Free Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 by The Broken Wheel (v3.1)[htm]

Be warned.
    Liu Chang. ; .....
    He stuffed the
paper into his tunic pocket then staggered out, more mystified than
ever. Outside, in the corridor, he looked about him, then lurched
over to the public drinking fountain inset into the wall at the
intersection. He splashed his face then straightened up.
    Friends. What
friends? Or were they friends at all?
    Liu Chang knew,
but he could not go near Liu Chang. Who then?
    Haavikko
shivered, then looked about him. Someone knew. Someone had made it
their business to know. But who?
    He thought of
the girl again and groaned. "I don't deserve this chance,"
he told himself softly. And yet he was here, free, all debts settled.
Why? He gritted his teeth and reached up to touch the spittle that
had dried on his cheek. Friends, It gave him a reason to go on. To
find out who. And why.
    * *
*
    DEVORE TOOK OFF
his gloves and threw them down on the desk; then he turned and faced
his lieutenant, Wiegand, lowering his head to dislodge the lenses
from his eyes.
    "Here."
He handed the lenses to Wiegand, who placed them carefully in a tiny
plastic case he had ready. "Get these processed. I want to know
who those other four are."
    Wiegand bowed
and left. DeVore turned, meeting the eyes of the other man in the
room.
    "It went
perfectly. We attack Helmstadt in two days."
    The albino
nodded, but was quiet.
    "What is
it, Stefan?"
    "Bad news.
Soren Berdichev is dead."
    DeVore looked at
the young man a moment, then went and sat behind his desk, busying
himself with the reports that had amassed while he was away. He spoke
without looking up.
    "I know. I
heard before I went in. A bad business, by all accounts, but useful.
It may well have alienated the Mars settlers. They'll have little
love for the Seven now, after the destruction of the pipeline."
    "Maybe . .
." Lehmann was silent a moment, then came and stood at the edge
of the desk looking down at DeVore. "I liked him, you know.
Admired him."
    DeVore looked
up, masking his surprise. He found it hard to believe that Stefan
Lehmann was capable of liking anyone. "Well," he said,
"he's dead now. And life goes on. We've got to plan for the
future. For the next stage of the War."
    "Is that
why you went to see those scum?"
    DeVore stared
past Lehmann a moment, studying the map on the wall behind him. Then
he met his eyes again. "I have news for you, Stefan."
    The pink eyes
hardened, the mouth tightened. "I know already."
    "I see."
DeVore considered a moment. "Who told you?"
    "Wiegand."
    DeVore narrowed
his eyes. Wiegand. He was privy to all incoming messages, of course,
but he had strict instructions not to pass on what he knew until
DeVore authorized it. It was a serious breach.
    "I'm sorry,
Stefan. It makes it harder for us all."
    The Notice of
Confiscation had come in only an hour before he had gone off to meet
the Ping Tiao , hot on the heels of the news of Berdichev's
death. In theory it stripped Lehmann of all he had inherited from his
father, making him a pauper, but DeVore had pre-empted the Notice
some years back by getting Berdichev to switch vast sums from the
Estate in the form of loans to fictitious beneficiaries. Those
"loans" had long been spent—and more besides—on
constructing further fortresses, but Lehmann knew nothing of that. As
far as he was concerned, the whole sum was lost.
    Lehmann was
studying him intently. "How will it change things?"
    DeVore set down
the paper and sat back. "As far as I'm concerned it changes
nothing, Stefan. All our lives are forfeit anyway. What difference
does a piece of paper bearing the seals of the Seven make to that?"
    There was the
slightest movement in the young man's ice-pale face. "I can be
useful. You know 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