Mr Li turned to face Sigurd directly, and his plasticine smile did not waver in its rigidity.
‘Oh, we would not stop you, Mr Yolkov,’ he replied coolly. ‘As I said, there is no restriction on whatever target you wish to eliminate. However, in the event of a hypothetical situation such as the one you have just described, it would be quite easy for me to place myself under the protection of all of the current A-grade products while sending out a few to eliminate whatever product you had sent against me, as well as eliminating you and your associates in the process. It would be a very high-risk undertaking … on your part. What an amusing topic this is though! It is purely hypothetical, is it not?’
Sigurd grinned darkly.
‘Hypothetical … yes,’ he growled with slow menace, his eyes gleaming.
‘Mr Yolkov, if you would, please have a look up on top of the gymnasium, there on the left, just under the eaves of the upper section of the roof. Do you see her?’
Sigurd spun around and peered up at the roof, some fifty metres to his left. Something shiny glinted briefly in the weak sunlight: a rifle scope. Mr Li rasped a quick order in Mandarin, and a red laser dot appeared instantly on Sigurd’s forehead.
‘One more word and she will squeeze the trigger. She is an A-grader, so there is no chance of her missing her shot. This one watches over me night and day. It is her “divine mission” to keep me alive by any means necessary. It would do well for you to remember that.’
Sigurd laughed loudly and brashly.
‘You crafty little devil! You certainly are quite thorough, I’ll give you that. Call her off now. It was all hypothetical; just a jest, nothing more.’
Mr Li looked up at Sigurd, his beady eyes hard and his gaze glacial.
‘I am not much of a fan of humour. Keep that in mind. I prefer to discuss business, not to make jokes.’
‘Come now Mr Li. As the Joker says in Batman, “why so serious”? Hahaha!’
Mr Li gave Sigurd a thin smile.
‘Would you like to continue the tour, or move straight to the product viewing and purchase area?’
‘I think we’ve seen enough, not so brother?’ Sigurd said, looking to Hrothgar for confirmation.
Hrothgar nodded.
‘Yes. Let’s buy one or two of these little bitches.’
‘You have the cash with you?’
‘Nine hundred thousand US dollars per A-grader, as we discussed, plus a two hundred thousand premium for one model of non-Chinese ethnicity. It’s all here in our briefcases.
‘Excellent. Let’s proceed to the sales area.’
The area they to which they were taken was a small ten-person cinema. Mr Li led Hrothgar and Sigurd in and seated them in the centre, where they had a good view of the screen.
‘Would you like some whiskey or vodka while you look over the product profiles? We have the finest available. Snacks? Or perhaps some cocaine? Ketamine, maybe?’
‘Double whiskey, single malt, on the rocks. The older the better,’ Sigurd grunted.
‘The same,’ Hrothgar added brusquely.
‘I will join you gentlemen then. I am a great lover of finely aged single malt myself, and I do believe we have some forty-year-old stuff,’ Mr Li said, his toothy smile unwavering. ‘So, make yourselves comfortable. We have three hours of footage to get through to view the current crop of A-grade models.’
Hrothgar and Sigurd lounged in their chairs and sipped on their tumblers of whiskey as they began to watch the footage of the various models in action.
On screen a slim thirteen-year-old Chinese girl with close-cropped, boyish hair stood before a man with a shaved head who was attired in red and black robes.
‘He is one of the priests,’ Mr Li whispered.
A subtitle read, ‘INTRODUCING PRODUCT AH-192’.
‘What do the numbers stand for?’ Hrothgar asked. ‘Are they just random letters and numbers or do they actually mean something?’
Mr Li paused the video to answer Hrothgar’s question.
‘Nothing is random here. The first letter describes the grade of the model; A, in this case. The second letter will either be a C, for “castrated male”, or an “H” for hysterectomy-complete female, in the case of the combat and espionage models. In terms of the numbers, the first indicates the ethnicity of the product. “1” denotes Han Chinese.’
‘The superior race, are you?’ Sigurd mocked.
Mr Li ignored the taunt and continued with his explanation of the naming system.
‘The second number stands for age. “0” is the highest and denotes the oldest limit, an age range of twenty-five to thirty years old. We do not sell products older than thirty; at this age they are past their prime, so we destroy them should they fail to sell by that time. “9” is the youngest age at which we sell a combat product: thirteen years. The final number represents the form of weaponry the product is most proficient with, as some clients do have a preference for this. In the case of this model, the “2” represents assault rifles. Of course, all of the A-grade products are experts in virtually all projectile and hand-to-hand weapons, so most of our A-purchasing clients do not usually exhibit a preference toward any one weapon type. The option is there though, if you really desire it.’
Sigurd shook his head.
‘No. Any A-grade will most likely serve my purpose.’
‘Excellent.’
Mr Li pressed play. On screen, the priest began speaking in Mandarin to the girl, his face and voice coloured with grave severity. Subtitles in five languages translated what he was saying.
‘AH-192, something terrible has happened.’
The girl stared at him without registering any form of emotion or displaying any expression upon her face.
‘What is this thing that has happened?’ she asked flatly.
‘The Evil One has entered the bodies of three of your sisters and possessed them.’
‘This is a most terrible thing,’ she commented.
‘GH-185, GH-1720 and GH-1919 have run off and are hiding in a forest. They are committing most heinous sins against the Mighty One and furthering the cause of the Evil One.’
‘They must be punished. Their bodies
