"Evening, sir," he said anxiously. "We've been all through all the buildings now, from Po Shan down to here. I recommend we evacuate nineteen buildings.""Good God," Sir Geoffrey exploded. "You mean the whole bloody mountainside's going to collapse?""No sir. But if this rain keeps up another slip could start. This whole area's got a history of them." He pointed into the darkness. "In '41 and '50 it was along Bonham, '59 was the major disaster on Robertson, Lytton Road, the lists's endless, sir. I recommend evacuation.""Which buildings?"The man handed the governor a list then waved into the dark at the three levels. "I'm afraid it'll affect more than two thousand people."Everyone gasped. All eyes went to the governor. He read the list, glanced up at the hillside. The slide dominated everything, the mass of the mountain looming above. Then he said, "Very well, do it. But for God's sake tell your fellows to make it an orderly withdrawal, we don't want a panic.""Yes sir." The man hurried away."Can't we get more men and equipment, Donald?""Sorry, not at the moment, sir," the police commissioner replied.He was a strong-faced man in his fifties. "We're spread rather thinly, I'm afraid. There's the massive slip over in Kowloon, another at Kwun Tong—eighty squatters huts've been swamped, we've already forty-four dead in that one so far, twenty children."Sir Geoffrey stared out at the hillside. "Christ!" he muttered. "With Dunross getting us Tiptop's cooperation I thought our troubles were over, at least for tonight."The fire chief shook his head, his face drawn. "I'm afraid they're just beginning, sir. Our estimates suggest there may be a hundred or more still buried in that mess." He added heavily, "It'll take us weeks to sift through that lot, if ever.""Yes." Again the governor hesitated, then he said firmly, "I'm going to go up to Kotewall, I'll monitor Channel 5." He went to his car. His aide opened the door but Sir Geoffrey stopped. Roger Crosse and Sinders were coming back from the great gash across Sinclair Road where the roof of the tunnel culvert had been ripped off. "Any luck?""No sir. We managed to get into the culvert but it's collapsed fifty yards in. We could never get into Rose Court that way," Crosse said.When Rose Court had collapsed and had torn the side from the top four stories of Sinclair Towers, Crosse had been near his own apartment block, seventy yards away. Once he had recovered his wits, his first thought had been for Plumm, the second Suslev. Suslev was closer. By the time he had got to the darkened Sinclair Towers foyer, terrified tenants were already pouring out. Shoving them aside he had pushed and cursed his way up the stairs to the top floor, lighting his way with a pencil flashlight. Apartment 32 had almost vanished, the adjoining back staircase carried away for three stories. As Crosse gaped down into the darkness, it was obvious that if Suslev had been caught here, or caught with Clinker, he was dead —the only possible escape place was the tunnel-culvert.Back on the ground floor once more, he had gone around the back and slipped into the secret tunnel entrance. The water was a boiling torrent below. Quickly he had hurried to the roadway where the roof of the tunnel had been carried away. The gash was overflowing. More than a little satisfied, for he was certain now that Suslev was dead, he had gone to the nearest phone, called in the alarm, then asked for Sinders."Yes? Oh hello, Roger."He had told Sinders where he was and what had happened, adding, "Suslev was with Clinker. My people know he hasn't come out, so he's buried. Both of them must be buried. No chance they could be alive.""Damn!" A long pause. "I'll come right away."Crosse had gone outside again and begun to organize the evacuation of Sinclair Towers and rescue attempts. Three families had been lost when the corner top stories went. By the time uniformed police and fire chiefs had arrived, the dead count was seven including two children and four others dying. When the governor and Sinders had arrived, they had gone back to the open part of the tunnel to see if they could obtain access."There's no way we can get in from there, Sir Geoffrey. The whole culvert's collapsed, I'd say gone forever, sir." Crosse was suitably grave, though inwardly delighted with the divine solution that had presented itself.Sinders was very sour. "Great pity! Yes, very bad luck indeed. We've lost a valuable asset.""Do you really think he'd've told you who this devil Arthur is?" Sir Geoffrey asked."Oh yes." Sinders was very confident. "Don't you agree, Roger?""Yes." Crosse was hard put not to smile. "Yes, I'm sure of it."Sir Geoffrey sighed. "There'll be the devil to pay on a diplomatic level when he doesn't return to the Ivanov.""Not our fault, sir," Sinders said. "That's an act of God.""I agree, but you know how xenophobic the Soviets are. I'll bet any money they'll believe we have him locked up and under investigation. We'd better find him or his body rather quickly.""Yes sir." Sinders turned his collar higher against the rain. "What about the departure of the Ivanov?""What do you suggest?""Roger?""I suggest we call them at once, sir, tell Boradinov what's happened and that we'll postpone their departure if they wish. I'll send a car for him and whoever he wants to bring to help in the search.""Good. I'll be up at Kotewall for a while."They watched Sir Geoffrey go, then went to the lee of the building. Sinders stared at the organized confusion. "No chance he'd still be alive, is there?""None."A harassed policeman hurried up. "Here's the latest list, sir, dead and rescued." The young man gave Crosse the paper and added quickly, "Radio Hong Kong's got Venus Poon coming on any moment, sir. She's up at Kotewall.""All right, thank you." Rapidly Crosse scanned the list. "Christ!""They found Suslev?""No. Just a lot of old acquaintances're dead." He handed him the list. "I'll take care of Boradinov then I'm going back to the Clinker area."Sinders nodded, looked at the paper. Twenty-eight rescued, seventeen dead, the names meaningless to him. Among the dead was Jason Plumm. . . .At the wharf in Kowloon where the Ivanov was tied up, coolies were trudging up and down the gangplanks, laden with last-minute cargo and equipment. Because of the emergency, police surveillance had been cut to a minimum and now there were only two police on each gangway. Suslev, disguised under a huge coolie hat and wearing a coolie smock and trousers, barefoot like the others, went past them unnoticed and up on deck. When Boradinov saw him, he hastily guided the way to Suslev's cabin. Once the cabin door was shut, he burst out, "Kristos, Comrade Captain, I'd almost given you up for lost. We're due to le—""Shut up and listen." Suslev was panting, still very shaken. He tipped the vodka bottle and gulped the spirit, choking a little. "Is our radio equipment repaired?""Yes some of it, yes it is, except the top-security scrambler.""Good." Shakily he related what had happened. "I don't know how I got out, but the next thing I remember was I was halfway down the hill. I found a taxi and made my way here." He took another swallow, the liquor helping him, the wonder of his escape from death and from Sinders enveloping him. "Listen, as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm still there, at Rose Court! I'm dead or missing presumed dead," he said, the plan leaping into his head.Boradinov stared at him. "But Com—""Get on to police headquarters and say that I've not returned— ask if you can delay departure. If they say no, good, we leave. If they say yes we can stay, we'll stay for a token day, then regretfully leave. Understand?"