Quiller's Run

27 Pink Panties

A lot of noise. 'Keep them away.' Not loud noise, but a lot, voices, feet shuffling, the ring of metal.

'But I have to know -'

'Keep everyone else away, for your own sake.'

Sounded like Pepperidge.

They'd put the lights on, too bright, half-blinding me, I was lying on my back.

'All right,' someone said, 'you can dress it.'

My hand was burning. She was a Chinese, the nurse, her eyes intent.

'Just take my word for it. I know what I'm doing and I know what's best for you, for the clinic, believe me.'

Pepperidge, yes. Someone had come in while I was still at the waterhole and I'd told him to phone this number, nothing is the matter, just go and phone him now and tell him to come here, my name is Jordan, for Christ's sake don't just stand there, go and phone.

'Don't move, please,' the nurse said. Her young face was puckered, queasy, I turned my head, remembering, and saw him lying there, Kishnar, my brother in blood, in blood indeed, it was everywhere.

'But we've got to call the police, don't you understand? There's been -'

'Call them by all means, then, and you'll see the whole story spread all over the front page of the Times in the morning. Or don't call the police and I can guarantee you a complete cover-up. Your choice.'

I could see the face of the clinic's chief of administation, Culver, met him when I signed in. Looking a bit upset, understandably: they were used to the odd suicide here, but this was different.

'If you could convince me of your authority -'

'Look, go and ring the British High Commissioner – he'll give you the score. But meanwhile don't let anyone into this area.'

Head ached a bit. I'd hit it on something when we'd been jigging around.

'What's this?' someone said.

'Let me have it.' Pepperidge, sharply.

The piano wire, covered at each end with rubber tubing. He coiled it and put it into his pocket.

'Is painful?'

'What?'

'Is hand painful?' The nurse.

'No.'

'Pain anywhere?"

'No. You're very pretty.'

'Oh.' Surprise, her mouth rounded, then a smile that shone right into my soul. It'd been a nervy twenty-four hours, from the time last night when I'd known what I would have to do. Then there was all this mess in here, most unpleasant.

'You all right?'

Pepperidge, stooping suddenly over me.

'Yes.'

'Won't be long now. There's an ambulance on its way.'

'I don't need one. I can -'

'Yes you do.' He straightened up again. 'Keep that door shut!'

Throbbing going on: there was some feeling coming back into the right forearm where he'd held the wire; the left thigh felt twice the size because he'd driven his knee into it just before we'd got it over with; left hand sliced somewhat from gripping the shard of glass: the medic had put some stitches in. There was a residue of shock in the system but I could probably walk all right and Pepperidge knew that; the ambulance was for security. The hit team knew that Kishnar had come into the clinic for me and they'd expect me to go out on a stretcher and that was what Pepperidge had arranged: he didn't want the team to take up station; we needed a new safe-house and we had to reach there clean.

Someone knocking.

Pepperidge opened the door an inch and looked through the gap and then pulled it wide open.

'All right – this man here.'

On the way to the street I had a sheet over me, face as well. Lights glowed through it, coming and going.

'Hot under there, old boy, but it won't be long. You all right?'

Said yes.

In the ambulance he pulled the sheet away, hunched alongside on the tip-up seat. There wasn't anyone else in here. Under the dim pilot light he looked strained, his yellow eyes flickering sometimes.

'Thirsty?'

'Yes.'

He gave me a plastic cup of chilled water.

'I couldn't stand the waiting,' I said, when I'd finished it.

'The what?'

'The waiting.'

He thought about it. 'Oh. For Kishnar.'

'Yes. It was a question of time before he found me, so I thought the best thing to do was to get it over.'

'Was that your only reason?'

'No. I thought it'd get Shoda to the edge.'

'Hit her again on her weak point.'

'Yes.'

'You're right, of course. It could bring us the whole mission. This was major. You didn't only get Kishnar out of the way as a constant threat, but you actually turned him to good use as a tool. As a weapon. Could be the turning point.'

I started to pull my shoulders higher against the pillows but he stopped me.

'Relax. You're going to need your strength later.'

He didn't say why and I didn't think to ask.

'The thing is,' I told him, 'I had to bring him into the clinic.'

'I know.'

Of course he knew. If I'd gone into the streets at night and waited for Kishnar and taken him on and killed him the hit team would have closed in at once, finis.

'I owe you an apology,' I told him.

'For what?'

'Blowing the safe-house, keeping you in the dark,'

'Ah.' He looked away and I couldn't see his eyes, their expression; then he swung his head back and put his hand on my shoulder. 'Don't worry, old boy. I knew you were going to do exactly that.'

'Bit fancy,' he said, 'I'm afraid.'

We were in the main room, a big one, Victorian decor, faded red plush and gilt candlesticks, tapestries, a couple of dozen small round ironwork tables and chairs, bit of a stage or a dance-floor, the light coming from rose-shaded lamps, a smell of stale scent.

'This? I said.

'Don't worry, old boy. Everything's taken care of. Why don't we sit down for a bit?'

'What is it, a night-club?'

'It was. The owner couldn't afford to do it up to conform with the new fire laws, put a sprinkler system in and so on, so it's temporarily closed.' A faint smile. 'We're renting it now. How d'you feel?'

'Bit depressed.' I dropped onto a red velvet couch.

'Kishnar?'

'Yes.'

He nodded, clasping his thin hands together, looking down. 'Post mortem animal triste est.'

I didn't think it was funny. I know the bastard had been after my blood and I know his orders were to sever my head and take it to Shoda – do you know we found an empty cardboard box in that toilet, did I tell you, with a plastic bag inside? – and I know he wouldn't have given it another thought, I'd have been just another job done, another stiff shoved under the rug, but all the same I'd killed a man and it always slowed me up, made me wonder what kind of life I'd got into.

'When did you fix this up?' I asked Pepperidge.

'This place?'

I didn't answer; he knew I meant this place, he was giving himself time. He'd been a bit odd since the lav thing, looking down sometimes, looking away, clasping his hands for something to focus on. It wasn't because of what I'd done to Kishnar, I knew that – he was too seasoned, he'd worked in the field for years.

'I fixed this place up,' he said, carefully, 'at the same time as I fixed the other place up, the clinic.'

When we'd been in the ambulance he'd said he'd known I was going to blow the safe-house – I knew you were going to do exactly that – and it'd shaken me, but when I asked him how he'd known he'd just said we could talk about it later. I think if I'd been feeling less switched-off about Kishnar I'd have caught the drift.

'D'you want to brief me?' I asked him. Because he'd also told me to relax, I'd need my strength.

'No.' He swung his head to look at me, his eyes critical. 'You're probably ready for a bit of shut-eye, aren't you?'

'No.' I didn't know what time it was: my watch had been sprung off my wrist in the toilet and I hadn't missed it until we'd come in here, but in any case I wouldn't sleep even if I lay down somewhere; the nerves weren't off their high yet; they'd been tightening all the time since last night when I'd know what I was going to do, and it had been a long day, waiting.

'Going to stay up for a bit?' Pepperidge said, still watching me. 'Girls have all gone, I'm afraid, but we could talk a bit, I suppose.'

'Girls? Oh.' Night-club, stale scent, so forth.

Then he put his hand on my arm and said, 'Look, old boy, you're not going to like me for this, but don't take it too hard. It's just business, after all.' Gave me a rather strained smile and got off the couch and walked between the tables to the doors on the other side of the room and went out and spoke to someone: I could hear their voices. I think I heard someone say, I'll get him, or it sounded like that, and through the doorway I saw Pepperidge give a nod and then he started back, not hurrying, hands dug into his pockets and his head down, not looking at me. He was about halfway across the room when another man came through the doors on the far side, and for a moment I didn't recognise him, and then I saw it was Loman.

He came on steadily, picking his way between the tables, short, dapper, his arms held behind him, passing Pepperidge, who'd now halted, letting him go by. I'd stopped linear thinking by this time: the left brain was under a kind of random bombardment as data came in to give me the whole picture, adding up the bits and pieces and making them fit, some of them from as long ago and far away as the Brass Lamp in London, with Pepperidge sitting there hunched over his drink with that bloody worm at the bottom, II surprises you, of course, that anyone should offer this shipwrecked fucking sailor a mission, I see that, I quite understand. Sitting with his red-rimmed eyes and his thinning hair and his rueful half-smile, and later, Meanwhile, I shall find someone to take this thing over, because it's too good to miss and I'm buggered if I'll give it to the Bureau.

Loman was coming closer, looking down, watching for the frayed bits in the carpet that might trip him.

Loman.

Long ago and far away in London, We feel we owe you an apology, Quiller. We — er — deeply regret the circumstances that obviously prompted you to hand in your resignation, and very much hope you 'II reconsider.

Loman, walking towards me, mincing, you could call it, wearing, as a concession to the heat and humidity, a light alpaca suit, but with the same black onyx cuff-links and the same regimental tie, Grenadier Guards, what a fucking pain in the arse he must have been to the poor bloody troops, the rage rising inside me, starting in the gut and reaching the throat, blocking it, because he'd conned me, this prissy little shit, he'd entrapped me into a mission for the Bureau – for the Bureau – and now he'd come out here to lord it over me, bloody London for you, they think they're Jesus Christ.

Got up, I got up as he stopped and stood in front of me, got up but not out of respect of him – for him? — but because I wanted to hit him and I couldn't do it sitting down.

Very quiet in here, very quiet. It was the plush all over the place, the red velvet curtains, the carpeting, no echoes, everything was quiet.

'Quiller.'

What else could he say?

I mean he couldn't say how are you or it's good to see you again or why don't we shake hands on it, so forth, could he?

I didn't answer, same thing applies, you see, it would have been pleasant to tell him that if he went on standing there just five more seconds his face was going to look like strawberry jelly or of course I could just tell him to fuck off but he'd think that was common, probably right but oh my God I would've given so much to have left him spread all over the floor and walked away, steady, lad, steady.

Steady, yes, better get a grip, this is going too far. And surprising how ready I was, so soon after killing a man, to kill another.

Steady. He made you look a bit of a lemon, that's all. Can't take a joke?

Pepperidge standing there, I looked at Pepperidge. He was staring at me with his eyes hollow, haunted, and it made a difference suddenly, gave me comfort, because he'd been a spook in the field and he knew what it was like when the Bureau did it on your doorstep and he felt for me as he watched me being crucified. It helped, because until now I hadn't been feeling terribly fond of him either.

'Did they fire you?'

To Pepperidge, not Loman. I didn't even look at Loman.

'No.'

Bastards fired me, hunched over his drink in the Brass Lamp, I'm like you, old boy – sometimes I won't obey orders.

'That whole thing was a set-up?'

He didn't look away, stood his ground.

'Yes.'

And I don't regret it, you know that? His thin hair King untidily across his scalp, his moustache at a lopsided angle, sloppily trimmed, his hand shaking as he'd picked up his drink.

'Bloody good actor.'

'Thanks.' A wintry smile. 'I used to be in Rep.'

I took a deep breath, and the last wave of the rage eased away. But don't think I was precisely ecstatic.

'A set-up.' To myself, more or less.

'It was a mission,' he said quietly. Another faint smile. 'I've know easier.'

Poor bastard, he couldn't have cared much for it. He'd been as bad as Loman, really, but I didn't hate him for it. Let me tell you something about Loman: if you ever meet him you'll hate his guts on sight.

'I thought we might have had our meeting tomorrow.' His small, calculating eyes on my face like a couple of snails. 'You've had a fatiguing day. But Pepperidge told me you weren't ready for sleep.'

Civil of him. He's like that. He pretends he's human.

'We don't need a meeting. The answer's no.'

He tried to look puzzled.

'The answer – ?'

'I'm not going on with the mission. Not for the Bureau.'

I felt Pepperidge watching me. I'd do it for him, go on to the objective and bring Shoda down, but not for those bastards in London. But what was I saying? He was Bureau himself. Thought flash, and I looked at him.

'Her too? McCorkadale?' • He nodded slowly.

That was why she'd been so useful, so efficient, behind the act she'd put on, I've never been so near so much drama, so forth.

And Chen. Johnny Chen.

'Sayako?'

'No.'

'Anyone else?'

'No.' He turned away and called out, 'You there, Flood?'

A man came through the doors, smartly, coming between the tables, looking from Loman to Pepperidge to me.

'Quiller, this is George Flood, our main contact out here.'

Medium height, good suit, muscle under it, his eyes blanked off, professional, slight nod of his head.

'Sir.'

I nodded back.

'He's manning our station,' Pepperidge said.

I didn't answer. It wasn't my concern. I was out of it now. The man took a step back, looking at no one. Chilly reception, yes, but I couldn't help that.

'The station is manned on a twenty-four -' Loman started in.

Got an echo, even in here.

Loman gave a sigh, hamming it. Pepperidge looked at Flood.

'Go and give it another try.'

'Yes, sir.'

He left us, clearing his throat to fill the silence, embarrassed, I suppose. And I quite agree, I can be terribly common, you know, when the mood hits me, but listen, I'd spent the whole bloody day holed up in a funny farm waiting for a top hit man to come for my head and there'd been two false alarms on the lawn out there and then I'd had to fight for my life in a lavatory and worst of all I'd finally had to take his away from him and now this bastard, I think you know who I mean, was trying to con me into going on with the mission and I was fed up to the back teeth, don't you understand?

'Let's just sit down for a minute, shall we?'

Loman.

So I sat down, dropped, actually, onto the couch, rather fatigued, yes, just as Mr Loman had suggested so courteously just now. I heard a breath come out of Pepperidge, relief, I dare say; he wanted this mission to go on because he'd been right in at the beginning and he'd still be my director in the field and earn himself a nice bit of credit if we got the job done.

He sat down on the other end of the couch and caught sight of something pink stuck in the cushions and pulled it out, pair of lace panties, glancing up at us and shoving them in his pocket, 'That kind of club,' an awkward laugh, Loman sitting there in the velvet wingback chair, face like a po, he probably didn't even know what the bloody things were, can you imagine Loman with a woman, you must be out of your mind.

He started talking, but I didn't take much of it in, because nothing he could say was going to change my mind; it was just nice sitting down again, that was all, various bits of the anatomy still throbbing, the hand quite painfully, I assumed they knew what they were doing at the clinic when they'd put the stitches in, no risk of infection, we'd been in the lav at the time, after all.

' – and I want you to know in any case,' Loman's voice floated in and out of my consciousness, 'that this place is under day and night observation by undercover officers of the Singapore police, with orders to arrest any loiterers on sight. So this isn't a safe-house, it's a fortress.'

Quite impressive. I would have been quite impressed, if in fact I'd needed a safe-house, or even a fortress for that matter.

'Secondly, if you have any misgivings about the death of Manif Kishnar, there will be no repercussions.' He was speaking with a lot of care, a lot of articulation, wanting me to understand every word, but the fact was, I wasn't interested, it was just pleasant sitting down instead of standing up, and the idea now occurred to me that it would be even more pleasant to lie down in a nice soft bed.

' – and you will appreciate that the government of Singapore is every bit as desirous of continuing peace in Asia as every other power in this -'

'Loman.'

He stopped. I got up and found some balance and stood looking down at him, and the fact that I was rather tired now didn't diminish the pleasure I was going to get in the next few seconds, because in the next few seconds I was going to blow this little bastard right out of his overweening bloody complacency. I made an attempt to mimic his studied articulation, but whether or not it came off I didn't know and didn't much care.

'I don't want to waste your time, so you should know that I haven't the slightest interest in anything you have to tell me.' He sat with his eyes turned upwards in a blank stare. 'I do not intend going on with the Shoda mission, and nothing you can say will change my mind. I repeat – nothing.'

He went on staring and I went on standing there. Pepperidge hadn't moved. Then Loman did. He gave one of his long-suffering sighs, got his briefcase from the end of the couch, stood up and without a glance at either of us walked away between the tables and through the doors, and as I watched him I had to fight down a wave of disgust, because everything I'd done since I'd come out here to Singapore had gone for nothing, was down the drain, including six lives lost, one of them ours, gone for nothing.

End of mission.

I don't know how long I stood there, wishing Loman would walk out of here under a bus, wishing Pepperidge, a man I'd come to like, come to respect, hadn't conned me into an abortive enterprise, wishing I could go and lie down somewhere and let the throbbing in the blood slow to the delta rhythm of sleep.

'Still can't get her to answer, sir.'

Man standing there. Flood.

'She's not at the High Commission?'

'No. They haven't seen her.'

Something trying to get through to me, but possibly unimportant. Ignore.

'Keep on trying her flat.' Pepperidge.

'Will do, sir.'

Got my attention now.

'You talking about Katie?'

He looked at me, Pepperidge, face was bleak.

'Yes.'

'What's up?'

'She's missing.'