Iron master, p.38
Iron Master, page 38
‘Fact One: we know that it was the female you have just visited who used her influence to persuade the Consul-General to transfer you from the post-house to the Heron Pool.
‘Fact Two: we know her male companion, who has assumed your identity, can speak our language fluently.
‘Fact Three: we know you have had discussions with a colleague of yours about taking a boat-trip through the canal-system from Ari-bani to Bu-faro. Your colleague is disguised as a Mute. He wears a red bandanna, and his code-name is Side-Winder.’
Steve tried but failed to hide his astonishment.
Skull-Face eyed him with a thin smile. ‘We’ve known about him for a long time. We picked him up a few weeks after he was inserted into Ne-Issan, and we’ve been doing business with him ever since. In fact, it was through us he got his present job on the wheelboats.’
Already naked, Steve felt as if he was now being stripped bare on the inside as well. Was there anything these people were not aware of? Did they know that his talk of a ‘massive intervention’ was nothing more than a colossal bluff? In spite of being painfully trussed up and totally defenceless, he did his best to exude an air of calm assurance. Underneath, though, he was more frightened than he’d been in a long time.
And also totally bewildered. His preparations for the big break, and his last session with the Herald, had gone so well he had allowed himself to lapse into a careless, self-congratulatory mood. He was the guy that could do it all. And he’d swum blindly into the net. But even if he’d been alert, he doubted whether he could have evaded his present captors. Steve had packed in a lot of experience – much of it painful – since emerging onto the overground. He knew he was in the hands of hard men who, as his interrogator had revealed, were real professionals. Christo! He’d been beavering away thinking he’s gotten himself into the big game, only to discover that there was an even bigger game going on!
Skull-Face, who had been watching him closely, said: ‘I can see you find all of this rather difficult to take on board. But then you are still a relative beginner. In time you will discover that those involved in the gathering of intelligence and the maintenance of internal security are often linked by common interests – that are not always shared by their masters.’
Steve nodded gingerly. ‘I can understand that.’
‘For instance, we know you have been using a concealed radio to keep in contact with AMEXICO. We also have a number of similar devices.’ Skull-Face produced a compact but powerful-looking walkie-talkie that could only have come from the Federation.
The Jap pressed the Transmit button and spoke briefly into the mouthpiece. Steve heard someone reply with a burst of gobbledegook.
‘That’s our man at the Heron Pool,’ explained Skull-Face. ‘He’s keeping an eye on your shack. It might be awkward if someone discovered you weren’t there.’ He acknowledged the message, then laid the handset on the mat between them.
Steve followed it down with his eyes and stared at it fixedly as he tried to come to grips with what he’d got himself into.
‘Let me try and guess what you are thinking,’ said Skull-Face. ‘You are trying to reconcile your discovery that our organisation is using radios with your knowledge that what we call the Dark Light and any object which contains it is expressly forbidden. In fact, to introduce a device of this kind into Ne-Issan is an act of high treason.’
‘It did cross my mind,’ admitted Steve.
‘Rightly so. The Dark Light is a destructive force that must never again be allowed to fall into the hands of the greedy or the unscrupulous. Never again will the spinners and weavers imprison the world in their evil nets. But we do not seek power, we merely exercise the power we are given to maintain the status quo – and we are prepared to use any means to achieve that end.’
Skull-Face picked up the walkie-talkie and bared his teeth in what Steve assumed to be a smile. His gums had shrunk away from his parchment-yellow teeth. A real Dr Death.
‘There is a saying that dates from The World Before: “In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” ’
‘Gotcha…’. Smart move
Skull-Face nodded. ‘Now tell me about yours. How did you plan to get out of here?’
Steve told the Jap what he wanted to know. There was no point in trying to conceal anything. If Side-Winder was working both sides of the track, the ship-board escape route via Bu-faro was already totally compromised. Steve explained how, after reaching the Hudson River by air, he had planned to use Cadillac’s ability to speak Japanese. Dressed in one of Clearwater’s silken robes and the white mask she had worn on her travels, the Mute would pose as the courtesan ‘Yoko Mi-Shima’. As such, he would be able to purchase the boat-tickets, buy food and answer any questions about the four Mute slaves accompanying ‘her’. Apart from the middle finger of his right hand, Steve was already dressed for the part. The two sets of body-paints were to be used to disguise Jodi and Kelso – whom he had recruited to help guard his prisoners. In Clearwater’s case, it was not really a disguise but a return to her usual colouring.
Skull-Face mulled things over, then asked: ‘Did Hase-Gawa know that the two individuals you sought were grass-monkeys?’
‘Yes, I told him and Clearwater confirmed it later on.’
The Jap’s slitted eyes seemed to close completely. ‘You are absolutely sure about this? There could have been no room for any misunderstanding?’
‘No. He questioned her at length. Ask the other samurai who was there. The chief ronin. Noburo Naka-Jima.’
It was Skull-Face’s turn to look surprised. ‘How do you know this man’s name?’
‘It’s a long story. I saved the life of his wife and child. But that’s irrelevant. He took me to meet the Herald. He was sat right beside me when I told Hase-Gawa he’d got it wrong.’
‘I see. And he was also there when the Herald questioned the female?’
‘No. When she was brought in, he stayed in the other room. But the walls were only made of paper. Maybe he listened in.’
‘Maybe he did… ’ mused Skull-Face. ‘Describe what happened when you left the pavilion.’
‘Noburo’s men took Clearwater away first, then he tied my hands behind my back and Hase-Gawa led me away.’
‘It was dark?’
‘Pitch-black.’
‘Go on…’
‘After we’d gone a short distance – a hundred yards or so – he suddenly turned around and hit me – hard.’ Steve turned his head to one side. ‘Just under my left ear. Must have knocked me clean out. When I came to he was kneeling over me, massaging my neck.’
‘So you have no idea how long you were unconscious?’
‘No.’
‘Never mind. What you have said may help us solve a mystery. Now – I wonder if you can explain something else that I find quite baffling – how was the male Mute able to learn to speak our language without being taught – and how was the female able to influence the actions of the Consul-General?’
‘They are what the Plainfolk call “gifted” individuals. They have certain powers. I don’t know how it works; no one does. But I do know they can do extraordinary things. Most people dismiss the stories they hear about “Mute magic”. But there is such a thing. I’ve been there when the forces have been released. It’s awesome.’
Skull-Face accepted this with a thoughtful nod. ‘Are there many of these “gifted” grass-monkeys?’
‘No. Fortunately, they are extremely rare. My experience is limited to one Plainfolk clan, but it appears that the only Mutes who possess these… special abilities, are smooth-boned and clear-skinned.’ It wasn’t strictly true, but if challenged he could always plead ignorance. ‘What we in the Federation call super-straights.’
‘Because they look exactly like you…’
‘They resemble us, but inside they’re totally different. Their society, their whole belief system is totally alien to ours. That’s what makes them so dangerous.’
‘So why not just kill them? Why are these two so important to your masters?’
‘Our world is different from yours,’ replied Steve. ‘We do not fear the Dark Light. It is the source of our strength. Its power nourishes our world like the blood that runs through our veins. We use it to create special instruments and processes that enable us to examine the smallest particles of matter – the building blocks which, when combined in the correct sequence, create human beings and everything in the world around us.’
Steve was glad he had listened to his kin-sister’s account of her Basic Genetics course. ‘By examining the constituent parts of these two individuals, we can discover the rogue element that makes them different and find ways to counteract it.’
Skull-Face did not pursue the matter further. ‘Let’s get back to the escape plan. What was to happen once you had assumed your various disguises?’
‘Yeah, well… that’s where the whole thing fell to pieces. It appears that courtesans only travel in sealed carriage-boxes that are either carried or wheeled by porters. Not Mutes. Clearwater was confident she could get the money we needed from the Consul-General, but not the ID papers, travel passes and neck-tags.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ replied Skull-Face.
‘And there was also the problem of the arm-stamps that slaves collect at the various control points they pass through.’
Skull-Face bared his teeth again. ‘Now you know it’s not just a case of bureaucracy gone mad. It’s to help keep tabs on people like you.’ He reached into the saddlebags that lay to his left and produced what, when unfolded, turned out to be a beautifully made writing box. Pulling a moistened brush from a tube, he charged it with ink from a solid palette and wrote an indecipherable message with swift, flowing strokes. He then cleaned the brush, and put it back in its container.
‘Okay. There’s not much time left, but we are going to help you with your travel arrangements – assuming, of course, that you manage to escape from the Heron Pool. A map will be delivered to your shack in the next couple of days. We will put it in the same place you have been hiding your radio-knife. The map will guide you to a point near the east bank of the Uda-sona. The field where you are to land will be marked with a hollow white square. You will be met by one of our people.’
Skull-Face checked the sheet of paper to see if the ink was dry, then folded it into a small square and laid it in front of Steve. ‘Give this to your Japanese-speaking friend. It tells him what words our man will use to introduce himself and what he must say in return. Once you’ve identified yourselves, you can converse in Basic. He will give you the necessary papers and tags for four Mute slaves and the courtesan Yoko Mi-Shima. Plus boat tickets and some money for the voyage.
‘The “lady” will be provided with a carriage-box and two serving women. When you are ready to travel, porters will be hired to take the box down to the ferry. Once across the river, they’ll deliver it to the dockside. We will alert Side-Winder to expect you to board at Ari-bani – though I imagine you will be in contact with him yourself. Once you’re on the wheelboat it should be plain sailing as far as Bu-faro. After that, the ball’s in your court.’
It all seemed too good to be true. If his arms and shoulders hadn’t been wracked with agonising cramp, he’d have been tempted to loose the Trail-Blazer’s rebel yell. He did his best to conceal the pain, but his voice gave him away. ‘I – I don’t know what to – say!’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ replied Skull-Face, unmoved by Steve’s growing distress. He closed the writing box with slow, deliberate movements and put it away. ‘In this case, actions speak louder than words. If you don’t deliver your end of the deal, you won’t be leaving on a boat – or any other way. Comprendo?’
‘Perfectly!’ gasped Steve.
‘Good.’ Skull-Face uncrossed his legs, picked up the curved dagger and moved towards Steve on his knees.
Steve’s heart missed a beat. The point of the blade was aimed dangerously low but, at the last minute, Skull-Face lifted it level with his navel and cut through the cord stretched between neck and groin. The Jap then got to his feet and stood back as the two guards untied Steve’s arms.
‘Now get dressed.’
Steve prised loose the cord that had been biting into his penis and scrotum and gained some much needed relief. Oh, boy! As he started to pull on his clothes he found that his arms were painfully stiff. His fingers wouldn’t grip properly. Halfway through he had to stop and massage his arms to restore the circulation. There was nothing he could do about the damage downstairs except hope the pain would go away. Pulling the sash tight round his waist, he stooped down and pocketed the folded piece of paper containing the vital passwords.
Skull-Face doused the lantern and exited from the tent. He was waiting outside as Steve ducked through the flap in between the two guards. Now that he was up on his feet and out of immediate danger, the three Japs looked a lot less daunting. After he’d stretched his spine and filled his lungs with night air, Steve found he was half a head taller than the biggest of the two guards. Skull-Face, his chief tormentor, now looked as if he was standing in a hole. No wonder they’d kept him bent almost double.
‘That shelf inside your shack…’
‘Yes?’
‘If you find two small stones on it – one black, one white – it means that everything is in place at the other end.’
‘Got it.’
Skull-Face walked with him to the edge of the trail that ran through the pines. Behind and below them, Steve caught a glimpse of the lake as the half-moon found a gap in the clouds and brushed its dark surface with a fleeting coat of silver. They had only gone a few yards, but the black tent was now invisible.
The Jap turned to face him. ‘Will you be able to find your way back from here?’
Steve bowed politely. ‘Yes, sire. No problem.’
‘Good. One last thing. As you’ve no doubt guessed, in return for services rendered, we have also obtained a number of bugging devices from your people. Just out of interest, was jacking up that female Mute part of your assignment?’
It wasn’t a question Steve had been expecting, but he took it in his stride. ‘Yes, sire. It’s a standard operating procedure which I’m sure even your organisation must use from time to time. We call it “sexual entrapment”.’
Skull-Face nodded. ‘I see. Well, I suppose that’s as good a description as any. Goodnight, Mr Brickman. You are what used to be called “a plausible rogue”. If you can manage to keep your balls out of the jar I have a feeling you could go a long way.’
*
On the day before the display, Steve discovered he wasn’t the only one who had been making plans. The Iron Masters had also been quietly putting their own act together. Shigamitsu broke the news to Cadillac while making his daily round of the workshops. The Japanese staff of the Heron Pool would be running things on the day, and the newly drafted team of Koreans, Viets and Thais would look after the ground-handling, together with the reloading of the rocket-trays and ground trolleys. All Trackers would be confined to their quarters – the two long bunk-houses inside the walled compound.
In the last month, the strict rules governing the behaviour of slaves had been relaxed. To speed things along, captive Trackers were no longer required to kneel before samurai during working hours. This arrangement only covered the Iron Masters on the permanent staff; all visitors were to be shown the utmost deference.
As Cadillac’s constant shadow, Steve was included in this temporary dispensation, but he was still required to bow from the waist when addressed and to keep his eyes averted whilst in the presence of samurai. He did so now and was able to steal a sideways glance at Cadillac.
When in the company of his new masters the Mute tried very hard to keep his face as expressionless as theirs. The Plainfolk called the Japs ‘dead-faces’ on account of the fearsome metal masks they wore, but their real faces underneath were just as lifeless. They were a strange people. Given an angry dressing-down by a superior, or some really bad news, they became more blank-faced than ever. Laughter was occasionally allowed to break through, but only when among equals or when the top man present gave the cue.
On this particular occasion, Cadillac wasn’t doing too well. Steve knew the Mute had been giving a lot of thought to what he was going to wear and how he was going to comport himself when he stood in line to get his share of the praise the domain-lords were bound to hand out. But that wasn’t going to happen. When Steve and his two friends were through the only things the dinks would be handing out were neck-trims – if you were lucky – or a meltdown in boiling water if you weren’t. But at this point the Mute didn’t know that.
After bowing from the waist, Cadillac enquired if, in view of his past and present contribution, he might be allowed to attend as a spectator. Shigamitsu told him he had already raised this point with the palace. The answer was ‘No’. From one hour prior to the arrival of their distinguished guests, he and the other two pilots were to remain in the house Lord Min-Orota had graciously provided, and would not emerge until called upon to do so. The same ruling applied to the grass-monkey he had taken on as his assistant.
Cadillac and Steve accepted this with another deep bow and kept their heads down until Shigamitsu and his two aides had moved on. When they both straightened up, Steve found himself looking at a broken man. Cadillac’s pride had been dealt a mortal blow, his expectations cruelly shattered.
It was sad to see the new persona he’d stitched together coming apart at the seams, but if he was hoping for sympathy he didn’t get it. ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Steve. ‘You were the one who saw this coming, but you preferred to stick your head in the sand.’
The Mute – who was not normally lost for words – didn’t say anything. Neither did Steve. Cadillac had always displayed a certain defensive arrogance, but this aspect of his character had been puffed up out of all proportion through the quite exceptional privileges granted to him by Lord Min-Orota and his subordinates. In trying to ape Steve, Cadillac had lost touch with his own inner strengths, his true nature and his heritage as a child of the Plainfolk. In his eagerness to abandon his past life in favour of a new existence, he had blinded himself to the fact that it was totally dependent on the continued patronage of the Iron Masters. Now he was paying the price, and there was nothing Steve could do except stand back and wait until it was time to pick up the pieces.
