As he watched a faint speck lifted from the fields close by the building and came toward them. A Security cruiser. The sound of its engines followed seconds later; muted at first, but growing louder by the moment. Minutes later it passed overhead, the shadow of the big craft sweeping across the fields.
Chen looked back at the Overseer's House and nodded to himself. So that was where he was. Well, Skih Bergson, he thought; I'll find out all I can about this place. Then I'll pay you a visit. And find out if you are who we think you are.
DEVORE LOOKED down from the window of the craft as it swept south over the fields, the fingers of one hand absently tracing the surface of the object in the other.
"What is that?"
The voice was cold; chillingly free of intonation, but DeVore was used to it by now. It was the voice of his dead friend.- He turned and looked at Lehmanris albino son, then handed him the tiny rose quartz snuff bottle.
"It was a first-meeting gift from Douglas. He saw me admiring it."
Lehmann examined it, then handed it back. "What did you give him?"
"I sent him a copy of Pecorini and Shu's The Game of Wei Chi. The Longman edition of 1929."
Lehmann was silent a moment, considering. "It seems an odd gift. Douglas doesn't play."
"No, but he should. All men—men of any ability—should play." DeVore tucked the bottle away in the pocket of his jacket. "Do you play, Stefan?"
Lehmann turned his head slowly, until he was facing DeVore. The albino's dead eyes seemed to stare straight through him. "What do you think?"
DeVore smiled coldly. "I think you do. I'd say you were a good player. Unorthodox, but good."
Lehmann made no reaction. He turned his head back, facing the front of the craft.
Like a machine, DeVore thought, chilled and yet strangely delighted by the boy. I could make something of you, given time.
They were flying down to the Swiss Wilds, to meet Weis and see how work was going on the first of the fortresses.
DeVore looked back out the window. Two figures trudged along one of the paths far below. Field-workers, their coolie hats making them seem like two tiny black wei chi stones against the crisscross pattern of the fields. Then they were gone and the craft was rising, banking to the right.
He had been busy since the meeting at Douglas's. The business with Lehmann's son had taken him totally by surprise, but he had recovered quickly. Using his contacts in Security he had had the mother traced; had investigated her past and discovered things about her that no one in her immediate circle knew. His man had gone to her and confronted her with what they knew.
And now she was his. A handle. A way, perhaps, of controlling Stefan Lehmann should he prove troublesome.
DeVore smiled and turned back to the youth. "Perhaps we should play a game sometime?"
Lehmann did not even look at him. "No."
DeVore studied the youth a moment, then looked away. So he understands, he thought. He knows how much of a man's character is reflected in the mirror of the board, the stones. Yet his refusal says a lot about him. He's more cautious than his father. Colder. More calculating. Yes, I bet he's very good at the game. It's a shame he won't play. It would have been a challenge.
The journey took them less than an hour. Weis met them in the landing dome, furred and gloved, anxious to complete his business and get away. DeVore saw this and decided to keep him—to play upon his fears, his insecurity.
"You'll eat with us, I hope, Shih Weis?"
He saw Weis's inner hesitation; saw how he assessed the possible damage of a refusal and weighed it against his own discomfort. A banker. Always, first and foremost, a banker.
"Well?" DeVore insisted, loading the scales against refusal.
"I have a meeting at six."
It was just after one. DeVore took his elbow lightly and turned him toward the exit. "Then we have plenty of time, eh? Come. I don't know about you, Shih Weis, but I'm famished."
They were high up, almost thirteen thousand feet, and it was cold outside the dome of the landing platform, the sun lost behind thick cloud cover. Landeck Base was some way above them on the mountainside, a vast, flattened hemisphere, its brilliant whiteness blending with the snow and ice surrounding it. Beneath its cover, work had begun already on the fortress.
"It's a beautiful sight, don't you think, Major?" Weis said as he stepped out onto the snow, his breath pluming in the chill air.
DeVore smiled, then looked about him. "You're right, Weis," he said, noting how Weis had used his real identity yet again. "It is beautiful." But he knew Weis was talking about the base up ahead of them, not the natural beauty of their surroundings.
They were on the eastern slope of a great glacial valley—a huge trench more than two li deep and "one across. It ran northwest, ringed on all sides by the brutal shapes of mountains. Cloud obscured the distance, but it could not diminish the purity of the place. This land was untouched, elemental. He felt at home here.
He stopped in the snowfield just beneath the base and studied the great shieldlike dome, thinking of the seven great Security garrisons ringing the Swiss Wilds, like seven black stones placed on a giant board. The T'ang's handicap. He laughed softly. Well, now he had placed the first white stone. The great game had begun.
Guards wearing full snow camouflage let them inside then searched them. DeVore submitted patiently, smiling at the guard when he handed back the tiny snuff bottle. Only Weis seemed upset by the routine.
"Is this really necessary?" he huffed irritably, turning to DeVore as the soldier continued his body search.
"It's necessary, I assure you, Shih Weis. One small device could tear this place apart. And then your backers would be very angry that we had not taken such precautions." He laughed. "Isn't that how you bankers think? Don't you always assume the worst possible case and then act accordingly?"
Weis bowed his head, ceding the point, but DeVore could see he was still far from happy.
A door from the secure area led out into the dome itself. Mobile factories had been set up all over the dome floor and men were hard at work on every side—manufacturing the basic equipment for the base. But the real work was being done beneath their feet—in the heart of the mountain. Down there they were hewing out the tunnels and chambers of Landeck Base from the solid rock. When it was finished there would be no sign from the air.
They crossed the dome floor. On the far side was an area screened off from the rest of the dome. Here the first of DeVore's recruits were temporarily housed. Here they slept and ate and trained, until better quarters were hewn from the rock for them.
DeVore turned to Weis and Lehmann, and indicated that they should go through. "We'll be eating with the men," he said, and saw—as he had expected—how discomfited Weis was by the news. He had thought that other arrangements—special arrangements—had been made.
DeVore studied him, thinking, Yes, you like your comforts,
don't you, Weis? And all this—the mountains, the cold, the busy preparations—mean very little by comparison. Your heart's in Han opera and little boys, not revolution. I'll watch you, Weis. Watch you like a hawk. Because youre the weakest link. If things go wrong, you'll be the first to break.
He went inside after them and was greeted by the duty officer. Normally the man would have addressed him as Major, but, seeing Weis, he merely bowed deeply, then turned and led them across to the eating area.
Good, thought DeVore. Though it matters little now, I like a man who knows when to hold his tongue.
They sat on benches at one of the scrubbed wooden tables.
"Well, Shih Weis? What would you like to eat?"
The cook bowed and handed Weis the single sheet menu. DeVore kept his amusement hidden, knowing what was on the paper. It was all very basic fare—soldier's food—and he saw Weis's face crinkle with momentary disgust. He handed the sheet back and turned to DeVore.