"We should not talk here," said the Chinese.
"I like the open air," said Simmons. "No one can hear us."
"Someone could hide over there," said the Chinese, and pointed to where Craig lay hidden.
"There's a guard there," said Simmons, and Craig froze. The Chinese looked satisfied and began to talk, and Craig, guard or no guard, listened. This was big stuff indeed, the biggest he had ever heard. After a moment he eased out, testing every touch of hand and foot before he risked his weight, until at last he could crouch, and look for the guard. He saw a foot at last, protruding from a dry ditch, and moved carefully to it, peering over the edge of the ditch, ready to dive before the man could yell. He was a big man, rather negroid, and he was fast asleep. Craig slithered down the ditch and looked at him. The man didn't move. There was an empty food dish beside him, and a water bottle. Craig spoke softly, then shook the man, but still he slept. Drugged. Craig shook the water bottle. There was still some in it. He poured it on to the ground and the thirsty earth received it avidly. Soon it would disappear completely. Craig looked back toward the bushes, and behind them the murmur of voices, and wished he had been able to carry a gun.
* * *
Boris and Istvan were by the hotel pool, in swimsuits. Craig changed and joined them. They sat beneath a beach umbrella, and talked with Tania, who looked luscious and terrifying at the same time in a green sundress exactly the color of her eyes. She turned to Istvan at once and said: "Go and swim."
Istvan seemed to go from his chair into the pool in one movement; on his face was a look compounded of terror, bewilderment, and passion, like a rabbit in love with a stoat.
"You went to the Villa Florida," she said. "After all I told you—"
Craig said: "Cut it out. You knew I would go. You set it up for me. You knew it last night, when you told me Simmons was here. You kept Brodski out of the way this morning—and you slipped some knock-out drops to the guard in the back of the garden. Which was it—the food or the water?"
"The water," Tania said. "If they have it analyzed—"
"They won't," said Craig. "I poured it away." She looked pleased. "You also had one of your tails check to see if I had a gun. I hadn't. If I had I suppose you'd have stopped me."
"He can't die yet," said Tania. "First the money."
"I could have killed him anyway," said Craig. Boris looked at him then, a careful speculation in his eyes.
"Why did you let me go there?" said Craig.
"To learn the way in," she said. "You and Boris must go back tonight."
Craig nodded. "You been there?"
"With Brodski. To the villa only. Not to the garden."
"Meet the Chinaman?"
So far her manner had been easy, the movement of her hands pretty and flirtatious, a woman on holiday having a drink with two men. Now one hand came down on his forearm, pink nails nipped.
"What Chinaman?" she said.
Craig looked down at her hand, and she took it away at once.
"Simmons called him Chan," said Craig. "Little man. About fifty. Limped on his left foot."
"I know him," said Tania. "Go on."
Craig looked again at his arm. There was a hairline of blood where her nail had struck. "He doesn't like you," said Craig. "Any of you. You betrayed the revolution, and Lenin and Stalin, and Marx, too, for that matter. Worst of all—you betrayed Chairman Mao."
Boris said: "It isn't part of your agreement for you to mock my country."
Tania spat out Russian and he shrugged, but he stayed angry.
"Chan wishes you to look foolish," said Craig. "He knows a way."
"Go on," said Tania. "Go on."
"Next week Russia is sending a Sputnik to the moon," said Craig. "It will have men on it. It will land on the moon."
Tania and Boris sat frozen.
"You didn't know this?" asked Craig.
"Of course not," said Tania. "Go on."
"The thing is, it won't go to the moon at all. It'll land in New Mexico."
"But that's impossible," said Boris.
"Nothing's impossible if you pay a million pounds," said Craig.
"But who will they bribe?" asked Tania.
"It's been done," said Craig. "And they didn't say. It'll look like a breakdown, I suppose. The computer will be programmed wrongly. General ball-up. Crash landing. And the astronauts come out in the U.S.A. Won't that be funny? Your president ringing up their president and saying, 'Please, can we have our Sputnik back?' "
"A Russian wouldn't do it," said Tania.
"Maybe," said Craig. "But are they all Russians on that project? No East Germans, no Poles, no Czechs? Or Mongolians, say—blokes in touch with China?" He paused. Boris was sweating now. "There's another thing," he said. "Suppose it isn't funny? Suppose your blokes think the Americans set it up? Would you go to war for a Sputnik, Boris?"
"Not just for that," said Boris. "But if there were other things—"
"There will be," said Craig.
"If there were, Simmons would die," said Tania.
"He'd be in China," said Craig. "He'd have a chance."
"But Brodski never told me—I mean, he didn't have this knowledge. Or I would have known."
"Brodski doesn't know," said Craig.
"I must tell my people at once," said Tania.
"I agree," said Craig. "But will they believe you?"
He got up then, and dived into the pool. Istvan swam up to him in a frenzied dog paddle.
"Mr. Craig, forgive me, but I have very little time," he said.
"Of course," said Craig.
"I think—after the job—that Boris will kill me."
"I think so too," said Craig.
They swam across the pool and sat on its side. Beneath the umbrella, Tania and Boris talked with furious concentration.
"In Siberia I didn't mind if I died," Istvan said. "But now I have seen women again—real women. Last night was too much. I refuse to die now, Mr. Craig."
"Good for you," Craig said. "How are you going to do it?"
"Best I should kill Boris," said Istvan.
"I'm afraid not," Craig said. "I'd have to stop you."
"But I'm working for you," Istvan wailed.
"You are, on Boris's strength," said Craig. "And Tania's of course. You'll have to take it up with them."
He dived back into the water, and swam across. At the table the whispered Russian words went on. Craig permitted himself a cigarette.
Tania said: "I must send this message." Craig nodded. "But it's so difficult. General Chelichev— there are people, important people, who do not like his idea that we should work with you."
"I bet there are," said Craig.
"These people will say that you lie."
"That seems inevitable."
"Craig, please. Is there any way at all to prove what you have said?"
"There's Chan," said Craig.
"There is also Simmons," said Boris.
"Simmons will die," said Craig.
"No," said Tania. "We must have Simmons alive."
"Chan's all you need, surely," said Craig.
"Chan is on a diplomatic mission here. He stays with the governor. He has immunity. It will be hard for us to get to him, just now at any rate. Simmons is much easier."
Craig rose. "It's time for my nap," he said.
"You will stay," said Boris. "You must."
"I'm sorry," said Craig. "My psychiatrist says I have to have a nap every now and then. This is one of the times. Too bad I can't help you with Simmons—but there it is. He really has to die." He started to go, then turned. "I suppose you'll be having the Villa Florida watched. As a matter of fact, we are too, now that we know where it is."
The ceiling was high, the room cool, and Craig lay on his back, hands by his sides, absorbed in the height, the coolness, letting his mind float above his problems in the tall, shuttered room. The great thing about Chan's scheme was that it didn't have to work. Even if the men to be bribed were blown the Russians would still be very angry indeed, and their anger would be directed against the United States. That was all China cared about. Simmons would want rather more for his millions; so if the thing was blown now—but that raised its own problems. Tania believed him when he said that Russian security would hardly be pleased about information from a British agent. Nothing could persuade the Russians that Department K—or any other department—didn't work for Washington, so the best that Craig could hope for was that the Russians would think he was a defector, in which case they would still suspect the United States. Chelichev had had a hard time establishing the existence of BC: there were plenty of men in the Kremlin who still denied its existence. The only safe thing was to take the money, and get rid of Simmons. Tania could try kidnapping Chan if she wanted to, but even in terms of expediency, it would be better if Simmons died. He stared again at the ceiling, but his mind refused to float any more. The checks Sir Matthew Chinn had built into his psyche took over. He knew he was lying. Tania needed Simmons. She had to have him. Brodski wouldn't do. He didn't know enough. Chan might be unobtainable. Simmons was the only one. Simmons alive. Craig began to sweat as he resisted what his reason told him. But there was no other answer. Simmons had to live. Once the fact was accepted, he began to think about Istvan, about the robbery, about Medani. His mind reviewed the coastline around Tangier, the place where the power launch would wait, the second line of retreat up the coast if anything went wrong. First the money, then Simmons. Brodski would be at the villa too, and Jane. It would be dangerous to take them all alive. And yet to kill them wouldn't