Quiller's Run

28 The Deal

'How much does she know?'

'Not a great deal.'

He didn't like the way I'd fetched him back.

'So she's expendable?'

Loman hedged. 'She's not… indispensable.'

'So if you can't find her, what're you going to do? Throw her to the dogs?'

Flood had got us some black coffee and I was back on the cutting edge. It was Loman who looked as if he could use some sleep now; it was gone one o'clock and I suppose he was still under jet lag.

'I shall be instructed,' he said, 'from London.'

'London.' I thought about that. 'Who, in London?'

'Mr Croder.'

Oh really. Chief of Control.

Pepperidge eased himself back onto the couch, looking beaten. The last twenty-four hours had been a strain for him too, knowing he'd have to blow his own cover with me and confront me with Loman.

''Croder started this?' I asked Loman. 'He initiated the whole thing?'

It was important to know. At the Bureau Croder ranked about equal to the Holy Ghost.

'Yes.' Loman was still standing, briefcase hanging from his right hand, polished shoes neatly together. 'But I rather believe you said you weren't interested in anything I had to tell you.'

He'd had to get that bit over and I'd been waiting for it, and he'd put it exactly the way I'd known he would, 'I rather believe", oh my God.

I just ignored it, of course. 'When was she last seen?'

'She left her office,' Pepperidge said, 'soon after ten this morning. Yesterday morning. I've been trying to contact her ever since then because Mr Loman wants her report.'

'What report?'

'Just routine.'

Fair enough. The London end was out here suddenly and he'd want to debrief everyone in the field as a matter of course.

'Quiller,' he said in a moment, 'since you are now prepared to listen to me, I have a question for you.'

'Well?'

'It's obvious to you that what concerns us is that McCorkadale might have been seized by the Shoda organisation to be held as a hostage in a potential exchange for you. And since you know a very, very great deal more than she does, and since you are the sole obstacle standing in the way of the Shoda organisation's projected coup in Southeast Asia, my question is this. If the opposition contacts us and offers to release McCorkadale in exchange for you, what would be your decision?'

He was standing with his head lowered, looking upwards at me in an attitude of intense concentration. I was aware of Pepperidge at the edge of my vision, equally intent. A faint singing noise began somewhere; Flood had left the coffee percolator plugged in on the marble wall-table, and its thermostat had just cut in again. Loman was still waiting.

'I'd do it,' I said.

I heard Pepperidge suck in his breath.

Loman kept his cool. 'You would surrender to the opposition?'

'I'd have no choice. If I refused, they'd begin torture and let me know, and they'd finally kill her out of hand in any case.'

'She means that much to you?'

'Not really. I've only known her a few days. But she's a woman."

He got impatient now, dropped his briefcase onto the end of the couch and put his hands into the pockets of his jacket, thumbs hooked over the edge. 'But surely that's rather Victorian?'

'No, I'm way ahead of my time.' I took a step closer to him, pet subject, he'd better keep off. 'One day they're going to be thought of as important to us.'

He watched me for a bit longer and then sat down in the winged chair, arms across his knees, hands hanging. 'Rabid romanticism,' I think he said, it was under his breath. Louder, looking up, 'And what would you imagine Shoda would do to you, once you were in her hands?'

'Have my head.'

'Having done which, she'd then be free to proceed with her projected coup and set the whole of Southeast Asia on fire. And you would place that as having less importance than the life of one woman?'

'Right on.'

Pepperidge put out a cautioning hand. 'Old boy, you -' and then saw my expression and drew it back, shrugging.

'Your word on this,' Loman said, 'is final?'

'Yes.'

'So if we receive a message from Shoda, through the British High Commission or the Thai Embassy, that McCorkadale is in their hands and an exchange is proposed, we simply hand you over?'

'Yes. But it doesn't have to come to that, with a bit of luck.' I turned to Pepperidge. 'She was seen just after ten yesterday morning – where did she say she was going?'

'No one seems to know.'

'She leave by car?'

'One of the front desk clerks said she got into a cyclo.'

'What's your guess?'

He spread a hand. 'It's on the cards that she got a message asking her to meet you, and didn't question it. She was worried about you, because of Kishnar.'

'Shoda's got a house here in the city, in Saiboo Street, did you know?'

'Yes. How did you know?'

'Sayako told me. That's where I'll have to start.'

I was halfway to the doors when I heard Loman.

'Quiller.'

Sounded quite urgent, sharp. Made me stop and turn.

'I'll offer you a deal.'

'A what?'

'A deal.' He was coming towards me between the tables. 'I respect your abilities, but how much chance would you say you had of finding McCorkadale and getting her out alive, without playing straight into Shoda's hands and getting killed yourself?'

'Not much.'

'I agree. I'd say you have no chance at all. But my own resources are infinitely greater, with the Bureau behind me.'

'This isn't a case for massive support; it needs just one man to go in. I'm -'

'To go in to Shoda's house?'

'No. Into the operation, but that's got to be the focus.'

'We can have it surrounded by police. We can -'

'What good would that do?"

'The first glimpse we get of McCorkadale, the first hint we get that she's in there and against her will we can -'

'Oh come on, Loman, Shoda's untouchable, on a political level, you know that. Otherwise we could have destroyed her before now.'

He took a step closer to me, very intent, not impatient any more, very earnest. 'If you try to save McCorkadale you'll be putting it all on one throw, Quiller. You've only got one life – we've got hundreds.'

'You told me she's expendable —'

'In terms of policy, she's not indispensable, yes, but —'

'For Christ's sake, say what you mean – you're going to throw her to the dogs.'

Very fast – 'Not if you'll make a deal.'

'What deal?'

'You'd need to listen for a moment,' tone rather thin, he wasn't terribly fond of me either, you've probably noticed mat. 'And so far you've shown a certain reluctance.'

May God give me patience with this little prick.

'I haven't got long, so try and use short words.'

He turned away and stood thinking for a couple of seconds. I'd rather thrown him, I suppose, by agreeing to listen at all.

Turned to me – 'If you will continue the mission, I will guarantee that the whole of our resources will be brought in immediately with the object of finding and bringing McCorkadale to safely, with the cooperation of the British High Commission, the Thai Embassy, the Singapore police and every sleeper and agent-in-place we can mobilise in this city and at once. That is the deal.'

I think I started to say something and changed my mind. This thing was too big for emotions to play any part in the decision-making and I'd have to come down off the high or I'd smash things up, no better than a small boy in a tantrum. Loman was a little shit and I couldn't stand him but he was also one of the elite controls in the very highest echelons of the Bureau and he'd run me before, Bangkok and Tangier, and he'd been good in the field, faultless, and he'd got me home alive. So calm down, yes, just let him talk for a minute.

'You would also have the benefit of the Bureau's resources, including the personal supervision of Mr Croder, which carries an importance I'm sure you appreciate.'

I didn't say anything. Let him sell it to me, give me the whole pitch, but if he said a wrong word he'd lose me.

'You would still be working officially for the Thai government and would receive whatever remuneration you've agreed on with them. We wouldn't question it.' He was watching me hard, hoping to see a reaction, but he was forgetting – a good ferret's got bright black eyes that never show anything, it's part of the. job.

'I must tell you, Quiller, that I came out here because we now have only three days left. Mariko Shoda has set a deadline for the launching of her coup – three days from now. In view of this, I hope that you'll decide not to abort your mission at such a critical stage.'

He waited. I let him.

Three days. How the hell could he say that?

I wasn't going to ask. Not yet.

'Anything else?'

He got an envelope from his pocket and pulled out a letter and unfolded it and dropped it onto the little iron table near him and turned away.

'You may care to read that.'

Like someone throwing down the ace. I picked it up.

Very white, very crisp embossed paper, official seal of the Prime Minister, 10 Downing Street. In view of the very critical issues now endangering peace and geopolitical stability in Southeast Asia, nothing must be neglected that might redeem the situation. It is therefore my earnest hope that the agent in question, whose record is well known to me, can be persuaded to proceed with his present mission and bring it to a successful conclusion. You may if you wish convey my feelings to him.

When I looked up Loman had turned back and was watching me with that deadpan complacency he can turn on when he thinks he's won. I dropped the letter back onto the table.

'Sheer bloody blackmail.'

'I'm sorry it strikes you like that.'

'What made you think I'd need "persuading" to stay in?'

'I knew that the moment you saw me here you'd start giving us trouble.' He came and picked up the letter and put it away. 'So you refuse to stay with the mission?'

'No.'

The nerves went slack, suddenly, relief I suppose, I'd got somewhere to go now.

'Do you mean you'll stay in, under the Bureau's direction?'

'Yes. I'll do what I can. That's all I can say.'

I wasn't looking at him, just heard the tone in his voice, nothing triumphant, just very quiet, very cool now. 'That's all we require.'

He'd done well. He'd put a five-star ferret down the hole again without touching the sides and he hadn't expected to do it and it had left him impressed.

'Just find her,' I said. 'That was the deal.'

'Of course. We shall start immediately.' He went across to the double gilt-panelled doors and I heard him calling for Flood, talking about signals, or something.

Pepperidge came up, padding quietly. 'Good show. I know they're bastards to work for, but can you think of anyone better?'

'Not really.'

'Their genius,' he said, 'is in the way they know their shadow executives.' He talked quietly, and I could hear Loman's voice out there on a phone, caught the name Croder. 'You've been working under their direction,' Pepperidge told me, 'since the day you came out here. You know that now. But what I like,' he put a hand on my arm, 'is the way they just gave you the clues and let you run. It's how you work best, and they're well aware of that. Take the Kishnar situation.'

I didn't want to think about the Kishnar situation because the depression was still haunting the psyche but the left brain was catching onto something and I took a look at it and said, 'Jesus Christ. Was that briefing?'

Faint smile. 'Yes, old boy.'

All right. First class. First class direction in the field and not from Pepperidge, not from Loman, but from the Chief of Control, London, Croder, because only he had the authority to push the executive for the mission right to the brink and leave him there.

Unless you can think of a quicker way.

Pepperidge, at the clinic. And I'd said I could. And when he'd left there last night he'd known almost for certain that I was going to do the only thing that could be done at this phase of the mission because whatever new direction they found for me I wouldn't be able to take it until Kishnar was off my back and out of the way. It had been the first action conceivable and they'd known I'd see that and they'd left me there at the brink to make up my mind and that was why Pepperidge had set up a new safe-house – this place – and had it ready for me and got Loman here waiting to put the whole thing on the line.

'First class,' I said.

Pepperidge gave a brief nod. 'I rather hoped you'd say something like that. Because it was.'

Something else they'd done, but I didn't want to think about that.

'Look,' I said, 'I need some sleep now. Is there any kind of bed in this place?'

'I'll show you.'

He shepherded me through the rooms, solicitous, avuncular, which was what a good local director ought to be, hit a shoulder on a doorway going through, not him, I mean I did, hand on my arm.

'Been a busy day,' he said. 'There's a registered nurse here, by the way, if you need any attention.'

'She pretty?' Fell on the bed and slept.

'No. But you should leave that to us.'

Damn him.

She went on soaking the blood away.

I'd simply asked him if there were any news of Katie.

'How are you feeling, old boy?'

Pepperidge, on the couch, looking taut, confident. He'd got a ferret to run and felt ready.

'Operational.'

'I'm so glad.'

Understandable: Loman was going to handle the main briefing in very close liaison with Croder in London but when the final action phase began it'd be Pepperidge who'd have to judge whether I was fit enough to go in.

I was. I'd slept well, nearly seven hours, woke once to find Kishnar bending over me – shadow on the wall, that was all – then it was morning and Flood brought me some coffee, life beginning again, I'd come close to losing it.

'I want to assure you,' Loman said, 'that there'll be no repercussions regarding what occurred last night. Briefly, neither the UK nor Singapore want to see the stability of Southeast Asia compromised and they're more than willing to protect the clinic from bad publicity and order the police to hold off. The media never even caught a whiff.'

The rest of the dressing came away and she dropped it into the bowl. Same nurse as last night and obviously Bureau or she wouldn't be here.

'I've arranged to have the body of Manif Kishnar delivered in a plain coffin to the house in Saiboo Street. I deemed this not only courteous, since he was in effect an adversary defeated in the field, but also a gesture of the greatest possible provocation to Shoda personally, since she apparently came here to claim your head, not his.'

Yes, she'd get the point.

Bitch!

He could have killed me.

'Hurt?'

'What?'

'Sting?'

'No.'

Bloody iodine, felt like razor blades.

She began on the dressing.

'You should also know,' Loman said, 'that early yesterday morning Shoda had the radio station in Laos dive-bombed.'

I had to give it a beat.

'Is he dead?'

'Yes.'

Cho.

Os, Sempai, His head lowered over the chipped, grimed shelf of the radio console, a tear falling from his riven cheek to lie there glistening.

He is my father. Sayako, her soft; hesitant voice over the phone at the clinic.

I let out a breath.

'Hurt now?'

'No.'

Yes. Hurt now.

In a moment: 'I thought General Cho wasn't a threat to Shoda any more?'

'She didn't think so, until you went to see him. She heard about that.'

'How?'

'From the grapevine in the village there.'

'You got this from Johnny Chen?'

'Yes.'

'If she knew I was there, why didn't she put a hit on me?'

'She tried, but it was too late: you'd flown out.'

I'd flown out, leaving Cho with his last few hours to live. First Veneker, now Cho.

Sometimes I hate this trade.

'The important thing,' Loman said, 'is that this is yet another indication of the effect you have on Shoda, the increasing influence you're developing over her.' He stopped pacing and looked down at me, hands tucked behind him, his eyes intent. 'Let me tell you something, Quiller. You frighten her.'

I thought about that.

'Aren't you putting it a bit strong?'

'We don't think so.' A glance towards the couch. 'Pepperidge has given me a very clear picture of the relationship between you and Shoda – which is the fundamental axis of the mission, you understand that? – and I believe it to be absolutely true: you've got her frightened.'

Pepperidge had put it in a different way, debriefing me at the clinic. I think we've found her Achilles' heel, and it's you.

Loman began pacing again, motes of dust rising from the plum-red Chinese carpet as his polished shoes turned in a beam of morning light. 'Let me offer you a picture of our opponent. She wields, behind the scenes in Southeast Asia where much of the economy and political infrastructure is centred on the drug trade, a great deal of power. She is also a psychotic. Because of her childhood experiences she is on the one hand consumed by hatred of men to the point of pathological obsession and on the other hand fearful of them to the same degree. This knife-edge aspect of her personality engenders a strong element of superstition, far beyond her orthodox Buddhist faith.' He stopped once and looked down at me. 'And if this sounds like a psychiatric diatribe, it is. I am giving you a distillation of the expert opinions of three London psychiatrists of the highest reputation, whom Mr Croder consulted after we'd received a composite picture of Mariko Shoda's behavioural record over the past five years.'

Done their homework. Dr Israel had said at the clinic: 'One can be obsessed about so many things, but the real obsessions are focused on abstracts – hate, revenge, life, death, sex, sickness, health.'

'So our opponent,' Loman said, on the move again, 'is a classic type in world history, a powerful, dangerous megalomaniac embarked on a sacred crusade. Think of her as an Idi Amin, a Gaddafi.'

Loman stopped again, standing close, his feet neatly together. 'That is the situation, then, in terms of your personal mission and its personal target: Mariko Shoda.' He didn't glance across at Pepperidge, but I caught a feeling he was doing that. Pepperidge was looking carefully at nothing at all. 'Since you elected to undertake this mission otherwise than under the aegis of the Bureau, I was unable to inform you of the various aspects involved. You should now be told that Mr Croder has a second unit in the field, under the local direction of one of our most talented people.'

He looked up at me and I felt he was expecting a question. I already had a lot so I gave him one.

'What field?'

'Not this one, of course. This is yours.'

'What director?'

'Ferris.'

Oh you bastard.

We could offer you rather good ones, he'd said in London, meaning terms, your sole discretion, for instance, as to back-ups, shield, signals, liaison, contacts and so on. And he'd have asked me to choose my director in the field and you know the man I'd have chosen, don't you? Right – Ferris. And I'd have got him.

'So where's their field?' Nothing in my eyes, nothing in my voice to give him joy.

'It's very flexible.' He turned away and began walking, like a.bloody wind-up toy. But I was listening; I was listening very hard. This was major briefing. 'A consignment of one hundred Slingshot missiles complete with warheads has gone adrift somewhere in the Near East. Our second unit is at present trying to locate it, seize it and escort it to Thailand, its intended destination.'

I watched him. A hundred. A hundred Slingshots. Enough to control the whole of the air traffic across Indo-China, military and otherwise.

'But Christ,' I said 'what d'you mean by gone adrift?'

Tilted his head. 'A euphemism. We believe that the Shoda organisation has in fact diverted the consignment to a secret destination. As far as we can find out, it's due to reach the Shoda organisation's forces at some time tomorrow; hence the deadline of three days I mentioned to you is now reduced to twelve hours, perhaps less. The significance of this is of course obvious to you.'

I'm sure I don't need to emphasise, Mr Jordan, the devastation this weapon could cause, in the wrong hands. Prince Kityakara, when we'd seen the Slingshot in action. It means that any armed revolution could proceed with its enterprise in the certainty that it was completely safe from the air. It means that if the Shoda organisation acquired this weapon, it could set Indo-China aflame within a week. And that) of course, is its intention.

'We await hourly," Loman said, 'news from our second unit that the consignment has been found and seized.' He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of me. 'So you see that your own mission is perhaps even more vital than you might have believed. Whether or not we can keep the Slingshot out of her hands, Shoda must be destroyed. With the missile she can devastate Southeast Asia, but without it she will continue to present a dangerous element in the area, ready at all times to provoke havoc. We have, of course, something like a trump card. Even if she acquires the Slingshot consignment, I am virtually certain she won't feel able to deploy it while you remain alive.' He turned away, turned back. 'There is therefore no element so crucial, so pivotal or so potentially decisive as your personal threat to Shoda – and hers to you. I am convinced, in short, that over and above the question of the Slingshot consignment, the outcome of both these missions can only be decided by a personal and conclusive confrontation between yourself and Mariko Shoda.'