The Middle Kingdom Read Online Free PDF

tied with silk ribbons of blue and
yellow. He looked down at her feet and saw, with satisfaction, how
petite she was.
    "You would
like something else, sir?"
    He leaned
forward and gently drew back the hair to reveal her neck. It
was as he had thought. There was a small circular mark low down on
the left hand side of the neck, close to the collarbone. A capital G
with a smaller S inside, the letters English, but the style—the
brushwork of the design—pure Han. She was GenSyn. Artificial.
    He hesitated,
not knowing how long the Junior Minister would be, nor what etiquette
prevailed here. Then he remembered the First Steward Huong's words. The maid will see to all your needs. Screwing up his courage,
he told the girl to close the door.
    As she turned to
face him again, he beckoned her back. Then, making her bow before
him, he opened the front of his cloak and drew her head down into his
naked lap.
    "Here,
girl. See to me."
     
    THE THREE MEN in
the craft had been masked and silent. Even so, Kao Jyan had
recognized them as Hung Mao — whites—from the sour,
milky scent of their sweat. It had surprised him. His own guesses had
taken him in another direction. But even as the craft set down on the
roof of the City he was adding this new fragment to what he already
knew.
    When the door
hissed open he went through quickly, followed by Chen. The dome of
the Imperial Solarium was directly ahead of them, no more than a
Ji—five hundred meters— distant; a vast hemispherical
blister, lit from within. Half a li farther on was the
maintenance shaft. The two assassins ran, side by side, in silence,
knowing that if others hadn't done their work properly they were
already as good as dead.
    But it would be
okay. Jyan sensed it. Every step he took made him more certain of it.
He was beginning to see how things connected; could even begin to
make guesses as to names and motives.
    There were those
who would pay well to know such things. Who would grant amnesties,
perhaps, to those who were merely the tools of other men.
    Coming closer to
the dome Jyan slowed, looking about him. The moon was much lower now,
over to the right of them. In its light it seemed as,though they were
running on the surface of a giant glacier.
    "Circle
left," he said softly to Chen. But it was unnecessary. Chen was
already moving out around the dome toward the shaft. It was his job
to secure it while Jyan was at work.
    Jyan stopped,
looking down at the dragon on his wrist. Timing was crucial now. He
had four minutes to climb the outer wall, then three minutes apiece
after that to position and set each of the four charges. That left
nine minutes to get into the shaft and away. If all went well it
would be easy.
    If all went
well. Jyan took a deep breath, steeling himself.
    He knelt, then
reached behind him. Four catches fastened the lightweight parcel.
Gently his fingers released the catches and eased the cloth-wrapped
package from his back. Carefully he laid it in his lap and, with
delicate, practiced movements, drew back the thin folds of cloth.
    The four
plate-sized hoops had been bound together tightly with a hair-fine
wire. They were a dull bronze in color, unmarked except in one place,
where it seemed the finger-thick cords joined upon themselves, like
snakes swallowing their tails. Quickly, carefully, he untied the wire
knots and separated the hoops into two piles on his upper thighs.
They were warm to the touch, as if alive. With the slightest shudder
he pulled two of them up over his left arm, looping them gently over
his shoulder, then did the same with the others, securing them about
his right shoulder.
    Taking a deep
breath, he stood again. Chen was out of sight, behind the dome.
Quickly Jyan ran the final distance to the dome's base and crouched
there, breathing easily. From the pocket over his heart he took out
the claws and clicked them open. Separating them, he eased them onto
his hands, respecting the razor-sharpness of their tips. That done,
he began