At the back door he waited, listening, hearing a laden barge chug by, then slowly, very slowly, opened the door a fraction, widening the crack until he could see the far bank dearly. No one.
Quickly he slipped out and onto the steps. In an instant the lock was sprung, the door secure again, and he was in the shadows by the watt, neck-deep in the oily water.
As he rested there, getting his breath again, a rat swam by. He smiled. What he had in the jar would have killed the little bastard and a few dozen more besides, but it wasn't rats he was after.
No, and as he pushed out into the river's sluggish flow he chuckled to himself, thinking through the next stage of his plan.
CHAPTER-2
BUTTERFLY VISION
I Ye, Pel K'ung's Chief of Security, rested one gloved hand lightly on the operative's shoulder then leaned across him, studying the picture on the screen.
"She's a pretty young thing," he said softly, pointing to the screen, watching as the child's eyes slowly widened in realisation of what she held. "What sector is that?"
"Hochheim," the operative answered, a faint, apprehensive quaver in his voice. "Approximately two U from the river."
"Ah", I Ye said, nodding to himself, then watched the image break up momentarily as the bug-cam lifted from the girl's hand. For a moment he saw her standing there in the centre of the walled garden, her face turned up to him as she followed the butterfly's erratic flight, then she was gone.
"I can give you a precise position, if you want, Colonel," the operative said, his fingers hovering, waiting to punch in a superimposed map-grid.
"No," I Ye said, straightening. "I was curious, that's all."
They had "bugs" all over the Northern City now, the tiny, mimic life-forms programmed to carry out overlapping search patterns. It wasn't perfect - the losses from birds and other scavengers alone had proved extremely costly - but it was better than using men. This way, at least, their enemies remained unalerted. This way, perhaps, they had a chance of finding what they were looking for.
He moved on, looking from screen to screen along the row, seeing a dozen snapshot images. As he came to the end he heard the guard at the door come to attention with a crisp click of his boots and turned to meet the eyes of the Chancellor, Heng Yu.
"Well?" Heng Yu asked, without preliminaries. "Have we got him yet?"
"Nothing," I Ye said, taking a step towards the Chancellor then bowing low, acknowledging his superior status. "We know he's here, though. Our man in Mashhad said he left there yesterday evening."
Heng glanced at the screen nearest him, then met I Ye's eyes again. "What if he's been delayed?"
"Then we'll keep looking, Master Heng, even if it takes five, ten days. My men will not stand down until they've found him."
A faint smile flickered on Heng Yu's face, then he nodded. "Good, Colonel I. Our Mistress would expect no less of you."
Mention of Pei K'ung brought an instinctive response from I Ye. He snapped to attention and lowered his head. "You may tell our Mistress that I shall inform her the moment there is any news."
Heng Yu stared at the Chief of Security as if at an unwanted cockroach in the palace kitchens. "No, Colonel I. You will inform me. You understand? Our Mistress is not to be disturbed right now. She is very busy."
Yes, and we all know what she's busy at, I Ye thought, keeping his face a blank. Fucking young serving boys two at a timel "As you wish, Master Heng," he answered unctuously. But again Heng Yu was quick to correct him.
"No, Colonel I. As I instruct."
Outside the Operations Room, Heng Yu paused then turned, snapping his fingers to summon his First Secretary.
The young man hurried across, head bowed. "Master?"
"Has our man been despatched?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. If we hear from him I want you to let me know at once, whatever I am doing."
"Master?"
"You heard me, Fen Chun. Now go and see to the arrangements. I have an audience with the Empress."
"Master."
As the young man hurried away, Heng Yu let out a long breath. So much was happening just now that this other matter threatened to be... now how had Shepherd put it? Ah yes, the straw that broke the camel's back.
He hurried on down the broad, high-ceilinged corridor, heading for the Empress's palace, ignoring the guards who abased themselves at his approach, lost in his thoughts.
It had been pleasant having Shepherd here these past few months. Pleasant and enlightening, for there were few men who knew as much, few who saw so clearly or thought so deeply as Ben Shepherd. Indeed, the more time he spent in Shepherd's company, the greater the esteem in which he held him. If any man in Chung Kuo was fit to be Emperor, Shepherd was that man. Or so he held in the privacy of his thoughts, for to utter such a thing aloud would be clearly treasonous, however much it echoed his Master's own oft-expressed sentiment.
The greater world saw Shepherd merely as an artist - a great one, admittedly, but still an artist, with an artist's disdain for worldly matters - but he knew better. If the great Yellow Emperor had been reborn in the form of a man, then Ben Shepherd would have been that man, for he saw men and their doings with a god-like clarity that stripped them to the bone. Not only that, but he could formulate policy better than any councillor, yes, and penetrate the motives behind each courtly twist and turn.
Most important of all, in the twelve weeks he had been here, he had managed to bring Li Yuan out of his shell.
Out of it, yes, and straight into another, Heng Yu thought, both amused and faintly disturbed by the insight.
But what was good for Li Yuan wasn't necessarily good for Pei K'ung. The Empress, after all, was a proud woman and had grown use to her husband giving her a free rein on internal affairs. Since Shepherd had been here, however, Li Yuan had taken greater interest in events, and she had been forced to put up with his constant queries. Not that he had changed a word of any document she had put before him, just that. . . well, to put it mildly, Pei K'ung did not take kindly to being questioned about her motives, not even by her husband.
Coming to the end of the corridor, Heng swept through the great doors and down the broad stone steps into the Central Gardens. On the far side of a narrow lawn, beyond a stand of ancient-looking willows, lay Pei K'ung's palace - a low sprawl of grey stone buildings, their steep-pitched red tile roofs gleaming in the late morning sunlight, the whole surrounded by a high stone wall studded with guard towers. Approaching the West Gate Heng Yu slowed, rehearsing what he was going to say.
Unfortunately ...
No. Start again. Pei K'ung did not believe in misfortune, only in failure and incompetence.
It is with regret. . .
Better, but still too apologetic. He could imagine the tightening of her neck muscles, the sudden hardening of her face.
Forgive me, Mistress, but it seems the bastard has fucked up...
Yes, that was it. Blame another. Deflect her anger with his own. Let some other poor sod catch the fallout.
Maybe so. But this once he was far from happy with the tactic, for this once the poor sod who had "fucked up" was a good friend of his. Yes, and a loyal ally, come to that. And such men were rare in life; rarer yet in the hostile, back-biting atmosphere of court.
True, Heng thought, but what choice have I? If I take the blame for this, she'll have my balls. Or worse, my job.
And if she had his job, then all of his friends would suffer, not just one. All in all, it was a devil's bargain, but he ought to have been used to that: his life these days was, after all, a spider's web of deceit and ill-wrought compromises.