Iron master, p.34
Iron Master, page 34
Ppa-ppowww! The speeding trolley accelerated as the second pair of rockets ignited. Steve felt himself pushed back against the seat. The first static tests had not produced an impressive amount of thrust, but with the additives that AMEXICO had advised him to throw into the basic mix the rockets were now delivering a real kick in the pants.
The stone wall was now coming up at a high rate of knots. Time for the party trick. It hadn’t been his idea, but he’d been obliged to go along with it in order to worm his way deeper into Cadillac’s confidence. And it had better goddam work, he told himself. Otherwise they’d be shipping him out feet first.
The visiting Iron Masters and the motley crowd of unofficial spectators were unaware that, with Shigamitsu’s agreement, a low, grass-covered ramp had been secretly constructed on the far side of the field. Situated close to the wall, it could not be seen from where Toshiro and the other Iron Masters stood. Steve applied a touch of left rudder to bring the speeding trolley into line with the ramp. He’d been keeping the stick forward to keep the wheels firmly on the ground but, as he hit the ramp, he pulled it hard back and found himself sailing through the air. This was the bit there hadn’t been time to rehearse. Steve and Cadillac had been over the ground and agreed it was feasible. But only just.
A collective gasp of surprise left the throats of the invited guests and watching workers as the stub-winged trolley took off. Rising steeply like a heron from a marsh, it cleared the stone wall by at least twenty feet and continued to climb.
Beyond the wall was a narrow stretch of boggy ground spinkled with tussocks of long grass, and beyond that a large pond whose far end was fringed with trees. As Steve crossed the edge of the pond at a height of fifty feet, the last two rockets cut out. The trolley, whose glide characteristics were only marginally better than those of the humble house-brick, promptly went into a steep dive. Steve stood it on its tail to lose speed, then took a deep breath as it wallowed drunkenly out of the stall and went in more or less ass-first. Kerr-SPLUNCH!
The watching Iron Masters burst into great guffaws of thigh-slapping laughter as a huge cloud of spray rose into the air above the wall. Toshiro’s enjoyment was tempered by his concern about the fate of his chosen assassin, but even he found himself smiling broadly.
Min-Orota’s samurai-major, who had travelled with a ten-strong party from Ba-satana to watch the demonstration, turned to the Herald and gave him a comradely slap on the shoulder. ‘Ha! If this long-dog can make carts fly like chickens, then you and I will soon have horses that can fly like eagles!’
‘That day cannot come soon enough for me,’ replied Toshiro.
Jodi and Kelso, who were up and running as soon as Steve left the ground, were the first over the wall. Jodi, like the Herald, was genuinely worried; with Kelso, it was more a case of wanting to be there when they picked up the pieces. His unforgiving half had been hoping to see that self-satisfied grin wiped off Brickman’s face when he hit the wall; the other half had been tinged with grudging concern for a fellow wingman who had drawn the short straw. But the lucky sonofabitch had gotten away with it again and was now wading ashore draped in green slime. Behind him, the crumpled stub-wing floated in the middle of the pond, surrounded by a few broken struts.
They met Brickman as he stepped ashore with a cheerful grin. He had blood running down one side of his face.
‘Go back in and wash that gunk off,’ said Jodi. ‘You smell just awful.’
Steve obeyed meekly.
‘You must be crazy pulling a stunt like that.’ Neither she nor Kelso had known about the ramp.
‘You got it wrong, lady. I didn’t volunteer. I was drafted.’
‘Nyehh, what the hell, it worked,’ growled Kelso. ‘These birds are gonna fly.’
‘Looks that way… ’ Steve took hold of Kelso’s outstretched hand and clambered back on to firm ground.
Jodi checked his scalp wound. ‘You’ll live.’
Kelso eyed him keenly. ‘Kaz tells me these rockets were your idea.’
‘That’s just between the three of us. Officially it’s all down to Mister “Brickman” – okay?’
‘Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you about him. Who the hell is he – and why is he using your name?’
‘Dave, I’d like to tell you, but… it’s a long story and it would only confuse you.’
They picked their way back towards the wall through the tussocks of marsh grass. A handful of Trackers were gathered on the other side. Having seen he was in one piece and on his feet, they hadn’t bothered to climb over. As far as they were concerned he was only another stinking Mute – and a nosy one at that.
Steve scrambled over the wall ahead of the two wingmen and skirted round the waiting linemen.
‘Hey, Kelso! Make sure you wash that hand o’ yours!’ said one of them loudly. ‘Touchin’ lump-shit makes your fingers fall off.’
The others greeted this jibe with raucous laughter and looked expectantly at Steve, but he averted his eyes and ran limping across the field towards the workshops.
*
‘Well done,’ said Cadillac, as Steve stopped to massage his knee. The visiting Iron Masters had all departed. ‘You okay?’
Steve grimaced. ‘Yeah. I just twisted this leg a little. How did it go your end?’
‘Terrific. They’re over the moon. That lift-off put them in a really good mood. Ryoshi – the head of the party that came down from Ba-satana – is one of Min-Orota’s top men. He says we can have whatever materials we need. They want to move ahead as fast as possible. All the plans under construction are to be completed. They’re talking about putting on some kind of display for the Shogun.’
‘Good. Did they say anything about drafting in more people to speed things up?’
‘Yes. But they won’t be Trackers.’
‘Japs.’
‘No. They’d lose too much face working alongside us. They’ll probably be Koreans or Vietnamese.’
‘Gotcha.’ Steve tested his wrenched leg by putting his full weight upon it. It was still tender. ‘Listen, while we’re on the subject of dinks, I saw a horse tied to one of the hitching-posts out front. Had this black cloth on its back, trimmed with red –’
‘It’s called a “caparison”…’
Steve ignored the interruption ‘– and there were red doo-dabs –’
‘Tassels…’
‘– hanging from the reins. Did you, by any chance, see who it belonged to?’
‘Yeah. Toshiro Hase-Gawa. He’s a Herald to the Inner Court.’
‘Sounds important…’
‘He is important.’ Cadillac gave Steve a concise explanation of the Heralds’ role, their position in the government hierarchy and their special relationship with the Shogun.
Steve listened intently. He’d asked because the horse, with its red and black trappings, was identical to the one he’d encountered near Two Island Lake. So the Man in Black was Toshiro Hase-Gawa, Herald to the Inner Court, one of the ‘eyes and ears’ of the Shogun – the top man in Ne-Issan. He really was caught up in a high-level conspiracy.
Once again his gut-feeling and that silent inner voice had enabled him to put it all together. It was the Shogun who wanted the Consul-General killed. And by using a lowly long-dog, he made sure no one would ever be able to point the finger at the prime mover. Neat. Steve was prepared to keep his side of the bargain to secure Clearwater’s release, but what then? The Shogun, he imagined, merely had to lift his little finger and his people would be falling over themselves to ensure their safe delivery to the border. Except, of course, that, for the same reason they were using him to make the hit, they would not want to be seen doing so.
It would make things a lot easier if they could move under the Shogun’s protection, but could he be trusted? How much did he know about what was going on? Had he, for instance, bought the story about the massive air strike that would be delivered if he did not return safely with Cadillac and Clearwater? The Man in Black was a tricky customer. He might be using his position as intermediary to settle a few scores of his own.
Fascinating problem. What was even more fascinating was the intimate knowledge Cadillac had garnered about the Iron Masters. ‘Tell me,’ said Steve, ‘how do you know all this?’
‘By listening to what they say.’
Steve looked puzzled. ‘Are you telling me you understand their language? How the eff-eff did you learn to do that?’
‘The same way I learned to build airplanes.’
‘Unbelievable. Can you speak Japanese too?’
‘Yes, like a native. And just for the record I can read and write it as well.’ Cadillac checked their immediate surroundings, then uttered a fluent stream of gobbledegook.
Steve didn’t understand a word, but it certainly sounded like the real thing. He shook his head in amazement. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this before?’
‘You never asked. But forget I told you. Outlanders aren’t allowed to speak Japanese. If they found out, they’d kill me.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word.’
‘Good. C’mon, let’s go back to the house.’
‘What about the ground trolleys?’
‘Your friends can pick up the pieces. You and I have got something to celebrate.’
We certainly have, thought Steve. He found it hard to contain his excitement. Christopher! This could be the final break he’d been looking for. Ever since Jodi had told him about the yellow-card system and the arm-stamps, Steve had been trying to find a way round the problem of the paperwork. He had also discovered the small problem that Side-Winder had omitted to mention: slaves weren’t allowed to carry money. The only dink who could procure their tickets was the Herald, but Steve was not about to reveal the planned escape route to anyone he was not totally sure of. And now, the Herald would not be needed. Steve pictured the whole thing in his mind. Yeah… it was brilliant. Cadillac could do it all.
*
Seated cross-legged at the low table, Cadillac pulled the stopper on a fresh bottle of sake and filled their cups to the blue line painted round the rim. He took one and toasted Steve. To the daring young man in his flying machine.’
‘Very funny.’ Steve raised his cup in response, then took a heart-warming swallow. ‘Next time, I want something with real wings on. Otherwise you can get yourself a new assistant.’
‘You shall have it,’ said Cadillac. He examined the inside of his cup thoughtfully, as if he was trying to work out why it was empty. ‘Look, I know you took a tremendous risk, but it worked perfectly. I know how these people’s minds work. When they saw that cart take off it really made their day.’
‘Glad to hear it. It almost put paid to mine.’
‘Yeah. For a minute I thought it was going to flip right over, but… ’ Cadillac replenished Steve’s cup and refilled his own.
Steve couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just drink it straight from the bottle.
‘… you got away with it yet again. You’re the luckiest man I know. Cheers.’
It sounded more like a reproach than a compliment. ‘Don’t lose heart,’ said Steve. ‘After a few more stunts like that it may run out on me.’ He downed some more sake. He’d put on an air of bravado when he’d waded ashore, but his insides had been shaking like a Seamster working a jackhammer. The sake brought almost instant relief. He’d have to watch it. A guy could get to like this stuff. He laid his cup firmly on the table and held it there. ‘So… what next?’
‘That’s easy. You helped me design that two-seater. I’m going to teach you to fly it.’
Steve stared at him for a moment, then laughed. ‘That should be an interesting experience, but do you really think it’s necessary?’
‘Absolutely. You’re going to take up the rocket-powered prototype. After all, it was your idea.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘It’s very simple. Apart from myself, there are only two other people here with flight experience. Kazan and Kelso. I’m not going to put their lives at risk until the system’s been properly tested – in the air.’
‘And that’s where I come in.’
‘Exactly. I hate to say it, but you’re the best man for the job. That’s why I want you to take it up.’
‘Okay, but why the pretence?’
It was Cadillac’s turn to laugh. ‘You’re not usually this slow to catch on. Must be the sake.’ Cadillac tipped his head back, drained his cup in one gulp, then banged it down on the table. ‘You’re a grass monkey, Brickman. Endowed with a certain, limited intelligence but basically an unskilled, untutored savage. Never mind. I have decided to take you under my wing – so to speak – and as part of your education I am going to teach you to fly.’
‘Smart move,’ said Steve. ‘How many crack-ups am I allowed?’
‘None. You’re a fast learner.’ Cadillac refilled his cup and toasted Steve for the third time.
‘The average at the academy is ten hours. Better make it fifteen.’
‘We’ll make it twenty. You’re not that clever.’
Steve raised his cup with a rueful smile and started to empty it a sip at a time. The ground tests had only used a short burn. The rockets they planned to fit to the flying-horses would last twice as long. But, unlike a normal power plant, there was no throttle and no cut-out. Once they ignited that was it. You just had to sit there and ride it out. Provided the acceleration didn’t rip the wings off, he did not foresee any insurmountable problems. Not with the aircraft, anyway. ‘This is all fine with me, but how about the dinks? Are they going to let you do this?’
‘Do what?’ Cadillac’s voice was starting to slur.
‘Teach me to fly. As you just reminded me – I’m a Mute.’
‘I don’t see what you’re getting at.’
‘Aren’t the Iron Masters going to end up flying these things?’
‘That’s the general idea. So what?’
‘Well… they don’t even let low-ranking dinks ride horses. They’re reserved for samurai – like these airplanes you’re making. Won’t they object to a slave becoming a pilot?’
‘I don’t see why they should,’ replied Cadillac. ‘Trackers are slaves too. Okay, they may be better educated and some may possess high-level technical skills, but the Iron Masters don’t place any greater value on their lives. That’s because there’s not enough of you in Ne-Issan to form a useful workforce on their own – on top of which you can’t reproduce yourselves. As far as the Japs are concerned, we’re all lumped together at the bottom of the heap and we’re all expendable.’
‘Except you,’ said Steve.
Cadillac greeted the proposition with a lopsided grin. ‘Yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.’ The bottle of sake clattered against the rim of the cup as he refilled it. ‘But I heard something today which may oblige me to, uhh… cut short my stay.’
Steve waved away the offered bottle. ‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah… I overheard Min-Orota’s people talking as they were on their way out. If the flight tests using these rockets prove satisfactory they’re going to send a group of samurai to Heron Pool for pilot training.’
Steve’s mind swiftly grasped the possibilities this move opened up. ‘Congratulations.’
Cadillac eyed him sullenly. ‘They may be a little premature.’
‘I don’t understand. Isn’t this what you expected?’
‘That wasn’t all I heard. The Japs who have been looking over our shoulders are all craft-masters.’
‘So…?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? They’re drafting in their own people to help us complete this first batch. When the samurai earn their wings they’ll be in a position to teach others to fly.’
‘Yeah, go on…’
‘And they will also have learnt every detail of the production process. We could find ourselves surplus to requirements.’
All this was music to Steve’s ears, but he couldn’t resist clawing back a few points. ‘Me and the other guys, perhaps, but not you, surely – after all you’ve done?’
Cadillac eyed him but he didn’t say anything.
Steve could see the Mute was steadily drinking himself into insensibility, but he was still able to feel that little shaft drive home. Time for another. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming. Haven’t you been reading the stones?’
‘Not since I saw the pain and grief you were going to bring. You’re bad news, Brickman.’
Steve kept it light. ‘Hey, c’mon! That’s past history. What happened wasn’t my fault. “The Path is drawn.” Isn’t that what Mr Snow said? I’m here ’cause I’m trying to help. Why don’t you grab a reading-stone and get an update on what’s due to happen to us?’
Cadillac shook his head wearily. ‘Won’t work. I’ve looked, but I… can’t find one.’
‘But there has to be –’
‘Oh, sure, they’re here. I just can’t see them anymore.’ He raised his cup of sake. ‘This seems to have dulled my perception.’
‘Pity,’ said Steve. ‘Guess we’ll just have to work round it.’ He would have liked to know if they were going to get away – but on the other hand it meant Cadillac didn’t have a clue about what was going to happen. It was better that way. If he was brought in on the escape plan, then had yet another change of heart, it would only complicate matters even further.
Cadillac tried to bolster his morale with another stiff shot of the pale yellow liquor, but he couldn’t keep his steely-eyed act together. His voice cracked and his face crumpled. He leaned forward quickly and massaged his cheeks and forehead in an effort to hide his tears. ‘Why is it my life always falls apart whenever you appear?’
