He heard the turn of the key and managed to rouse himself to avoid the duty officer realizing how close he was to exhaustion; fully awake, Charlie realized he’d been right to fight against the collapse in the taxi on the way here. Now he felt bloody awful and some of the images still overlaid each other, more confused than they should have been.
‘You’re to come,’ announced the man.
Not that his knowing mattered, apart from pride, but Charlie managed to conceal the relief from the other man. The guards were outside and formed up into some sort of loose escort, restricting him precisely to where he was to go. It was to the main building and down a central corridor: politely Charlie indicated no interest in things that were not supposed to concern him, but there was an impression of sterility. There were no festooned notice-boards or indications of occupancy and like the CIA Residency at the American embassy none of the doors he passed showed any designation.
The communications chamber was not suspended, like those to which he was accustomed at embassies throughout the world, and it was far larger than he expected. There were telex and facsimile and photo-transmission and radio and secure telephone equipment Charlie knew how to operate, but there were also two separate banks of what appeared to be radio apparatus that he did not recognize and which he accepted he would be incapable of using. In addition there were six television sets, separated in booths with an individual chair before each. Charlie guessed they were for visual communication but wasn’t sure: the operating controls were on separate panels, linked by curled wire.
‘Do you need any assistance?’ asked the unnamed duty officer.
‘I think I can manage,’ said Charlie. ‘And thanks.’
‘There’s going to be trouble over this,’ predicted the man.
‘It seems to happen,’ said Charlie.
‘You’re to wait, for London to come through.’
‘I understand.’
‘We’ll be right outside …’ The duty officer paused and then added heavily: ‘All of us.’
The call came, on a red telephone in the second bank, minutes after the man quit the room. At once Sir Alistair Wilson said critically: ‘The only thing you didn’t provide was the colour of your underwear.’
‘After what’s happened, it might have been embarrassing,’ said Charlie.
‘Have you got the woman?’
‘Yes.’
There was a discernible sigh of relief, and the Director said: ‘Thank Christ for that.’
‘But there are problems,’ deflated Charlie, at once. Again, as in Tokyo, Wilson let him talk uninterrupted, and Charlie was surprised how quickly he was able to set out the overlapping and conflicting difficulties: something so complicated should have taken longer.
The Director didn’t waste time with comment. The moment Charlie finished, Wilson said: ‘Harry Lu needs resolving first.’
‘I don’t really blame him, in the circumstances,’ said Charlie. He owed the man that at least, from their past friendship.
‘Him, his wife and his child?’
‘English residency,’ confirmed Charlie.
‘You really believe he’d do it?’
‘To get to America instead of England, as a second choice, sure he would,’ said Charlie. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Wilson, at once.
‘Is it possible?’ asked Charlie.
‘It’ll have to be made possible,’ determined Wilson.
‘I can tell him it’s fixed then?’
There was a hesitation from London and then the Director said: ‘Yes, you can tell him it’s fixed.’
‘He’ll want more than a promise.’
‘Everything will be available, at the High Commission.’
‘Which leaves the Americans,’ said Charlie, moving on.
‘Who insist they haven’t got Kozlov,’ said Wilson. Now it was Charlie’s turn to listen without interruption as the other man recounted the exchanges at Director level. Wilson did so in complete detail, even setting out the inconclusive analysis he and Harkness had attempted, afterwards.
‘Nothing about this makes any sense at all,’ said Charlie.
‘We’ve got the woman,’ reminded the Director. ‘That’s the one positive fact. And we’ve got to keep her.’
‘US military, with transport as well as CIA,’ said Charlie.
‘We’ll send another military pick-up, right away.’
‘The Americans will go for her,’ forecast Charlie. ‘That’s why they’re here!’
This time the pause was longer than any before. Finally Wilson said: ‘Hong Kong is too diplomatically sensitive, with the Chinese take-over so close, for a major incident.’
‘What about a naval boat: get her away at sea and transfer her later on, somewhere where the Americans couldn’t interfere?’ suggested Charlie.
‘There soon won’t be a department of the British government you haven’t involved in this!’ said the Director.
‘You plan to give her up then?’
‘Of course I don’t intend to give her up!’ said Wilson. ‘A ship is a possibility: I’ll check if there are any in the area.’
‘Anything more from Tokyo, on the plane explosion?’
‘Forensic reports will take days,’ said the Director. ‘So I think Cartright should come down to you: we can monitor the Tokyo investigation through the Air attache.’
‘I think he should come down, too,’ said Charlie. ‘And more people this time on the military aircraft.’
‘There’ll be enough,’ said Wilson. ‘This time there’ll be more than enough.’
‘We might have to move from Macao,’ warned Charlie. ‘There should be an established contact point.’
‘Harry Lu?’
‘How about through the station here?’
Wilson detected the doubt and said: ‘You unsure about Lu now?’
‘He’s well known in the colony,’ avoided Charlie. ‘There could be an intercept: I’m just minimizing risk.’
‘Composite Signals is way beyond my jurisdiction,’ said Wilson. ‘There’s going to be a hell of a row as it is.’
‘I’ve been told,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s still the most secure.’
‘I’ll try to fix it,’ sighed Wilson.
‘And the documents for Lu and his family?’
‘I’m hardly likely to forget, am I!’
When Charlie emerged, the escort and the duty officer were waiting, as the man promised. Charlie grinned and said: ‘Thanks again. We might be cooperating further.’
‘There’ll need to be specific instruction from London,’ said the man, at once.
‘Of course,’ said Charlie. He wondered if rules-and-regulation men like the duty clerk and Witherspoon screwed by numbered decree and then thought no; they probably didn’t screw at all.
‘Entry documents for a man on the suspect list!’ Harkness’s usually pink face was deep red now, flushed with outrage.
‘We don’t have any alternative.’
‘It’s blackmail!’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Director, evenly. ‘That’s exactly what it is.’
‘Muffin was specifically precluded from involving the man.’
‘He didn’t have any alternative either.’
‘It’s going to take months, placating the Foreign Office and the electronic surveillance division and clearing up the mess that the confounded man has caused,’ insisted the deputy.
‘Charlie’s got Irena Kozlov,’ pointed out Wilson. ‘That’s what he was sent out to do.’