Michael half turned and looked up at him. "No. And it'll be harder next time. They're learning from us all the time. There'll be new candidates next time around. Younger men. And they'll be tailoring their campaigns to look like ours. WeVe had it easy so far. They'll not be so arrogant in the future."
"And we will?"
There was a faint hint of annoyance in Parker's voice, and a number of people were looking down at Michael strangely, as if he were an uninvited guest. But Kennedy spoke up, calling for order.
"Michael's right. First time out we got the sympathy vote. This time we took them by surprise. They'd written off our first-round victories as a sentimental anomaly—a flash in the pan. But from now on they'll be on their guard. As Michael says, they'll change their ways. Same old policies, but new ways of presenting them. New faces too. Maybe even men who might have served us well. They'll be buying heavily."
He paused and looked around. The room had gone quiet. Only the sound from the screen went on. They were all watching Kennedy now as he stood at Michael's side, his hand on the invalid's shoulder.
"But we're not going to be stopped. The mood for change is genuine, and change itself is long overdue. It'll be harder to win in the future, and the contest will be much closer than tonight. But we'll win. And we'll keep on winning, because those we oppose are a dead force—an old, stinking corpse. WeVe got to show people that. But it'll get harder to do, I warn you, because the harder we push the more devious they'll get, the more disguises they'll use."
Again Kennedy stopped and looked around, nodding slowly. "We'll strip them naked, neh? To the bone. . ," And then he laughed^ showing his strong white teeth, and the suite was suddenly full of laughter. From the far side of the room came the sound of popping corks, and on the screen the news that they had won the last three seats.
Michael looked up at Kennedy. "And what of us, Joe? Will we be young forever? Will no one strip us bare?"
He said it softly, so that it carried no farther than Kennedy. For a moment Kennedy seemed not to have heard, then he looked down at Michael, his face different, more serious, perhaps more tired than Michael had ever seen it, and nodded. "To the bone." And his eyes, so dark and normally so strong, seemed filled with the pain and certainty of his words. As if he saw and knew.
KIM SAT at a table in the restaurant, his empty ch'a bowl set to one side, the letter he had been writing held loosely in his left hand as he read it through a second time.
It was an hour since he'd come off shift and he really ought to have gone back to his rooms to shower and change, but he had put off writing to Jelka far too long now. So first this. Even if he had to start it all again tomorrow, trying to get the words down right. To say all those things that kept bubbling up from deep within.
The restaurant was filling up. Already the tables nearest Kim were full, the talk alive with the news of what was happening in City America, but Kim's attention was elsewhere, thinking of Jelka out on Titan. In a year she would be on Mars, heading back in toward Chung Kuo. If he sent the letter there, it might reach her quicker, perhaps, than trying to get a message out to Titan in time. But first he had to get it right.
He sat back, thinking suddenly of Rebecca, and of that moment in the changing rooms earlier. He had said nothing of that to Jelka. Nothing of what he'd felt; of the pain he'd suffered at the reopening of that wound . . . nor of the catharsis. But why?
Maybe it was because it confused things. Because it would give her the wrong idea. He huffed, annoyed at himself, his fingers going to the pulsing torque about his neck, then, flipping back to the start of the letter, he began to read it through once more.
"Excuse me . . ."
The voice was soft-spoken, very polite. Kim looked up. A tall Han was standing there, holding a tray, his head slightly bowed. The man smiled, the smile vaguely reminiscent of T'ai Cho, then tilted his head, indicating the empty seat across from Kim.
"Would you mind?"
Kim shook his head, smiling back at the man. "No. Please do ... I'll be going in a while, anyway."
"Ah . . ." The Han bowed again, then began to set out his meal. "It is very kind of you. Some people, they. . ." He stopped, his face suddenly apologetic. "Forgive me. Am I disturbing you?"
Kim laughed, then folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket. "Not at all. Kim Ward," he said, offering his hand across the table.
"Tuan Wen-ch'ang," the Han answered, bowing a third time. He took Kim's hand, shaking it vigorously. "I note we are both employed by the great SimFic corporation, and yet I have not seen you here before."
Kim nodded, noting for the first time the double-helix logo on the shoulder of the Han's light-green tunic. "That's not surprising," he answered. "I haven't been here long, and I've spent most of my time in the lab."
"Ah . . ." Again the Han smiled. Again the smile reminded Kim of his old tutor and guardian, T'ai Cho.
"Where do you come from, originally?" Kim asked, strangely drawn to the man.
"Originally?" The Han laughed, showing slightly imperfect teeth. Again that was like T'ai Cho, and the thought of it made Kim realize that he had not contacted his old friend since he had been at Sohm Abyss.
"Originally my clan is from Ning Hsia, in the northwest. We are Hui, you understand. Not Han." Again he laughed. A pleasant, warming sound. "As for me, I was born on Mars. In Tien Men K'ou City, in the south. My clan were settled there, you understand, after the Third Colonial War. We helped build that City. That and many others."
"Mars . . ." Kim nodded, his thoughts briefly returning to the letter and to Jelka. "It must be wonderful."
Tuan Wen-ch'ang shrugged. "Sometimes, yes. But mostly it is a bleak and desolate place. Life is hard there. Very hard. Here . . ." He laughed. "Well, let us say that life is much easier here. One need not fear the cold, for instance."
"No," Kim said absently, then, suddenly realizing what time it was, he leaned forward across the table. "Look, Tuan Wen-ch'ang. I'd like to talk more to you—it has been pleasant, most pleasant— but right now I have to go or I'll be late. There's someone I promised to meet."
"Of course." Tuan Wen-ch'ang stood, bowing low> as if to someone high above him in status, then looked back at Kim, smiling his imperfect smile. "I am here most nights, Shth Ward. If you see me, come and sit with me. It is good to talk, neh?"
"Very good," said Kim, smiling, and with a final shake of the tall Hui's hands, he left, stopping only at the door to glance back at the man, reminded, even in the way the tall Hui sat, crouched forward over his food, of T'ai Cho.
TUAN wen-ch'ang sat there a moment, waiting, watching the reflection in the glass beyond the table. He saw the boy turn and look across at him, then turn back, hurrying to his appointment. Tuan waited a second, then, leaving the untouched plate of food, made his way quickly to the door on the far side of the restaurant—the door Ward hadn't taken.
So far so good, he thought, taking the cast from his mouth, and slipping the false teeth into his pocket. It had been easy, winning the boy's trust. The softness of his voice, the simple mimicry of the boy's friend, had been enough. And the rest? Tuan Wen-ch'ang jabbed at the buttons of the interlevel elevator, then, as the doors slid back, went inside, a cold, malicious smile lighting his features. The rest was simple.
wu SHIH sat back and breathed in deeply, pleased with the way things had gone. The "State of the Parties" print-up was on the screen, and he looked at it with a sense of deep satisfaction.
Reformers 94
NREP 65
On Leong 53
Democrats 42
Hop Sing 22
Innovators IO
Ying On 4
In the last month Kennedy had come from almost nowhere to become the most important man in North American politics. Wu Shih had read the situation perfectly and had acted in good time. Now he might congratulate himself. Li Yuan, he knew, would be delighted. Unlike the Reformers and the Democrats, Kennedy was for Population Controls. His success would soften the others' attitudes, and that would mean that things would go much easier in the House. And that was good.