'It's a fabric of lies, Cathy old girl,' Ian had said. 'For what purpose, I can't fathom. '
'My source is legitimate, old darling. What do you smell?'
'Rancid odours, my dear. Someone is taking a great risk for a sizeable objective. He's covering himself, of course – one can buy anything over here, including silence – but the whole damn thing's fiction. Do you want to tell me more?'
'Suppose I told you it's Washington-oriented, not UK?'
'I'd have to contradict you. To go this far London has to be involved. '
'It doesn't make sense!'
'From your viewpoint, Cathy. You don't know theirs. And I can tell you this – that maniac, Bourne, has us all on a sticky wicket. One of his victims is a man nobody will talk about. I won't even tell you, my girl. '
'Will you if I bring you more information?'
'Probably not, but do try. '
Staples sat at her desk filtering the words.
One of his victims is a man nobody will talk about.
What did Ballantyne mean? What was happening? And why was a former Canadian economist in the centre of the sudden storm?
Regardless, she was safe.
Ambassador Havilland, attaché case in hand, strode into the office in Victoria Peak as McAllister bounced out of the chair, prepared to vacate it for his superior.
'Stay where you are, Edward. What news?'
'Nothing, I'm afraid. '
'Christ, I don't want to hear that!'
I'm sorry. '
'Where's the retarded son of a bitch who let this happen?'
McAllister blanched as Major Lin Wenzu, unseen by Havilland, rose from the couch against the back wall. 'I am the retarded son of a bitch, the Chinaman who let it happen, Mr Ambassador. '
'I'll not apologize,' said Havilland, turning and speaking harshly. 'It's your necks we're trying to save, not ours. We'll survive. You won't. '
'I'm not privileged to understand you. '
'It's not his fault,' protested the undersecretary of state.
'Is it yours?' shouted the ambassador. 'Were you responsible for her custody?'
'I'm responsible for everything here. '
'That's very Christian of you, Mr McAllister, but at the moment we're not reading the scriptures in Sunday school. '
'It was my responsibility,' broke in Lin. 'I accepted the assignment and I failed. Simply put, the woman outsmarted us. '
'You're Lin, Special Branch?'
'Yes, Mr Ambassador. '
'I've heard good things about you. '
'I'm sure my performance invalidates them. '
'I'm told she also outsmarted a very able doctor. '
'She did,' confirmed McAllister. 'One of the best in the territory. '
'An Englishman,' added Lin.
'That wasn't necessary, Major. Any more than your slipping in the word Chinaman in reference to yourself. I'm not a racist. The world doesn't know it, but it hasn't time for that crap. ' Havilland crossed to the desk; he placed the attaché case on top, opened it and removed a thick manila envelope with black borders. 'You asked for the Treadstone file. Here it is. Needless to say, it cannot leave this room and when you're not reading it, lock it in the safe. '
'I want to start as soon as possible. '
'You think you'll find something there?'
'I don't know where else to look. Incidentally, I've moved to an office down the hall. The safe's in here. '
'Feel free to come and go,' said the diplomat . 'How much have you told the major?'
'Only what I was instructed to tell him. ' McAllister looked at Lin Wenzu. 'He's complained frequently that he should be told more. Perhaps he's right. '
'I'm in no position to press my complaint, Edward. London was firm, Mr Ambassador. Naturally, I accept the conditions. '
'I don't want you to "accept" anything, Major. I want you more frightened than you've ever been in your life. We'll leave Mr McAllister to his reading and take a stroll. As I was driven in I saw a large attractive garden. Will you join me?"
'It would be a privilege, sir. '
That's questionable, but it is necessary. You must thoroughly understand. You've got to find that woman!'
Marie stood at the window in Catherine Staples's flat looking down at the activity below. The streets were crowded, as always, and she had an overpowering urge to get out of the apartment and walk anonymously among those crowds, in those streets, walk around the Asian House in the hope of finding David. At least she would be moving, staring, hearing, hoping – not thinking in silence, half going crazy. But she could not leave; she had given her word to Catherine. She had promised to stay inside, admit no one and answer the phone only if a second, immediate call was preceded by two previous rings. It would be Staples on the line.
Dear Catherine, capable Catherine – frightened Catherine. She tried to hide her fear, but it was in her probing questions, asked too quickly, too intensely, her reactions to answers too astonished, frequently accompanied by a shortness of breath as her eyes strayed, her thoughts obviously racing. Marie had not understood, but she did understand that Staples's knowledge of the dark world of the Far East was extensive and when such a knowledgeable person tried to conceal her fear of what she heard, there was far more to the tale than the teller knew.
The telephone. Two rings. Silence. Then a third. Marie ran to the table by the couch and picked up the phone as the third bell began. 'Yes?'
'Marie, when this liar, McAllister, spoke to you and your husband, he mentioned a cabaret in the Tsim Sha Tsui, if I recall. Am I right?'
'Yes, he did. He said that an Uzi – that's a gun-'
'I know what it is, my dear. The same weapon was supposedly used to kill the taipan's wife and her lover in Macao, wasn't that it?'
'That's it. '
'But did he say anything about the men who had been killed in the cabaret over in Kowloon? Anything at all?'
Marie thought back. 'No, I don't think so. His point was the weapon. '
'You're positive. '
'Yes, I am. I'd remember. '
'I'm sure you would,' agreed Staples.
'I've gone over that conversation a thousand times. Have you learned anything?'
'Yes. No such killing as McAllister described to you ever took place at the Lisboa Hotel in Macao. '
'It was covered up. The banker paid. '
'Nowhere near what my impeccable source has paid – in more than money. In the coveted, impeccable stamp of his office which can lead to far greater profits for a very long time. In exchange for information, of course. '
'Catherine, what are you saying?'
'This is either the clumsiest operation I've ever heard of, or a brilliantly conceived plan to involve your husband in ways he would never have considered, certainly never agreed to. I suspect it's the latter. '
'Why do you say that?'
'A man flew into Kai Tak Airport this afternoon, a statesman who's always been far more than a diplomat. We all know it but the world doesn't. His arrival was on all our print-outs. He demurred when the media tried to interview him, claiming he was strictly on vacation in his beloved Hong Kong. '
'And?'
'He's never taken a vacation in his life. '
McAllister ran out into the walled garden with its trellises and white wrought iron furniture and rows of roses and rock-filled ponds. He had put the Treadstone file in the safe, but the words were indelibly printed on his mind. Where were they? Where was he?'
There they were! Sitting on two concrete benches beneath a cherry tree, Lin leaning forward, by his expression, mesmerized. McAllister could not help it; he broke into a run, out of breath when he reached the tree, staring at the major from Special Branch, MI6.
'Lin! When Webb's wife took the call from her husband -the call you terminated – what exactly did she say?'
'She began talking about a street in Paris where there was a row of trees, her favourite trees, I think she said,' replied Lin, bewildered. 'She wa
s obviously trying to tell him where she was, but she was totally wrong. '
'She was totally right! When I questioned you, you also said that she told Webb that "things had been terrible" on that street in Paris, or something like that-'
'That's what she said,' interrupted the major.
'But that they'd be better over here. '
That is what she said. '
'In Paris, a man was killed at the embassy, a man who tried to help them both!'
'What are you trying to say, McAllister?' interrupted Havilland.
The row of trees is insignificant, Mr Ambassador, but not her favourite tree. The maple tree, the maple leaf. Canada's symbol! There is no Canadian embassy in Hong Kong, but there is a consulate. That's their meeting ground. It's the pattern! It's Paris all over again!'
'You didn't alert friendly embassies – consulates?'
'Goddamn it!' exploded the undersecretary of state. 'What the hell was I going to say! I'm under an oath of silence, remember, sir!'
'You're quite right. The rebuke is deserved. '
'You cannot tie all our hands, Mr Ambassador,' said Lin. 'You are a person I respect greatly but a few of us, too, must be given a measure of respect if we are to do our jobs. The same respect you just gave me in your telling me of this most frightening thing. Sheng Chou Yang. Incredible!'
'Discretion must be absolute. '
'It will be,' said the major.
The Canadian consulate,' said Havilland. 'Get me the roster of its entire personnel. '
16
The call had come at five o'clock in the afternoon and Bourne was ready for it. No names were exchanged.
'It is arranged,' said the caller. 'We are to be at the border shortly before twenty-one hundred hours when the guard changes shifts. Your Shenzhen visa will be scrutinized and rubber stamps will fly, but none will touch it. Once inside you are on your own, but you did not come through Macao. '
'What about getting back out? If what you told me is true and things go right, there'll be someone with me. '
'It will not be me. I will see you over and to the location. After that, I leave you. '
That doesn't answer my question. '
'It is not so difficult as getting in, unless you are searched and contraband is found. '
There won't be any. '
Then I would suggest drunkenness. It is not uncommon. There is an airfield outside Shenzhen used by special-'
'I know it. '
'You were on the wrong aeroplane, perhaps, that too is not uncommon. The schedules are very bad in China. '
'How much for tonight?'
'Four thousand, Hong Kong, and a new watch. '
'Agreed. '
Some ten miles north of the village of Gongbei the hills rise, soon becoming a minor range of densely forested small mountains. Jason and his former adversary from the alley in Macao walked along the dirt road. The Chinese stopped and looked up at the hills above.
'Another five or six kilometres and we will reach a field. We will cross it and head up into the second level of woods. We must be careful. '
'You're sure they'll be there?'
'I carried the message. If there is a campfire, they will be there. '
'What was the message?'
'A conference was demanded. '
'Why across the border?'
'It could only be across the border. That, too, was part of the message. '
'But you don't know why. '
'I am only the messenger. Things are not in balance. '
'You said that last night. Can't you explain what you mean?'
'I cannot explain it to myself. '
'Could it be because the conference had to take place over here? In China?'
That is part of it, certainly. '
There's more?'
' Wen fi',' said the guide. 'Questions that arise from feelings. '
'I think I understand. ' And Jason did. He had had the same questions, the same feelings, when it became clear to him that the assassin who called himself Bourne was riding in an official vehicle of the People's Republic.
'You were too generous with the guard. The watch was too expensive. '
'I may need him. '
'He may not be in the same post. '
'I'll find him. '
'He'll sell the watch. '
'Good. I'll bring him another. '
Crouching, they ran through the tall grass of the field one section at a time, Bourne following the guide, his eyes constantly roving over their flanks and up ahead, finding shadows in the darkness – and yet not total darkness. Fast, low-flying clouds obscured the moon, filtering the light, but every now and then shafts streamed down for brief moments illuminating the landscape. They reached a rising stretch of tall trees and began making their way up. The Chinese stopped and turned, both hands raised.
'What is it? whispered Jason.
'We must go slowly, make no noise. '
'Patrols?'
The guide shrugged. 'I do not know. There is no harmony. '
They crawled up through the tangled forest, stopping at every screech of a disturbed bird and the subsequent flutter of wings, letting the moments pass. The hum of the woods was pervasive; the crickets clicked their incessant symphony, a lone owl hooted to be answered by another, and small ferret-like creatures scampered through the underbrush. Bourne and his guide came to the end of the tall trees; there was a second sloping field of high grass in front of them and in the distance were the jagged dark outlines of another climbing forest.
There was also something else. A glow at the top of the next hill, at the summit of the woods. It was a campfire, the campfire! Bourne had to hold himself in check, stop himself from getting up and racing across the field and plunging into the woods, scrambling up to the fire. Patience was everything now, and he was in the dark environs he knew so well; vague memories told him to trust himself – told him that he was the best there was. Patience. He would get across the field and silently make his way to the top of the forest; he would find a spot in the woods with a clear view of the fire, of the meeting ground. He would wait and watch; he would know when to make his move. He had done it so often before – the specifics eluded him, but not the pattern. A man would leave, and like a cat stalking silently through the forest he would follow that man until the moment came. Again, he would know that moment, and the man would be his.
Marie. I won't fail us this time. I can move with a kind of terrible purity now – that sounds crazy, I know, but then it's true... I can hate with purity – that's where I came from, I think. Three bleeding bodies floating into a riverbank taught me to hate. A bloody handprint on a door in Maine taught me to reinforce that hate and never to let it happen again. I don't often disagree with you, my love, but you were wrong in Geneva, wrong in Paris. I am a killer.
'What is wrong with you? whispered the guide, his head close to Jason's. 'You do not follow my signal!'
'I'm sorry. I was thinking. '
'So am I, thank you For our lives!'
'You don't have to worry; you can leave now. I see the fire up there on the hill. ' Bourne pulled money from his pocket . 'I'd rather go alone. One man has less chance of being spotted than two. '
'Suppose there are other men – patrols? You bested me in Macao, but I am not unworthy in this regard. '
'If there are such men, I intend to find one. '
'In the name of Jesus, why?'
'I want a gun. I couldn't risk bringing one across the border. '
"Aiya!"
Jason handed the guide the money. 'It's all there. Nine thousand five hundred. You want to go back in the woods and count it? I've got a small flashlight. '
'One does not question the man who has bested one. Dignity would not permit such impropriety. '
'Your words are terrific, but don't buy a diamond in Amsterdam. Go on, get out of here. It's my territory. '
'And this is my gun,' said the guide, taking a weapon from his belt and handing it to
Bourne as he took the money. 'Use it if you must. The magazine is full – nine shells. There is no registry, no trace. The Frenchman taught me. '
'You took this across the border?
'You brought the watch. I did not. I might have dropped it into a garbage bag but then I saw the guard's face. I will not need it now. '
Thanks. But I should tell you, if you've lied to me, I'll find you. Count on it.
Then the lies would not be mine and the money would be returned. ' 'You're too much. ' 'You bested me. I must be honourable in all things. '
Bourne crawled slowly, ever so slowly, across the expanse of tall, starched grass filled with nettles, pulling the needles from his neck and forehead, grateful for the nylon jacket that repelled them. He instinctively knew something his guide did not know, why he did not want the Chinese to come with him. A field with high grass was the most logical place to have sentries; the fronds moved when hidden intruders crawled through them. Therefore one had to observe the swaying grass from the ground and go forward with the prevailing breezes and the sudden mountain winds.
He saw the start of the woods, trees rising at the edge of the grass. He began to raise himself to a crouching position, then suddenly, swiftly, lowered his body and remained motionless. Ahead, to his right, a man stood on the border of the field, a rifle in his hands, watching the grass in the intermittent moonlight, looking for a pattern of reeds that bent against the breezes. A gust of wind swirled down from the mountains. Bourne moved with it, coming to within ten feet of the guard. Half a foot by half a foot he crawled to the edge of the field; he was now parallel with the man whose concentration was focused in front of him, not on his flanks. Jason inched up so he could see through the reeds. The guard looked to his left. Now!
Bourne sprang out of the grass and, rushing forward, lunged at the man. In panic, the guard instinctively swung the butt of the rifle to ward off the sudden attack. Jason grabbed the barrel, twisting it over the man's head, and crashed it down on the exposed skull as he rammed his knee into the guard's ribcage. The sentry collapsed. Bourne quickly dragged him into the high grass, out of sight. With as few movements as possible, Jason removed the guard's jacket and ripped the shirt from his back, tearing the cloth into strips. Moments later the man was bound in such a way that with every move he tightened the improvised straps. His mouth was gagged, a torn sleeve wrapped around his head holding the gag in place.
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