Quiller's Run

Loman gave a sigh, hamming it. Pepperidge looked at Flood.

'Go and give it another try.'

'Yes, sir.'

He left us, clearing his throat to fill the silence, embarrassed, I suppose. And I quite agree, I can be terribly common, you know, when the mood hits me, but listen, I'd spent the whole bloody day holed up in a funny farm waiting for a top hit man to come for my head and there'd been two false alarms on the lawn out there and then I'd had to fight for my life in a lavatory and worst of all I'd finally had to take his away from him and now this bastard, I think you know who I mean, was trying to con me into going on with the mission and I was fed up to the back teeth, don't you understand?

'Let's just sit down for a minute, shall we?'

Loman.

So I sat down, dropped, actually, onto the couch, rather fatigued, yes, just as Mr Loman had suggested so courteously just now. I heard a breath come out of Pepperidge, relief, I dare say; he wanted this mission to go on because he'd been right in at the beginning and he'd still be my director in the field and earn himself a nice bit of credit if we got the job done.

He sat down on the other end of the couch and caught sight of something pink stuck in the cushions and pulled it out, pair of lace panties, glancing up at us and shoving them in his pocket, 'That kind of club,' an awkward laugh, Loman sitting there in the velvet wingback chair, face like a po, he probably didn't even know what the bloody things were, can you imagine Loman with a woman, you must be out of your mind.

He started talking, but I didn't take much of it in, because nothing he could say was going to change my mind; it was just nice sitting down again, that was all, various bits of the anatomy still throbbing, the hand quite painfully, I assumed they knew what they were doing at the clinic when they'd put the stitches in, no risk of infection, we'd been in the lav at the time, after all.

' – and I want you to know in any case,' Loman's voice floated in and out of my consciousness, 'that this place is under day and night observation by undercover officers of the Singapore police, with orders to arrest any loiterers on sight. So this isn't a safe-house, it's a fortress.'

Quite impressive. I would have been quite impressed, if in fact I'd needed a safe-house, or even a fortress for that matter.

'Secondly, if you have any misgivings about the death of Manif Kishnar, there will be no repercussions.' He was speaking with a lot of care, a lot of articulation, wanting me to understand every word, but the fact was, I wasn't interested, it was just pleasant sitting down instead of standing up, and the idea now occurred to me that it would be even more pleasant to lie down in a nice soft bed.

' – and you will appreciate that the government of Singapore is every bit as desirous of continuing peace in Asia as every other power in this -'

'Loman.'

He stopped. I got up and found some balance and stood looking down at him, and the fact that I was rather tired now didn't diminish the pleasure I was going to get in the next few seconds, because in the next few seconds I was going to blow this little bastard right out of his overweening bloody complacency. I made an attempt to mimic his studied articulation, but whether or not it came off I didn't know and didn't much care.

'I don't want to waste your time, so you should know that I haven't the slightest interest in anything you have to tell me.' He sat with his eyes turned upwards in a blank stare. 'I do not intend going on with the Shoda mission, and nothing you can say will change my mind. I repeat – nothing.'

He went on staring and I went on standing there. Pepperidge hadn't moved. Then Loman did. He gave one of his long-suffering sighs, got his briefcase from the end of the couch, stood up and without a glance at either of us walked away between the tables and through the doors, and as I watched him I had to fight down a wave of disgust, because everything I'd done since I'd come out here to Singapore had gone for nothing, was down the drain, including six lives lost, one of them ours, gone for nothing.

End of mission.

I don't know how long I stood there, wishing Loman would walk out of here under a bus, wishing Pepperidge, a man I'd come to like, come to respect, hadn't conned me into an abortive enterprise, wishing I could go and lie down somewhere and let the throbbing in the blood slow to the delta rhythm of sleep.

'Still can't get her to answer, sir.'

Man standing there. Flood.

'She's not at the High Commission?'

'No. They haven't seen her.'

Something trying to get through to me, but possibly unimportant. Ignore.

'Keep on trying her flat.' Pepperidge.

'Will do, sir.'

Got my attention now.

'You talking about Katie?'

He looked at me, Pepperidge, face was bleak.

'Yes.'

'What's up?'

'She's missing.'

28 The Deal

'How much does she know?'

'Not a great deal.'

He didn't like the way I'd fetched him back.

'So she's expendable?'

Loman hedged. 'She's not… indispensable.'

'So if you can't find her, what're you going to do? Throw her to the dogs?'

Flood had got us some black coffee and I was back on the cutting edge. It was Loman who looked as if he could use some sleep now; it was gone one o'clock and I suppose he was still under jet lag.

'I shall be instructed,' he said, 'from London.'

'London.' I thought about that. 'Who, in London?'

'Mr Croder.'

Oh really. Chief of Control.

Pepperidge eased himself back onto the couch, looking beaten. The last twenty-four hours had been a strain for him too, knowing he'd have to blow his own cover with me and confront me with Loman.

''Croder started this?' I asked Loman. 'He initiated the whole thing?'

It was important to know. At the Bureau Croder ranked about equal to the Holy Ghost.

'Yes.' Loman was still standing, briefcase hanging from his right hand, polished shoes neatly together. 'But I rather believe you said you weren't interested in anything I had to tell you.'

He'd had to get that bit over and I'd been waiting for it, and he'd put it exactly the way I'd known he would, 'I rather believe", oh my God.

I just ignored it, of course. 'When was she last seen?'

'She left her office,' Pepperidge said, 'soon after ten this morning. Yesterday morning. I've been trying to contact her ever since then because Mr Loman wants her report.'

'What report?'

'Just routine.'

Fair enough. The London end was out here suddenly and he'd want to debrief everyone in the field as a matter of course.

'Quiller,' he said in a moment, 'since you are now prepared to listen to me, I have a question for you.'

'Well?'

'It's obvious to you that what concerns us is that McCorkadale might have been seized by the Shoda organisation to be held as a hostage in a potential exchange for you. And since you know a very, very great deal more than she does, and since you are the sole obstacle standing in the way of the Shoda organisation's projected coup in Southeast Asia, my question is this. If the opposition contacts us and offers to release McCorkadale in exchange for you, what would be your decision?'

He was standing with his head lowered, looking upwards at me in an attitude of intense concentration. I was aware of Pepperidge at the edge of my vision, equally intent. A faint singing noise began somewhere; Flood had left the coffee percolator plugged in on the marble wall-table, and its thermostat had just cut in again. Loman was still waiting.

'I'd do it,' I said.

I heard Pepperidge suck in his breath.

Loman kept his cool. 'You would surrender to the opposition?'

'I'd have no choice. If I refused, they'd begin torture and let me know, and they'd finally kill her out of hand in any case.'