MAIN WAS packed. Thirty, maybe forty thousand people were crammed into the broad two-Zi-long concourse, banners and streamers of bright red er-silk waved energetically above their heads. At the northern end of Main, before the bell tower, a raised podium had been constructed. There the crowd pressed thickest, held back by a double line of green-uniformed Security guards.
As ninth bell sounded from the tower, the lights dimmed, a hush falling on the great gathering. A moment later, cloaked in a veil of brilliant white laser light, the huge statue of the goddess descended slowly onto its pedestal.
As the figure settled there was a strong murmur of approval. Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy and Fecundity, sat Buddha-like on a giant lotus, a newborn baby cradled lovingly in her arms. Her face in the brilliant white light was benign, radiant with compassion.
There was a moment's silence, then, with a great popping of crackers on every side and the creaking of rattles, the crowd began to celebrate. The sick and lame, held back by the crush, now renewed their efforts to get to the front, to receive the goddess's blessing.
On the podium nearby, separated from the crowd by a wide corridor of armed guards, the dignitaries looked on, turning in their high-backed chairs to talk among themselves. The guest of honor—the man whose money had paid for the giant statue—was a squat, balding Hung Mao named May Feng. His company, EduCol, had benefited from GenSyn's relaxation of food patents and—developing one of those patents—had increased food production significantly over the last twelve months, perhaps by as much as four percent throughout City Europe, winning the praise of both T'ang and people. After years of ever-stricter rationing and growing discontent, it had reversed the trend and brought new stability to these levels. But what most of those gathered in Main to celebrate EduCol's generosity didn't know was just how poor, nutritionally, the new product was, nor the amount of profit the Company had made on their new soy-substitute; foB while the new process cost only one sixth of the old, the product price was roughly the same.
To May Feng's right sat a big, slightly corpulent Han named K'ang A-yin, a local gang leader, operating this and the surrounding stacks under the protection of the Kuei Chuan Triad. Behind K'ang stood two of his henchmen, their eyes shifting uneasily in their faces as they surveyed the massive crowd. K'ang himself was studying the merchant, noting the fashionable cut of his silk pau, the absence of rings on his fingers. K'ang looked away, tucking one hand under the other in his lap. He, at least, knew how much profit EduCol was making. Five hundred percent, if reports were true. And he could use a cut of that, to buy himself more muscle and finance a few schemes. But May Feng knew nothing of that yet. As far as he was concerned, K'ang was simply a businessman. The man to deal with at these levels.
K'ang smiled and looked past May Feng at his friend, the local Wei, or Commandant of Security, who was standing off to one side of the podium. "Well, Captain Franke. It's almost time ..."
Franke bowed his head, then turned, calling down to his lieutenant. A moment later the great curtain which was draped across the width of Main behind the bell tower twitched, then began to draw back. From the tunnel beyond, a procession of carts, heaped with the latest range of EduCol products, began to make its way out into Main toward the crowd.
At the far end of Main, on a balcony almost two li from where the dignitaries were sitting, a tall, bearded Hung Mao lowered the field glasses from his eyes and turned, making a curt hand signal. At once the group of men and women gathered about him turned, making their way down the steps and out into the crowd below.
Mach watched them a moment, seeing how they went among the crowd, handing out the leaflets, their voices murmuring old slogans, the catchphrases of ancient discontents. And after they'd moved on, he saw how those who had glanced at the leaflets now held them out to their neighbors, angered by what they'd read, their own voices raised.
He smiled, then turned away again, moving out into the corridor. Two guards were standing there, staring up at one of the public service screens.
"You'd best get downstairs," he said, showing them his ID. "It looks like trouble."
They looked at his badge, then nodded, moving past him quickly, the noise from the crowd growing by the moment.
Mach stood there a moment longer, looking up at the screen. Li Yuan was talking to his citizens, telling them about the committee that had been set up to investigate the possibility of changes to the Edict and the reopening of the House. Mach moved closer, spitting up into the face of the young T'ang, then, drawing his gun, he turned, following the guards down.
On the podium May Feng was standing now, concerned. The noise from the far end of Main was growing all the while, -ising above the sound of the firecrackers. People at the front were turning their heads, anxious, conscious that something was happening back there.
"What is it, Shih K'ang?" the merchant asked, fingering his girdle-pouch nervously.
K'ang frowned, trying to conceal his own concern. "I'm not sure. I..."
His words were drowned out as deck communications cut in, the voice harsh and accusing.
"Death to all profiteers and thieving First Level bandits! Death to all those who would steal the rice from your children's mouths! Death to those who profit from the misery and need of others! Death . . ."
The litany went on, fanatical, endless, stirring up already excited passions into a frenzy; turning fear into a sudden blinding panic that spread among the masses like a brushfire. K'ang watched as the thin line of green gave and the crowd spilled out toward the podium and the giant statue. Without thought, he turned and, his henchmen close behind, leapt from the back of the platform, making for the safety of the tunnel. It was not a moment too soon, for the front edge of the crowd, impelled by the pressure of bodies from behind, broke like a wave against the podium, bringing its supporting stanchions crashing down.
For a moment May Feng kept his balance, then he went down, his mouth formed in a perfect O of surprise before he was lost to sight, trampled beneath the stampeding crowd. There was a steady roar within the great space now, like the sound of a great wind blowing from the north. As if caught in the grip of that wind, the great statue shuddered, then, with a slow, soundless motion, it fell, crushing more than two dozen people beneath it.
All was chaos now. There was gunfire from the far end of Main and the sound of small explosions, of falling ice. And over everything was the voice, chanting its litany of death, death, death.
there were THREE of them, not counting the stallholder. Becker was standing at the back of the partitioned room, browsing the shelves of secondhand tapebooks that crowded the walls. Haller lounged in a chair nearby, staring up at the overhead FacScreen, one hand lazily holding a squeezetube of prawn-flavored protein paste.
Lehmann was talking to the owner, Pai Mei, his back to the doorway. "Don't worry," he was saying. "Just get down behind the counter when things start. And remember—no one will harm you. I guarantee it."
Pai Mei, a thin-faced, hard-looking man, hesitated. K'ang A-yin was a bastard, but who knew what this one was like? Yet if the albino failed, K'ang might think that he, Pai Mei, had put him up to it. He shuddered, then gave a reluctant nod. It was a no-win situation.
Just then the ragged curtain was tugged back and two men came in. One was tall, going to fat, the other smaller, lither, but more dangerous-looking altogether. His bare arms were heavily muscled and his head was shaved, the skull painted in an intricate pattern of red and green that indicated he was a chan shih, a fighter. They were K'ang's men.