something alien about him. Maybe the Chinese thought the same and they killed him. That’s what we all think, isn’t it? They took his money and killed him. But, whatever. The cool thing is, the Machine is still there, and only Semyonov knew anything about it.’
‘So you think the Machine is real?’
‘Why else was Semyonov in China — at all? Semyonov was a very smart guy. He was looking for new things. Maybe China has made a discovery so gigantic, and they wanted Semyonov to help make sense of it. To exploit what’s there, to get at the technology and make it work. I get the feeling… we ain’t seen nothing yet.’
Stone looked back at the American, who stopped talking for the first time in twenty minutes. The driver glanced at them in his rear view mirror. You had to hope the guy didn’t speak English. ‘The Machine. What do you think it is?’ asked Stone, playing him along.
The wild look in Carslake’s eye came back. ‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m here in China. And that’s the reason you’re here too,’ said Carslake, but he couldn’t help blurting his opinion. ‘OK. Something is found buried in a remote part of China. Something ancient and weird.’ Stone thought of the gravitational anomaly. ‘The Chinese, being the people they are,’ said Carslake, ‘Want to take advantage of the discovery. They don’t bother about making an announcement. After all, they've been working at that site since the Sixties.’
‘That was the middle of the Cultural Revolution,’ said Stone.
‘When all kinds of crazy shit were happening. If you were a Chinese scientist here in 1968, you’d keep your mouth shut. You’d probably seal up what you’d found to protect it from the mob. Anyhow,’ said Carslake. ‘Thirty years later, China becomes a peaceful and prosperous place, and someone reopens the cave or whatever. They work away to understand what they’ve discovered, possibly for years. And what do they get?’ Carslake looked at Stone rhetorically. ‘They get
‘You mean Robert Oyang?’
‘…Brings in Semyonov,’ said Carslake. ‘A man of unique intelligence and creativity, to help crack the writing, or the technology, or whatever. Semyonov sees straightaway that this is mankind’s biggest ever discovery. Sells up everything, putting his whole fortune into the project. The Chinese regime insists he lives in China, and he has to give up his money…’
Those were exactly the two conditions Oyang had described. The “down payment”.
‘But someone in power loses his nerve,’ Carslake said. ‘They should never have told Semyonov about the Machine, and they kill him.’
Give Carslake credit. He’d tried hard not to mention the extra-terrestrial element, and apart from that, his theories had a certain logic. Stone knew they also had a lot of holes.
As the car pulled up, Carslake said, ‘This is the Fedex office, my friend. There’s some stuff waiting for me that we’re gonna need when we leave for the monastery. It’s going to show exactly what they have hidden under that mountain. Then we’ll know for sure.’
Perfect. Carslake had hired the equipment in LA and had it sent over. Was even talking like it was his own idea.
Stone stayed back while the figure in leather jacket and bandana disappeared into the office. Let Carslake go into the Fedex office alone. The Chinese customs could well have taken a special interest in that package, and if Carslake was going to be arrested picking it up, he may as well be alone.
Chapter 43 — 1:05am 7 April Chengdu, China
Ying Ning had done this kind of thing before. Had to have. She’d shaved the hair from around the wound on Bao An’s head and sewn back the flap of skin with neat quick movements of the hands. Bao An had cursed with pain all the way. Cursed Ying Ning, cursed the Chinese men who’d attacked him, cursed Stone and Carslake. At the end of it all Ying Ning doused the wound with iodine and started on the gash across his cheek. Stone was reminded of the way she’d done the collagen injections for him back in Hong Kong.
Carslake was nervous that some one was onto them now. Bao An had been attacked not far from the little house, in the darkness. Ying Ning knew better.
‘Those Chinese boys fight over me,’ she said, somewhat callously in front of Bao An. ‘Bao An make mistake to fight back. Maybe he run next time.’ Ying Ning was smiling a little too harshly. Stone could see what she was up to already. That was Bao An out of the picture then. Had she been testing Bao An? Flirting with those guys at the pool table to test him? Bao An should have ignored it. As it was, he was history, Stone guessed, and the other guy Lin Xiaohong with him. Stone saw it was Ying Ning’s way of winnowing out her followers before they went West to find the Machine. She could be a callous bitch, Ying Ning. Stone thought back to when she’d tried to seduce him in Shanghai. Maybe that was a test too. Stone could only assume he’d passed the test by turning her down.
While Ying Ning cleaned out the gash on the side of Bao An’s head, Carslake stood fascinated. The shaven patch on Bao An’s head was like a monk’s tonsure slipped over to the side, stained with purple-brown iodine. He’d be wearing a bandana like Carslake after this. That wouldn’t please him much.
Carslake’s eyes showed his mounting surprise as he watched Ying Ning work. Finally he spoke under his breath to Stone. ‘What is this girl, a fucking surgeon?’ he said, with genuine appreciation for once. Then he spoke loudly to Ying Ning, the booming, patronizing voice he always used to her. ‘You should leave this Commie wasteland behind, honey, forget about this dissident crap. You could get a
Ying Ning’s glance at Carslake was predictably contemptuous. ‘Sure,’ she said, her calm fingers laying butterfly crosses onto Bao An’s cheek. ‘I could be a good little Western slave girl, with
‘We don’t have to watch TV, honey. We don’t have to do anything. No one tells me how to think. Can you say that in China?’
‘They can tell me what to think,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to listen. They can tell me what they want. I don’t listen.’
That was true. Ying Ning wouldn’t listen. Whether she lived in China, the US or in the middle of Antarctica, she wouldn’t listen. She was supposed to be a Marxist, but unlike so many dissidents, Ying Ning wasn’t out there parroting anyone’s philosophy. It was the world according to Ying Ning, and it was a tough place for anyone who got close to her.
Ying Ning concentrated on repairing Bao An’s face, but when she finished, she turned to Carslake and stood, with one hand on her hip and the other holding a cigarette. Bao An silently stood up to light the cigarette for her, then sat back down. He was her bitch, this Bao An, and about to be dismissed from service.
‘It’s true. Your country is freer than mine,’ she said. ‘For now. But my country is getting freer. What about yours? Americans so worried how free are the other countries, what about yours?’
Carslake snorted at her and dismissed the offer of a cigarette for once. ‘Chinese shit,’ he muttered under his breath, and stalked off into the other room.
Ying Ning the dissident, political activist. That was the image. But an image created by her loyal followers in the Chinese blogosphere. The Fox Girl, hunted and hounded, making her way by cunning alone. She was always on the edge, but she would not stay quiet and she would not betray her cause. That was the image.
The reality was different. Ying Ning did fight for a cause, but the cause was Ying Ning. She was not part of a bigger movement. Those two Chinese guys — Lin Xiaohong and Bao An — they were lapdogs. She was using them, in the same way as she’d use any of her followers.
Ying Ning was OK, Stone reflected, so long as you happened to be useful to her. To have any relationship, you had to be useful to her. It wasn’t enough to agree with her. Very many did agree. She’d achieved much with her exposes of low wages, suicides and bad conditions. She’d achieved far more at any rate than all those dissident intellectuals and artists, shut up in their studios in Beijing, blogging about “civic society” and “democratic institutions” till their readers’ eyes bled with boredom. Ying Ning wanted to fight things, and she’d do the same whatever country it was. She’d do it in the US, or Switzerland or Sweden.
The good thing about Ying Ning was, she made you think about yourself — your motives, your honesty. What about Stone? What was he fighting for? To expose, to embarrass, to change — like Ying Ning? Stone had achieved
