'She's not here,' I said. Time was needed. I had to think of a reason to sell him.
'You told me she was here.' It was a flat statement, made without surprise. He looked around with small and precise jerks of his head, allowing me less than half the time I needed for a spring. 'But I cannot wait for her to come.' He faced me fully again. 'My orders are to kill you on sight if possible. It is possible. The same for the woman. But she is not here. I cannot wait for her.'
My spine had begun crawling. It wasn't a human being inside that suit of clothes but a little killing machine set ticking by a specialist: Kuo.
'They've got a plan,' I said. 'The police.'
It was the only reason I could sell him.
'The police?'
It was going to be difficult because he was a machine set for the kill and the ticking could not be stopped: a clock won't stop if you shout at it.
I felt the blood gathering at my fingertips, congealing as the flow became slower, like wax congealing on a candle. The wound was closing by infinite degrees; the body had set up the automatic process of healing itself. Given two weeks it would do it, even without medicaments. There was no point. It would not be given two minutes.
'They've got a plan ready for action,' I said. 'It will leave you absolutely no chance of getting out of the city, with or without your prisoner. I know the details of their plan. I helped them with it.'
He wasn't listening. With small jerks of his head he studied the area immediately around me. I said:
'When their plan is put into action, and Kuo is caught, he'll realize that I knew the details and could have told him in time. He'll realize that in killing me you allowed him to walk into the trap they have set. What will he do to you?'
The processes of my body congealed the blood to staunch the wound and preserve life. The processes of my brain worked to the same end. But I knew I had begun to die.
'Stand by the box, please.'
He jerked the gun, indicating the nearest of the long crates. It was to my left. He was a strong youth and could easily lift my dead weight into the crate, but why should he? One dislikes shifting garbage.
'In front of the box, please. At this end of the box.' The gun jerked again.
I said: 'I value my life, like most people. Take me to Kuo and I will guarantee his. And yours.'
'Quickly, please,' he said.
The sweat began and I was suddenly angry. It had always worked before: I'd thought my way or fought my way out of corners worse than this; there were scars on me but they were living tissue, that was what mattered. Final appraisal of situation: If I didn't move over to the box he would shoot. If I moved over to it he would shoot. If I tried to go on talking he would shoot. If I leapt for him I would leap against the first bullet and the second and the third would go into me as I dropped. No go. I turned my head and looked down at my coffin.
'Move, please,' he said and there was a slight shrillness in his tone. Not command. Worse: impatience.
One always thinks, if one thinks of it at all, that when it comes to the point there'll be a fighting chance or at least a dog's chance, however big the odds, and that one's many gods will at least allow that one is not led into the dark like a beast into the abattoir.
I moved over to the box, not in obedience but because it would prolong my life by a few seconds, and in those few seconds something might happen that would allow a fighting chance, or at least a dog's chance.
Standing in front of the box I looked at him. The anger had gone and my thoughts were clear and I was even interested in what he would do with my remains. He had allowed himself an hour to return to his base, so my remains must be concealed temporarily to prevent any alarm being raised. He would probably unhook one of the kites and lay it across the box, and go.
A bizarre enough shroud.
His hand moved fractionally into the killing attitude, pressing the gun against his side to cushion the recoil.
He said, 'If you wish, you may close your eyes.'
I said, 'I thank you for your courtesy. I prefer to leave them open.'
'Very well.'
Because of the silencer the report of the gun was not very loud, though the fragile paper kites shivered to the vibration.
21 The Negotiators
There were three people in Room 6 with Loman and he got rid of them as soon as I came in, but the telephone rang and he did a lot of listening, sometimes looking across at me without any expression.
Then he hung up and said tartly: 'I have been trying to contact you.'
'You got some news?'
'Yes.' He looked at my hand again. 'I have some news. What happened to you?'
'Nothing useful. Is it official, then? The swap?'
He went shut-faced and I got fed up with him because he never liked people knowing more than he did. I stuck one haunch onto the edge of the table and waited. He couldn't stop himself asking.
'How did you know it was an exchange?'
For snatch read abduction. For swap read exchange. Never a bloody spade. I said: 'Mil. 6 told me.'
'How did they know?'
'They've known all along.'
He stared at me brightly. He looked very polished this morning, like a balloon at bursting point.
They can't have,' he said flatly. 'They would have done something about it.'
They heard there was a swap coming up but they didn't think the Person was in the running. They thought it was me.'
His small hands flew in the air. That is the stupidity of inter-Services rivalry! They knew there was an attempt going to be made against the Person. If we had shared information we would have put two and two together and pulled off a joint mission. Why don't--'
'Christ,' I said, 'have we got time to reorganize Whitehall now? Just give me the news.' My day had begun badly and I didn't want it to go on like that. I didn't even know how I could face Pangsapa: he'd given me a chance in a million on a plate and I'd mucked it.
Loman span a sheet of paper toward me across the table. 'Read that.'
There was no heading; it was just a plain typewritten original hastily done.
Precis of Release No. 34/33/L202. Official approach made through Ambassadorial channels as follows. The Republic of China informs the U.K. that certain parties at present unidentified have offered to negotiate the immediate transfer of the Person to Chinese territory against payment of the sum of Eighty Million Hong Kong Dollars. While the Republic of China has no interest in this offer it appreciates the grave anxiety felt by the United Kingdom over the situation in Bangkok and is willing to effect the safe release of the Person by such payment, given an undertaking that the U.K. will release a patriot of the Republic, by name Huang Hsiung Lee, at present under detention in Durham Prison, England, and will escort him to whatever place agreed upon so that proper exchange of the two parties can be made. The Republic of China would demand full reimbursement, at the same time, for the sum paid out. The offer is made as a gesture of amity among nations and in recognition of the inviolable rights of man.
Loman was watching me with impatience.
I said: 'So.'
He exploded with talk. 'The approach was made in the early hours of this morning and it is of course being given priority consideration. There is no question of declining the deal because no one can be sure of finding the Person before he is harmed or even killed. I am told that the exchange will in fact be made and that the arrangements are now being planned – in parallel with the intensive search currently mounted. It is thus a question of time. The exchange will take place within days from now; public anxiety in England is exerting enormous pressure on the situation – and the public will not be informed of the exchange until it has been effected, for obvious reasons.'