Part 20 (1/2)

Wen Yi said, ”I am told you are working hard. That is a good thing, Mr Brooks. But you should not forget, when you do succeed in your search, who is paying you in the end.”

An unmistakable reference: he was He Zhen's future husband, and almost part of the family, with the engagement finalised. ”If I succeed,” I said.

”You will,” Wen Yi said, raising a long-nailed finger, lazily, as if admiring a dagger. ”You have--drive, Mr Brooks. Take care not to lose that, or there will be--consequences.”

”I see,” I said. ”Consequences.” He was telling me that no matter what happened, I had to continue the search for He Zhen. Which, in turn, meant that she was still alive.

I had no time to focus on the consequences of that, because I needed all my wits about me--a conversation with a Xuyan, especially a powerful one, always felt like navigating between pits of acid.

”Do not think yourself overly safe, Mr Brooks. There are many paths a man can take.”

Another, subtler threat: I would not protect He Zhen if I abandoned the investigation. He would merely find someone else to duplicate the little I'd done.

”I see,” I said, again. I did not want to provoke him further.

Wen Yi was still staring at me. ”A pity. You are a smart man. And yet you refuse to fit in amongst us. Even your Xuyan friend was unable to impress the bases of our society on you.”

I wanted to tell him he had no right to bring Mei-Lin into the conversation, no right to sully her memory. But that would have been folly. So I simply shook my head.

”There could be a bright future, amongst us.”

I said nothing. I couldn't give him a satisfying answer.

Wen Yi said, ”It is not for nothing that we dominate North America. It is not for nothing that our motherland China has triumphed over the Whites in Asia.”

”I know your worth,” I said, slowly. ”I do not doubt your might. But my ways are my own. There is little for me in Xuya.” And I realised, as I said those words, that they were true, that nothing tied me to that dingy office in Fenliu, beyond the memory of Mei-Lin and the knowledge I could go nowhere else.

It was not the best of times for such a sobering thought.

Wen Yi's face remained impa.s.sive. But his eyes took on a darker glaze, and his voice, when he spoke again, was clipped and precise. ”Very well. I had thought you more capable of grasping the opportunities at hand, Mr Brooks. No matter. Do what you are paid to do. It will be enough.”

And he cut off the communication, leaving me standing in my living room, shaking.

So. I had learnt several things, most of them unpleasant. Mei-Lin had advised me to leave the White Lotus alone, once, in what seemed like another lifetime. I knew that in that, as in so many things, she had been right.

The only thing I could focus on was Wen Yi's admission that he was looking for He Zhen. Ergo, He Zhen was still alive, lying low for fear of the White Lotus-- No.

If I'd been she, if I'd gone to that meeting and been wounded, and known that if I came home my mother would simply hand me over to my future husband, I wouldn't have remained in Fenliu. I'd have gone to a place where the White Lotus had no reach.

Greater Mexica, or the United States.

Given what I already knew, it had to be Greater Mexica.

But she had to get past the border. It wasn't that easy, especially to get into Greater Mexica, which had all but closed its borders. The entry requirements were stiff for the border towns and got stiffer the further south you went. To settle permanently into the capital at Tenocht.i.tlan for a non-Mexica was near impossible, unless you had serious leverage.

You needed outside help.

I knew a couple of people who specialised in pa.s.sing foreigners into Greater Mexica; they were easy to find if one insisted badly enough. They were also easy with their promises; most foreigners they ferried across the border ended up indentured in some brothel in Cuauhpamoc or Itzohuacan, or in the silver mines, breathing dust until they choked on it.

I plucked the picture of He Zhen from the table and went out, back to the Gardens of Felicity and the network centre she'd connected from eight nights ago.

Then I moved in ever-widening circles, questioning those human smugglers I could find, showing them He Zhen's picture. I got only blank looks.

The thirtieth or so I tried, though, shrugged, and said, ”You'll want Doc Smith for that. He always gets the strays.”

Doc Smith was American--Irish by birth, judging by the impressive mop of red hair. I found him in a sordid bar in the Fragrant Hermitage district, the poor White neighbourhood. He was nursing a cup of rice alcohol between quivering hands. When I showed him the picture, he stared at it with rheumy eyes. ”No,” he said. ”Never seen her.”

He was lying. He'd looked at the picture for far too long. ”She'd have come here eight days ago,” I said. ”Possibly wounded. She'd have been desperate to get across the border.”

”What's it to you?” he asked.

”Her family wants her.”

”Some family,” he snorted. ”Let the dead dogs sleep, boy. We'll both feel better for it.”

I shook my head. ”Wish I could, Doc. But I have a job to do.”

”Sounds like a c.r.a.ppy job if you ask me.”

Yes, a c.r.a.ppy job. Tracker for the White Lotus, because there was no other choice if I wanted to save He Zhen--if I wanted to save my skin. I focused on the task at hand. ”Is your job better? False promises to clients?”

He shook his head. ”I've never cheated a client before. Don't intend to start now. I gave her what she wanted.”

”And what was that?”

He smiled. ”Safety. And I won't tell you more, boy. Old Doc is no fool.”

”I'm not with them.”

”That's what they allow you to think,” he said, with a slow, sure smile. ”Trust me, boy. Give it up, and go home.”

I stared at my hands for a whilst, thinking of He Zhen, of the lie that had been her life--years spent dreaming of another place, only to find out marriage would be no refuge. ”I can't,” I said. ”She's not safe where you sent her. She won't ever be safe.”

”So you're meddling? It's an unhealthy occupation,” Doc Smith said.

I spread my hands on the table, thinking back to Mei-Lin, of our brief months of happiness in Xuya before death had taken her. ”I have nothing else left,” I said.

Doc smiled. He slid his mug of rice alcohol toward me, but I shook my head. ”I'm not here for oblivion. I'm here for answers.”

”I can see that.” He stared at me, and it occurred to me that the rheumy eyes saw far more than they let on. ”It's no place for tender hearts, Xuya. No wonder they all want to get out.”

”Give me her address,” I said. ”Or I'll call the militia here.”

”That's an empty threat, and you know it as well as I do. No Chinaman is going to enter this area.”

”If I could track her here,” I said, ”someone else will. Someone else will come, and they'll tear her address out of you. Don't you think she ought to be warned, at least?”