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Hal had suggested he go with him and see Ben’s room.
    He had stood in the centre of the tiny, cluttered upstairs room, looking at the paintings that covered the wall above the bed.
    Some were lifelike studies of the Domain. Lifelike, at least, but for the dark, unfocused figures who stood in the shadows beneath the trees on the far side of the water. Others were more abstract, depicting strange distortions of the real. Twins figured largely in these latter compositions; one twin quite normal – strong and healthy – the other twisted out of shape, the eyes blank, the mouth open as if in pain. They were disturbing, unusually disturbing, yet their technical accomplishment could not be questioned.
    ‘These are good, Hal. Very good indeed. The boy has talent.’
    Hal Shepherd gave a small smile, then came alongside him. ‘He’d be pleased to hear you say that. But if you think those are good, look at this.’
    The T’ang took the folder from him and opened it. Inside was a single ultra-thin sheet of what seemed like pure black plastic. He turned it in his hands and then laughed. ‘What is it?’
    ‘Here,’ Shepherd indicated a viewer on the table by the window, then drew the blind down. ‘Lay it in the tray there, then flick that switch.’
    Li Shai Tung placed the sheet down in the viewer. ‘Does it matter which way up?’
    ‘Yes and no. You’ll see.’
    The T’ang flicked the switch. At once the tank-like cage of the viewer was filled with colour. It was a hologram. A portrait of Hal Shepherd’s wife, Beth.
    ‘He did this?’
    Shepherd nodded. ‘There are one hundred and eighty cross-sectional layers of information. Ninety horizontal, ninety vertical. He hand drew each sheet and then compressed them. It’s his own technique. He invented it.’
    ‘Hand drew… ?’
    And from memory. Beth wouldn’t sit for him, you see. She said she was too busy. But he did it anyway.’
    Li Shai Tung shook his head slowly. ‘It’s astonishing, Hal. It’s like a camera image of her.’
    ‘You haven’t seen the half of it. Wait…’ Shepherd switched the hologram off, then reached in and lifted the flexible plate up. He turned it and set it down again. ‘Please…’
    The T’ang reached out and pressed the switch. Again the viewing cage was filled with colour. But this time the image was different.
    The hologram of Hal Shepherd was far from flattering. The flesh was far cruder, much rougher than the reality, the cheeks ruddier. The hair was thicker, curlier, the eyebrows heavier and darker. The nose was thick and fleshy, the ears pointed, the eyes larger, darker. The lips were more sensual than the original, almost licentious. They seemed to sneer.
    Shepherd moved closer and looked down into the viewer. ‘There’s something of the satyr about it. Something elemental.’
    The T’ang turned his head and looked at him, not understanding the allusion.
    Shepherd laughed. ‘It was a Greek thing, Shai Tung. In their mythology satyrs were elementary spirits of the mountains and the forests. Part-goat, part-man. Cloven-hooved, thickly-haired, sensual and lascivious.’
    Li Shai Tung stared at the urbane, highly sophisticated man standing at his side and laughed briefly, bemused that Shepherd could see himself in that brutal portrait. ‘I can see a slight likeness. Something in the eyes, the shape of the head, but…’
    Shepherd shook his head slowly. He was staring at the hologram intently. ‘No. Look at it, Shai Tung. Look hard at it. He sees me clearly. My inner self
    Li Shai Tung shivered. ‘The gods help us that our sons should see us thus!’
    Shepherd turned and looked at him. ‘Why? Why should we fear that, old friend? We know what we are. Men. Part mind, part animal. Why should we be afraid of that?’
    The T’ang pointed to the image. ‘Men, yes. But men like that? You really see yourself in such an image, Hal?’
    Shepherd smiled. ‘It’s not the all of me, I know, but it’s a part. An important