The fat man stopped and looked about him. Glancing sourly at Pai Mei, he touched the chan shih's arm. "Move them. I want to speak to Shih. Pai in private."
The small man tapped Haller on the shoulder, indicating that he should go and quickly. Smiling, apologetic, Haller got up and went. Becker, turning, saw how things stood and, shoving the tape back hastily, scuttled out after Haller. Only Lehmann remained, his back to the newcomers.
"You," said the fat man, coming up behind him. "Out of here! IVe business with Shih Pai."
Lehmann turned, facing them. The chan shih seemed easier now that there was only Lehmann in the room. He relaxed, looking about the room, for that brief moment inattentive. The fat man, meanwhile, was staring at Lehmann curiously, as if he ought to know him. But even he, for that instant, was off his guard.
Lehmann struck. With one quick movement he kicked the chan shih beneath the chin, then turned to face the fat man. Panicking, K'ang's lieutenant tugged at the gun in his pocket, trying to free it. He had just leveled it when Lehmann punched it from his hand, breaking the man's wrist with the downward blow. His second punch floored the man. Lehmann stood over him, looking down, his fist raised, waiting to see if he would try to get up.
Haller and Becker stood in the doorway, smiling. They had seen already how Lehmann operated. Becker looked across at Pai Mei and laughed. The stallholder had gone white. He was staring at Lehmann in astonishment.
"I thought that all three of you. . ." Pai Mei left the sentence unfinished.
Becker stepped into the room and knelt down beside the chan shih, feeling for a pulse at the neck. The small man was dead. "Shame," Becker said darkly. "I would have liked to have seen his expression when I slit his throat." Haller, coming up beside him, laughed at that, but Lehmann was unmoved. He stood there over his wheezing victim, tensed, perfectly still, making sure.
"That's it, you see," Becker said, looking up at the stallholder, then drew a large, razor-sharp knife from beneath his tunic. "They never expect trouble from a single man. That's how they think. And in the moment that they least expect trouble, that's when they're at their weakest." He smiled again and looked across at Lehmann, as if to say, "Isn't that so, Shih Lehmann?" But Lehmann ignored him. Becker looked down again, shrugging, then got to work, cutting into the flesh at the neck, blood oozing out over the bare, unswept floor.
Pai Mei looked away, feeling sick.
He looked across. Lehmann was crouching now, talking to the fat man. K'ang's man was making hoarse, gasping noises, as if he'd damaged his windpipe, but he was listening very carefully as the albino spelt out what he was to tell his boss. At one point he laughed dismissively and turned his head away, but Lehmann grasped his chin in one long, pale hand and turned his head back savagely, forcing him to look up into his face. The fat man shut up at once, fear returning to his eyes.
Becker had finished now. He wrapped the head in a towel and dropped it into a bag. Haller, in the doorway, was looking past him, his attention on the FacScreen and the media speculation about what tomorrow's meeting of the Seven might bring for the people of Chung Kuo.
"Big things are happening up there," he said at last, looking down at Becker, ignoring the pool of blood that had formed about his feet. "Big changes are coming."
"As above, so below," said Lehmann, pulling the fat man to his feet. Then, taking the bag from Becker, he thrust it into the man's one good hand.
Watching him, the two men laughed, enjoying the fat man's discomfort. But Lehmann didn't smile. Lehmann never smiled.
THE tong BOSS, K'ang A-yin, sat back in his chair, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, then looked around him at the eight men gathered in the room. The Zwickau riot had shocked and angered him, but this latest news was too much. K'ang was trembling with rage. Only with the greatest effort did he keep himself from shouting.
"Okay. What the fuck is going on ? Who the fuck's this Hung Mao ?"
There was an awkward silence from his men, then one of them— Soucek, his lieutenant—spoke up.
"We don't know. I sent a runner to Pai Mei's. He only confirmed what Feng Wo said. The pale Hung Mao killed the chan shih. The others hacked his head off. Why, we don't know."
"And no one knows the bastard?"
Soucek shrugged. "You want I should do some asking?"
K'ang looked away a moment, considering, then shook his head. "No. I've a better idea. Chao, Kant... I want you to find out where he's staying and hit him. When the fucker's asleep. I want him dead, him and his two sidekicks. And I want their heads, back here, on my desk, by the morning."
Soucek made to say something, to insist, perhaps, that he be given the job of killing the Hung Moo, but K'ang raised a hand. "No, J iri. Not this time. I want you to go and see Whiskers Lu and find out all you can about what happened earlier. If the Yu are active again, it threatens us all. And if it's something else, I want to know, understand?"
Soucek nodded.
K'ang stood, looking about him, more at ease now that he was taking the initiative. "Good. Then let's get going. Let's sort these fuckers out, neh? Then we can get on with making money."
THEY CAME two hours later. Lehmann was expecting them. Haller's bunk was empty, Haller fifty ch'i down the corridor in the public washroom. Becker's was occupied, but by a dummy, while Becker crouched behind the false partition, gun in hand. Lehmann lay beneath the thin blanket on the upper bunk, masked and waiting. He too was armed.
There were no locks at these lowest levels, so it was easy for K'ang's man to pull the slide-to back a fraction and roll in the gas grenade. It exploded with a dull plop, followed instantly by the hiss of escaping gas. Lehmann counted, knowing they would make certain before coming through. Sure enough, on a count of thirty, the slide-to was heaved aside and two men came into the room, machine-pistols raised. A third waited outside.
He didn't give them a chance. Poking the muzzle of the rocket launcher from the blanket, he squeezed the hair trigger and watched the far wall explode. There was no sign of the two men. Wall, floor, and men had gone. A great, gaping hole had opened up, revealing the level below. Fractured cables sparked. There was screaming from below and the sweet stink of superheated plastics hung in the air, stronger than the gas.
From farther down the corridor two shots rang out. Haller had done his job. He appeared a moment later, gun in hand, looking across the gap into the room. "Messy," he said, grinning through his mask. "Maybe K'ang will talk now."
"We'll see," Lehmann said, sitting up and wrapping the big gun in the blanket. "Either way, he'll know now that we aren't so easy* He'll be more careful in future."
"That's good," said Haller, slipping the gun back in his shoulder-holster, "It was a bit too easy for my liking."
Lehmann said nothing. He simply looked at Haller and shook his head. They had a lot to leam.
FROM WHERE IT soared, high above the wood, the hawk could see the figures down below, among the trees. The leading group had stopped now in a clearing, resting their mounts, their necks strained back, hands shielding their eyes as they looked up at it. Farther back, part hidden by foliage, a second group waited. These last were smaller but more numerous, and in its dark, instinctive way, it knew these to be men; knew they were on foot.
It circled patiently, its keen eyes searching for that sudden, distinctive movement that would betray its prey. For a time there was nothing, then, as the wind changed, there was a flutter of sound and a brief blur, as a guinea fowl broke cover far below.