For a second or two her eyes searched his, as if for prior knowledge of what she was about to say; but he, poor boy, suspected nothing.
‘What would you say if I told you I had fallen?'
He laughed, then shook his head, puzzled. ‘Fallen?'
She smiled, then reached out, taking his hands in her own. ‘Yes, my wise and yet foolish husband. Fallen. The doctors confirmed it this very morning.' She saw how his eyes widened with sudden comprehension and laughed, nodding her head. ‘Yes, my love. That's right. We're going to have a child.'
It was late afternoon and the Officers' Club at Bremen was almost empty. A few men stood between the pillars on the far side of the vast, hexagonal lounge, talking idly, but only one of the tables was occupied.
A Han servant, his shaven head bowed, made his way across the huge expanse of green-blue carpet to the table, a heavily laden tray carried effortlessly in one hand. And as he moved between the men, scrupulously avoiding touching or even brushing against them as he set down their drinks, he affected not to hear their mocking laughter, or the substance of their talk.
One of them, a tall, moustachioed man named Scott, leaned forward, laughing, then stubbed out his cigar in one of the empty glasses.
‘It's the talk of the Above,' he said, leaning back and looking about him at his fellow officers. Then, more drily, ‘What's more, they're already placing bets on who'll succeed the old bugger as Minister.'
Their laughter spilled out across the empty space, making the Han working behind the bar look up before they averted their eyes again.
They were talking of Minister Chuang's marriage earlier that day. The old man had cast off his first wife and taken a new one – a young girl of only fourteen. It was this last that Scott had been rather salaciously referring to.
‘Well, good luck to the man, I say,' another of them, Panshin, said, raising his glass in a toast. Again there was laughter. Only when it had died down did Hans Ebert sit forward slightly and begin to talk. He had been quieter than usual, preferring for once to sit and morar ig ishilisten rather than be the focus of their talk, but now all eyes looked to him.
‘It's a sad story,' he began, looking down. ‘And if I'd had an inkling of how it would turn out I would never have got involved.'
There was a murmur of sympathy at that – an exchange of glances and a nodding of heads.
‘Yes, well... there's a lesson to us all, neh?' he continued, looking about him, meeting their eyes candidly. ‘The woman was clearly deranged long before I came across her.'
For once there was no attempt to derive a second meaning from his words. All there realized the significance of what had happened. An affair was one thing, but this was different. Events had got out of hand and the woman had overstepped the mark when she had attacked Ebert.
‘No,' Ebert went on. ‘It saddens me to say so, but I do believe Madam Chuang would have ended in the sanatorium whether I'd crossed her path or not. As for her husband, I'm sure he's much better off with his tian-fang,' he smiled, looking at Scott, ‘even if the girl kills him from sheer pleasure.'
There were smiles at that but no laughter. Even so, their mood was suddenly lighter. The matter had been there, unstated, behind all their earlier talk, dampening their spirits. But now it was said and all felt easier for it.
‘No one blames you, Hans,' Panshin said, leaning forward to touch his arm. ‘As you say, it would have happened anyway. It was just bad luck that you got involved.'
‘That's so,' Ebert said, lifting his shot-glass to his lips and downing its contents in one sharp, savage gulp. ‘And there are consolations. The mui tsai for one.'
Fest leaned forward, leering, his speech slurred. ‘Does that mean you've cooled towards the other one, Hans?' He laughed suggestively. ‘You know. The young chink whore... Golden Heart.'
Fest was not known for his discretion at the best of times, but this once his words had clearly offended Ebert. He sat there, glaring at Fest. ‘That's my business,' he said coldly. ‘Don't you agree?'
Fest's smile faded. He sat back, shaking his head, suddenly more sober. ‘Forgive me, Hans, I didn't mean...' He fell silent, bowing his head.
Ebert stared at Fest a moment longer, then looked about him, smiling. ‘Excuse my friend, ch'un tzu. I think he's had enough.' He looked back at Fest. ‘I think you'd best go home, Fest. Auden here will take you if you want.'
Fest swallowed, then shook his head. ‘No. I'll be all right. It's not far.' He sought Ebert's eyes again. ‘Really, Hans, I didn't mean anything by it.'
Ebert smiled tightly. ‘It's all right. I understand. You drank too much, that's all.'
‘Yes...' Fest set his glass down and got unsteadily to his feet. He moved out from his seat almost exaggeratedly, then turned, bowing to each of them in turn. ‘Friends...'
When he was gone, Ebert looked about him, lowering his voice slightly. ‘Forgive me for being so sharp with him, but sometimes he forgets his place. It's a question of breeding, I suppose. His father climbed the levels, and sometimes his manners...' He spread his arms. ‘Well, you know how it is.'
‘We understand,' Panshin said, touching his arm again. ‘But duty calls me too, I'm afraid, much as I'd like to sit here all afternoon. Perhaps you'd care to call on me some time, Hans? For dinner?'
Ebert smiled broadly. ‘I'd like that, Anton. Arrange something with my equerry. I'm busy this week, but next?'
Slowly it broke up, the other officers going their own ways, until only Auden was there with him at the table.
‘Well?' Auden asked, after a moment, noticing how deep in thought Ebert was.
Ebert looked up, chewing on a nail.
‘You're annoyed, aren't you?'
‘Too fucking right I am. The bastard doesn't know when to hold his tongue. It was bad enough the Minister committing his wife to the asylum, but I don't want to be made a total laughing stock.'
Auden hesitated, then nodded. ‘So what do you want me to do?'
Ebert sat back, staring away across the sea of empty tables towards the bar, then looked back at him, shuddering with anger.
‘I want him taught a lesson, that's what I want. I want something that'll remind him to keep his fucking mouth shut and drink a little less.'
‘A warning, you mean?'
Ebert nodded. ‘Yes. But nothing too drastic. A little roughing up, perhaps.'
‘Okay. I'll go there now, if you like.' He hesitated, then added, ‘And the pictures?'
Ebert stared back at him a moment. Auden was referring to the package he had left with him the day he had been attacked by the madwoman. He took a breath, then laughed. ‘They were interesting, Will. Very interesting. Where did you get them?'
Auden smiled. ‘From a friend, let's say. One of my contacts in the Net.'
Ebert nodded. It had been quite a coincidence. There he'd been, only half an hour before, talking to Marshal Tolonen about the missing sculptures, and there was Auden, handing him the package containing holograms of the selfsame items he had been instructed to find.
‘So what do you want to do?' Auden prompted.
‘Nothing,' Ebert answered, smiling enigmatically. ‘Unless your friend has something else for me.'
Auden met his eyes a moment, then looked away. So he understood at last. But would he bite? ‘I've a letter for you,' he said, taking the envelope from his tunic pocket. ‘From your Uncle Lutz.'
Ebert took it from him, then laughed. ‘You know what's in this?'
Auden shook his head. ‘I'm only the messenger, Hans. It wouldn't do for me to know what's going on.'
Ebert studied his friend a while, then nodded slowly. ‘No, it wouldn't, would it?' He looked down at the envelope and smiled. ‘And this? Is this your friend's work, too?'
Auden frowned. ‘I don't know what you mean, Hans. As I said...'
Ebert raised a hand. ‘It doesn't matter.' He leaned forward, taking Auden's hand, his face suddenly earnest. ‘I trust you, Will. Alone of all this crowd of shits and hangers-on, you're the only one I can count on absolutely. You know that, don't you?'
Auden nodded. ‘I know. That's why I'd never let you down.'
‘No,' Ebert smiled back at him fiercely, then sat back, releasing his hand. ‘Then get going, Will. Before that loud-mouthed bastard falls asleep. Meanwhile, I'll find out what my uncle wants.'
Auden rose, then bowed. ‘Take care, Hans.'
‘And you, Will. And you.'
Fest leaned against the wall pad, locking the door behind him, then threw his tunic down on t.&rhad had too much to drink. But what the hell? Ebert was no saint when it came to drinking. Many was the night he'd fallen from his chair incapable. And that business about the girl, the chink whore, Golden Heart. Fest laughed.
‘I touched a sore spot there, didn't I, Hans, old pal? Too fucking sore for your liking, neh?'
He shivered, then laughed again. Ebert would be mad for a day or two, but that was all. If he kept his distance for a bit it would all blow over. Hans would forget, and then...
He belched, then put his arm out to steady himself against the wall. ‘Time to piss...'
He stood there, over the sink, unbuttoning himself. It was illegal to urinate in the wash basins, but what the shit? Everyone did it. It was too much to expect a man to walk down the corridor to the urinals every time he wanted a piss.