The Marriage of the Living Dark

‘Til give you it”

She had begun to look down, but now she met his eyes again, startled by his words. “What do you mean?” “Whatever you want Pll give you it And no strings attached.”

Slowly her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “Only being kind. Giving a young woman what she wants.” She stared a moment longer, then shook her head. ‘If s a trick, isn’t it? A game. To make me grateful to you. To get me to do things for you.” “Why?” he asked, chilled by her train of thought “What would you do?”

In answer she stood again and took off her top, revealing pert white breasts, the nipples of which stood out like tiny almond buttons. Despite himself, Yuan felt his penis harden. Desire coursed through him. She was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman he had ever slept with. As she slipped from her briefs, that hardness at his groin became painful. He could not tear his eyes away from that small dark patch between her legs. “No strings?” she asked, her voice suddenly seductive. “Are you sure there’d be no strings?”

Li Yuan swallowed. It would be so easy. There was nothing

· nothing, that was, but his loyalty to his brother - to stop him.

She stepped close, her warmth pressing against his knees, then leaned into him, so that her breasts pressed against his chest He felt her lips close upon his own and found himself responding, found himself placing his hands upon her back, his fingers slowly smoothing their way down the length of that silken flesh until they rested on her buttocks. Her kisses were like wine. As she lowered herself into his lap, her legs wrapped about him, he groaned and, unable to stop himself, pulled her tight against him, beginning to rub himself against her.

“Slowly now,” she said, moving her face back from his, her smile as different now as any smile could be from the first look she had given him. He was a customer now. And she a whore. An actress.

Yet even though he knew that even though he knew what he was doing was wrong -

as wrong as anything he had ever done

· he could not pull away. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he had wanted anything, or anyone, in his life.

“Aiya,” he moaned, as she reached down and freed his penis from within the cloth of hispau. As her fingers gently caressed the tip of it The feel of it was indescribable.

She chuckled, then leaned into him again, her lips on his once more, her movements against him making him whimper now.And then, suddenly, she lifted herself up and he was inside her, fucking her, pushing up into her as if nothing else in the universe existed but this.

He came explosively, shuddering against her, his hands gripping her buttocks, pulling her down into him, as if he could tear her in two, or push through her. And she, he knew, had come, too. He could feel it, and knew it was no act. And as they surfaced from that darkness, he saw the surprise in her eyes, the unfeigned shock.

“No strings,” he said, moving his hands up onto her shoulders, his fingers gently caressing her neck “No strings at all.”

They went down by lift, then crossed the hall and out onto a crowded walkway that, so K. later told him, was reasonably empty by the standards of this world. Kim paused a moment, noticing the heavy metallic meshes that surrounded every building, every balcony, then looked to the traffic in the skies and understood. Different ways, different rules. He walked on, keeping up with K. A walkway took them up into the heart of another massive building, on the twenty-seventh floor of which K. had hired an office.

“I don’t understand,” Kim said, once they were safely inside the tiny room, the door locked behind them, the “silence baffle”, as K. termed it, in place around the desk.

K. smiled. “First time I arrived here, I stepped out into the middle of a park. I almost didn’t get back. But after a few visits I decided I’d have to buy my way into this world and so I stole a few things. Took them back and forged them. Then I came back and hired this place, and the apartment. Made myself an identity in this world.”

Kim laughed. “So who are we?”

“Culver. George Culver.”

Kim narrowed his eyes, searching his memory, then nodded. “DeVore ... he used that name once, didn’t he?”

“In our worlds. Not in this. Here he has no need for aliases. He has pawns enough to do his business for him.”

As he spoke, K. tapped out a code on the keyboard that was embossed into the desk’s surface. Almost at once a pair of screens rose from the surface, lighting up as they did so.

“First, however, let me show you what he’s up to. But bear with me. This gets somewhat technical...”

K. turned, looking to him, then laughed. “Forgive me, Kim. Sometimes I forget I am talking to myself.”

Kim smiled. “No matter. Just show me how he means to make it all collapse.”

As the exhaust from the great rockets cleared, the band started up, playing a vigorous Chinese version of the Star-Spangled Banner, the anthem of the 69 States of the great American Empire.

As the ramp came down and President Newell stepped out onto the platform of Airforce One, a cheer went up from the invited crowd. Han Ch’in, watching from his position at the front of that crowd, smiled, then began to walk across. He had met Newell on several occasions, though not since he’d been elected President. A nice man, if ineffectual: that was the official view. But Han knew better. Han knew how hard Newell had fought to keep Sino-American relationships on an even keel, especially after the Nebraska incident. Showing his pass to the two guards at the barrier, Han Ch’in stepped through, then walked across, getting to the foot of the ramp even as Newell stepped from it Han Ch’in stopped directly in front of Newell and bowed low. As he straightened up, Newell smiled broadly and put out a hand. “Major Li! How good to see you again! If s been three years, almost’” “Two years, eleven months,” Han said, returning the smile even as he grasped Newell’s hand firmly. “If s good to see you again, Mister President” “Call me Bob,” Newell said quietly, leaning closer. “Lef s cut the shit while we’re here, eh, old friend?”Han Ch’in laughed. “Whatever you say, sir.” Newell raised his head, grinning for the cameras, then walked on, speaking through the side of his mouth. “I’ve managed to leave the wife at home this once, Han Ch’in, so see what you can do for me, okay? I hear your army fellas are about to announce their choice of Consul for Washington, so you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You understand?”

‘Til see what I can do.”

“Blonde and busty. You know the type.”

Han looked down, trying to keep from laughing. “Whatever you say, sir.”

Newell lowered his head, as if he’d given the cameras quite enough of his grin, and looked to Han Ch’in again. “You know, I often wonder just how many of those bastards out there watching this on their screens actually bother to read our lips, or whether they just think we’re talking matters of state.” “Does it matter?” Han asked, interested by this insight into the man. “Hell, no. So long as my wife ain’t one of them!”

Kim stared at the screen long after it had been cleared, then shook his head.

“Amazing. And you think no one suspects a thing?” “I know they don’t If they did, they’d do something. His setup breaks the market’s rules in every possible way.”

Kim nodded. DeVore owned major companies and their subsidiaries, and their subsidiaries’ subsidiaries. He also owned certain trading companies - those who specialised in buying and selling shares - and commodities agents. He owned suppliers and retailers, and the security companies that serviced all of these people. But most important of all, he owned the communications companies through which all of these people traded.

DeVore owned the numbers on this world. And tomorrow he would set off a chain reaction in the system.

“I’m only guessing,” K. said, “but if I were him I’d start low down, among the little companies. Get a few of them to sell at a loss, just as if they know something that the rest of the market doesn’t. Then I’d use my buyers to stoke up the process - have one or two bigger companies involved. A couple of the top hundred. Start a mild panic. Then I’d hit with one of the big boys. Botch, perhaps. Or UCM. Or, best of all, Murdoch Inc. Something basic. Something essential to everybody’s lives.” “A slitting of his wrists.”

“His and everyone’s, because once this gets going there’ll be no stopping it The markets will drop like stones, especially if, at first people’s attention is drawn elsewhere.”

“But where?”

K. tapped at the pad a moment, then the screen lit up again. It showed the main Murdoch news channel, Channel 96. A newscaster was talking, a panel on the wall behind him showing a steaming rocket ship that had just set down at Tientsin Spaceport Two great banners flew together behind the ship. One was the red dragon on a golden background of the Chinese Empire, the other the red white and blue of the United States, the 69 stars boldly emblazoned in one corner. As the picture grew to fill the screen, a caption came up in English and Mandarin, even as the newscaster spoke again in his best mid-Pacific accent “United States President Robert Newell arrived this evening at Beijing Spaceport on his way to tomorrow’s meeting with President Wei. They will meet at noon at the Imperial Palace to sign the latest draft of the Sino-American trade agreement...”

“Oh, shit1” K. said, clearing the screen then looking to Kim. “We’d best get back immediately.”

Han Ch’in saw her at once, there at the far end of the crowded reception hall, beside the trader, Wyatt Blonde, extremely busty, and with the kind of bored look on her face that said “escort” as clearly as if she’d had it tattooed on her forehead.

Excusing himself momentarily, he made his way across.

“Edmund...”

Wyatt turned, then smiled. “Han Ch’in! How are you? I hear you’re escorting the President””That”s so. And that”s why I’ve come to speak to you. I have .. . well, a little proposition, shall we say.”

Wyatfs smile broadened. “You want to deal, Han Ch’in?” “There’s a room,” Han answered, maintaining his dignity, “just along the corridor. If we could talk there?”

Wyatt looked to the girl. “Wait here, Susan. I’ll be two minutes maximum.”

She stared at him doe-eyed and nodded, then went back to sipping at her drink and looking about her, a glazed expression returning to her features. Han Ch’in studied the girl a moment, wondering what an intelligent man like Newell was doing fucking bimbos like this, then, turning back to Wyatt, he gave a tight smile and put out an arm, inviting him through.

Li Yuan took off his jacket and threw it down on the chair, then went over to the sink and, turning the tap full on, sloshed water up into his face.

What am I doing? What in fuck’s name am I getting involved in? If Han Ch’in should find out1.

But it was too late now. He’d had the girl. And not just once, but three times. No. He had to go through with it now. Had to. And then, for the first time in his life, he’d have to pretend. To Han Ch’in of all people! “Aiya...”

Li Yuan turned and looked back through the door at his luxury apartment He had lived here fifteen months now, ever since Hu Sho had thrown him out. Not that he blamed her. It couldn’t have been nice to come home and find your husband shagging not only your best friend, but her daughter too! And now, once again, his dick was getting him in trouble. Only this time he could not afford to be caught. This time he had to set things up so that he couldn’t be caught.

He went over to the comset and punched out the number the woman had given him. For a moment there was no reply, and then the screen lit up. “ Ahh... Mister Huang. Have you made the arrangements?” Li Yuan nodded, then sheepishly read out the details. He had bought an apartment in Shanghai, using a company account At the same time he had set up a fund to pay the woman and her daughter enough to live on for the next thirty years. And not just subsistence living, but a comfortable sum -enough to allow them many little luxuries.

But if he knew the mother, she’d find other ways to supplement her income, promise or no promise.

The girl, however, was another matter. He was determined not to share her. Not now.

No strings. The girl had been right to question that, for all relationships - even of this crude, mercantile kind - had strings. That was how it worked. Maybe it was even why it worked.

“You’ll leave tomorrow morning,” he said finally. “The tickets will be waiting for you at Central Station, in your name.”

“First Class?” the woman asked, a tightness born of greed in her face. “Of course. And you will be met at the other end and taken to your new apartment You will receive a decorating allowance. And there will be special payments.” “Special?” The woman’s eyes lit.

‘Tor your silence. Which will cease the moment that a word is said about this agreement between us.”

“I understand.”

“Make sure you do, Madam Yin. Make doubly sure you do.”

Li Yuan broke contact, then slumped down onto the sofa. He sniffed his fingers. He could still smell her on him. The very thought of what they’d done made him stiffen again.

No wonder Han Ch’in had wanted her; whore or not Such a woman could rob one of all sense.

Yes, and he would raise his brother’s son as his own. Would do well by him. Make sure he had nothing but the best But the thought slipped into the background as he thought again of the woman and the way she had of presenting her breasts to him, that teasing light in her eyes, and the noises she made.”Aiya ...” he said, going across and beginning to strip off, knowing that nothing but a cold shower would cure this. “The gods help me for what I’ve done!”

The President lay on his back, the girl astride him. As he came, he reached up, burying his head between her breasts.

As he relaxed again, the girl straightened up a little, then giggled. “That better, honey?” “Fucking wonderful...” “You want me to stay? I can, if you want” Newell looked up at her. In the light from the single bedside lamp she looked magnificent A red woman, not like those tight-arsed frigid little bitches that manned his office back in Washington. That lot didn’t have a decent pair of tits between them! “You stay as long as you want sweetheart I sure as hell ain’t kicking you out!”

“That”s good,” she said, giving him a lascivious smile. “Because I know one or two tricks you just might like.” “Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, interested. “Yeah,” she said lazily, reaching up to cup her breasts, her erect nipples drawing his eyes. “And I ain’t talking about tricks you can teach your kids.” “I didn’t think you were ...” He paused, then. “You ever thought of settling in Washington?” “You offering me a job?” “I might be. Depends if you pass the interview.” She grinned, then reached down, gently taking his flaccid cock in one hand, beginning to coax it back to life. “Well now, let me see if Pve got this right...”

Li Yuan was dozing in the chair by the screen when it came alive.

“What the .. .?”

Cho Yi’s ancient, timeless face stared back at him. “Yuan! Wake up! If s me. I’m in the office. You must come at once. Something’s happening. Something big. I need your help!”

“Master Cho?”

The screen went dead.

Yuan shook himself, then stood, feeling unsteady. He was tired. To be honest he was knackered after being with the girl. But Cho Yi had sounded desperate. Walking across, he took his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on, then, responding to the urgency in Cho’s voice, he went back to the screen and tapped in the code for Rapidcabs.

“Yes, Shih Li? You want a glide now?”

“Yes, Hung,” he answered, recognising the young man. “To go to my office. Fast as you can.”

The young man looked down, checking something, then looked up again, a wide grin on his face. “One minute. He’ll be there by the time you get up onto the roof.” “Great!” Yuan said. “Bill me double, Hung, okay?”

Hung bowed, hands together. “Very generous, Shih Li. Any time you need us ...”

“... I’ll phone you.”

He cut the connection, then hurried across, turning off the lights behind him.

Something big, eh? Now what could that be?

Turner, Newell’s Security Chief, was a big, uncompromising man. He stood now nose to nose with Li Han Ch’in in the corridor outside the President’s suite, bellowing at the Han, his face and neck bright red with exertion. “I don’t give a shit what the President wanted! I’m not here to satisfy his fucking carnal needs, I’m here to stop the fucking asshole getting topped!” Han Ch’in glowered back at the man.

“You want to do something about it, you knock the fucking door down and drag her out. But I don’t think the President would be very pleased about that, do you?” “I may just fucking do that1” Turner bellowed back at him. “But from here on you butt out, alright, Major Li? You keep your fucking nose out of our fucking business!”Han Ch’in raised his hands, as if to make peace, but Turner still wasn’t satisfied.

“Shit knows what went through your fucking head, man! Why, you didn’t even check the fucking woman out, did you?” Han Ch’in bristled. “She was with a reputable gentleman, who assures me he got her from one of the top escort agencies. The woman’s been with them five years, and not a hint of trouble.” He sneered. “What’s your problem, Major Turner. You think she’s going to fuck the President to death?”

Turner lifted his chin a little. He clearly wasn’t used to be answered back, and besides, Han Ch’in was theoretically his equal in rank. But he was still not happy.

“Okay. But you ask me from now on. In fact, you get my fucking permission before

you do anything that involves the President, okay?’ “Okay.” Turner eased back a

little. “Then good. I’m glad we’re

agreed on that”

Han Ch’in stared at him a moment, then asked. “What does he usually do on these kind of trips, go in his room and wank?”

Turner’s lips curled slightly at that, amusement replacing anger. “Hell no.

Usually he doesn’t have sex at all.”

“No?” Han Ch’in sounded incredulous. “But the guy’s got a libido that”d take two firetrucks to put out!”

“What I mean is, usually he’s got Mrs. Newell along with him. The Ice Queen, we call her.”

“Ah ...” Han Ch’in stared at the man a moment, admiring his loyalty to Newell, then, “Hey, I’m sorry. If I’d known I was treading on your toes ...”

Turner gave a little nod. “If s in the past. We go forward

from here, right?” “Right!” There was a crash. Distant but loud. Both men turned

and

frowned.

“What the fuck ...?”

The door to the President’s rooms flew open. A security guard, gun drawn, looked out at Turner. “It was inside, sir! From inside his room!” Turner rushed through, followed closely by Han Ch’in. Two men were already at the door, trying to break it down. Turner charged it with his shoulder. The hinges gave and popped as he slammed into it.

Han Ch’in, stopping in the doorway, saw at once what had happened. Newell lay on the bed, his mouth gagged, his hands tied behind his back. His throat was cut from ear to ear, blood pooled darkly on the pillows and sheets. Beyond him, on the far side of the room, the curtains drifted in and out in the breeze from the shattered window.

The girl was gone.

Han Ch’in felt his stomach drop away. This was his fault One hundred per cent down to him. The visiting President was dead, assassinated in a safe house, and he had introduced him to the killer.

He dropped to his knees.

Turner examined the body quickly, then turned. His eyes took in the kneeling form of Han Ch’in by the door, then looked past him at his own men, who stood in the doorway, wide-eyed with horror.

“Hansen, Josephs ... go down and get the body. Then get the mess cleared up. And don’t say a fucking word to anyone, right? Not a fucking word!” They nodded, then turned and disappeared. Turner shivered, then looked to Han Ch’in again. “As for you, Major Li, you’d better contact your people at once and find out what you can about this Wyatt fellow. And you’d better let President Wei know while you’re at it” Han Ch’in glanced up, distraught “I’m sorry, Major, I...” ‘Just fucking leave it!” Turner barked, all of his pent-up tension in those four words. “He was a good man. And now he’s dead, fuck iti So don’t give me sorry, Major LLI don’t wanna hear.”

Han Ch’in gave the smallest nod, then, standing, hurried from the room. Aiya, he thought, thinking of what his superiors would say when they found out Ai-fucking-ya!

Cho Yi was alone in the trading room. As Li Yuan closed the door and walked across, the old man looked up.

“If s happening,” he said, as if Li Yuan should understand what he meant “I can’t believe it, but it is.”

Yuan sat on the far side of the desk, puzzled by the look on Cho’s face. He didn’t seem troubled so much as bemused.

“Okay, what is it? We bought some valueless stock?” “You might say,” Cho answered, vague to the point of irritating Li Yuan. “Look ... I could be in bed now, Master Cho. Have we a problem, or haven’t we?”

Cho laughed. Again, it was strange, because Li Yuan could not grasp what was meant by it Was he amused or not? And if he was, then why! “Well?” he asked, when Cho did not answer. “Look for yourself,” Cho said, sitting back and folding his arms’ across his chest “See what you make of it.” Yuan frowned, then activated the screen in front of him. For a moment he simply stared, then his mouth fell open. “Fuck ...”

“Yes, fuck. Fuck times eighty billion neh?” “Eighty.. .?” Li Yuan looked up and met the old man’s eyes. This time he did understand. “But can’t we ...?” “Stop it?” Cho Yi laughed again. This time Li Yuan had no difficulty placing Cho Yi’s laughter. It was the ironic laughter of a man who saw that his time was up. “But there are controls, surely?” “Whoever started this removed them.” “Removed them? That’s not possible, is it?” “Oh, I’d say anything was possible, if you wanted to commit financial suicide. You simply have to bribe men, or threaten them, or have them killed. And then replace those you’ve had killed. Until you control the system. And then ... see, Yuan? ... see how if s happening before our eyes? ... you just kick away the props.”

Yuan stared at the screen, bemused now. “But who would do that? Who’d have the power? And if they had the power, then why? It would be like shooting oneself in the head!”

“Exactly. But someone has. Someone big.”

Li Yuan shook his head slowly. “You’ve made projections?”

Cho nodded.

“And?”

“Freefall,” Cho answered, smiling a beaming smile at Yuan. “Straight to the bottom and out the other side.”

“But why? I mean, surely someone’s spotted whaf s going on? Surely someone’s taking action?”

In answer Cho Yi turned and switched on the news screen just above him and to his right. As it came alight it showed the image of a woman lying on top of what looked like an airduct of some kind. She was quite clearly dead, blood oozing from her in a dozen different places.

As the commentary switched in, the camera travelled up the external window-wall of what appeared to be a plush hotel of some kind, until it focused on the shattered window of a room.

“... of what was President Newell’s own suite in the prestigious Eight Dragons Hotel. While the President’s spokesman refuses to give details of the incident, it is understood that the President himself was not involved, and was actually at an official reception across town in Ching Shan Park ...” Cho cut the sound then looked back across at Li Yuan. “Rumour is that Newell’s dead. Assassinated by the girl. She too committed suicide Threw herself out of a thirty-eighth-storey window. Strange that neh? A curious synchronicity, wouldn’t you say?”

“You think the two things are connected?”

Cho laughed. “Don’t you, Yuan? What better distraction than the assassination of a visiting President? What better way of keeping eyes off one screen and on another?”

Li Yuan gestured towards the screen. “But this is more important, surely?” “You know that, and I know that... but our friends in the media don’t Not yet, anyway. They’re still speculating as to whether Newell has been killed, and if so, whether there will be a war.”

“A war?”Cho nodded, then looked down.

And then it struck Li Yuan. “Oh, shit! Han Ch’in!”

Kim followed K. into the lift, a sense of real urgency gripping him. He had seen the pictures on the news screens in the lobby of the apartment block, and heard the commentary, and knew now that time was running out for them. As the doors slid closed behind them, he looked up at the screen in the corner of the lift, then spoke to the air “Channel 96. With sound.”

At once it switched to the news channel, showing the latest pictures from outside the Eight Dragons Hotel.

“... and whilst the woman cannot be immediately recognised after falling thirty-eight storeys, it has been confirmed by eyewitnesses that she was naked and that, according to one, she appeared not to scream as she fell.” The image cut to the view from a news glider, positioned in line with the shattered window of the Presidential Suite. Armed men were gathered in that window, blocking any view into the room, but that only served to stoke up speculation.

“It is now almost twenty minutes since the incident, and still no word has come from President NeweE’s spokesman, or indeed the President himself, about the affair, but it has now been confirmed that earlier reports from their office that the President was at a reception in Ching Shang Park were erroneous, and that President Newett was not seen by anybody at that reception. Which leads us to ask just what has been going on at the Eight Dragons Hotel, and what are the implications for relations between America and China if-as rumours have it -President Newell has been assassinated. It must be recalled that no American President has ever been murdered in a foreign country...” The lift stopped. The doors slid open silently. Ahead of them lay their corridor. Their door was the third on the left. K. looked to Kim as they stepped out onto the plushly carpeted floor. “I’d say the shit’s really hit the fan, wouldn’t you?”

“So what do we do now?”

K. stopped in front of their door and took the door key from his pocket.

“Simple. We get Karr and Chen and Ebert. And then we get the bastard.”

“And the markets?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

K. turned the key and began to open the door. “On whether we can get back in time. If we can get back in an hour...” He stopped dead. Kim, following him in, cannoned into the back of him, then blinked, astonished by the sight that met his eyes.

The hoop of fire was gone. And DeVore... Kim swallowed ... DeVore was sitting on the bed, a semi-automatic in one hand. He beckoned them in with the other hand, then grinned.

“I’d say that was a rather big if, wouldn’t you?”