He lunged forward, grabbing at T'ai Cho's arm, dragging him back. T'ai Cho began resisting, but Kim held on tenaciously. "Come on!" he begged. "Before they come!"
"What in the gods' names are you talking of, Kim?"
"Come on!" he pleaded. "You've got to come! All of you!"
He could see how his words had changed them. They were looking to each other now anxiously.
"Come on!" Ellis said. "Kim could be right!"
They made for the outer offices, but it was too late. As Kim tugged T'ai Cho around the corner he could see them coming down the corridor, not forty ch'i away. There were four of them, dressed in black, suited up and masked, huge lantern guns cradled against their chests. Seeing the tall figure of T'ai Cho, the first of them raised his gun and fired.
Kim pulled T'ai Cho down, then scrambled back, feeling the convected warmth of the gun's discharge in the air, accompanied by a sharp, sweet scent that might almost have been pleasant had it not signaled something so deadly.
"Get back!" he yelled to the others behind him, but even as he said it he understood. They were trapped here. Like the GenSyn apes they had been experimenting on. Unarmed and with no means of escape.
"Dead . . ." he said softly to himself. Dead. As if they'd never been.
the assassin backed away, shuddering, glad that his mask filtered out the stench of burned flesh that filled the room. He felt a small shiver ripple down his back. He hadn't expected them to act as they had. Hadn't believed that they would just get down on their knees and die, heads bowed.
But maybe that was what made them different from him. Made them watchers, not doers; passive, not active. Even so, the way they had just accepted their deaths made him feel odd. It wasn't that he felt pity for them; far from it—their passivity revolted him. Himself, he would have died fighting for his life, clawing and scratching his way out of existence. But it was the way they made him feel. As if they'd robbed him of something.
He turned away. The others had gone already, to fetch the boy and plant the explosives. Time then to get out. He took a couple of paces, then stopped, twisting around.
Nerves, he thought. It's only nerves. It's only one of the apes, scuttling about in its cage. Even so, he went back, making sure, remembering what DeVore had said about talking pains.
He stopped, his right boot almost touching the leg of one of the dead men, and looked about him, frowning. The four apes lay on the floor of their cages, drugged. "Funny. . ." he began. Then, without warning, his legs were grabbed from behind, throwing him forward onto the pile of bodies He turned, gasping, his gun gone from him. The creature was on him in an instant, something hard smashing down into his face, breaking his nose. He groaned, the hot pain of the blow flooding his senses, stunning him. He put his hands up to his face, astonished. "What the hell?" This time the blow came to the side of his head, just beside his left eye. "Kuan Yin!" He screeched, pulling his head back sharply, coughing as the blood began to fill his mouth. He reached out wildly, trying to grasp the creature, but it had moved away. He sat forward, squinting through a blood haze at what looked no more than a child. But not just a child. This was like something out of nightmare. It stood there, hunched and spindly, the weight held threateningly in one tiny hand, its big, dark, staring eyes fixed murderously on him, its mouth set in a snarl of deadly intent.
"Gods . . ." He whispered, feeling himself go cold. Was this what they were making here? These . . . things?
But even as the thought came to him, the creature gave an unearthly yell and leaped on him—leaped high, like something demented—and brought the weight down hard, robbing him of breath.
li shai tung turned, angered by what he had seen, and confronted the Chief Surgeon.
"What in the gods' names did this to him, Chang Li?"
Chang Li fell to his knees, his head bent low. "Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but the cause of the General's affliction is not yet known. We are carrying out an autopsy on his wife and children, but as yet—"
"The children?" Li Shai Tung took a long breath, calming himself. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears. His right hand gripped at his left shoulder almost convulsively, then let it go, flinging itself outward in a gesture of despair.
"Will he live?"
Again the Chief Surgeon lowered his head. "It is too early to say, Chieh Hsia. Whatever it was, it was strong enough to kill his wife and two of his children within the hour. Nocenzi and his other daughter—well—they're both very ill."
"And you've definitely ruled out some kind of poison in the food?"
Chang Li nodded. "That is so, Chieh Hsia. It seems the Nocenzis were eating with friends when they were stricken—sharing from the same serving bowls, the same rice pot. And yet the three who ate with them are totally unharmed."
Li Shai Tung shuddered, then beckoned the man to get up. "Thank you, Chang Li. But let me know, eh? As soon as anything is known. And do not tell the General yet of the loss of his wife or children. Let him grow stronger before you break the news. I would not have him survive this only to die of a broken heart."
Chang Li bowed his head. "It shall be as you say, Chieh Hsia."
"Good." He turned away, making his way across to the great hallway of the hospital, his guards and retainers at a respectful distance. Nocenzi had been conscious when he'd seen him. Even so, he had looked like a ghost of his former self, all his ch'i, his vital energy, drained from him. His voice had been as faint as the whisper of a breeze against silk.
"Forgive me, Chieh Hsia," he had said, "but you will need a new General now."
He had taken Nocenzi's hand, denying him, but Nocenzi had insisted, squeezing his hand weakly, not releasing it until the T'ang accepted his resignation.
He stopped, remembering the moment, then leaned forward slightly, a mild wash of pain in his arms and lower abdomen making him feel giddy. It passed and he straightened up, but a moment later it returned, stronger, burning like a coal in his guts. He groaned and stumbled forward, almost falling against the tiled floor, but one of his courtiers caught him just in time.
"Chieh Hsia!"
There was a strong babble of concerned voices, a thicket of hands reaching out to steady him, but Li Shai Tung was conscious only of the way his skin stung as if it were stretched too tightly over his bones, how his eyes smarted as if hot water had been thrown into them. He took a shuddering breath, then felt the pain spear through him again.
Gods! What was this?
Doctors were hurrying to him now, lifting him with careful, expert hands, speaking soothingly as they helped support him and half-carry him back toward the wards.
The pain was ebbing now, the strength returning to his limbs.
"Wait. . ." he said softly. Then, when they seemed not to hear him, he repeated it, stronger this time, commanding them. "Hold there!"
At once they moved back, releasing him, but stayed close enough to catch him if he fell. Chang Li was there now. He had hurried back when he had heard, "Chieh Hsia . . . what is it?"
Li Shai Tung straightened, taking a breath. The pain had left him feeling a little lightheaded, but otherwise he seemed all right.
"I'm fine now," he said. "It was but a momentary cramp, that's all. My stomach. Hasty eating and my anxiety for the General's welfare, I'm sure."
He saw how Chang Li looked at him, uncertain how to act, and he almost laughed.
"If it worries you so much, Surgeon Chang, you might send two of your best men to accompany me on the journey home. But I must get back. There is much to be done. I must see my son and speak to him. And I have a new General to appoint."