The Dragon and the Needle

by Hugh Franks

  ‘Mike, you look miles away,’ she said.

  As he looked at her he felt certain she could be opening new doors. In light of Dorman’s last ideas about ENDS, perhaps this was a golden opportunity to go forward. The enigma might be unravelled much quicker than anyone thought.

  ‘Sorry, I’m not really miles away at all. I’m here, sitting on your couch, thinking of our next moves, of the need for me to know more about acupuncture, and,’ he paused, ‘of you.’ He soon solved that by putting his face within inches of hers. They kissed and laughed together.

  ‘Now this all calls for a small Anglo-American celebration,’ he said.

  It was arranged that they should have the celebration at Mike’s London club. His bodyguard would of course be in attendance at a nearby table. The man was delighted to have Eleanor’s secretary Julie as company.

  It did not take long for Eleanor to encourage Mike’s interest in acupuncture and Oriental medicine, although she knew she was going against Ah-Ming’s directives. And she knew she would have to tread carefully.

  She continued her explanations of the therapy at the celebration dinner. She felt safe in Mike’s club. Eleanor spoke of the energy contained in the universe and related by the ancient Chinese to the human body. They called this energy ‘Qi’, which she explained is pronounced ‘chee’. Qi flows continuously to all the various parts of the body, along channels known as meridians. But when she continued to describe the meridians as being represented as lines drawn on acupuncture charts, he suggested, ‘Lines? You mean veins and arteries!’

  ‘No, I don’t, Mike. Blood flows in its denser forms through those vessels. The meridians are subtler.’

  He listened, but without showing his thoughts. He knew that the existence of the meridians could not yet be proved. The BMA journal had long ago discussed that fact. He said, ‘Those meridians … there isn’t an adequate explanation for them, is there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re about to tell me that the existence of these meridians cannot be proved?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, clever you! As if you didn’t know that.’ Her smile was part mischief, part satisfaction.

  He knew she must understand his doubts. They both possessed fine, precise minds, understanding, anticipating each other’s thoughts. Eleanor talked more about the philosophy of the Chinese, relating it to their medical practises. Mike began to show deeper interest when he heard her say, towards the end of the dinner, that the father of her Chinese husband was a brilliant acupuncturist, adding ‘He was caught by the Japanese in the Second World War.’

  ‘And he died in the camp?’

  ‘No, Mike, far from it. He survived, and in the process saved many Japanese soldiers from death from tropical diseases, illness and wounds.’

  Mike smiled slightly saying, ‘I’m surprised. I’d have thought he would have preferred to kill them.’

  ‘Why should he have done that? The soldiers were human beings. He was a doctor.’

  The evening wore on, and it was not until they were leaving that she said to Mike, ‘My husband’s father also killed some of those Japanese.’

  ‘How did he manage to get away with that?’

  She frowned and paused before replying, ‘He was lucky, I reckon.’

  It was not easy for Eleanor to wake up when her telephone rang in the early hours of the following morning. By the time she managed to lift the receiver the caller had rung off. Then she found it difficult to fall asleep again. But as she thought about Mike she was glad to feel his interest in Oriental medicine was growing. She would build on that – but Ah-Ming must never find out! She wondered how far she could let the increasing affection they had for each other develop. There was so much at stake for them both.

  At that precise moment Mike too was awake thinking about her. He had just tried to telephone her, but had rung off realising she must be in a deep sleep. At first disappointed at not speaking to her, he became more relaxed as he thought about her, his love for her. The closer they became, the more he would want to protect her. He fell into a troubled sleep.

  The telephone by Eleanor’s bed began to ring once more. This time she was awake and immediately picked up the receiver. It was Ah-Ming.

  His voice was firm yet apologetic, but Eleanor found it difficult to keep her hands from trembling as he spoke slowly. ‘It’s possible that soon you will be asked to go to France.’

  She cut in quickly. ‘What on earth are you telling me! And why call me at this hour? Have you heard of the elementary thing called phone tapping?’

  ‘We know that there is no tapping of your phone. We know how to check such simple devices. I repeat that you will be asked to go to France. Perhaps that will be the beginning of a closer contact with your husband …’ He broke off.

  She fought her fear, yet there was a quaver in her voice. ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’

  ‘All will be revealed to you at the proper time. Who knows, perhaps even Dr Clifford will finish up on the side of China!’

  In her mind’s eye she could see his smile. What did he mean by that? And what was China really trying to do? She became reflective, thoughtful and full of the echoes of Chinese sayings, the mind of the Orient. A mass of uneasy fantasies burst in on her troubled senses. She was haunted by a new and fearful thought: was there some kind of counter-espionage?

  She heard his voice, questioning her, ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Yes, and I can’t begin to understand.’ Eleanor had always been too ready to believe what people said.

  ‘Can’t understand?’ Ah-Ming said sharply.

  ‘I can’t …’ Was there a note of hysteria in her voice? She started again, ‘I can’t understand what you are saying to me.’ As she said those words she regained some confidence – sometimes to argue back gave strength. ‘First you talk about my husband, assuming I believe he’s alive … then what makes you think for a moment, that Dr Clifford would be on anyone’s side? Let alone China! He is a doctor!’ She paused. Was Ah-Ming still there? She had not heard him ring off. ‘Hullo? Hullo!’ she repeated, then, ‘Are you there?’ There was no reply. The line had gone dead.

  Before she finally fell asleep, Eleanor began to concentrate her thoughts on her future. Especially the immediate future. How far was the CIA involved? And Mike? He must be involved at the highest levels, but not with China, nor any Oriental country, nor would he ever be tied to a foreign power or group. Ah-Ming was playing games. Were these mystery deaths really murders? Purpose killings? Was Oriental medicine being used as a means of … She checked her thoughts and sat upright in bed. Then her thoughts came rushing back into her brain. Professor Dorman’s death was murder, obvious assassination. But the others throughout the world? There was no known cause. Perhaps Dorman was beginning to know too much? He had to be killed quickly.

  She got up and went across to the window. As she looked out at the quiet street below she thought of the changes taking place in her life. Her eyes travelled upwards to the sky. A full moon was appearing from behind fast-moving clouds. She looked at her watch. It showed four o’clock. The full moon was near the Tiger Day and she remembered that Tiger Days were propitious in China for military adventures.

  ‘What have I done?’ she said aloud, and then silently to herself: It’s not a question of what I have done, but what I’m going to do.

  Later that day she was having lunch with Mike. As he spoke to her about the intelligence branches in London, he covered briefly the need for her to be vetted by the Americans.

  She said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because that’s the way it’s done. And not only vetted.’ He paused, looking into her eyes with love and concern and went on, ‘They may want to send you on a course, teaching you how to look after yourself.’ He hesitated again, but smiling at her, said, ‘Though I’ll always be around to help.’

  ‘Look after myself?’ She felt sick inside.

  He sensed her mood, and took one of her hands in his. ‘Look, Eleanor, m
y commitment to all this is total. Not only to bring to justice Dorman’s killers but also to stop these terrible deaths!’

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  ‘And for the moment,’ he continued, ‘you say we must not tell anything to the police.’

  ‘No!’ She took her hands away from his and stared into her after-lunch coffee cup. Mike glanced across to the table where his bodyguard was sitting. The man was in deep conversation with a colleague, but frequently looked in his direction.

  Mike lowered his voice to a loud whisper. ‘Eleanor,’ he murmured and the quietness of his voice made her look up at him quickly, ‘MI5, the CIA, and others, all of them, they’re in this up to their necks. So are we!’

  ‘I realise that, Mike.’ She thought, the less said, the better.

  He went on, quietly. ‘Somewhere in the world there is some one, or some group, or country, intent on destroying our civilised way of life. Whatever we think of our civilisation, it’s all we’ve got. A way of killing is being used against us. We’ve got to do all we can to defeat it.’

  ‘The way you’ve put it makes me feel like it’s a kind of crusade.’

  She understood what he meant. It was time for her to stop rummaging through her mind on rights or wrongs. It was like drinking a glass of clear cold water, that cleanses the system on a hot day.

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m ready to do what I can to help.’

  Although Mike had warned Eleanor, the vetting, screening, questioning and speed of interviews came as a surprise. For a few days no one contacted her, not even Ah-Ming. Then the letter arrived in her office from the American Embassy.

  She glanced at the American Eagle on the envelope. As she pulled out the letter from its envelope she guessed what she would read; as she did so her heart missed a beat: so this was it! ‘Read on!’ she said aloud. It was straight to the point:

  Dear Doctor Johnson,

  Would you be kind enough to call me here at the Embassy on receipt of this? It’s a matter of some importance and urgent …

  The letter finished with the writer’s extension number.

  Eleanor reached for her direct outside line and dialled the Embassy. The extension number was answered immediately. The man’s voice had that quiet air of authority possessed by diplomats. It thanked her for calling so quickly, and asked her if nine o’clock the next day would be convenient for her to call at the Embassy to see him. When she hesitated, he firmly, though politely, insisted she must come tomorrow. She agreed, and he had the final word. ‘It could be wise,’ the man said, ‘to begin organising the temporary shut-down of your medical practice.’ He rang off abruptly, not giving her time to agree or disagree.

  Well, she thought, here we go!

  Within a few minutes she was calling her friend Margaret again. She came to the point immediately. ‘Can you take over my patients from tomorrow?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Margaret said. ‘For how long?’

  ‘At least a month.’

  ‘A month!’ Margaret laughed into the telephone. ‘Some people are lucky!’ Then she said seriously, ‘I’m glad you’re going to have a rest. Are you going away?’

  ‘Not exactly, Margaret,’ Eleanor spoke with care, her lips against the mouthpiece. ‘I have to go to France to see a sick patient and then escort her back to New York, where she lives.’

  ‘Aren’t there any relatives who could help?’

  ‘No, that’s the problem.’ She marvelled at herself, that lying came so easily to her – she seldom resorted to untruths. ‘Whilst I’m in the States, there are some loose ends I want to tie up there.’ She waited for Margaret to speak, but there was only a leaden silence. Eleanor spoke loudly, ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am. I was thinking.’

  Was Margaret such a close friend after all?

  ‘Well, if you think you can’t help,’ Eleanor said, ‘I’ll hang up, and try to find someone else.’

  ‘No, wait!’ Margaret exclaimed, afraid Eleanor would put down the phone. ‘I thought you were having a rest, and it just seems strange to me.’

  ‘What seems strange?’

  ‘That you need to go to such lengths for a patient.’

  ‘Well, why on earth shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Eleanor, are you in some kind of trouble? I can sense it in your voice.’

  Damn! Eleanor thought. I’m not such a good liar after all. She couldn’t go back now. ‘Trouble? No, certainly not. Look, perhaps I’ll have to think of another way to organise things.’

  That seemed to settle it for Margaret. ‘If you think it’s the only way you can help your patient, then of course I’ll help.’

  Eleanor breathed silently with relief and went on to explain that she might not be away for the whole month. Julie would tie up patients at Margaret’s convenience; she would send copies of all the patients’ health records. She finished by saying, ‘That’s marvellous of you, Margaret. Thanks!’

  ‘You just take care of yourself as well, my dear.’

  As Eleanor replaced the receiver, she was conscious of the great changes coming into her life. She was giving up the care of her patients instead of looking after them. The sooner it was all over, the better.

  She called Julie and asked her to come into her consulting room. She knew that this might be more difficult than the call she had just made to Margaret. Yet her lying to Margaret was actually a half-truth, for she did have a patient in France. She realised that Julie, an intelligent girl, had already sensed that Eleanor was involved in a serious drama of some sort. Mike’s bodyguard had been very secretive at the dinner they had shared, but had indicated that his responsibility was to care for Mike’s safety.

  Julie did not ask any questions, but she became disturbed as Eleanor gave her the instructions to carry out for Margaret Wormald, and the reasons for her leaving London. ‘But, Doctor, you haven’t seen your patient in France for a long time now and …’

  ‘I had a call at home from her. She’s far from well and homesick for New York. She’s over seventy – I feel I owe it to her, Julie.’

  Julie seemed reassured and said, ‘Oh, I see. I understand. Do you want me to write to her?’

  ‘No. As a matter of fact, I’ve arranged everything myself.’ As Julie showed surprise, Eleanor rapidly added, ‘The whole idea of a break appeals to me as well, Julie.’

  The young woman immediately looked happier and responded quickly. She had been worried about her boss for quite a while. ‘That’s a different matter, Doctor. You know you can leave everything safely in my hands.’

  By the following morning Eleanor was ready for her encounter at the American Embassy. She was taken down to the lower depths of the building and led into a large office. An intelligent-looking man was sitting behind a huge desk, empty except for a telephone and a large file, open in front of him. She guessed he was in his early forties. After formal introductions he watched her coolly, summing her up. Eleanor was the first to speak.

  ‘That’s a large file in front of you. Surely it’s nothing to do with me?’

  He smiled thinly. ‘Wrong,’ he said. ‘It has a lot to do with you.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘We have files on everyone who may be able to help us.’

  ‘I see,’ she replied nervously.

  ‘Oh, don’t be worried,’ he urged, ‘it’s good to know that Uncle Sam has patriots like you, willing to help him.’

  ‘In what way do you think I can help?’

  ‘I think that Dr Mike Clifford has gone some way to explain that.’

  She nodded agreement.

  ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘just as the States has been the leading military light in the United Nations, it’s also got similar influence in the World Health Organization.’

  ‘I see.’

  He leaned forward to emphasise his words. ‘Dr Johnson. There’s no need for me to beat about the bush. These mystery deaths have reached the point of becoming pandemic; not in the sense of the
cause being disease, but the way in which it’s affecting the whole world. Now there is a finger pointing in a certain direction, as to the cause.’

  ‘And what direction is that?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s towards China.’

  She frowned, and it was not missed by him.

  He stared at her. ‘It’s simple, really.’ His eyes hardened as he spoke. ‘China decided quite rightly that she could not succeed militarily against the world. So she has chosen another way.’

  Eleanor thought of Ah-Ming, and then suddenly wished that Mike was with her and then, that he had told her more of Dorman’s ideas and his own. But she reacted quickly enough. ‘And what way is that?’

  ‘That is what we have to find out!’ Then he paused, placing his hands on top of the file. ‘This file has told us a lot about your background.’ He flipped through some pages and then stopped at one of them. ‘Here, for instance, we read of your marriage to a Chinese doctor, who was later murdered.’ He looked up at her and said, ‘That must have been terrible for you.’

  She nodded slowly but inwardly prepared herself for the inevitable information that would follow.

  ‘You went back to China after his death. Why did you do that?’

  ‘I wanted to study and learn more about Oriental medicine. To carry on his work.’

  ‘And on several occasions, Doctor, when you were in Beijing, you were interrogated by the Chinese police.’

  They had dug deep, she thought. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you were detained by them.’

  ‘No, although they thought that perhaps I was politically involved.’

  ‘Why didn’t you make contact with our ambassador?’

  ‘There was no need to ask for help.’

  ‘But weren’t you a bit alarmed or frightened?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I was. But had I done that it might have made things difficult for my Chinese friends.’