Read Online The White Mountain by David Wingrove - Free Book Online

livery that matched the ancient crest on the sides of the sedans. All evening they had gone back and forth, ferrying guests between the house and the transit, almost a li away.
    The illusion was almost perfect. The darkness hid the walls of the surrounding decks, while above, a thick, dark blue cloth masked the ice of the stack’s uppermost floor, like a starless night sky.
    Kim stood there between the trees, in darkness, looking back at the house. This was the third time he had come to Richmond, to the Lever Mansion, but it was the first time he had seen the house in darkness. Tonight they were throwing a ball. A party for the elite of their City – the Supernal , as they called themselves. It was the first time he had heard the term used and it amused him to think of himself, so low in birth, mixing in such high company. He was not drunk – he took care never to touch alcohol or drugs – but merely mixing in the atmosphere of the house was enough to create a mild euphoria. The air was chill, sharp. In the trees nearby the leaves rustled in a mild, artificial breeze. Kim smiled, enjoying the strangeness of it all, and reached out to touch the smooth bark of one of the pines.
    â€˜Kim?’
    A tall, elegant young man in old-fashioned evening dress stood at the edge of the gravel, calling him. It was Michael Lever.
    â€˜I’m here,’ he said, stepping out from the trees. ‘I was just getting some air.’ Lever greeted him, more than a ch’i taller than him, straight-backed and blond, an American …
    â€˜Come on through,’ he said, smiling. ‘Father was asking after you.’
    Kim let himself be ushered inside once more, through reception room and ballroom and out into a smaller, quieter space beyond. Leather doors closed behind him. The room was dimly lit, pervaded by the tart smell of cigar smoke. Old Man Lever was sitting on the far side of the room, beside the only lamp, his friends gathered about him in high-backed leather chairs. Old men, like himself. By the window stood a group of younger men. Michael joined them, accepting a drink from one, then turned back, looking across at Kim.
    Charles Lever lit up a new cigar, then beckoned Kim over. ‘Here, Kim. Take a seat.’ He indicated the empty chair beside him. ‘There are some people here – friends of mine – I want you to meet.’
    Old men . The thought flashed through Kim’s mind. Old men, afraid of dying .
    He sat in the huge, uncomfortable chair, ill at ease, nodding acknowledgment to each of the men in turn; noting each face and placing it. These were big men. Powerful men. Each of them Lever’s equal. So what had Lever said? What had Lever promised he could do for them?
    â€˜We were talking,’ Lever said, turning in his chair to look at Kim. ‘Chewing things over among ourselves. And I was telling my friends here about your new company. About Chih Chu . Potentially a nice little outfit, but small, undercapitalized.’
    Kim looked down, surprised that Lever knew already.
    Lever cleared his throat, then nodded, as if satisfied by his own evaluation of things. ‘And I was saying what a shame it was. Because I’ve seen your like before, Kim. A hot property with plenty of good, strong ideas and lots of get-up-and-go, but nothing to back it up. There’s a pattern to it, too. I’ve seen how they’ve built things up – how they’ve grown really fast. Up to a certain point. And then…’ He shook his head and looked down at the cigar smouldering between his fingers. ‘Then they’ve tried to move up a league. Into manufacturing. Because it’s a shame to let the big industrials take so large a share of the cut. Galling, even.’
    The young men by the window were watching him intently, almost suspiciously. Kim could feel their eyes on him; could almost sense whatthey were thinking. What would this mean for them? For if their fathers