Read Online The White Mountain by David Wingrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Wingrove
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it through.â
But he had thought it through already and dismissed it. He knew what he wanted; had known from the first moment he had glimpsed the vision of the web. Death â what was death beside that vision?
Lever looked to the other men in the room, then nodded his agreement. âAll right, Shih Ward. Two weeks it is.â
It was late. The crowd in the ballroom had thinned out, but the dancing went on. On the balcony overlooking the hall, a ten-man orchestra played a slow waltz, their bows rising and falling in the fragmented light. Kim stood at the back of the hall, beside Michael Lever, watching the couples moveabout the floor, realizing that this too was an illusion; a dream of agelessness. As if time could be restored, its flow reversed.
âI love their dresses,â he said, looking up at the tall young man. âTheyâre like jellyfish.â
Lever roared, then turned to his friends and repeated Kimâs comment. In a moment their laughter joined his own. Lever turned back to Kim, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
âThatâs rich, Kim. Marvellous! Like jellyfish!â And again he burst into laughter.
Kim looked at him, surprised. What had he said? It was true, wasnât it? The bobbing movements of their many-layered dresses were like those of jellyfish in the ocean, even down to the frilled edges.
âI was only sayingâ¦â he began, but he never finished the sentence. At that moment the main lights came up. The orchestra played on for a moment or two, then ended in sudden disarray. The dancers stopped circling and stood there, looking towards the doorway at the far end of the ballroom. Suddenly it felt much colder in the hall. There was the sound of shouting from outside.
âWhat in hellâs name?â Lever said, starting to make his way towards the doors. Then he stopped abruptly. Soldiers had come out on to the balcony above the dance floor. More came into the ballroom through the doorway. Security troops in powder-blue fatigues, black-helmeted, their visors down.
Kim felt his mouth go dry. Something was wrong.
The soldiers formed a line along the edge of the balcony and along the lower walls, covering the dancers with their weapons. Only a few of their number went among the dancers, their visors up, looking from face to face. Up above, on the balcony, a lieutenant began to read out a warrant for the arrest of fifteen men.
In the ballroom there was disbelief and anger. One young man jostled a Security guard and was brought down by a sharp blow with a rifle butt. When the soldiers went from the hall they took more than a dozen young men, Lever and his friends amongst them.
Kim, watching, saw the anger in surrounding faces after the soldiers had gone. More anger than heâd ever seen. And different, very different from the anger of the Clay. This anger smouldered like red-hot ashes fanned by a breath. It was a deep-rooted, enduring anger.
Beside Kim a young manâs face was distorted, black with rage. âHeâll pay! The bastard will pay for this!â Others gathered about him, shouting, their fists clenched, the dance forgotten.
Kim stood there a moment longer, then turned away, going quickly from the hall. Things had changed. Suddenly, dramatically, the rules had changed, and he was no longer safe here. He passed through, glancing from side to side, seeing only outrage on the faces of those he passed. Outside he walked past the waiting sedans and on, out across the darkness towards the transit.
In a sober moment they would remember. Old Man Lever would remember. And in his anger, who knew how he would act? It was a time for taking sides, and he was Li Yuanâs man.
He saw soldiers up ahead, guarding the transit entrance, and began to run, knowing his safety lay with them. But nearer the barrier he turned and looked back at the house, remembering the dresses bobbing to the music, the swish of lace in the air. And a circle of
But he had thought it through already and dismissed it. He knew what he wanted; had known from the first moment he had glimpsed the vision of the web. Death â what was death beside that vision?
Lever looked to the other men in the room, then nodded his agreement. âAll right, Shih Ward. Two weeks it is.â
It was late. The crowd in the ballroom had thinned out, but the dancing went on. On the balcony overlooking the hall, a ten-man orchestra played a slow waltz, their bows rising and falling in the fragmented light. Kim stood at the back of the hall, beside Michael Lever, watching the couples moveabout the floor, realizing that this too was an illusion; a dream of agelessness. As if time could be restored, its flow reversed.
âI love their dresses,â he said, looking up at the tall young man. âTheyâre like jellyfish.â
Lever roared, then turned to his friends and repeated Kimâs comment. In a moment their laughter joined his own. Lever turned back to Kim, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
âThatâs rich, Kim. Marvellous! Like jellyfish!â And again he burst into laughter.
Kim looked at him, surprised. What had he said? It was true, wasnât it? The bobbing movements of their many-layered dresses were like those of jellyfish in the ocean, even down to the frilled edges.
âI was only sayingâ¦â he began, but he never finished the sentence. At that moment the main lights came up. The orchestra played on for a moment or two, then ended in sudden disarray. The dancers stopped circling and stood there, looking towards the doorway at the far end of the ballroom. Suddenly it felt much colder in the hall. There was the sound of shouting from outside.
âWhat in hellâs name?â Lever said, starting to make his way towards the doors. Then he stopped abruptly. Soldiers had come out on to the balcony above the dance floor. More came into the ballroom through the doorway. Security troops in powder-blue fatigues, black-helmeted, their visors down.
Kim felt his mouth go dry. Something was wrong.
The soldiers formed a line along the edge of the balcony and along the lower walls, covering the dancers with their weapons. Only a few of their number went among the dancers, their visors up, looking from face to face. Up above, on the balcony, a lieutenant began to read out a warrant for the arrest of fifteen men.
In the ballroom there was disbelief and anger. One young man jostled a Security guard and was brought down by a sharp blow with a rifle butt. When the soldiers went from the hall they took more than a dozen young men, Lever and his friends amongst them.
Kim, watching, saw the anger in surrounding faces after the soldiers had gone. More anger than heâd ever seen. And different, very different from the anger of the Clay. This anger smouldered like red-hot ashes fanned by a breath. It was a deep-rooted, enduring anger.
Beside Kim a young manâs face was distorted, black with rage. âHeâll pay! The bastard will pay for this!â Others gathered about him, shouting, their fists clenched, the dance forgotten.
Kim stood there a moment longer, then turned away, going quickly from the hall. Things had changed. Suddenly, dramatically, the rules had changed, and he was no longer safe here. He passed through, glancing from side to side, seeing only outrage on the faces of those he passed. Outside he walked past the waiting sedans and on, out across the darkness towards the transit.
In a sober moment they would remember. Old Man Lever would remember. And in his anger, who knew how he would act? It was a time for taking sides, and he was Li Yuanâs man.
He saw soldiers up ahead, guarding the transit entrance, and began to run, knowing his safety lay with them. But nearer the barrier he turned and looked back at the house, remembering the dresses bobbing to the music, the swish of lace in the air. And a circle of
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