He fired twice as she lifted the gun, the weighted bullets punching two neat holes in her chest, just below her heart. She fell back, dead.
Gesell moved forward sharply, then stopped, seeing how DeVore's gun was trained on him, pointed directly at his head.
"You were always a loud-mouth, Gesell."
Gesell glared at him. "We should never have worked with you. Emily was right. You never cared for anyone but yourself."
"Did I ever say otherwise?"
Gesell sat back, his face tense. "So why don't you do it? Get it over with?"
"I will. . . don't worry, but not with this."
He threw the gun down. Gesell stared back at him a moment, then made his move, scrambling for the gun. DeVore stepped back, drawing the spray can from his pocket, watching as Gesell turned and pointed the gun at him.
"It's empty."
Gesell pulled the trigger. It clicked then clicked again.
DeVore smiled, then stepped closer, lifting the spray, his finger holding down the button as the fine particles hissed from the nozzle.
He watched Gesell tear at the thin film of opaque, almost translucent ice that had formed about his head and shoulders; saw how his fingers fought to free an airhole in the soft, elastic stuff, but already it was growing hard. Desperation made ' Gesell throw himself about, bellowing; but the sound was distant, muted. It came ; from behind a screen that cut him off from the air itself.
DeVore emptied the can, then cast it aside, stepping back from the struggling figure. GeselPs arms and hands were stuck now, welded firmly to his face. For a moment longer he staggered about, then fell down, his legs kicking weakly. Then he lay still.
DeVore stood over Gesell a moment, studying his face; satisfied by the look of panic, of utter torment, he could see through the hard, glasslike mask, then looked up. Mach was watching him from the door.
"He's dead?"
DeVore nodded. "And the woman, too, I'm afraid. She drew a gun on me."
Mach shrugged. "It's all right. It would have been difficult. She was in love with him."
"And Ascher?"
Mach shook his head. "There's no trace of her."
DeVore considered that a moment, then nodded. "I'll find her for you."
"Thanks." Mach hesitated, then came in, looking down at Gesell. "I liked him, you know. I really did. But sooner or later he would have killed me. He was like that."
DeVore stood, then reached out, touching Mach's arm. "Okay. We've finished here. Let's be gone. Before the T'ang's men get here."
CHAPTER FOUR
Carp Pool and Tortoise Shell
KIM TURNED in his seat, looking at Hammond. "Well? What do you think he wants?"
Hammond glanced at him, then looked away nervously, conscious of the overhead camera.
Kim looked down. So it was like that. Spatz was putting pressure on him. Well, it made sense. After all, it wasn't every day that Prince Yuan came to visit the Project.
He looked about him, noting how Spatz had had his suite of offices decorated specially for the occasion, the furnishings replaced. It was a common joke on the Project that Spatz's offices were larger—and cost more in upkeep—than the rest of the Project put together. But that was only to be expected. It was how assholes like Spatz behaved.
Kim had been on the Wiring Project for almost a year now, though for most of that time he had been kept out of things by Spatz. Even so, he had learned a lot, keeping what he knew from Spatz and his cronies. From the outset he had been dismayed to learn how little they'd progressed. It was not that they didn't know about the brain. The basic information they needed had been discovered more than two centuries before. No, it was simply that they couldn't apply it. They had tried out various templates—all of them embellishments on what already existed—but none of them had shown the kind of delicacy required. In terms of what they were doing, they were crude, heavy-handed models, more likely to destroy the brain than control it; systems of blocks and stimulae that set off whole chains of unwanted chemical and electrical responses. As it was, the wiring system they had was worthless. A frontal lobotomy was of more use. Unless one wanted a population of twitching, jerking puppets.
And now, in less than five hours, Prince Yuan would arrive for his first annual inspection. Spatz, of course, was taking no chances. He remembered the last visit he had had—from Marshal Tolonen—and was determined to keep Kim away from things.
Well, let him try, Kim thought. Let him try.
As if on cue, Spatz arrived, Ellis, his assistant, trailing behind him with a thick stack of paper files under his arm. He had seen this aspect of officialdom before. Most of the time they shunned real paperwork, preferring to keep as much as possible on computer; yet whenever the big guns arrived, out would come thick stacks of paper.
And maybe it worked. Maybe it did impress their superiors.
"Ward," Spatz said coldly, matter-of-factly, not even glancing at Kim as he sat behind his desk.
"Yes, Shih Spatz?"
He saw the tightening of the man's face at his refusal to use his full title. Spatz was a fool when it came to science, but he knew disrespect when he saw it. Spatz looked up at Ellis and took the files from him, sorting through them with a great deal of self-importance before finally setting them aside and looking across at Kim.
"I understand you've requested an interview with Prince Yuan."
Kim stared back at him, making no response, wanting to see how Spatz would deal with his intransigence; how he would cope with this direct assault on his authority.
"Well. . ." Spatz masked his anger with a smile. His face set, he raised a hand and clicked his fingers. At once Ellis went across and opened the door.
Kim heard footsteps behind him. It was the Communications Officer, Barycz. He marched up to the desk and handed over two slender files to add to the pile at Spatz's elbow.
Are you trying to build a wall against me, Spatz? Kim thought, smiling inwardly. Because it won't work. Not toda^, anyway. Because today Prince Yuan will be here. And I'II let him know exactly what you've been doing. You know that, and it scares you. Which is why I'm here. So that you can offer me some kind of deal But it won't work. Because there's nothing you can offer me. Nothing at all.
Spatz studied the first of the files for a while, then held it out to Hammond.
Kim saw the movement in Hammond's face and knew, at once, that the file had to do with himself.
Hammond read through the file, the color draining from his face, then looked up at Spatz again. "But this . . ."
Spatz looked away. "What is the matter, Shih Hammond?"
Hammond glanced at Kim fearfully.
"Is it a problem, Shih Hammond?" Spatz said, turning to look at his Senior Technician. "You only have to countersign. Or is there something you wish to query?"
Kim smiled sourly. He understood. They had constructed a new personnel file. A false one, smearing him.
"Sign it, Joel," he said. "It doesn't matter."
Spatz looked at him and smiled. The kind of smile a snake makes before it unhinges its jaws and swallows an egg.
Hammond hesitated, then signed.
"Good," Spatz said, taking the document back. Then, his smile broadening, he passed the second file to Ellis. "Give this to the boy."
Kim looked up as Ellis approached, conscious of the look of apology in the Assistant Director's eyes.
"What is this?"
Spatz laughed humorlessly. "Why don't you open it and see?"
Kim looked across. Hammond was looking down, his shoulders hunched forward, as if he knew already what was in the second file.
Kim opened the folder and caught his breath. Inside was a sheaf of paper. Hammond's poems and his own replies. A full record of the secret messages they had passed between them.