Read Online The Middle Kingdom by David Wingrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Wingrove
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there was space and silence. Here
the only scent was that of pine from the crescent of miniature trees
in the huge, shallow bowl at one end of the long, empty corridor; the
only sound the soft, shimmering fall of water from the ornamental
fountain in their midst. Major DeVore faced his ensign, his eyebrows
raised. He had seen the look of surprise on the young officer's face
when they had stepped from the elevator.
"You'd like
to live here, Haavikko?"
The ensign
turned and looked back at the broad, empty corridor. The floor was
richly carpeted, the high walls covered with huge, room-sized
tapestries, the coloring subdued yet elegant. Bronze statues of
dragons and ancient emperors rested on plinths spaced out the full
length of the hallway. At the far end the doors of the elevator were
lacquered a midnight-black. A solitary guard stood there, at
attention, a deng "lantern gun" strapped to his
shoulder. "They live well, sir."
DeVore smiled.
He was a neat, compact-looking man, his jet-black hair almost Han in
its fineness, his shoulders broad, almost stocky. On the chest of his
azurite-blue, full-dress uniform he wore the embroidered patch of a
third-ranking military officer, the stylized leopard snatching a bird
from the air. He was a full head shorter than his ensign and his
build gave him the look of a fighter, yet his manners, like his face,
seemed to speak of generations of breeding—of culture.
"Yes. They
do." The smile remained on his face. "These are extremely
rich men, Haavikko. They would swallow up minnows like us without a
thought were the T'ang not behind us. It's a different life up here,
with different rules. Rules of connection and influence. You
understand?"
Haavikko
frowned. "Sir?"
"What I
mean is ... I know these people, Haavikko. I know how they think and
how they act. And I've known Under Secretary Lehmann's family now for
almost twenty years. There are ways of dealing with them."
Haavikko puzzled
at the words momentarily. "I still don't understand, sir. Do you
mean you want to speak to him alone?"
"It would
be best."
"But. . ."
Haavikko hesitated a moment, then, seeing how his major was watching
him, bowed his head. "Sir."
"Good. I
knew you'd understand." DeVore smiled again. "I've harsh
words to say to our friend the Under Secretary. It would be best if I
said them to him alone. It is a question of face."
Haavikko nodded.
That much he understood, orders or no. "Then I'll wait here,
sir."
DeVore shook his
head. "No, boy. I want you to be a witness, at the very least.
You can wait out of earshot. That way you'll not be breaking orders,
eh?"
Haavikko smiled,
more at ease now that a compromise had been made.
Behind them the
huge double doors to the first-level apartment swung open. They
turned, waiting to enter.
Inside, the
unexpected. A tiny wood. A bridge across a running stream. A path
leading upward through the trees. Beside the bridge two servants
waited for them, Han, their shaven heads bowed fully to the waist.
One led the way before them, the other followed, heads lowered, eyes
averted out of courtesy. They crossed the bridge, the smell of damp
earth and blossom rising to greet them. The path turned, twisted,
then came out into a clearing.
On the far side
of the clearing was the house. A big two-story mansion in the Han
northern style, white walled, its red tile roof steeply pitched.
DeVore looked at
his ensign. The boy was quiet, thoughtful. He had never seen the like
of this. Not surprising. There were few men in the whole of Chung Kuo
who could afford to live like this. Four, maybe five thousand at most
outside the circle of the Families. This was what it was to be rich.
Rich enough to buy a whole ten-level deck at the very top of the City
and landscape it.
Pietr Lehmann
was Under Secretary in the House of Representatives at Weimar. A big
man. Fourth in the pecking order in that seat of World Government. A
man to whom a thousand lesser men—giants in their own
households—bowed
the only scent was that of pine from the crescent of miniature trees
in the huge, shallow bowl at one end of the long, empty corridor; the
only sound the soft, shimmering fall of water from the ornamental
fountain in their midst. Major DeVore faced his ensign, his eyebrows
raised. He had seen the look of surprise on the young officer's face
when they had stepped from the elevator.
"You'd like
to live here, Haavikko?"
The ensign
turned and looked back at the broad, empty corridor. The floor was
richly carpeted, the high walls covered with huge, room-sized
tapestries, the coloring subdued yet elegant. Bronze statues of
dragons and ancient emperors rested on plinths spaced out the full
length of the hallway. At the far end the doors of the elevator were
lacquered a midnight-black. A solitary guard stood there, at
attention, a deng "lantern gun" strapped to his
shoulder. "They live well, sir."
DeVore smiled.
He was a neat, compact-looking man, his jet-black hair almost Han in
its fineness, his shoulders broad, almost stocky. On the chest of his
azurite-blue, full-dress uniform he wore the embroidered patch of a
third-ranking military officer, the stylized leopard snatching a bird
from the air. He was a full head shorter than his ensign and his
build gave him the look of a fighter, yet his manners, like his face,
seemed to speak of generations of breeding—of culture.
"Yes. They
do." The smile remained on his face. "These are extremely
rich men, Haavikko. They would swallow up minnows like us without a
thought were the T'ang not behind us. It's a different life up here,
with different rules. Rules of connection and influence. You
understand?"
Haavikko
frowned. "Sir?"
"What I
mean is ... I know these people, Haavikko. I know how they think and
how they act. And I've known Under Secretary Lehmann's family now for
almost twenty years. There are ways of dealing with them."
Haavikko puzzled
at the words momentarily. "I still don't understand, sir. Do you
mean you want to speak to him alone?"
"It would
be best."
"But. . ."
Haavikko hesitated a moment, then, seeing how his major was watching
him, bowed his head. "Sir."
"Good. I
knew you'd understand." DeVore smiled again. "I've harsh
words to say to our friend the Under Secretary. It would be best if I
said them to him alone. It is a question of face."
Haavikko nodded.
That much he understood, orders or no. "Then I'll wait here,
sir."
DeVore shook his
head. "No, boy. I want you to be a witness, at the very least.
You can wait out of earshot. That way you'll not be breaking orders,
eh?"
Haavikko smiled,
more at ease now that a compromise had been made.
Behind them the
huge double doors to the first-level apartment swung open. They
turned, waiting to enter.
Inside, the
unexpected. A tiny wood. A bridge across a running stream. A path
leading upward through the trees. Beside the bridge two servants
waited for them, Han, their shaven heads bowed fully to the waist.
One led the way before them, the other followed, heads lowered, eyes
averted out of courtesy. They crossed the bridge, the smell of damp
earth and blossom rising to greet them. The path turned, twisted,
then came out into a clearing.
On the far side
of the clearing was the house. A big two-story mansion in the Han
northern style, white walled, its red tile roof steeply pitched.
DeVore looked at
his ensign. The boy was quiet, thoughtful. He had never seen the like
of this. Not surprising. There were few men in the whole of Chung Kuo
who could afford to live like this. Four, maybe five thousand at most
outside the circle of the Families. This was what it was to be rich.
Rich enough to buy a whole ten-level deck at the very top of the City
and landscape it.
Pietr Lehmann
was Under Secretary in the House of Representatives at Weimar. A big
man. Fourth in the pecking order in that seat of World Government. A
man to whom a thousand lesser men—giants in their own
households—bowed
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