang, and that, in its turn, would legitimize Tolonen’s action in the House in killing Lehmann Senior.
It was an insight into how the Seven were thinking. For them the War was over. They had won.
But DeVore knew otherwise. The War had not even begun. Not properly. The Confiscations and the death of T’angs notwithstanding, it had been a game until now; a diversion for the rich and bored; an entertainment to fill their idle hours. But now it would change. He would harness the forces stirring in the lowest levels. Would take them and mould them. And then?
He laughed and crumpled the copy of the Notice in his hand. Then Change would come. Like a hurricane, blowing through the levels, razing the City to the ground.
Major Hans Ebert set the drinks carefully on the tray, then turned and, making his way through the edge of the crowd that packed the great hall, went through the curtained doorway into the room beyond.
Behind him the reception was in full swing, but here, in the T’ang’s private quarters, it was peaceful. Li Shai Tung sat in the big chair to the left, his feet resting on a stool carved like a giant turtle shell. He seemed older and more careworn these days, his hair, once grey, a pure white now, like fine threads of ice, tied tightly in a queue behind his head. The yellow
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