Where in the gods' names had Kim got all this? Had he invented it? No. Berdichev dismissed the thought instantly. Kim couldn't have invented it. Just a glance at certain details told him it was genuine. This part about Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire, for instance. And here, this bit about the subtle economic influence of the Medici family. And here, about the long-term effects of the great sea battle of Lepanto—the deforestation of the Mediterranean and the subsequent shift of the shipbuilding industry to the Baltic where wood was plentiful. Yes. He had seen shards of this before—bits and pieces of the puzzle—but here the picture was complete.
He shuddered. Andersen was a fool. And thank the gods for it. If he had known what he had in his possession. If he'd had but the slightest inkling . . . Berdichev looked down, stifling the laugh that came unbid-
den to his lips. Gods, he felt elated! He flicked back to the title page again. THE ARISTOTLE FILE. Yes! That was where it all started. Back there in the Yes/No logic of the Greek.
He tapped the stack of papers square, then slid them back into the folder. What to do? What to do? The simple possession of such information was treasonous. Was punishable by death.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in!"
Andersen bowed, then brought the tray over to the desk and set it down on one side, well away from the folder. Then he poured the ch'a into a bowl and held it out, his head slightly lowered.
Berdichev took the bowl and sipped, then set it down.
"How many people know about this, Director?"
Andersen allowed himself a tiny smile. "Four, including yourself and Kim, Excellency."
"The boy's tutor . . . Tai Cho, isn't it? I assume he's the Other?"
"That's correct, Excellency. But I've already instructed him to mention it to no one else."
"Good. Very good indeed. Because I want you to destroy the files at once. Understand?"
Andersen's smile drained away, replaced by a look of utter astonishment. He had thought Berdichev would be pleased.
"I'm sorry?"
"I want all evidence of this foolishness destroyed at once, understand me, Director? I want the files closed and I want you to warn Kim not to indulge in such idle fancies any longer." He banged the file violently with the flat of his hand, making Andersen jump. "You don't realize how much this worries me, Director. I already have several quite serious misgivings about the whole venture, particularly regarding the matter of the boy's safety. I understand, for instance, that there was a fight, and that youVe had to send one of the older boys away. Is that right?"
Andersen blanched then bowed, wondering who Berdichev's spy was. "That is so, Excellency."
"Yes . . . and now this." Berdichev was silent a moment, the threat implicit in his silence. The purpose of his visit today had been to make the latest stage payment on Kim's contract. There had been no mention of the matter so far, but now he came to it. "My feeling is that the terms of our contract have not been fully met. You are in default, Director Andersen. You have failed to adequately protect my investment. In the circumstances, I feel I must insist on some . . . compensation. A reduction of the stage payment, perhaps?"
Andersen lowered his head even further. His voice was apologetic. "I am afraid I have no discretion, Shih Berdichev. All contractual matters have to be referred to the board."
He glanced at Berdichev, expecting anger, but the Head of SimFic was smiling. "I know. I spoke to them before I came here. They have agreed to a reduction of one hundred thousand yuan." He held out the document for Andersen to take. "I understand it requires only your signature to make it valid."
Andersen shivered, suppressing the anger he felt, then bowed and, taking the brush from the stand, signed the paper.
"We'll verify this later," Berdichev said, his smile fading. "But with regard to the files, you'll do as I say. Yes?"
"Of course, Excellency."
He reached for the folder, but Berdichev held on to it. "I'll keep this copy. I'd like my company psychiatrists to evaluate it. They'll destroy it once theyVe done with it."
Andersen looked at him, open mouthed, then hastily backed offa pace. "I'm sure. . ." he began, then fell quiet and bowed his head.
"Good," said Berdichev, reaching across for the ch'a kettle. "Then bring another bowl, Director. I believe you have some money to collect from me."
"And how's little rat's ass this morning?"
Kim kept his eyes on his plate, ignoring the figure of Janko, who stood beside him. Chan Shui had gone off to the toilets saying he would only be a moment, but Janko must have seen him go and had decided this was his chance.
He felt Janko's hand on his shoulder, squeezing, not hard as yet, but enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He shrugged it off, then reached out to take the biscuit. But Janko beat him to it. Laughing, he crammed it in his mouth, then picked up Kim's bowl to wash it down.
Kim went very still. He heard Janko's cronies laugh, then heard the unmistakable sound of the boy hawking into his bowl.
Janko set it down in front of him with a bang, then poked him hard. "Drink up, rat's ass! Got to keep our strength up, haven't we?"
The inane laughter rang out once again from beyond Janko. Kim looked at the bowl. A nasty greenish gob of spit floated on the surface of the ch'a.
Kim stared at it a moment, then half turned in his seat and looked up at Janko. The youth was more than half again his size. He would have made Matyas look a weakling by comparison. But unlike Matyas, he wasn't dangerous. He was merely flabby and stupid and a touch ridiculous.
"Go fuck yourself, windbag," Kim said, loud enough for Janko alone to hear.
Janko bellowed and grabbed at Kim, half lifting him from his seat, then thrust the bowl at his face. "Drink, you little piece of shit! Drink, if you know what's good for you!"
"Put him down!"
Janko turned. Chan Shui had come back and was standing there on the far side of the room. Several of the boys glanced up at the cameras nervously, as if expecting Nung to come in and break things up. But most of them knew Nung well enough to guess he'd be jerking off to some PomoStim, not checking up on what was happening in the refectory.
Janko released Kim, then, with an exaggerated delicacy, let the bowl fall from his fingers. It shattered on the hard tile floor.
"Best clear it up, rat's ass. Before you get into trouble."
Kim looked across at Chan Shui, a faint smile on his lips, then turned and went to the counter to get a brush and pan.
Chan Shui was standing there when he came back. "You don't have to do that, Kim."
Kim nodded, but got down anyway and started collecting the shattered pieces. He looked up at Chan Shui. "Why don't they make these out of ice?"
Chan Shui laughed, then knelt down and began to help him. "Have you ever tasted ch'a from an ice bowl?"
Kim shook his head.
"It's revolting. Worse than Janko's phlegm!" Chan Shui leaned closer, whispering. "What did you say to him, Kim? I've never seen Janko so mad."
Kim told him what he had said.
Chan Shui roared with laughter, then grew quiet. "That's good. But you'd better watch yourself from now on, Kim. He's a fool and a windbag, too, but he doesn't want to lose face. When I go for a pee, you come too. And fuck what these bastards think about that."
WHEN T'AI CHO met him, just after twelve, he had two guards with him.
"What's happening?" Kim asked when they were outside.
T'ai Cho smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Kim. Just a measure the Director is insisting on from now on. He's concerned for your safety outside the Center, that's all."