Twelve Hours To Destiny (3 page)

Carradine sat back in his chair and regarded the other thoughtfully. “I assume that this man, Chao Lin, was working alone?”

“No.” The Chief shook his head. “He had a Number Two working with him. Man by the name of Kellaway. Wing-Commander in the Fighter Command before he came over to us. A good man in every respect.”

“And where is he now?”

“Still in Hong Kong. We considered it best not to pull him out yet. That decision may be forced on us soon, unless you manage to turn up something definite.”

“When you say he’s a good man, I presume that means he can be trusted?”

The Chief shot him an enigmatic glance. “We did take into account that possibility,” he murmured, as though reading Carradine’s mind. “It’s quite evident that there has been a leak somewhere and naturally Kellaway was the first choice as suspect. Nothing is against him according to his confidential record. Something of a ladies’ man, but nothing else which would explain him going over to the enemy camp.”

Carradine shrugged. “I might get in contact with him when I arrive? If he can be trusted it would give me a start.”

“Very well. But keep your eyes and ears open. Give him the file, Chief of Staff. I want you to go through it and commit it all to memory. By rights, you would need some weeks of training and preparation. Unfortunately, the affairs of the world won’t allow that. I want you out there as soon as possible. All of the arrangements to get you to Hong Kong will be made here but once there, it will be entirely up to you how you proceed. Naturally, you won’t be able to go into China as an Englishman. The detailed execution of the mission will be in your hands.” He paused, then: “By the way, which Chinese dialect did you study during the course?”

“Cantonese,” Carradine replied.

“Good.” The other’s eyes gleamed. “This is evidently going to be the most difficult assignment you have been given so far. How you’ll pass as a Chinese Communist, I don’t know. The only consolation you have is that if you fail, no one will be able to help you.” Dryly, he added: “Perhaps that fact alone will put you on your mettle to succeed.”

“Yes, sir.” Carradine knew not to ask any further questions. He had been given all the information available. Picking up the dossier which Benton slid towards him, he walked over to the door. The two men seated at the desk were talking together in low voices. They did not look up as Carradine went out and closed the door quietly behind him.

The chief said softly: “What do you consider his chances are, Chief of Staff?”

“I’m a little worried about this man Kellaway. If he is reliable, then Carradine may get through without too much difficulty. But if he is the link with the Communists, then he’s headed into big trouble.”

“He’s been with us for almost fifteen years now. In all that time there hasn’t been a breath of suspicion concerning him. Chao Lin seemed convinced he was reliable. On the other hand, do we have any other alternative but to trust him? He’s the only man we have in that part of the world who can give any help to Carradine.”

“Yet someone must have given information to the Chinese,” pointed out the other shrewdly. “They’re not mind-readers any more than we are and the way they carried out Chao Lin’s kidnapping is sure proof that they knew every little detail about him. If the operator is correct and the radio link with Chao Lin was open, then they must have struck just at the moment that he was preparing to come on to the air. How could they have known that unless they had been given every last bit of information about him from someone he trusted implicitly?”

It was a question to which there could be no answer.

CHAPTER 2

DAWN LIKE THUNDER

Once again, Carradine was nearing the end of a journey. The plane which had carried him from London Airport on a rainy, misty day, now droned self-consciously high above the clouds somewhere en route from Bangkok to Hong Kong. The brief stay at Bangkok had been sufficient to chase away the wet dreariness of England and had given him a taste of the tropics. Now, glancing out of the window at the deep blueness of the sea below him, he attempted to think of the mission which lay ahead and already the tense tingle of anticipatory excitement was beginning to curl up inside him, like an icy finger running up and down the inside of his stomach and chest. On the rack immediately above his head was the tiny case which had been specially made up for him by the Special Branch of intelligence. By now, he was used to their efforts to make certain that he had the latest weapons in his armoury; not that he often used them, preferring the heavy Luger pistol which reposed in a shoulder holster.

The plane which he had boarded at Bangkok for this last leg of his journey was perhaps the oldest that BOAC still had flying anywhere in the world. On this particular trip it was flying with only half a dozen oddly assorted passengers on board. Leaning back, Carradine studied them from beneath lowered lids. A couple of wealthy Chinese, a tall, good-looking black African man, and two Europeans apart from himself.

The previous day, he had finished with the folder on the Chao Lin case and handed it back to Benton. There had been relatively little in it that he hadn’t learned during the brief interview when he had been assigned to this case and the paucity of information was one of the main causes of his uneasiness. He disliked going into anything of this nature knowing so little about what to expect or how he was to go about his mission. Sitting forward in his seat, he sifted the smallest details of Chao Lin’s disappearance through his mind, trying to find the key to the mystery which was drawing nearer to him at more than three hundred miles every hour.

The plane banked slightly, changing course, now heading north-eastward. Here, the day was almost ended. There was a pale sickle of a moon showing through the window, but the sun was still above the horizon somewhere behind them, although down below, the smooth waters were half in shadow. He remembered that up here, above the rose-tinted clouds, they would remain in sunlight longer than anyone on the ground.

There was only another fifty minutes before they were scheduled to arrive at the airport on the mainland across from Hong Kong island. He began putting his thoughts in order, dragging them back to the present. He had already decided that he would need to get in touch with Kellaway as soon as possible unless arrangements had already been made for the other to meet him.

The stewardess brought him a whisky and he sat back enjoying the drink because it took his mind temporarily off his trouble. By the time he had finished it, they were already slanting downward through the clear late-evening air towards Hong Kong Airport some four miles from Kowloon.

The lights of Hong Kong Island showed clearly across the mile-wide channel which lay between Victoria and the mainland, spangling the area around the waterfront and sneaking up the side of Victoria Peak. Then there was no time to watch the scene outside with such interest for a slight jar indicated that the undercarriage was down and locked in position and the air began to shrill as the brakes extended from the trailing edges of the wings and they began the long glide over the sea towards the distant runway.

Minutes later, the plane wheeled to a stop before the modern buildings of Hong Kong Airport, rivalling any that Carradine had ever seen. He climbed slowly down the ladder which had been wheeled into position and together with the handful of passengers made his way towards the Customs shed. Most of the men were Chinese, he noticed, keen-eyed men who examined everything with a perfunctory attention to detail. The small case which had been made up specially for him passed muster as he had expected. The licence he had for the Luger was scanned thoughtfully, then handed back to him. He had expected awkward questions to be asked concerning the gun. Even here, in this part of the world, bringing in the heavy pistols was frowned upon by the authorities, but there were no questions to be answered, nothing but a polite scrutiny before he was passed through. He had time to notice that at least two of his fellow passengers were receiving far less favoured treatment, time to ponder briefly on it, before he was out of the building, looking about him in the clear, calm night.

“Carradine?” said a quiet voice at his elbow.

He turned sharply, then relaxed. “You could only be Kellaway,” he said off-handedly. “Only you would know I was due to arrive.”

“Right first time, old man.” The other grinned. Carradine felt a little irritated by the man’s manner, but fought the feeling down. He knew the type instantly. Public school. Service with the RAF in which he would soon rise to a position of authority and then, probably finding peacetime service too dull, too routine, he had come to Intelligence hoping for a life of adventure and instead, had found himself posted out here where, in spite of the exotic surroundings, life was far from exciting and one day was very much like the rest. Such a humdrum life, for a man searching for high adventure, could be a reason for going over to the enemy camp and playing a double game.

“I wasn’t sure whether anyone would be here to meet me or not.”

The other nodded noncommittally. “The Chief thought it best that I should be here to pick you up. Since we lost Chao Lin, we can’t afford to take any chances.”

While he had been speaking, the other had taken Carradine’s cases, except for the small one which Carradine insisted politely on carrying himself, and lead the way towards a car which waited for them just outside the terminal buildings.

Sliding into the seat, Carradine glanced obliquely at the other as Kellaway crushed into the driver’s seat after depositing the cases in the back. Had there been something a little out of place in the other’s tone, as if the man were being continually on the defensive, he wondered? Perhaps he was being a little hard on the other. After all, the entire Intelligence station here in Hong Kong had been disrupted, put out of action by the enemy.

Kellaway twisted the ignition key. The engine roared into life. Then they were shooting away from the kerb and cutting along the road towards Kowloon.

“How did it happen?” Carradine sat back, still watchful.

“You mean about Chao Lin? I only wish to God I knew. I wasn’t there at the time. He was a very careful man. Said we were not to be seen together unless it was absolutely necessary. We used to meet three times a week on the outskirts of Victoria, usually down near the docks. I’d give him all of the information I’d managed to pick up and he would put me in the picture as far as his side of the business was concerned.”

“Wasn’t that an odd way of doing business? As his Number Two, surely you knew virtually everything he was doing?”

“That’s how I thought it was supposed to be,” said the other harshly. “But he said that there were too many people watching Europeans and working for the Hong Kong station was different from any other. He may have been right. After all there are more than three and a half million Chinese in Hong Kong and only a few thousand Europeans. They run the place in spite of what people might think in London.”

“Then you’ve no idea at all what happened that night?”

“Only that whoever did it, made a dammed good job of destroying the station. The entire place was gutted. All of the records had been destroyed, together with the transmitter.” The other paused, then went on: “You know about the torpedo boat?”

“Yes, they told me about that in London.”

“There was no sign of a body in the ruins, so it seems more than likely they smuggled him out of the colony and into China. They’d never have gone to the trouble of attacking a British torpedo boat unless there was a very good reason for it.”

Carradine grunted something in reply, turned his head to glance through the rear window. The headlights of a solitary car showed some distance behind them. Although Kellaway was driving slowly, the other vehicle showed no sign of catching up with them. Sharply, he said: “That car behind us. It’s been there for some minutes now, just keeping pace with us.”

Kellaway glanced in the mirror, his face tight. “Could be some of the other passengers who were on the plane with you. This is the only road into Kowloon.”

“Maybe. But I’ve got the feeling whoever is in it may be interested in us, or more precisely in me.”

“You want me to try to lose them?” Kellaway asked.

Carradine smiled to himself at the note of eagerness in the other’s tone. Apart from what had happened to Chao Lin, this was perhaps the only bit of excitement which had come along to brighten the other’s life out here. He shook his head. “No. Wait until you come to some convenient spot where you can pull off the road, then put out the headlights and we’ll take a closer look at them. Are there any sharp bends in this road?”

The other pursed his lips momentarily, then nodded. “One up ahead, about a quarter of a mile. There’s also a short cul-de-sac leading off it to the right.”

“Good. Then get in there.”

Jerking his head around, he kept an eye on the twin spotlights behind them as Kellaway eased his foot down slightly on the accelerator to widen the distance between them. They drove over the brow of a hill with the lights of Kowloon stretched out before them. Then, almost before Carradine was aware of it, the other spun hard on the wheel and they roared into a narrow, dark entrance, with a tangle of brush at the far end, blocking any further movement.

Snapping off the headlights, Kellaway switched off the ignition. Tension built up swiftly in the warm, dark silence. Then there came the muted purr of the car which had been following them. Jerking the Luger from his shoulder holster, Carradine opened the door and stood up, crouched down behind the car. Kellaway remained seated behind the wheel, his body hunched slightly forward. There was a tense expression on his face, the lips twisted into a faint grimace.

Headlights showed along the road at the mouth of the alley. They grew brighter as the sound of the car increased. It was moving slowly, almost as if the driver suspected what they had done. Then it glided past. He caught a brief glimpse of the man in the driver’s seat, leaning forward as though peering intently through the windscreen. There were at least two men in the back, dark anonymous shadows from which no detail emerged.

Two of his fellow passengers as Kellaway thought? Or was his presence here in Hong Kong known to the enemy? The sound of the car engine faded a little. With an effort, he forced himself to relax. Then, abruptly, the sound came again, growing louder. The car was coming back! He opened his mouth to yell a warning to Kellaway. Before a single sound could be uttered, the car was there, jerking to a halt opposite the cul-de-sac, the harsh squeal of rubber against the road surface sounding painfully in his ears. Pulling his head down, he jerked up the gun, every nerve in his body screaming that there was danger here. The beam of a powerful flashlight lanced from the rear of the car, touched the boot of Kellaway’s car, then slid on, probing the shadows. Someone said something in a high, sing-song voice.

Carradine had a momentary glimpse of some dark object which flew through the air towards him, bounced off the wing of the car and hit the hard-packed dirt a few feet from where he crouched. Instinctively, he hurled himself forward, shoulder halfway under the protruding bonnet as the night erupted in a cavernous roar of smoke and flame. Ears ringing from the thunderous explosion, his body jarred and shaken by the blast, he held his arms over his head as bits of debris began to fall all about him. There was a tinkle of shattered glass, the licking of red-tongued flame at the edge of his vision.

For a moment, he lay half-conscious, struggling to focus all of his senses. Then, choking and coughing, he hoisted himself to his feet. In the distance, above the roaring in his ears, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine being revved up, saw through tear-blurred vision the other car jolting forward as the driver gunned it for all his worth down the hill towards Kowloon.

Their car was a shambles. Flames were beginning to lick around the boot and the rear door had been blown completely off its hinges and lay buckled and twisted some feet away from the wreck. Staggering forward, he hauled desperately at the front door. Kellaway lay slumped back in his seat, his face a pale white blur in the dimness. Any minute now that fire would reach the petrol tank and once that went up there wouldn’t be a chance in hell of getting Kellaway out of the blazing wreck.

Savagely, his head swimming, he struggled with the warped door, cursing futilely as the sharp metal tore at his fingers until blood trickled warmly down his wrists. Glass lay over the front seat and over Kellaway’s back and shoulders but he did not seem to be badly injured. The blast must have knocked him forward so that he had struck his head on the dashboard. Carradine groaned aloud as he heaved with all of the strength left in his pulverised body. Any second now and even if the naked flames did not reach the highly sensitive fuel, the heat alone would be sufficient to ignite it. If he was to save himself, he would have to get away from the burning car and leave Kellaway to his fate.

With one final desperate heave, he contracted the muscles of his arms and shoulders and dragged back on the door handle with all of his weight. With a high-pitched screech of tortured, rending metal, the door gave, opened so abruptly that he fell back on to the dirt with the mass of metal on top of his bruised chest. Without pausing to think coherently, he sucked a gust of air into his lungs, sprang to his feet, caught Kellaway around the waist and dragged him out of the driver’s seat in a single, convulsive movement.