‘It’ll be difficult, trying to proceed on a case like this, with the legal muscle that Lu can employ, with only a sworn statement.’
‘ Can you guarantee a court hearing? ’
The constant demand, from every Chinese official he’d met. Johnson was right, accepted Charlie. And the Foreign Office statement would only be a copy. Would the company lawyers be prepared to go into court on anything less than the original?
‘Yes,’ said Charlie. ‘It’ll be difficult.’
‘I’d like a fuller statement, later on,’ said the police chief.
‘Of course.’
‘Maybe tomorrow?’
Johnson put the question more to the doctor than to Charlie.
‘Certainly the X-rays show there’s no fracture,’ said the white-coated man cautiously. ‘But there’s undoubtedly concussion. I’d like to keep him under observation for a few days.’
‘Tomorrow,’ insisted Charlie. There was an uncertainty in his mind, a doubt he could not even formulate. Little more than instinctive caution. But it was there, nagging more intrusively than the pain. And there was something else. The danger of the ambassador’s memory. And Jones’s curiosity.
‘That might not be wise,’ protested the doctor. ‘You’re lucky not to be more seriously hurt.’
‘How lucky?’
Charlie put the question to Johnson. The policeman stared back at him curiously.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘How long was it before the border guards got to me?’
Johnson made an uncertain movement.
‘We don’t know. They didn’t see the beginning of the attack, obviously. By the time they got there, you were unconscious and there wasn’t a sign of anyone who’d attacked you.’
‘Or the briefcase?’
‘Or the briefcase,’ confirmed Johnson.
‘One of the men had a knife,’ said Charlie. ‘The one who did the talking.’
Johnson looked at the doctor.
‘Nothing but head injuries,’ insisted the man. ‘And minor grazing consistent with being knocked to the ground.’
‘There was a knife,’ insisted Charlie. ‘I saw it.’
They didn’t understand, he thought.
‘So they obviously got the briefcase without having to use it,’ said Johnson easily. ‘We can get it all down in the statement.’
‘I wish you’d give yourself more time,’ said the doctor.
They thought the knife was a hallucination, decided Charlie.
‘I can sign myself out, as I could in England?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said the doctor.
‘I’ll agree to stay overnight,’ promised Charlie. ‘But tomorrow I’ll leave.’
It would be ridiculous even to try tonight, he knew. He’d collapse and lengthen the period in hospital.
‘You’ve had at least four severe blows to the head,’ said the doctor.
‘But there’s no fracture.’
‘Concussion can be as bad.’
‘A night’s rest will be sufficient.’
‘Why don’t I call tomorrow?’ suggested Johnson, moving to intercede. ‘To see how you are.’
‘At the hotel,’ said Charlie finally.
The doctor’s hostility spread to the nurse who remained after everyone else had left. She moved jerkily around the room, showing her irritation in the briskness with which she moved, tidying up after the policemen.
‘Would you like a sleeping draught?’ she asked.
‘Please,’ said Charlie. Without help, he knew, he’d never rest.
She returned within minutes with some brown liquid in a tiny medicine glass, waiting by the bedside until he swigged it down.
He relaxed back upon the pillow she plumped for him.
‘Good night,’ she said.
‘Good night.’
‘Something is not right, Charlie,’ he said to himself, after she had gone. But what the hell was it?
He began to feel the approach of drowsiness. He turned on the pillow, looking towards the door through which the girl had just left.
Jesus, he thought, as sleep overtook him, I hope that girl is not a gambler.
The ache was still there, but far less than the previous night. Little more than a hangover discomfort. And he’d endured enough of those. The growing belief that he knew what was happening helped. Always the same excitement, the awareness that he had realised something that no one else had. He needed more, though. A damned sight more. But at least he had found the direction in which to look for it. At last. And Charlie’s Rules, too. Not Judge’s.
‘I wish you’d stay,’ said the doctor.
‘There are things I must do.’
‘What?’
‘Reports to be made to London, apart from the statement to the police,’ he said glibly.
‘Nothing that couldn’t wait.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ said Charlie. And would have to continue to be, no matter what happened.
The doctor moved his shoulders, abandoning the attempt.
‘These might help,’ he said, handing Charlie a phial of pills. ‘And if you start vomiting, get back here immediately.’
‘I will,’ promised Charlie.
The nurse of the previous day entered, frowning when she saw that Charlie was already dressed.
‘Damned glad you don’t play mah-jong or follow the horses,’ Charlie greeted her.
The girl stared at him.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Forget it,’ said Charlie.
‘Sure you’re all right?’ demanded the doctor.
‘Positive,’ insisted Charlie. It had been a bloody silly thing to say. Irrationally, it had been his first thought upon awakening and from it had come the conclusion that was exciting him.
‘You won’t change your mind?’
‘No.’
Charlie walked slowly to the hospital elevator, conscious of the movement against the corridor floor jarring up into his head. There was a slight nausea deep in his stomach, but he knew it was not from the head wounds. He was actually aware of the customary discomfort from his feet; that had to indicate some improvement.
He reached the hospital reception area and had just realised the need for a car when he heard the shout and turned expectantly.
‘Hi there,’ called Harvey Jones.
‘Hello,’ said Charlie. He’d anticipated the approach, but thought it would be back at the hotel. He’d underestimated the man’s keenness.
‘Heard you got mugged,’ said the American. ‘How is it?’
‘Still painful,’ admitted Charlie. ‘Who told you about the attack?’
‘Superintendent Johnson. I’ve been keeping in touch with him.’
‘Oh?’
‘Thought you might get into contact when you returned from Peking.’
‘You knew I was there, then?’
‘Sure,’ admitted Jones easily. He motioned towards the forecourt. ‘I’ve got a car. Can I give you a lift?’
‘Thank you,’ said Charlie.
He relaxed gratefully into the passenger seat, feeling the ache in his body now, as well as his head, and aware how much it had taken from him to travel even this short distance. The doctor had been right. He should have stayed.
‘How did you know I’d gone to Peking?’ pressed Charlie.
‘Kuo Yuan-ching told me.’
The American had been easing the car out into the jammed streets but he risked a sideways glance to assess Charlie’s reaction.
‘Quite open about it, was he?’
‘Why shouldn’t he have been?’
‘No reason,’ agreed Charlie. ‘Did you try for a visa?’
Again there was a glance from the American, to gauge any sarcasm.
‘Yes,’ he said shortly.
‘But he wouldn’t give you one?’
‘Said it might take months to process. That’s why I wanted to know the moment you got back.’
‘Why?’
‘We promised to pool everything we found, remember?’
‘I remember,’ said Charlie. ‘What have you come up with?’
The car was bogged in traffic and the American turned completely towards Charlie.
‘You smart-assing me?’
Charlie returned the look, his face open with innocence.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Why should I?’
The traffic moved and Jones had to look away.
‘We’re going to work together soon. And you’d better believe it,’ said the American.