See Charlie Run (25 page)

‘I know that if it's genuine you've broken a lot of regulations.'

Dear God spare me from another Witherspoon, thought Charlie. He said: ‘Which I know. Like I said, an emergency …' The thought came suddenly and Charlie said: ‘You'll have to make contact with London anyway now, won't you?'

‘I'll need a passport as well as fingerprints,' said the man.

‘You can have whatever you want,' said Charlie, relieved.

There was a delay bringing the inkpad and paper, and when the man finally left the room Charlie experimentally tried the door and found it to be locked. He smiled, appreciatively, not offended. He'd risked – and endangered – everything by coming here like this. He closed his eyes, in brief contemplation rather than prayer: just one wrong word, the smallest misconception, and he'd be down the drain without even touching the sides. He was becoming accustomed to the perpetual apprehension.

It was a full hour before the man returned, an hour when, despite attempts not to, Charlie kept lapsing into a half-sleep, slumped awkwardly in a stiffly upright chair in an oppressively hot room. He dreamed but consciously, all the time part of him aware of what was happening, confronting a mental mirror of disjointed images: exploding planes and threatening Americans, an emotionless Russian and a big woman whose voice was too loud and who spoke with her hands on her hips, and more threats, from a Chinese who looked like a European this time, and then the voices and the faces and the threats got further confused, coming from the wrong faces with the wrong voices, and that aware part of him, the part that knew it was a dream anyway, tried to get everything back together, in their right compartments, properly to understand what was really happening, and that same, conscious reasoning part of his mind told him he'd come back to the major difficulty and that he still didn't understand what was really happening, not at all.

He heard the turn of the key and managed to rouse himself to avoid the duty officer realizing how close he was to exhaustion; fully awake, Charlie realized he'd been right to fight against the collapse in the taxi on the way here. Now he felt bloody awful and some of the images still overlaid each other, more confused than they should have been.

‘You're to come,' announced the man.

Not that his knowing mattered, apart from pride, but Charlie managed to conceal the relief from the other man. The guards were outside and formed up into some sort of loose escort, restricting him precisely to where he was to go. It was to the main building and down a central corridor: politely Charlie indicated no interest in things that were not supposed to concern him, but there was an impression of sterility. There were no festooned notice-boards or indications of occupancy and like the CIA Residency at the American embassy none of the doors he passed showed any designation.

The communications chamber was not suspended, like those to which he was accustomed at embassies throughout the world, and it was far larger than he expected. There were telex and facsimile and photo-transmission and radio and secure telephone equipment Charlie knew how to operate, but there were also two separate banks of what appeared to be radio apparatus that he did not recognize and which he accepted he would be incapable of using. In addition there were six television sets, separated in booths with an individual chair before each. Charlie guessed they were for visual communication but wasn't sure: the operating controls were on separate panels, linked by curled wire.

‘Do you need any assistance?' asked the unnamed duty officer.

‘I think I can manage,' said Charlie. ‘And thanks.'

‘There's going to be trouble over this,' predicted the man.

‘It seems to happen,' said Charlie.

‘You're to wait, for London to come through.'

‘I understand.'

‘We'll be right outside …' The duty officer paused and then added heavily: ‘All of us.'

The call came, on a red telephone in the second bank, minutes after the man quit the room. At once Sir Alistair Wilson said critically: ‘The only thing you didn't provide was the colour of your underwear.'

‘After what's happened, it might have been embarrassing,' said Charlie.

‘Have you got the woman?'

‘Yes.'

There was a discernible sigh of relief, and the Director said: ‘Thank Christ for that.'

‘But there are problems,' deflated Charlie, at once. Again, as in Tokyo, Wilson let him talk uninterrupted, and Charlie was surprised how quickly he was able to set out the overlapping and conflicting difficulties: something so complicated should have taken longer.

The Director didn't waste time with comment. The moment Charlie finished, Wilson said: ‘Harry Lu needs resolving first.'

‘I don't really blame him, in the circumstances,' said Charlie. He owed the man that at least, from their past friendship.

‘Him, his wife and his child?'

‘English residency,' confirmed Charlie.

‘You really believe he'd do it?'

‘To get to America instead of England, as a second choice, sure he would,' said Charlie. ‘Wouldn't you?'

‘Yes,' agreed Wilson, at once.

‘Is it possible?' asked Charlie.

‘It'll have to be made possible,' determined Wilson.

‘I can tell him it's fixed then?'

There was a hesitation from London and then the Director said: ‘Yes, you can tell him it's fixed.'

‘He'll want more than a promise.'

‘Everything will be available, at the High Commission.'

‘Which leaves the Americans,' said Charlie, moving on.

‘Who insist they haven't got Kozlov,' said Wilson. Now it was Charlie's turn to listen without interruption as the other man recounted the exchanges at Director level. Wilson did so in complete detail, even setting out the inconclusive analysis he and Harkness had attempted, afterwards.

‘Nothing about this makes any sense at all,' said Charlie.

‘We've got the woman,' reminded the Director. ‘That's the one positive fact. And we've got to keep her.'

‘US military, with transport as well as CIA,' said Charlie.

‘We'll send another military pick-up, right away.'

‘The Americans will go for her,' forecast Charlie. ‘That's why they're here!'

This time the pause was longer than any before. Finally Wilson said: ‘Hong Kong is too diplomatically sensitive, with the Chinese take-over so close, for a major incident.'

‘What about a naval boat: get her away at sea and transfer her later on, somewhere where the Americans couldn't interfere?' suggested Charlie.

‘There soon won't be a department of the British government you haven't involved in this!' said the Director.

‘You plan to give her up then?'

‘Of course I don't intend to give her up!' said Wilson. ‘A ship is a possibility: I'll check if there are any in the area.'

‘Anything more from Tokyo, on the plane explosion?'

‘Forensic reports will take days,' said the Director. ‘So I think Cartright should come down to you: we can monitor the Tokyo investigation through the Air attaché.'

‘I think he should come down, too,' said Charlie. ‘And more people this time on the military aircraft.'

‘There'll be enough,' said Wilson. ‘This time there'll be more than enough.'

‘We might have to move from Macao,' warned Charlie. ‘There should be an established contact point.'

‘Harry Lu?'

‘How about through the station here?'

Wilson detected the doubt and said: ‘You unsure about Lu now?'

‘He's well known in the colony,' avoided Charlie. ‘There could be an intercept: I'm just minimizing risk.'

‘Composite Signals is way beyond my jurisdiction,' said Wilson. ‘There's going to be a hell of a row as it is.'

‘I've been told,' said Charlie. ‘It's still the most secure.'

‘I'll try to fix it,' sighed Wilson.

‘And the documents for Lu and his family?'

‘I'm hardly likely to forget, am I!'

When Charlie emerged, the escort and the duty officer were waiting, as the man promised. Charlie grinned and said: ‘Thanks again. We might be cooperating further.'

‘There'll need to be specific instruction from London,' said the man, at once.

‘Of course,' said Charlie. He wondered if rules-and-regulation men like the duty clerk and Witherspoon screwed by numbered decree and then thought no; they probably didn't screw at all.

‘Entry documents for a man on the suspect list!' Harkness's usually pink face was deep red now, flushed with outrage.

‘We don't have any alternative.'

‘It's blackmail!'

‘Yes,' agreed the Director, evenly. ‘That's exactly what it is.'

‘Muffin was specifically precluded from involving the man.'

‘He didn't have any alternative either.'

‘It's going to take months, placating the Foreign Office and the electronic surveillance division and clearing up the mess that the confounded man has caused,' insisted the deputy.

‘Charlie's got Irena Kozlov,' pointed out Wilson. ‘That's what he was sent out to do.'

‘There'll need to be a lot of explanation, when he gets back.'

‘He's got to get back yet.'

Harkness put his head to one side, in sudden thought. ‘The Foreign Office could always rescind Lu's entry permission, once we got Irena Kozlov here, couldn't they?'

‘I suppose so, if someone could show proper cause why he shouldn't be allowed to stay,' agreed the Director.

Chapter Twenty-One

The planning meeting was convened, naturally, in Fredericks' suite, everyone there except Jim Dale, who drew the first shift monitoring the commercial flights out of Kai Tak airport. In addition to the CIA men, Fredericks brought in the Special Forces colonel commanding the army group which had been brought in on the C-130, a hard-bodied, stiffly upright man named Jamieson who appeared vaguely uncomfortable in tropical civilian clothes and looked out of place in them anyway.

‘Well?'

The CIA supervisor directed the question to Winslow Elliott, the liaison with the local informants and stringers and the man coordinating the ongoing check of hotels.

Elliott shook his head. ‘Nothing, so far. We're still checking out Kowloon …' He looked needlessly at his watch. ‘Should be starting on the island any time.'

‘The bastard can't just have disappeared: it's not possible in a place as small as this!' protested Fredericks. ‘What about cars? He must have used a vehicle!'

‘Nothing there either,' said Elliott. ‘Still checking obviously.' He was as anxious as the supervisor to nail Charlie Muffin but he didn't like the way Fredericks appeared to be panicking.

‘There should have been something by now!' said Fredericks.

‘We've only just started,' reminded the reasonable Takeo Yamada, who was also concerned at their controller's knee-jerk attitude.

‘Time we don't have!' insisted Fredericks, mouthing the much repeated injunction. He guessed he had three days before Langley began burning his ass: four at the outside. To the Green Beret colonel, he said: ‘What about leaving a minimum out at the airport and bringing in your guys, so we can section up the goddamned place grid-fashion?'

Jamieson made a doubtful rocking gesture with his hands. ‘I know Hong Kong: R and R'd here a lot, from ‘Nam. It's not built that way. Cover all the obvious hotels more quickly than you are at the moment, maybe, but what if he's holed up with her in some apartment? Don't forget to the Chinese we're “gweilos” – white ghosts or devils – not people they should help. House-to house stuff is never going to work.'

‘We've got to do more than just sit around and wait!'

‘The airport is the place and we've got that blocked,' said Jamieson, positively.

Fredericks looked around at the assembled men and smiled, an expression that surprised them. ‘What's the one edge we've got? Small, but still an edge?' The smile stayed, at the shoulder-shrugs and head shaking. ‘Numbers,' announced the huge man. ‘We've got numbers and Charlie Muffin is by himself. So what's he got to do?'

‘Call in local help,' accepted Levine.

‘Right!' said Fredericks. To Elliott, the liaison man, he said: ‘Get back to everyone: some of them will double anyway, probably for the British. Get the names of anyone who deals exclusively for them … of
anyone
, who's ever done anything for London.'

‘It could be a shortcut,' agreed Harry Fish, speaking for the first time.

‘You got a better idea!' demanded Fredericks, truculently.

The CIA man flushed at the unnecessary attack. He said: ‘And when we get the names?'

‘Whatever it takes,' said Fredericks. ‘Money, pressure, whatever …'

‘Do you mean actually move against a guy, if we think he knows something?' demanded Yamada. He didn't intend getting his balls in a bind in some later enquiry because of an instruction as vague as that.

‘If we come up with a guy who just maybe knows something then I'll personally stoke the fire and turn the spit until we find out what it is,' said Fredericks positively.

It only took an hour to get Harry Lu's name and it linked with a coincidence. At the same time Elliott's hotel checks extended across the harbour to begin on Hong Kong island and the Mandarin doorman identified Charlie Muffin positively and at once from the CIA file pictures. There very briefly, the doorman said: he didn't know the woman with whom the man left but Harry Lu was a local businessman, into a lot of things, including a car hire firm. Actually parked his Mercedes against the prohibited sign. Harry Lu did things like that; tipped well, too. The doorman smiled, pleased the American took the hint.