The Art of War by David Wingrove Read Free Book Online Page A

a li to the south of those craft. Then suit up. I want to be ready for any trouble.’
    The young pilot nodded tersely, setting them down softly on the southern edge of the settlement. While the pilot suited up, Karr sat there, staring out at the settlement, watching for any sign that this might yet be a trap.
    ‘Ready?’
    The young man nodded.
    ‘Good. Wait here. I’ll not be long.’
    Karr took a breath then released the hatch. As he climbed out, systems within his suit reacted immediately to the sudden changes in temperature and pressure. It was cold out here. Cold enough to kill a man in minutes if his suit failed.
    There were five buildings surrounding the craft: three domes and two long, flat-topped constructions, the domes to the left, the flat-tops to the right. The pumping station itself was the largest of the domes, straddling the pipeline like a giant swelling, one of eight similar stations – situated at two-hundred- li intervals along the pipeline – that pumped water from the sprawling Tzu Li Keng Seng generating complex in the south to the three great northern cities of Hong Hai, Kang Kua and Chi Shan.
    Karr walked towards the huge hemisphere of the station, the tiny heat generator in his suit clicking on as he moved into the shadow of the giant pipeline. As he came nearer a door hissed open and unfolded towards the ground, forming steps. Without hesitation he mounted them and went inside, hearing the door close behind him.
    He went through the airlock briskly and out into the pressurized and heated core of the station. Two Security men were waiting for him, at attention, clearly surprised that he was still suited up. They looked at him expectantly, but he went past them without a word, leaving them to follow him or not, as they wished.
    He took a left turn at the first junction into a corridor that bridged the pipeline. As he did so an officer, a fresh-faced young Han, hurried down the corridor towards him.
    ‘Major Karr. Welcome to Feng Shou. Captain Wen would like...’
    Ignoring him, Karr brushed past and turned off to the left, taking the narrow stairwell down to the basement. Guards looked up, surprised, as he came down the corridor towards them, then stood to a hurried attention as they noticed the leopard badge of a third-ranking officer that adorned the chest of his suit.
    ‘Forgive me, Major Karr, but the Captain says you must...’
    Karr turned and glared at the junior officer who had followed him, silencing him with a look.
    ‘Please tell your captain that, as his superior officer, I’ve taken charge of this matter. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to see him. Understand me?’
    The young soldier bowed deeply and backed off a step. ‘Of course, Major. As you say.’
    Karr turned away, forgetting the man at once. These stations were all the same. There was only one place to keep prisoners securely. He marched down the narrow, dimly lit passageway, then stopped, facing a heavy, panelled door. He waited as one of the guards caught up with him and took a bunch of old-fashioned metal keys from inside a thick pouch, then, as the door swung inward, pushed past the man impatiently.
    Hasty improvisation had made a cell of the small storeroom. The floor was bare rock, the walls undecorated ice, opaque and milky white, like a blind eye. The four men were bound at wrist and ankle.
    Berdichev was sitting slumped against the wall. His grey uniform was dusty and dishevelled, buttons missing from the neck, his face thinner, gaunter than the Security profile of him. He hadn’t shaved for a week or more and he stared back at Karr through eyes red-rimmed with tiredness. Karr studied him thoughtfully. The horn-rimmed glasses that were his trademark hung from a fine silver chain about his neck, the lenses covered in a fine red grit.
    He had not been certain. Not until this moment. But now he knew. Berdichev was his. After almost five years of pursuit, he had finally caught up with the leader of the