Chen laughed. "And Marie? I thought this was supposed to be your honeymoon?"
Karr grinned. "Marie understands. It's why she married me."
Chen shook his head. "And I thought I was mad." He laughed. "Okay. But let me know as soon as something happens."
Karr nodded. "All right. Now go."
He watched Chen leave, then stood, feeling the emotional weight of what had happened here bearing down on him. It was rare that he was affected by such scenes, rarer still that he felt any sympathy for the perpetrators, but for once he did. The Yu had done society a great service here tonight. Had rid Chung Kuo of the kind of scum he had met so often below the Net.
He breathed out heavily, recalling Chen's disgust, knowing, at the very core of him, that this was what all healthy, decent men ought to feel. And yet the T'ing Wei would try to twist it, until these good-for-nothing perverts, this shit masquerading as men, were portrayed as shining examples of good citizenship.
Yes, he had seen the holes. Had felt his guts wrenched by the distress in the young boys' eyes, by that helpless, unanswered plea. He shuddered. The Oven Man had them now. And no evidence remained, but for that small, pathetic corpse and these mementos—these perverse records of a foul desire. And was he to watch it being whitewashed? Made pure and sparkling by a parcel of lies? He spat, angered by the injustice of it. Was this why he had become Tolonen's man? For this?
He looked about him. There was a tray of carapaced insects in a glass-topped case like those one found beneath the Net, but these were bright, sparkling, gaudily colored. Beside them was an ancient radio set, shaped like a woman's private parts. He shook his head then reached up, pulling a heavy, leather-bound volume down from a shelf.
He stared at the cover, trying to make out the design—that of a yellow eel curled about a fish—then caught his breath, understanding. The book was a trade catalog, the trade in question being that of young male prostitutes.
He thumbed through the pages. On each was displayed the naked figure of a young man—Han or Hung Moo—each of them handsome, athletic, well endowed. Fine young men, upright in their bearing, they had the look of ancient heroes, yet for all their beauty they were somehow tainted. One saw it in the slight curl of a lip or the expression in the eyes. The beauty here was all outward. Curious, Karr touched his fingers to the page and was surprised to find the flesh of the model warm, the background cold. As he drew his fingers back there was the slightest tingling of static.
He closed the book and put it back on the shelf, wiping his fingers against his shirt as if they'd been sullied, then moved back into the center of the room. He had seen enough. Enough to know he had been right about these young men. It was not the eccentricity but the soft luxury, the corruption of it, that nauseated him—that made him shudder with a deep inner revulsion. They had no idea, these people. No idea at all.
Everywhere he looked he found the signature of decadence; of sons given everything by their fathers—everything but time and attention. No wonder they turned out as they did, lacking any sense of value. No wonder they pissed their time away, drinking and gambling and whoring and worse—for inside them there was nothing. Nothing real, anyway. Some of them were even clever enough to realize as much, yet all their efforts to fill that nothingness were pointless. The nothingness was vast, unbounded. To fill it was like trying to carry water in a sieve.
Karr sighed, angered by the sheer waste of it all. He had seen enough to know that it was not even their fault; they had had no choice but to be as they were— spoiled and corrupt, vacuous and sardonic. They had been given no other model to emulate, no stamp to mark them out differently, and now it was too late.
He found the sheer sumptuousness of the room abhorrent. His own taste was for the simple, the austere. Here, confronted by its opposite, he found himself baring his teeth, as if at an enemy. Then, realizing what he was doing, he laughed uncomfortably and turned, forcing himself to be still.
It would be no easy task tracking down the Yu, for they were unlike any of the other Kb Ming groups currently operating in City Europe. They were fueled not by simple hatred—that obsessive urge to destroy that had fired the Ping Tiao and their like—but by a powerful indignation and a strong sense of injustice. The first Ko Ming emperor, Mao Tse-tung, had once said something about true revolutionaries being the fish that swam in the great sea of the people. Well, these Yu— these "fish"—were certainly that. They had learned from past excesses. Learned that the people cared who died and who was spared. Discrimination—moral discrimination—was their most potent tool, and they took great pains to be in the right. At least, from where he stood, it looked like that, and the failure of the T'ing Wei to mold public opinion seemed to confirm his gut instinct.
And now this. Karr looked about him. Last night's raid—this devastatingly direct strike against the corrupt heart of the Above—would do much to bolster the good opinion of the masses. He smiled, imagining the face of the T'ing Wei's Third Secretary, Yen T'ung, when he had seen the Yu's pamphlet. He would have known that word had gone out already: a billion pamphlets this time, if reports were true. Karr laughed, then fell silent, for his laughter, like the tenor of his thoughts, was indicative of a deep inner division.
His duty was clear. As Tolonen's man he owed unswerving loyalty. If the Marshal asked him to track down the Yu, he would track them down. Every last one of them. But for the first time ever he found himself torn, for his instinct was for the Yu, not against them. If one of those boys had been his son . . . He shivered. Yes, and he shared their indignation too, their passionate belief in justice.
But he was Tolonen's man; bound by the strongest of oaths. Sworn to defend the Seven against Ko Ming activity, of whatever kind.
He spoke softly to the empty room. "Which is why I must find you, Chi Li. You and all your Yu friends. Even if, secretly, I admire what you have done here. For I am the T'ang's man, and you are the T'ang's enemy. A Ko Ming."
And when he found her? Karr looked down, troubled. When he found her he would kill her. Swiftly, mercifully, and with honor.
the first OF them was facing Ywe Hao as she came through the door, his head half-turned, laughing at something. He fell back, clutching his ruined stomach, the sound of the gun's detonation echoing in the corridor outside.
The second was coming out of the kitchen. She shot him twice in the chest, even as he fumbled for his weapon. Edel was behind him. He came at Ywe Hao with a small butcher's knife, his face twisted with hatred. She blew his hand off, then shot him through the temple. He fell at her feet, his legs kicking impotently.
She looked about her. There had been five of them according to her lookouts. So where were the others?
There was shouting outside. Any time now Security would investigate. She went through to the kitchen, then came out again, spotting the case on the bed. Nothing appeared to be missing.
She went across and took the case from the bed. It was only as she lifted it that she realized she had been wrong. They had taken something. She flipped the case open. It was empty.
"Shit. . . ."
So she'd killed them for nothing. She shuddered, trying to think, trying to work out what to do. Where would they have taken the dossiers? What would they have wanted them for?
There were footsteps, coming down the corridor.