Dunross got up, grunted as a stab of pain went up his back."You're not hurt, I hope?" Gornt asked.Dunross laughed and felt better, the fright of entombment wearing off. "No. Give me a hand will you?""What?"Dunross pointed into the wreckage with his light. Now Gornt could see the old man. "I got trapped down there trying to get him out." At once Gornt moved to help, squatting down, moving what rubble they could to increase the crawlspace."His name's Clinker. His legs're a mess and he's lost a foot.""Christ! Here, let me do that." Gornt got a better grip on the slab, shifted it away, then jumped down into the cavity. In a moment he turned back and peered up at Dunross. "Sorry, the bugger's dead.""Oh Christ! You're sure?"Gornt lifted the old man like a doll and ,uey put him into the open."Poor bugger.""Joss. Did he say where he was in the building? What floor? Was anyone with him?""He muttered something about caretaker, and being underneath the building, and something about, I think he said Mabel."Gornt put the flash all around. "Did you hear anything or anyone?" "No.""Let's get him out of here," Gornt said with finality. They picked him up. When they were in the open and relatively safe they stopped to get their breath. Some stretcher bearers were nearby. Dunross beckoned them. "We will take him away, Honored Lord," one said. They bundled the body onto a stretcher and hurried off."Quillan, before we get back to Casey. She sai—" "About Bartlett? Yes, she told me he was in Orlanda's place." Gornt watched him. "Her flat was on the eighth floor."Dunross looked down the slope. There were more lights than before. "Where would that have ended up?" "He's got to be dead. The eighth floor?" "Yes. But whereabouts?"Gornt searched the hillside. "I can't see from here. I might recognize something, but I doubt it. It'd be, it'd be down there, almost at Sinclair Road.""He could be alive, in a pocket. Let's go and look." Gornt's face twisted with a curious smile. "You need him and his deal, don't you?" "No, no not now.""Bullshit." Gornt clambered onto an outcrop. "Casey!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "We're going below! Go back to the barrier and wait there!"They heard her call back faintly, "Okay, be careful!" Then Gornt said sourly, "All right, Gunga Din, if we're going to play hero, we'd better do it right. I lead." He moved off.Equally sourly, but needing him, Dunross followed, his anger gathering. The two men worked their way out. Once clear, they scrambled down the slope. From time to time they would see a body or a part of a body but no one they recognized. They passed a few frantic survivors or relatives of those missing, pathetically digging or trying to dig with their hands, a broken piece of wood—anything they could find.Down at the bottom of the slope Gornt stopped, his flashlight examining the wreckage carefully. "Anything?" Dunross asked. "No." Gornt caught sight of some bedraggled curtains that might have been Orlanda's but it had been almost two years since he was in her apartment. His light hesitated."What is it?""Nothing." Gornt began climbing, seeking clues to her apartment or to the Asian Properties apartment on the fifth floor. "That could be part of Plumm's furniture," he said. The sofa was torn in half, the springs akimbo."Help! Help in the name of all gods!" The faint Cantonese cry came from somewhere in the middle of this section. At once Gornt scrambled toward the sound, thinking he recognized Four Fingers, Dunross close behind, up and over and under. In the center of a mass of debris was an old Chinese man, bedraggled, covered with rubble dust. He was sitting in the wreckage, looking around perplexed, seemingly unhurt. When Gornt and Dunross came up to him he grimaced at them, squinting in their light.At once they recognized him and now he recognized them. It was Smiler Ching, the banker. "What happened, Honored Sirs?" he asked, his Cantonese heavy-accented, his teeth protruding.Gornt told him briefly and the man gasped. "By all the gods, that's impossible! Am I alive? Truly alive?""Yes. What floor were you on, Smiler Ching?""The twelfth—I was in my living room. I was watching television." Smiler Ching searched his memory and his lips opened into another grimace. "I'd just seen Little Mealy Mouth, Venus Poon, and then . . . then there was a thunderous noise from the direction of Conduit Road. The next thing I remember is waking up here, just a few minutes ago, waking up here.""Who was in the flat with you?""My amah. First Wife is out playing mah-jong!" The small old man got up cautiously, felt all his limbs and let out a cackle. "Ayeeyah, by all the gods, it's a fornicating miracle, tai-pan and second tai-pan! Obviously the gods favor me, obviously I shall recover my bank and become rich again and a steward at the Turf Club! Ayeeyah! What joss!" Again he tested his feet and legs then clambered off, heading for safety."If this mess was part of the twelfth floor, the eighth should be back there," Dunross said, his light pointing.Gornt nodded, his face taut."If that old bastard can survive, so could Bartlett.""Perhaps. Let's look."8411:05 P.M. :An army truck swirled up in the heavy rain, spattering mud, and stopped near the command posts. Irish guardsmen in fatigues and raincoats, some with fire axes, jumped down. An officer was waiting for them. "Go up there, Sergeant! Work alongside R.S.M. O'Connor!" He was a young man and he pointed with a swagger stick to the right of the slide, his uniform raincoat, boots and trousers mud filthy. "No smoking, there's still a bloody gas leak, and get the lead out!""Where's Alpha Company, sir?""Up at Po Shan. Delta's halfway. We've an aid station on Kote-wall. I'm monitoring Channel 4. Off you go!"The men stared at the devastation. "Glory be to God," someone muttered. They charged off, following their sergeant. The officer went back to his command post and picked up the field telephone. "Delta Company, this is Command. Give me a report.""We've recovered four bodies, sir, and two injured up here. We're halfway across the slope now. One's a Chinese woman called Kwang, multiple fractures but all right, and her husband, he's just shook up a bit.""What part of the building were they in?""Fifth floor. We think the heavy-duty girders protected them. Both casualties're on their way to our aid station at Kotewall. We can hear someone buried deep but, glory be, sir, we can't get at him —the firemen can't use their oxy-acetylene cutters. The gas's too heavy. Nothing else in our area, sir.""Keep it up." The officer turned around and snapped at an orderly, "Go and chase up those gas board fellows and see what the hell's holding them up! TeU'em to get their fingers out!""Yes sir."He switched channels. "Kotewall Aid Station, this is Command. What's the score?""Fourteen bodies so far, Captain, and nineteen injured, some very bad. We're getting their names as quick as we can. Sir Dunstan Barre, we dug him out, he just has a broken wrist.""Keep up the good work! The police've set up a missing persons station on Channel 16. Get them all the names, dead, injured, everyone, quick as you can. We've some pretty anxious people down here.""Yes sir. The rumor's we're going to evacuate the whole area.""The governor, commissioner and the fire chief 're deciding that right now." The officer rubbed his face tiredly, then rushed out to intercept another incoming truck with Gurkhas from the Engineers Corps, passing the governor, commissioner and senior fire officer who stood at the central command post under the foyer overhang of Sinclair Towers. A white-haired engineer-surveyor from the Public Works Department got out of a car and hurried over to them.