Tung glanced at the man suspiciously, then pushed through the door that led to the main gaming room. As he stepped into the room heads turned at nearby tables. There was a lull in the conversation.
"Master Tung!" someone called from a table to his right. "Come! Join us!"
Tung Po-jen went across, squeezing between the tables. Stopping before one of the tables, he bowed low - or as low as his massive girth would allow - then straightened, grinning down at the three men - well-built, middle-aged Han with the muscle-tone of fighters - who sat about the table casually, young, scantily-clad house girls in their laps.
"Ch'un tzu . . ." Tung said, his pleasure at seeing them, for once, quite genuine. "I am honoured that you have chosen to frequent my humble establishment. Our fare is of the very simplest, I'm afraid, but if there is anything - anything -1 can do for you?"
The two men seated either side of the table stared back at him with a cold suspicion, saying nothing, but the man at the centre - a high-ranking Triad member named Chao Ta-nien and known to all as "Slow Chao" because of his legendary quickness with a knife - eased the girl from his lap then sat forward, smiling back at him.
"That is most kind, Master Tung. But we have been made most welcome already. Most welcome indeed."
Tung nodded nervously. "Good. That is... good." He licked his lips, unsure quite how to broach this subject. It had seemed so simple, sitting there upstairs, but now that the moment was upon him he hesitated, his courage suddenly failing him. What if he were wrong? What if he couldn't trust Slow Chao? What if Chao's bosses thought this too good a deal to share with anyone else?
Then again, only he, Tung Po-jen, knew where these came from. Only he had the contacts. And if he played this right - if he could involve not just one but several of the brotherhoods -then maybe this would work.
Maybe. For a moment longer he hesitated, watching Chao's face, noting how the other waited, as if he knew Tung had something to offer him. Then, finally, knowing that if he did not take this first step he would have wasted all his money on something he could not use, he forced himself to speak.
He leaned towards Chao Ta-nien, his voice a whisper. "I... have something to show you, Master Chao. In private."
Slow Chao raised an eyebrow, amused. "Something . .. interesting?"
Tung Po-jen could feel the tension in his neck muscles and his back and straightened up, forcing himself to relax. He nodded then stood back. "If you would come through into the viewing room?"
He saw how the other two looked to Chao Ta-nien, saw the look he gave them, the slight crinkling round the eyes, like the delicate touch an experienced horseman gives his mount to still it, and felt a tiny ripple of fear pass through him. He walked a deadly tightrope here.
"Lead on, Master Tung," Chao said, standing, his smile serene, almost urbane as he stepped around the table.
Inside the soundproofed viewing room he made sure Chao was seated comfortably, then locked the door and, seating himself behind the projector, slid the cassette into the machine.
For a moment there was nothing. For an instant Tung Po-jen found himself wondering if he'd been duped; if even now Calder was heading back to Mashhad, laughing quietly to himself, twelve ten-thou chips the richer for having delivered a blank tape to a greedy fat man who hadn't even had the sense to check the goods before he'd paid for them!
Risks . . . While he'd been thinking of all the other risks, the most obvious of all had slipped his mind.
Then, with a startling vividness, the screen lit up.
Tung caught his breath. It was herl It really was her. Or so like her it made no difference. There, glimpsed through a delicate silk hanging, on sheets of bright red satin, was Li Yuan's first wife, the young Fei Yen. She lay on her side, her sleeping silks rucked up about her legs, one hand curled beneath her face, one covering her breasts.
Tung stared and sighed, affected by the beauty of her, something about her - the innocence of her supine figure, perhaps; the lack of artifice - breaching his jaded shell.
Chao Ta-nien, just below him in the darkness, was sitting forward now, watching the screen intently.
As the camera panned back, Tung took in the sight of the Imperial bedroom. The bed, at the centre of the room, was huge, its scrolled lion's feet embedded in the floor, its four ornate posts adorned with carved dragon and phoenix motifs inlaid with gold leaf. On two of the walls hung expensive silks depicting scenes of Imperial splendour. The floor was white marble, the walls panelled with dark wood. Through an open lattice window could be glimpsed the lush green of the palace gardens at Tongjiang. A faint breeze moved the fine lace curtain gently.
There was a sound, the opening of a door below the camera viewpoint. Fei Yen stirred and, turning slightly, opened her eyes.
"Yuan? Is that you?"
The camera turned, focusing on the doorway.
Tung shivered, his mouth fallen open. Despite himself he was awed - awed that he, a mere trader, should be given this glimpse of how a Son of Heaven lived. His mouth had gone dry, his hands were trembling now.
Aiya! he thought, as Li Yuan came into view; not the Li Yuan of the regular media-casts but a much younger, a more gauche-looking man, not yet nineteen. The gods protect me for what I'm doing here!
Li Yuan crossed the room, the camera trailing him, then stopped, the back of his head just below the camera. He was wearing a satin sleeping robe, golden cranes - symbolising immortality - embroidered into the pale blue material.
"Fei Yen," he said softly, "I thought you were asleep."
Tung watched, his heart in his mouth, as the young prince sat beside her on the bed, his hand resting gently on her ankle. Unbidden, Tung's penis rose within his silks and pressed hard against the cloth. He shivered, then reached down to hold himself, unable to tear his eyes from the unfolding images.
As Fei Yen raised herself on one elbow, her silks fell back, revealing her perfect, unblemished breasts, their nipples stiffly erect.
Tung groaned softly, his hand moving slowly against the cloth.
"I missed you, Yuan," she said. "I didn't think you'd come."
"I've been busy," he answered, his hand moving gently up her leg beneath the silk, his face moving towards her until their lips met in a kiss.
As they broke from it she moved back, staring at him, then took his hand and placed it on her breast.
"No more words," she said, shrugging the silk from her shoulders. "Show me how much you missed me. Show me. . ."
She gave a little gasping sigh as his fingers touched her, her lips opening to show clenched, pearl-like teeth. There was a faintest flush at her neck now and as his fingers continued to caress her, she let a tiny groan of pleasure escape her.
"Gods . . ." Tung said, close suddenly to orgasm. He had never seen a woman so beautiful, so ... desirable. And as she lay back, exposing herself to her husband almost wantonly, the soft dark mound of her pubis pushing into view, Tung came, his huge frame shuddering, making the projector tremble faintly, the image blur, even as, on the screen, the young prince slipped from his silks and, naked as a babe, climbed between those silken, inviting legs.
Ben reached across Li Yuan's naked figure, releasing the last of the pressure pads from the side of his head. Free at last, Li Yuan sat up, scratching distractedly at his chest and neck, a faint red stippling showing where the attachments had been made. He shivered, as if the air in the room were cold, then turned his head slowly, looking up at Ben. His eyes seemed vague, unfocused.