The 9th Directive

22 Bait

Reaction time covers three phases: time required to sense the signal, to decide on the correct response, and to respond. Affective factors: age, state of health, fatigue, alcohol, caffeine, so forth. Greatest artificial influential factor: training (i.e. habit formation).

The typical reaction time of a jet pilot receiving a visual signal (unexpected approach of another aircraft) is 1.7 seconds, this total comprising 0.9 seconds to sight, focus and evaluate visual signal, 0.5 seconds to reach decision (evasive action), and 0.3 seconds to respond (move controls). A period of intensive training by ground simulation (bombardment of spasmodic signals) will reduce the reaction time to less than half, and such training – even after a lapse of years – will continue to effect reduction to a smaller extent.

Stimuli in descending order of speed: sight, sound, touch, smell, taste.

In the fastest group (sight) another speed factor comes into play. A signal appearing in the twelve o'clock sector of the vision field (at the top) will produce the fastest reaction. (One is quicker to move when something approaches from above – a falling rock – than from below – a leaping dog.)

It was to my advantage that when I came out of the warehouse into the alley the signal was visual and in the top sector – both fast-group stimuli. But my biggest advantage was in the residual effects of training. It was two years since my last refresher at the house in Norfolk known as the Box of Squibs, but good habits were still operative. (They lob soot bombs at you and top marks go to the cleanest face.)

The result was that my prone body was sliding face-down against the wall a fair distance from the burst when the thing went off, and that I finished up in the correct attitude pointing away from the explosion with my face protected and my legs together with the soles of my shoes acting as a shield.

The three phases went like this. 1) Sighting of signal and interpretation. A man on the roof opposite the warehouse was raising one arm and his hand looked big. Interpretation: the 'bigness' was probably a grenade. 2) Decision. Evade the danger specifically relevant to an explosion. (It was a special type of decision, leading automatically to the next phase: response. The decision to avoid a bullet would lead to a different type of response, because a bullet could reach my body infinitely faster than a grenade.) 3) Response. In this case the response factor took far longer to operate than in the case of a pilot taking action to avoid another aircraft, because all he has to do is hit the controls. To respond to the threat of a grenade-burst the subconscious has to evaluate a mass of data: the angle of the thrower's arm, which governs the time period from the beginning to the end of the throw; the size (and thus the weight) of the grenade – data which affects the time taken to throw it (the heavier the slower) and the degree of explosive force; the distance of the thrower to the intended point of impact; the height of the thrower above that point (gravity aiding momentum); and all factors pertaining, which include mass, inertia, trajectory, air resistance, so forth.

Response passes to action: the body moves. But it must know how to move. Data evaluated has advised that the thrower's hand will take something like one second to swing back, jerk forward and release the grenade, and that the grenade will take longer than one second (as long as 1.5) to travel to the intended impact point, and will take a further second to fire and disintegrate (according to the type of mechanism). The response thus takes one of two almost opposite forms: with less than one second available for the evasive action the target will simply drop flat and try to swing his body away from the direction of the throw; but with more time available he will try to put distance between himself and the explosion.

The decision made for me by instinct was to respond according to the second form, but the responsibility of the instinct did not end there. I was to run, but must be in a prone position in the instant of the explosion. Instinctual commands to the motor nerves were thus elaborate: I must run as fast and as far as possible but allow time for my body to drop flat and draw its legs together a millisecond before the grenade burst.

Three psychological factors were helpful: I was under the influence of mixed emotions – shock at the discovery that the body of the Chinese had been removed, anger because I had arrived too late, and fear that it was a trap set for me. The nerves were therefore prestimulated and conditioned to fast action.

During the full period of three and a half seconds conscious thought was uninvolved. The instinctive animal processes took over complete control in a spontaneous attempt to protect the organism. It was successful.

The blast wave ripped the jacket from my back and shrapnel fragments hammered into the soles of my shoes. Masonry broke into chips and fluted through the air. Something crashed down near my head and broke up. As the eardrums were relieved from the sonic pressure of the explosion I heard the scream of sirens. Half a minute later there was the sound of running feet as police approached from one end of the alley.

I began slowly to get up, and they helped me.

Two hours later I telephoned the British Embassy and asked for Room 6 and got Loman.

'Look, I'm stuck in a private ward at the Police Hospital and they want to ask a lot of bloody questions. Get me out, will you?'

Slight pause. 'This road?'

'Yes. Do something soon. I'm fed up.'

He said he would come. It was less than five minutes' walk.

The surgeon had had me on the operating table for fifty minutes: shrapnel lacerations left calf, both shoulders, back of skull; abrasions and contusions both knees, elbows, rib cage; stitches in left hand opened up. He was the same one who had fixed the hand this morning and I told him I'd fallen down a lift shaft, but this time he was annoyed and said the injuries weren't consistent. He reported 'wounds inflicted by foul play' and satisfied himself that the Special Branch knew about me.

They were on to me anyway, because the explosion had shaken everyone up and they thought it might be connected with the abduction crisis. Three of their people were round my bed when Loman came. I told him:

'I can't give them anything, Loman. A man slung an egg and then took off and that's all I know. For God's sake get them out of here so I can think.'

They understood English perfectly and didn't like it and Loman had to promise them a full statement as soon as I was fit enough to prepare one for them.

When we were alone I gave him a quick breakdown on the whole thing: Lincoln sedan, scene in warehouse, return to warehouse, body-snatch, grenade attempt. I didn't name Vinia but said it was someone who happened to be handy. He knew it must have been one of the Mil. 6 group but it was safe enough: rivalry and friction is rife between all hush services but there is a tacit law that I have never once seen flouted. Nobody sneaks.

Loman said conclusively: 'It was a trap.'

'Not quite. They got there first, that's all, and took away the body to make sure it gets proper burial – they're Chinese, remember. Then Kuo thought I might possibly show up there to see if they showed up there when the man was missed, so he sent someone along with orders to kill on sight.'

'Those orders,' Loman said, 'will remain in force. At a time when the Kuo cell is desperate to conceal its activities and leave the city, they alert the entire complex of police services in an attempt to kill you in the noisiest possible way, believing a grenade to be more certain than a bullet.' He stood looking down at me, brooding. 'They are quite determined on getting you, therefore, and when they realize they have failed they'll try again.'

I didn't want to talk any more because my hearing wasn't back to normal and the room was tilting about a bit: they'd shot some dope into me in the operation room. But it was important that Loman should know that he still had a useful agent in the field and I told him:

'Of course they'll try again. We can rely on that. This is our first real break – it's probably the only break we'll get before both candidates are taken to the exchange point and we lose the mission. We've got to find them, and the quickest way is to let them find me, so they can try again.' The whole room tilted and I heard Loman say something but I shut him up. 'Listen. Get me some clobber. I finished up in rags. You know my size. And fix me some transport, something fast, case I need it.' His bright eyes shone through darkening mist and I cursed the dope and said: 'You'll do that for me, Loman, won't you? Togs and a banger, soon as I come to. Only chance. Give the bastard? some bait. Put me on the bloody hook and swing it. Listen, Loman, do what I--' Blackout.

I slept for eight hours and it was night. It took an hour to get into the new clothes Loman had sent in for me and to argue the toss with the hospital superintendent, who didn't want to release me without a medical clearance from the surgeon; but I forced a personal responsibility quit form out of him and signed it and left. 9 P.M.

The pain was coming back as the last of the dope drained out of the nerves and 1 was glad of it because it goaded me into resolve: they'd set up a decoy and taken me in; they'd done an all-time snatch under my nose; Pangsapa had given me a lead and I'd mucked it and they were still holed-up and ready to make their break for the frontier. Now I had a chance and it was the only one I'd get and I would use it.

The streets were empty except for police. They wouldn't be much help because a marksman, if Kuo had set one up, could pick me off as I went down the steps of the hospital. There had to be risks. They'd try again. Loman knew it. I knew it. But if the risks didn't stack up too high there was a chance of exposing myself and surviving and getting a sight of them as they got clear. It was all we needed.

They knew the danger of that. The man on the roof knew he could get clear even if I survived the grenade, because even if he missed I wouldn't be in any condition to sight him and follow up: But they meant to finish me and they'd have to take chances because they wanted to do it before they left the city and they were in a hurry now.

I walked down the steps and into the red sector.

There was no one waiting for me. They hadn't expected me to leave so soon. They might not even know I was still alive. I would have to show them that I was. The bait had to be fresh.

The Embassy was five minutes away but it seemed a long walk because one of the fragments had pierced a shoe and bruised the foot and because every movement in the whole of the vision field had to be checked. I wanted the pain to go on, life to go on.

Five minutes for thinking. There were several reasons why they had suddenly decided to kill me. 1) They thought I might have learned something from the Chinese before he was killed and might try to use it for a solo operation without telling the police. 2) They believed it now to be certain that they could get the Person out of the city and to the exchange point; I was therefore no longer a reserve candidate and had become expendable, so that any danger I might offer must be taken care of. 3) Vengeance: the Chinese had been valued by the cell.

Question: Were they so determined to kill me that one of them would be ordered to stay behind for that purpose when the main cell left?

I reached the British Embassy and went up the steps. I don't like steps: they are placed at exits and entrances where a watch can be kept, and the target is raised and has no cover. I wanted to be shot at, not shot, and the fine distinction got on my nerves.

Loman wasn't at the Embassy, but he'd left some keys for me and I went down to the street again and found the all-black hardtop E-type parked at the curb a little way along. I had told Loman something fast and he had picked a black one to be inconspicuous, with a hardtop in case I rolled it. He was good about details like that.

Assume the adverse party knew that the grenade had only injured me and that the nearest emergency medical post from the warehouse was the Police Hospital. They would look for me in three places: the Police Hospital, the British Embassy and the Pakchong Hotel. First two places negative.

I drove to the Pakchong Hotel.

And they tried again.