In the chill of this place with its marble and stone and hard surfaces I began feeling the outbreak of sweat. This English gentleman with his style and his manners was not only formidably strong, he was formidably intelligent. It had crossed my mind that he could have been sent to Bombay by some other branch of the Secret Service, but he hadn't used a word of the language, and that's always the dead giveaway.
I would have said he was from Beijing, not London.
'Protecting my operation," I asked him, 'in what way?'
'Oh, keeping a watching brief, that's all. I told Wang Su-May to look after you, and I got you away from the temple out there where you killed that KCCPC agent, got your head fixed up, offered you sanctuary, nothing major, but helpful, I hope you feel. Try a few knee bends, what do you say?'
'My head's clear enough now.'
'Oh, good. Well the crux of it is, Locke, that I can't any longer protect you. That much is obvious.'
'Not to worry.'
He was left-handed; I'd noticed that before. If I could do anything at all I'd have to go in on his right side; he hadn't turned his back to me since he'd come in here. He wasn't Secret Service — 'operation,' not 'mission,' 'sanctuary,' not 'safe house' — but he was nevertheless a professional, not to be underestimated — I could go in on his right side or anywhere else but I could get myself killed if I got it wrong.
Nothing could be relied on. It wanted ten minutes, now, to six o'clock, but nothing could be relied on, and those ten minutes could give me the last chance I'd get.
'Let me,' Trotter said, 'put it briefly for you.' His thick arms hung easily, and this too I noticed. 'You need perspective. Your operation is very big, and it's sponsored by H.M. Government and its intentions are to secure the future of the Chinese Republic and incidentally to save Hong Kong. Now I take that very seriously, of course. But try to understand that I am now in a position to take over — that I have to take over — if those aims are to be achieved.' His massive head on one side — 'Trust me.'
Dr Chen moved and I turned my head to keep him in the periphery of my vision field. 'Look,' I told Trotter, 'time is of the essence for me too, and I've got to go now.'
Just to see what he'd say.
'I'm afraid I can't let you.'
Tone softer, no smile now. The Chinese was lighting another lamp, that was all.
'I'm afraid you've got to.'
The double doors were heavy, twenty-five feet away. I couldn't see any other exit although there were some broken-down screens leaning in a corner, could be a door there. But if I got that far, got outside, there would be people of his there and they'd be trained killers, because that was the kind of cell this man was running.
'If I let you go,' Trotter said quietly, 'you'd get yourself arrested within the hour. The police are looking for you and the military are going through this town systematically, work it out for yourself.' He took a step toward me. 'You know what the PSB agents are like — they'd flay you alive until you told them all they wanted to know, and you'd give me away and they'd come for me too and they'd have me shot for harbouring a criminal. You know this. You know this.'
Dogs still fighting over something out there, and the sound of a truck now. The light in the stained-glass window had died to an ember's glow. Eight minutes, seven, more like seven.
'You worry too much, Trotter.'
Slight reaction for the first time: he didn't like being made light of. Just a flicker, deep in his eyes. Perhaps I could work on that, unbalance him emotionally, enough to give me an edge.
'I was born,' he said, 'in China. I spent my first ten years there, first with a nanny and then a tutor, at a British consulate. Then England, of course, prep, public, Oxford, but my first country is China, and my love for its people is deep and abiding.'
Getting down to basics: here was his soul.
The altar bowls were heavy brass, small enough to use in one hand, big enough to use as a curved blade and to kill, given the necessary force to split the skull. There was nothing else — I'd have to break the screens up before I could make a weapon. The best chance would be to work on his nerves with the bare knuckles, use science, not bloody bric-a-brac, the sweat springing on the flanks now, time running out, five minutes, less.
'When did you hear I'd got something going?' I asked him.
Head on one side. 'Sojourner was indiscreet. So you see, I'm prepared to do a lot for China. That's why I'm here now, to take over your operation. And be assured-' his huge hand rose in a gesture of avowal- 'be assured that I shall see our friend safely in Beijing according to plan.'
I thought I'd better put it on the line, because I needed to know exactly what I was up against. 'If I let you leave here with him, I mean supposing I trusted you to see things through, where would I stand?'
The heavy brows lifted, I think he was surprised, thought I already knew the answer to that one. 'You can't use this as your sanctuary forever. You'll have to show yourself in the streets, tomorrow or the next day. You're a risk, you see. You'd expose me as soon as those buggers in the PSB got down to the questions.' A little shrug- 'and I can't afford that. It could destroy my plans for him, for us all.' Another step closer. 'There would be nothing personal, you must understand. It's a question of expedience.'
These things happen when there is a great deal at stake, but believe me, I feel bad about him — he was nothing more than a holy man doing what he believed was right.
I heard myself asking a strange question, those bloody birds on my mind, I suppose.
'Would I be given burial?'
Chapter 23: Needle
'Burial? Only if you insisted, and if we had time.'
'A dead body's going to attract attention.' Trotter was within six feet of me now, still not close enough.
'But it couldn't be made to talk. Forgive me for putting it like that. I have great admiration for you, and if things had turned out better you would have completed your operation and our friend would have reached Beijing under your aegis, and I personally would have been mightily pleased.' He took another step closer, perhaps because Chen was here, and understood English, and this was an intimate matter we were talking of now, Trotter and I, my death at his hands, directly or otherwise. 'I can only hope it's a consolation for you to know that your goal will be reached, nevertheless.'
This worried me too: he wasn't putting it on, wasn't enjoying this. He meant what he was saying, that he would have to kill me to keep me quiet, crudely put, if you like, but that was the crux of the matter. And he'd feel genuine reluctance, genuine sorrow, and it worried me because it gave him deadly credibility.
I needed to know more; the organism was clamouring for information: my eyes were measuring the distance between us and the height of the carotid artery on the right side of his neck and noting that his left foot was slightly in front of his right and would spin him effectively out of reach if he was faster than I when I moved; my ears were sifting the aural data available: street sounds, the moan of the wind gusts through the cracks in the wall, alert for anything that could give me clues to the environment outside; but it was my mind that was desperate for information on a level far more subtle, and it could only get it from the mind of the man in front of me.
'Why did you take him by force like that from the monastery, get a man killed to do it? Why didn't you contact me instead, as soon as you started thinking I couldn't get him to Beijing, and ask me to hand him over?'
A smile of disbelief. 'You would have agreed?'
'Just wanted to know if you were listening.' But I'd learned a bit more. 'So where do we go from here?'