The 9th Directive

'Scarface.'

'I've had no information on her, of course.'

It was never possible to tell when he was lying. In his game it was one of his assets. I let it go. He talked for a bit to see if he could gleam anything from my mood. He would have given a lot just for one crumb, one small crumb of hope. Before I left him I said, 'All right – I've got two more days.'

I went straight back to the Pakchong and had my two cases sent down to the car. It looked as though Loman didn't know who she was or why she was hanging on so I would just have to fade. Occasionally you get a fool girl with a built-in do-it-yourself Mata-Hari kit in her wig and they play hell all over the departments, picking bus-tickets out of the w.p.b. and sending them to Codes and Ciphers. This was one of them. They lived in their own cold-war dream world and talked out of the side of their mouths – 'Don't cross into China' – that sort of thing. This one had roped in a couple of clerks from Cultural Aid for Distressed Pomeranian Pavement Artists and put them onto my track, in between cozy bedtimes.

I spent ten minutes in the thick of the city with both eyes on the mirror and jabbing the Toyota heel-and-toe through the corners to shake off any possible tag, then made a straight line for a safe hotel near the Pan-Am office. I had used it before and the management was still the same.

Then I worked till midnight and drew blank.

There was a message from Loman the next day: Pangsapa was trying to contact me. It took an hour to find him but I didn't lose patience; if he had information on Kuo it was worth the whole day. He was supervising a shipment at one of his wharves along the Chao Phraya and I had to wait until he had given orders for his overseer to take charge.

'We will go into my office,' he lisped. 'You will have some tea, I hope?'

There's no time, Pangsapa.' Tea in this latitude meant a protracted ceremony.

He wore Western clothes today and his office was functional in design so that our meeting had the appearance of the mundane, as if a householder were taking out a mortgage with the help of life insurance. Except that looking into these quiet yellow eyes I remembered the beautiful fish.

'I understand,' he said considerately. 'People tell me that your time is very short, and very limited. I wish I could be of some further use. That's why I hoped you might come to see me.'

He had the manner of a bargainer and I tried mentally to put a price on his information – if he had any, and if it would lead me to Kuo. But there were the imponderables: even if I found Kuo it wasn't certain that I could stop him from making his kill. How much would the Bureau go to, with the life of the Person in hazard?

There was no time for bargaining. They'd have to pay what it said on the ticket.

'Let's use short words, Pangsapa. You wanted to see me and I'm here.'

He nodded. 'Very well. I'll be brief. First, I've no information for you. I don't know where he is. But I would like to help you find him before it's too late. That might expose me – or friends whom I cherish – to some danger.' He got up from his desk and looked from the big low window. The shadow of a crane swung across him. I believed him to be genuinely interested in the loading of his shipment and I cursed him for not being as interested in Kuo. 'You see,' he said without turning from the window, 'I don't know much about you, Mr Quiller. I don't know how dangerous your work is, or to what degree I and my friends would share your dangers if we took' – he swung his head and looked straight at me – 'exceptional measures to help you.'

I said: 'It's no go. I'm on a mission – you know that. And you know what it is. There's nothing I can add.'

His wistful smile appeared. 'If you want me to help you find this man it would be natural for me to ask you more about your mission. After all, they are practically the same thing. But I won't press you. Just tell me about yourself, as distinct from your present work.'

I leaned forward and cupped my face in my hands. The light from the big window burned my eyes.

'Particularize,' I said.

I heard him sitting down again.

'Are all your missions dangerous, Mr Quiller?'

'I'd be safer in bed.' It was all my subconscious could think about. Sleep.

'Do you always work in an official capacity?'

'There's an office behind my work, just as there's an office behind the work of shipping snow.' A bit impolite. To hell. He had no bloody information.

'Does the Government reward you sufficiently for the dangers you're asked to face?'

God knows I'd asked him to use short words but this was getting basic. I said:

'Make me an offer, and tell me for what.' I emerged from my hands because I needed to watch him now.

'You mustn't misunderstand me,' he said quickly. 'It's so difficult, you see, having to put my questions without any concession to subtlety. It makes them seem so crude. The Occidental can do it, and it has its advantages – it must save so much time at the conference tables. But "short words" are difficult currency east of :he Mediterranean, so you must forgive me.' With what seemed an effort to be accommodating he leaned toward me and said: 'I'll put all my questions into one. What is your status?'

'In London?' I didn't like his drift but the only alternative to following it was to shut up and I had to find Kuo and Pangsapa might work the trick. Tomorrow was the last day. 'You mean how important am I to the Government?'

That would be a way of putting it, yes.'

Maybe he was just bargaining, wanting to know how much I could call on. The last time I had been good for fifty thousand baht.

I said: 'You've heard of Abel?'

'I have.'

'Lonsdale?'

'I have.'

'I'd say I'm about their weight.'

He nodded slowly. Thank you. You see, I like working with big people. I can do more for them and they can do more for me.'

I got up, annoyed with him. It was quite simple. He had impressive information sources and his network had told him that I was up against it and having a bad time trying to find Kuo, so he'd got me along to question me and assess the price. There was nothing wrong with bargaining: a value has to be set on goods. I was annoyed with him only because the deadline was so appallingly close and money wasn't important. Maybe that was because the Bureau was going to fork out, not me.

'All right, Pangsapa. If you can give me a lead on Kuo before noon tomorrow what's it going to cost?'

He came round the desk and stood as close to me as any Oriental will ever stand to his companion.

'Nothing.'

He was known to be a man who would do anything for money, unless Loman's dossier on him was duff. I asked:

'With how many noughts?'

He really took my little indiscretions remarkably well. 'You may put it down to what you called my "undying love for the monarchy" if you wish. I will tell you simply that although I have no information at present on the whereabouts of this man I will make every effort to help you find him. I may not be lucky, but I will try. And if I succeed it will cost you nothing.'

He opened the door for me and we stood on the timber balcony overlooking the dockside where the crane was still swinging. There was no point in asking him to explain and I was too jaded to worry the thing so I just said, 'You can always contact me through Loman.'

I went down the steps.

The heat was worse now. The sun was turning the city to brass and it burned under the haze. The Toyota had become an oven because I couldn't always park in the shade.

That day I worked nineteen hours and I drew blank. There was no word from Pangsapa.

The next morning I tried to contact Loman by telephone at three places – his hotel, the British Embassy, and the safehouse – and had no luck. So it was at twelve noon when we met in Soi Suek 3 according to routine.