Jake Maroc - Shan Part 53

Neon Chow nodded. Went quickly below and, gathering up her things, she went off the junk.

Jake watched her leave. It was easy to pick her out of the crowd. She could stop traffic in a model's convention.

Bliss caught his eye. "Jake" she began but Jake waved her to silence. Seeing Three Oaths emerging from belowdecks he went over to him.

"It's all done," the old man said. If anything, he seemed in worse humor. "If it means anything, Sawyer's reaction was the same as mine.

But he's done as you ordered. The du Long bonds are on the market."

"Good," Jake said, and began to turn away.

"Zhuan."

"Yes, Elder Uncle."

"Bliss told me about what happened at Great Pool of Fiddle's and I am concerned."

"We're all concerned, Elder Uncle."

"No. I mean about you."

Jake watched him, silent.

"She told me what you did to White-Eye Kao."

"I don't have to"

"She admitted her own guilt. The torture"

"We did what was necessary," Jake said shortly. "Nothing more."

"I understand that there are great stakes involved."

"Greater than we know, I fear."

Three Oaths fought hard to decipher his nephew's words. Yes, he thought, he is greatly changed. His spirit is so far away from all of us. Is this what it means to be Zhuan? If so then, truly, I do not wish it for my number one son or any of my sons, for that matter. "Is it true that Chen Ju is alive?" he said finally.

"So it would seem, Elder Uncle."

"And that you and Bliss will seek him out."

"Yes."

Three Oaths gave a great sigh. "It is exceedingly dangerous there.

In the Shan."

"I know."

"It is his place, now. Chen Ju's. It is our enemy's seat of power,"

Jake looked deeply into the old man's eyes. "Elder Uncle, if I do not do this, there will truly be nothing left for any of us."

"Of course you must go, then, Zhuan,"

"I will take good care of her, Elder Uncle. She is most precious to me, your bou-sehk."

"My precious gem," Tears were glistening in the old man's eyes. "You were right. Times have changed. More, much more than I have realized, Shi Zilin is gone. You are Zhuan now. And my bou-sehk is no longer a child. It is a difficult realization." Which one did he mean? The first, the last, or all of them?

The madness was growing. Being in her proximity was akin to standing too close to an out-of-control blaze. No wonder, Huaishan Han thought, Colonel Hu was no longer among the living.

Within General Kuo's kingly hut Huaishan Han sat like a misshapen lump of lard. That one shoulder was higher than the other never bothered him more than it did now. It was a constant reminder of the well. Or perhaps sheQi linwas that reminder.

Her eyes were like burning coals. Once Huaishan Han had gone tiger hunting in the north, far above Beijing, Siberian tigers, enormous, savage beasts out of a prehistory he could only guess at.

It was the whiteness of the beast that had surprised him the most. He supposed it was because of the snow. There was a lot of snow that far north. He could still see his own breath, a living thing, escaping from his lungs in silver sheets. His hair had been rimed by ice so that he looked prematurely gray. The cold penetrated even through his sheepskin-lined parka.

Huaishan Han and the hunter had spent three days tracking the faint spoor of a ma.s.sive male. He was like a spirit: they could hear him at times, snuffling, growling low in his throat. Once he was certain he even scented the beast. But they never caught sight of him.

The last night in camp. They had decided to call it quits. The cold was bone-chilling and the quest seemed fruitless. All they spoke of around the sparking fire was returning to civilization where they could get warmth and real food.

Huaishan Han awoke into utter darkness. The full moon had gone down. A night wind flicked shards of ice and snow through the encampment like the remnants of a defeated army.

Heard a quick, sharp sound and, turning his head, he was aghast to see the ma.s.sive shoulders of the shadowed beast not a half-a-meter away. He held his breath. Fear was like a living being squirming in his belly. His legs were water and he was certain that he had lost control of his bladder.

The neck muscles displayed so high above him were bunched in tension and, as Huaishan Han stared in helpless fascination, the tiger gave a sharp jerk of its powerful head. He heard a distinct snap, as if a mature tree had been rent by lightning, and the pale face of his companion rolled in his direction.

Huaishan Han started despite himself and the great feline head came up. A rough b.e.s.t.i.a.l snuffling and he was staring directly into the face of the creature. For a moment, there was absolute stillness. Then, it snarled a little, black lips curling back to reveal long, blood-streaked fangs.

Those great mirrored eyes, utterly round, yellow and streaked as polished carnelians, gave off their own light, lurid and luminescent.

They lay encysted within the encompa.s.sing womb of the night, glowing with power, until Huaishan Han was quite certain that only he and the beast existed.

He knew that within the next sixty seconds he would either live or die. Knew as well that he had no say in the matter. He knew if he moved at all the tiger would leap upon him without warning.

It was up to the beast, then. Or Buddha, who dwelt within all livingthings. Joss.

Huaishan Han gave up a tiny sigh of resignation and, looking into the face of death, recognized it as being wholly familiar.

It had not surprised him when the beast turned away from him, all illumination ceased, the extraordinary world that those eyes had revealed to him winked out, the raw power, the indefatigable energy evaporated. And that awesome engine of destruction was again part of the night.

For many years afterward, Huaishan Han was to lie sleepless in his bed trying to decipher the message Buddha had left for him in those eyes. At last, he had decided that it was this: it was not that the tiger killed indiscriminately but, rather, that it did so without the slightest compunction.

Now, humped in the dusty wicker chair General Kuo had provided for him, Huaishan Han stared into Qi lin's coal-black eyes and knew that he was visited again by the terrifying engine of destruction out of his past.

Compulsively he reached out and took her hand in his. Turning it over, he stared down. It seemed so fragile, so pale and beautiful with its extraordinarily long slender fingers. Yet he knew that it must have been this hand that had killed Colonel Hu. He recalled the hypnotic beauty of the beast that had exerted its pull over him. It had made him ache to reach out and caress those velvet eyes. It had made him long to crawl closer to the nexus of that heady power. Did not this female, the granddaughter of his enemy, possess the same disorienting quality?

It was madness to think so, to believe in such power. But madness had been Huaishan Han's constant companion, a piece of the utter blackness of the well dwelling within him long after General Kuo had come to the lip of his world and, reaching down, had pulled him out of that pit of terror.

Huaishan Han closed his eyes and shuddered heavily. Ah, the well! The world of the d.a.m.ned. General Kuo had saved him from that but Huaishan Han knew that he had never truly escaped. His heart wasencased in the utter anguish of that endless time. And now, looking into those feline eyes so close to his face, he realized with a start, that though General Kuo might have pulled him from the depths of perdition, he had died down there in the lightless trough of the well.

Realized as well that he had never been so alive as at that moment when he stared into those hot agate eyes in the night. Now he knew just how much he had drawn from that engine of destruction and, with trembling, withered hands he brought Qi lin's exquisite head toward his own. Her cheeks were heated like a mysterious sun burning in the darkness and her skin had the velvet texture he had imagined in his dreams belonged to the white Siberian.

She growled low in her throat as he brought her to her knees in front of him and he was keenly aware of the danger seeping from her, as if a shining blade was at his throat. He swallowed convulsively and bowed his head until his forehead pressed against hers.

The energy flowed into him and he knew that if she reached up now and broke his neck he would not stop her. But she would not. He was as certain of that as he had been of anything in his life.

No, she would not harm him, this grandchild of his enemy, but she would kill for him. She would kill Jake Maroc Shi.

With an almost religious reverence, Huaishan Han pressed his lips to her forehead and for just an instant the horror of the well faded from his consciousness.

The girandole rose into the black sky, radiating light.

"Someone," Threnody said, "has a sure hand with the fireworks."

They could hear the popping and sparking a.s.sociated with the display now. Up on the hill, they were quite a ways away from the source.

"When the boy comes," Simbal said, *Til have to go."

Threnody recognized a threat when he heard one. They were at an outdoor cafe. It was still so hot he was sweating doing nothing but sitting. He found the climate intolerable and wondered how Simbal could like it here. "I did not come here to tell you about Peter Curran. I could have Telexed that information or have sent Monica."

There was a large Buddha nearby as there almost always was wherever one happened to find oneself in Burma. The figure was seated with his left hand palm upward on his lap, the right resting palm down on his right knee, the fingertips touching the ground.

"Actually," Threnody went on, "I'm glad you're p.i.s.sed off at me, Tony. It shows you're right on form," He took up his sweating gla.s.sof beer and downed some. "I wouldn't want to think I'd misjudged you at this late date."

Threnody seemed very sure of himself and this interested Simbal. This was not his territory and, it seemed to him, Threnody was not a good traveler. He had a weak stomach, a penchant for picking up the local parasite or something. At least that was the story that was commonly batted around at the DEA when Simbal had been there.

"Tell me something, Max," he said. "Did you know that Peter Curran was alive?"

"Now how would I know that?" Threnody said.

"Do you see that Buddha?" Simbal said, "It's many centuries old. Those are diamonds encrusting its base. In many temples, Burmese work full time to restore the gold leaf that is worn away over the years by supplicants touching the image for luck." He poured out a bottle of beer into his gla.s.s. "This one is in the Bhumispara mudra. He's calling on Vasumdarhi, the earth G.o.ddess."

"I didn't know Buddha needed help with anything," Threnody said dryly.

"The legend has it," Simbal went on, "that Mara, the G.o.d of destruction, sought first to destroy the Buddha's power by unleashing an army of fierce demons against him and then, when that failed, dispatched his three daughters, Desire, Pleasure and Pa.s.sion, to swayhim.

"The Buddha touched the ground, calling upon Vasumdarhi to bear witness that he had found perfect knowledge. With her a.s.sent the earth began to heave and shake apart with such violent force that Mara and his daughters were driven away."

Threnody had finished his beer. He pushed the gla.s.s away to the center of the table where it stood, a lone barrier between them. "Is that how you see me, Tony, as Mara, the G.o.d of destruction come to crush you?"

Simbal remained silent. He was all too aware of Rodger Donovan's warning about Max.

"Today I am a messenger. A bearer of bad tidings, only. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"All right."

Threnody hunched forward. The fireworks turned his face pink and gold, the colors sliding off the side of his face like greasepaint. "I mean really listen, Tony. To the bitter end. Even if some of it is not what you want to hear. I was your case officer through some pretty hairysituations. I always got you out with your skin whole. I always got my executives out with their skins whole."

"If not their minds," Simbal said. But he knew that Threnody was right. With him his people always came first. He took a great deal of heat from the chair jockeys higher up but he never allowed one iota of that to seep down to his executives. That was unusual. There were plenty of case officers out to make a name for themselves who would take all kinds of savage risks with their field people in order to get a job done. "You forget," Simbal went on, "that I work for Rodger Donovan now."

"Donovan, right. Your own personal contact in the old-boy network. "

Simbal eyed him. "Do you think that's why he offered me the job?"

"My G.o.d, no. But it does play a factor, Tony. Perhaps a crucial one. I think that when it comes to the crunch Donovan believes that you will remain loyal to him no matter what."

"Because we grew up together, went through school together?"

"Don't underestimate the network, Tony. You performed the rites of youth together. That's a bond that is difficult to break."

"Through all of this you haven't said one word about Curran and Bennett," Simbal said.

"I'm grateful to you, Tony. Because of you we've found them. I gave you the motivation, you see. You're such a chivalrous type, I knew what the news of Curran's death would do to you."

"It didn't bother you what it did to Monica?"

"Believe me, Tony, when I tell you Monica's far better off thinking he's dead than knowing the truth about him."

"Is it up to you to play G.o.d?"

Threnody ignored that. "I knew once I'd given you sufficient motivation, you'd get your teeth into this mess. You found Bennett. You were always my best bulldog, Tony. I had a h.e.l.l of a time, now and again, getting you to back off."

"I've done more than find them, Max," Simbal said. "Curran and Bennett are up to something that is larger than the DEA, larger even than the Quarry," Simbal said. "I have some facts but they don't add up to anything concrete. Before he died, Run-Run Yi managed to tell me several things. That the diqui is moving arms all around the globe. Not for resale but rather for stockpiling. Yi said that these antipersonnel weapons will have the power to destroy the world. He also called Bennett the jinn who opens the door. Do you know what he meant by that, Max?"

"All I know is what I've given you," Threnody said. "The point is I had the devil's own time getting you okayed for this briefing. There was a lot of"

"Then this isn't about Curran and Bennett," Simbal cut in. "It never was."

"Oh, yes it was. Bennett and Curran are one issue. Rodger Donovan is quite another."

"Who had to okay me for this briefing?" Simbal said.

"The President."

"The President of what?"

Threnody sighed. "Of the United States. This is straight from the top, Tony."

Simbal peered at his former boss. "What do you have to do with the President of the United States except pick up the medals for your executives at closed awards ceremonies now and again?"

"I work for him now. Part time. That's how I'm able to run SNITs like Martine. I'm sort of semiretired from the DEA."

"Since when?" Simbal said skeptically.

"Since about a month after Henry Wunderman was killed. Do you think a thing like that would be let go so easily?"

"And the DEA?"