The Art of War by David Wingrove

Author:David Wingrove [Wingrove, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780857894236
Publisher: Atlantic Books Ltd
Published: 2013-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chen was waiting for Haavikko when he came out of the Officers’ Mess. He hung back, careful not to let the young Hung Mao see him even though he could see that he was the worse for drink. He smiled bitterly. Yes, that was in the file, too, along with all the brawling, the whoring, the gambling and all the other derelictions of duty. But that was as nothing beside the fact of his treason. Chen felt a shiver of anger ripple through him and let his hand rest momentarily on the handle of his knife. Well, he would cut a confession from him if he had to, piece by tiny piece. Because if Haavikko was behind the butchery at Helmstadt...

He stopped, moving in to the side. Up ahead of him Haavikko had paused, leaning against the wall unsteadily, as if about to be sick. But when a fellow officer approached him, he turned quickly, his movements exaggerated by drunkenness, letting out a string of obscenities. The officer put his hands out before him in apology, backing away, then turned and walked off, shaking his head.

Chen felt the bile rise again. Haavikko was a disgrace. To think what he might have become. He shook his head, then began to move again, keeping the man in sight.

Twenty levels down he watched as Haavikko fumbled with the combination to his door, then slumped against the wall, making three attempts at it before he matched his eye to the indented pad. Then Chen was moving quickly, running the last few ch’i as the door began to iris closed.

Haavikko swung round, his bleary eyes half-lidded, his jacket already discarded, as Chen came through into the room.

‘What the fuck... ?’

Chen had drawn his knife. A big knife with a wickedly curved blade that glinted razor-sharp in the overhead lights. ‘Haavikko? Axel Haavikko?’

He saw the flicker of fear in the young man’s eyes as he staggered back and almost fell against the bed.

‘Wha... what d’you want?’ The words were slurred, almost incoherent.

‘I think you know...’ Chen began, moving closer. But suddenly Haavikko was no longer awkward, his movements no longer slow and clumsy. Chen found himself thrown backward by the man’s charge, the knife knocked from his hand by a stinging blow. But before Haavikko could follow up, Chen had rolled aside and jumped to his feet again, his body crouched in a defensive posture.

Haavikko was facing him, crouched, his eyes wide, watching Chen’s every movement, all pretence at drunkenness peeled from him. He swayed gently, as if about to attack, but it was clear to Chen that that was not Haavikko’s intention. He was waiting for Chen to go for his knife, which lay just behind him by the door. It was what he himself would have done. Chen gave the slightest nod, suddenly respectful of the man’s abilities. No one, not even Karr, had ever been fast enough to knock his knife from his hand.

‘Well?’ Haavikko said, clearly this time, the word formed like a drop of acid.

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