"You'll sit down, and you'll apologize to our guests for your behavior."
She opened her mouth, astonished by him. Slowly, she shook her head. "No. I'll not go."
"Sit down!"
There was real menace in his voice this time. She sat, slightly away from the table, making no effort to draw her chair up. "I'll not go," she said again, as if he had not heard her the first time.
Hauser was silent, looking from her to her father. But his face was the mirror of her father's.
"You'll go because I tell you to. Understand?"
She went very still. Then, looking up at him again, she shook her head.
This time he stood and yelled at her. "You'll go, dammit! Even if my men have to bind you and carry you on board. Understand? You're still my daughter, and until you're of age, you do what I say!"
She shuddered, looking away from him. He was so ugly like this. So...
Not meaning to, she laughed.
It went very quiet. She could feel the chill of the atmosphere about her. She looked up at him again. He was looking at her strangely, almost as if he didn't recognize her.
"What are you afraid of?" she asked.
"What?" He didn't seem to understand. "Afraid?"
"Kim," she said. "Why are you so afraid of him? Why would it be so wrong if I married him?"
She had said nothing before now, but this was the nub of it. The reason for all this heavy-handedness.
Her father laughed oddly. "You'll not marry him. Not him."
She met his eyes and saw that he was determined in this. But he had reckoned without her opposition. Like before, he had thought she would bow meekly to his wishes.
"I have your blood," she said softly. "If needs be, I'll fight you on this."
"You'll go," he said, with an air of finality.
For a moment longer she hesitated, then nodded. "I'll go," she said, "because you make me go. But it will change nothing. I'll marry him, see if I don't."
His eyes widened and his mouth opened as if he were going to argue more with her, but then he nodded, and sat down. He had her agreement. That, for now, was enough for him. The rest would take its course. Why fight tomorrow's battles before they came?
"Now may I go?" she asked, still sitting there.
He looked back at her again, then across at his guests. The ex-Governor gave a tight little nod and a half-smile. Beside him, his wife sat stiffly, looking down at her hands, as if in shock.
"Go on, then," Tolonen said softly, and stood for her, as if nothing had happened. But, watching her go, he knew that something had broken between them. Some last link of childish trust. He shivered, then turned back to his guests.
"I'm sorry, Sven," he said. "I should have warned you . . ."
THE BOARD ROOM was tense, silent, as Old Man Lever, at the head of the table, read through the figures on the loan document. To his left along the great oak table sat the financiers, eight in all, to the right his team of advisors. All eyes were focused on the Old Man as he turned the page and, looking up, tapped the document in front of him.
"The top-up's too high. I thought we'd agreed on two point six."
"Two point eight, Mister Lever," Bonner, the Chief Negotiator, answered quietly. "I have it minuted."
Lever stared at him a moment, as if Bonner had taken leave of his senses, then, taking his ink brush from the stand beside him, he put a line through the figure and wrote the new figure beside it, initialing the change.
There was the briefest exchange of glances to his left, a small shrug of acceptance from Bonner. The matter was decided. As ever, Lever had gotten his way.
"And what about this matter of extended term insurance?" Lever added casually. "I think we should share the expense, fifty-fifty. What do you think?"
Bonner looked down. "It's unusual, Mister Lever. The borrower usually bears the cost of any loan insurances, but if that's what you want." He looked back up at Lever and smiled. "Besides, I'm sure the project will come in on time."
Lever smiled, then reached out to pat Bonner's arm. "Good. Then we'll get this signed and witnessed, neh?"
Bonner let out a breath, the tension draining from him. The two points on the top-up would cost them over fifty thousand, and the insurance might add up to one hundred and fifty thousand more, but in terms of the total deal that was nothing.
Eight billion yuanl Bonner's mind reeled at the thought of it. It was the biggest loan his Finance House had ever set up. And even at the fine rates Lever had insisted on, it would bring handsome profits. Personally, as Chief Negotiator, his own share was a quarter point, but a quarter point on eight billion was nothing to sneer at.
And every last fen secured by prime ImmVac stock, the best on the market. Bonner stood, bowing to the old man. Behind him, in a line, his team did the same, keeping their heads lowered as Bonner walked around the table to append his signature to the bottom of the agreement, then flicked back, initialing the two changes. A second copy of the document would be retinally imprinted and registered later in the day, but for now their business was concluded, the deal done.
Old Man Lever turned and, looking across at his Chief Steward, clicked his fingers. At once, the Steward turned and pulled open the doors. Waiting there in the corridor beyond were six servants, bearing trays of wine and delicacies. Quickly they went about the table.
"Come," said Old Man Lever, looking about him with a broad smile, "let's celebrate! For today the Cutler Institute for Genetic Research is mine. Lock, stock, and barrel, as my grandfather used to say."
He laughed, then nodded to himself. Standing, he took a wine cup from the nearest servant and raised-it. "This is a great moment, and nothing . . . nothing, can spoil it!"
AH about the table, Cups were lifted, voices raised in the traditional toast. "Kanpei!" >
"Mister Lever..."
The Steward stood at Lever's shoulder, leaning close, his voice a whisper, low but insistent.
Lever turned a fraction. "Yes?"
"News has come, Master. Moments back. It's Michael, Mister Lever. He's married. Married the Jennings woman."
MACH AND CURVAL were standing in the anteroom when Lever came storming out, his eyes bulging with anger. They had heard the tray go crashing down, and Lever's angry shout, but the sight of him, his face set into a fierce grimace, his fists bunched tight, surprised them both.
"What is it?" Mach said, catching up with the old man. "What in hell's name has happened?"
Lever stopped abruptly and turned, facing Mach. "It's Michael. He's betrayed me."
"Betrayed you?"
Lever shuddered. "He's married her. The bastard's gone and married her!"
Mach stared at him, shocked. Emily, he meant. Michael had married Emily Ascher.
"It's not possible," he said, after a moment. "She wouldn't. I mean. . ." He shook his head, unable to explain it. "Are you certain?"
"Not certain, no, but fairly sure. I'd put a trace on him, you see. I..." Again Lever shuddered. "He's betrayed me, Jan. Pissed on me! First with the Ward boy, and now this!"
"Maybe theyVe got it wrong. Maybe . . ."
"No. This time he's really done it. Done it to spite me. To piss on me. My son. . ."
"Charles. . ."
"No. This is my fault. I should have expected this. Should have known he'd do this." He shivered, lowering his voice. "I should have had her killed."
Mach glanced at Curval, then shook his head. "No, Charles. It would have solved nothing. You have to live with this. To show him it means nothing to you."
"Nothing?" Lever closed his eyes, the sudden pain in his face something awful to see. "That boy meant everything to me. Everything. And now..."
"You must show him he means nothing," Mach said, insistent now. "It's the only answer, Charles. The only answer."
whiskers Lu, Big Boss of the Kuei Chuan, stood, letting out a great roar. Fat Wong's handwritten note lay on the desk before him, its curt, six-word summons the reason for his anger.