“Ti Pasuiga pays the police more than the government does,” Kehn said. “And Zapunyo makes himself out to be a generous man, giving money to the local towns to build roads and schools and temples. He’s practically untouchable in that country. We may be harming his business, but as long as he’s alive, he’ll keep being a problem for us.” Kehn scratched his jaw. “Hilo-jen, we have to think of how to whisper his name.”
Hilo barely reacted to his Horn’s pronouncement. Kehn expected the Pillar had already thought about this but not come to any satisfactory conclusions. “We have enemies here at home that we’ve been trying to put into the ground for years. We can only handle so many things at one time,” Hilo said.
Two weeks ago, on the Pillar’s discreet instructions, the Janloon city police had arrested and interrogated the shine dealer Shae had spoken of and Kehn’s Fingers had quietly tracked down. The man cut a deal by naming several high-profile Green Bone clients, including immediate relatives of Iwe Kalundo, the Mountain clan’s Weather Man. No Peak made sure that news of both the arrest and the clients who’d been named was leaked to the press. Ayt Mada was not the only one who could use the media to paint her rivals in an unflattering light. The story had reignited a public debate about the evils of SN1, but more importantly, renewed concerns about the leadership of the Mountain clan possibly falling to the Iwe family.
Meanwhile, No Peak had solved some of the problems it was having on Poor Man’s Road by offloading it onto their rivals. On Hilo’s orders, Kehn’s Green Bones had shut down prostitution in the gambling triangle of the Armpit district; pimps were forcefully run out and warned not to be caught anywhere near the casinos. Instead, the No Peak chance houses put up posters and distributed leaflets advertising the strip clubs and brothels in the nearby Mountain-controlled districts of Dog’s Head and Spearpoint. Rowdy Espenian servicemen were migrating their money and troublesome disorderliness into Mountain territory; recently a group of three drunken foreign sailors had gotten into an altercation with some Green Bones of the Koben family and wound up in the hospital, which forced Ayt Mada into the humiliating position of having to publicly support the imprudent Kobens while quietly paying off the Espenians.
Kehn admired Hilo-jen’s tactical cunning, though he could not help but think that the Pillar’s preoccupation with destabilizing the Mountain was like trying to light wet grass on fire: They were making a lot of sparks and smoke, but so far no roaring flames had erupted.
Perhaps Hilo was thinking the same thing because he pushed his plate of remaining food aside and said to Tar, “Have someone in the Koben family killed. Not the kid or his mother, but a Green Bone man, someone close to them. Not by you or any of your men; the job has to be hired out, and it can’t be traced back to No Peak in any way. Make it an obvious thing, not an accident.”
“The kid’s ma has a brother who wears jade, and an uncle,” Tar said.
“That’s good,” said Hilo. “Either of them would do. It’s better if he dies, but even if he doesn’t, it’s okay. So long as they don’t know who to blame.” The Maiks nodded; the Kobens were numerous but not very clever; now that they seemed to be ahead of the Iwes, perhaps they could be provoked into useful violence, as they had been against the drunk foreigners. Tar began to ask a question, but Mr. Une, the Lantern Man owner of the Twice Lucky, came around to pay his respects and they chatted with him pleasantly for a few minutes. After the smiling restaurateur saluted and withdrew, Hilo answered his Pillarman. “No rush on killing one of the Kobens; sometime after we get back from Espenia is fine.”
As they got up to leave, Hilo put a hand on Kehn’s shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten what you said about Zapunyo. Losing some rats is expected, but you’re right to be angry and offended by this. We have a lot of things going on right now, but I agree we have to move stronger on Ti Pasuiga. We’ll think about it some more, when I get back.”
Tau Maro returned from a lunch-hour meeting with the board of directors of Four Virtues International feeling both cautiously optimistic and deeply frustrated. The grassroots charitable organization was only a year old but had already exceeded its initial public fundraising goals and was getting considerable positive press; on the other hand, efforts to lobby Wisdom Hall on key issues such as refugees were meeting with little success. When it came to business and politics, it was still exceedingly difficult to accomplish anything in a timely manner without clan support. There ought to be a word, Maro mused, for the particular combination of persistent hope and inescapable difficulty that seemed to prevail in all aspects of his life—from climbing the academic ladder, to policy and nonprofit work, to matters of the heart.
He walked into his office to find three men waiting for him. Two of them were young enough to be undergraduates, but he did not recognize them as students in any of his classes. The third man, sitting in Maro’s desk chair and swiveling it around slowly, had a jade aura but was not wearing any of his jade in plain sight. In Janloon, that was the equivalent of showing off the jacket bulge of an illegal pistol; it could only mean that he was not entitled to his green and was a criminal of some sort.
Maro stood in the doorway of his office, tamping down suspicion and alarm. “I’m sorry, this isn’t your office,” he said.
“We’re looking for Dr. Tau Marosun,” said the man in his chair.
“Who are you?” Maro asked, keeping his voice even.
“A half-shottie bastard,” said the man, speaking in perfect Shotarian. “Just like you.” Maro tensed as the uninvited guest rose from behind the desk and walked up to Maro with a partial smile on his narrow, tanned face. There was no menace in his manner or hostility in his aura, but Maro took an involuntary step back as the man gently closed the office door and said, “It’s okay, Dr. Tau. I’m not trying to offend you. I know how prejudiced the Kekonese can be, and I understand you don’t want your colleagues to know the real reason you make so many trips to Leyolo City.” The man hadn’t given a name. He looked like a villain straight out of a Shotarian crime movie, Maro thought. Lumpy knuckles and a cruel mouth. Maro stared at him with a rising sense of disbelief, and despite himself, a frisson of fear.
The stranger said, “You have to look out for yourself, after all. It’s not easy to get ahead in this city unless you’re a stooge of one of the big Green Bone clans. Men like yourself don’t get the consideration they deserve.” He noticed Maro glancing at the two younger intruders and said, “Don’t worry about them; they can’t understand Shotarian. Say, Dr. Tau: Are you still fucking the Kaul woman, or are things over between you two?”
Maro’s head jerked around to stare; his unease took a sharp turn into anger. “If you people think you can bribe or blackmail me, you’re wrong,” he said. “I don’t have any special knowledge of the No Peak clan, and even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you for any price or threat. Go ahead, tell everyone I’m of mixed blood. Start a xenophobic scandal, like you did with Kaul Shae. I’m not afraid to lose my job; I’ll let my work speak for itself.”
The narrow-faced man raised his hands in a mock placating gesture. “Relax. Do I look like I’m from the Mountain clan? My friends and I had nothing to do with those nasty accusations against your girlfriend. We don’t want any information from you.”
“Then what do you want?” Maro demanded.
“An introduction,” said the stranger. “That’s all. Like I said, we’re not from the Mountain. You know the Kaul family personally. We would like to set up a meeting.”