‘Oh, the stoically heroic British,’ observed the Frenchman. ‘At least you had the grace not to say Agincourt.’
‘Cut the crap!’ shouted Bourne, pushing d’Anjou aside and leaning over the chair, his hands on both arms, crowding the old man back into the seat. ‘You tell me where he is and you tell me quickly, or you may wish you never got out of El Alamein!’
‘Where who is, you maniac?”
‘You’re not the man downstairs! You’re not Joseph Wadsworth going up to room three twenty-five!’
‘This is room three twenty-five and I am Joseph Wadsworth! Brigadier, retired, Royal Engineers!’
‘When did you check in?’
‘Actually, I was spared that drudgery,’ replied Wadsworth haughtily. ‘As a professional guest of the government, certain courtesies are extended. I was escorted through customs and brought directly here. I must say the room service is hardly up to snuff – God knows it’s not the Connaught – and the damned telephone’s mostly on the fritz.’
‘I asked you when!’
‘Last night, but since the plane was six hours late I suppose I should say this morning.’
‘What were your instructions?’
‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business.’
Bourne whipped out the brass letter-opener from his belt and held the sharp point against the old man’s throat. ‘It is if you want to get out of that chair alive.’
‘Good God, you are a maniac.’
‘You’re right, I haven’t much time for sanity. In fact, none at all. The instructions?
‘They’re harmless enough. I was to be picked up some time around twelve noon, and as it’s now after three, one can assume that the People’s government is not run by the clock any more than its airline.’
D’Anjou touched Bourne’s arm. The eleven-thirty plane,’ said the Frenchman quietly. ‘He’s the decoy and knows nothing.’
‘Then your Judas is here in another room,’ replied Jason over his shoulder. ‘He has to be!’
‘Don’t say any more, he’ll be questioned.’ With sudden and unexpected authority, d’Anjou edged Bourne away from the chair and spoke in the impatient tones of a superior officer. ‘See here, Brigadier, we apologize for the inconvenience, it’s a damned nuisance, I know. This is the third room we’ve broken into – we learned the name of each occupant for the purposes of shock interrogation.’
‘Shock what! I don’t understand.’
‘One of four people on this floor has smuggled in over five million dollars’ worth of narcotics. Since it wasn’t the three of you, we have our man. I suggest you do as the others are doing. Say your room was broken into by a raging drunk, furious over the accommodation – that’s what they’re saying. There’s a lot of that going on and it’s best not to be put under suspicion, even by mistaken association. The government here often overreacts.’
‘Wouldn’t want that,’ sputtered Wadsworth, formerly of the Royal Engineers. ‘Damned pension’s little enough to get by on. This was meant to be a little extra feathering for the old Surrey nest.’
The door, Major,’ ordered d’Anjou, addressing Jason. ‘Easy, now. Try to keep it upright.’ The Frenchman turned to the Englishman. ‘Stand by and hold it, Brigadier. Just lean it back and give us twenty minutes to get our man, then do whatever you like. Remember, a raging drunk. For your own sake.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. A drunk. Raging.’
‘Come, Major!’
Out in the hallway they picked up their bags and started rapidly towards the staircase. ‘Hurry up? said Bourne. There’s still time. He has to make his change – I’d have to make it! We’ll check the street entrances, the taxi stands, try to pick two logical ones, or goddamn it, illogical ones. We’ll each take one and work out signals.’
‘First there are two doors,’ broke in d’Anjou, breathlessly. ‘In this hallway. Pick any two you wish but do it quickly. Kick them in and yell abusive language, slurring your words, of course.’
‘You were serious?’
‘Never more so, Delta. As we saw for ourselves the explanation is entirely plausible and embarrassment will restrict any formal investigation. The management will no doubt persuade our brigadier to keep his mouth shut. They could lose their comfortable jobs. Quickly now! Take your choice and do the job!’
Jason stopped at the next door on the right. He braced himself, then rushed towards it, crashing his shoulder into the middle of the flimsy upper panel. The door flew open.
‘God’s teeth? screamed a woman in Hindi, half out of her sari, which was draped around her feet.
‘What the devil is happening? Has that damned lock broken again?’ a naked man shrieked as he came racing out of the bathroom, his genitals shielded with an inadequate towel.
Both stood gaping at the mad intruder, who lurched about with unfocused eyes as he swept articles off the nearest bureau, yelling in a coarse, drunken voice. ‘Rotten hotel! Toilets don’t work, phones don’t work! Nothing – Jesus, this isn’t my room! Shhorry…’
Bourne weaved out, slamming the door shut behind him.
‘That was fine!’ said d’Anjou. They’d already had trouble with the lock. Hurry. One more. That one!’ The Frenchman pointed to a door on the left. ‘I heard laughter inside. Two voices.’
Again Jason crashed into a door, smashing it open, roaring his drunken complaints. However, instead of being met by two startled guests, he faced a young couple, both bare to the waist, each drawing on a pinched cigarette, inhaling deeply, their eyes glazed.
‘Welcome, neighbour,’ said the young American male, his voice floating, his diction precise, if at quarter speed. ‘Don’t let things trouble you so. The phones don’t work but our can does. Use it, share it. Don’t get so uptight.’
‘What the hell are you doing in my room?’ yelled Jason even more drunkenly, his slur now obscuring his words.
‘If this is your room, macho boy,’ interrupted the girl, swaying in her chair, ‘you were privy to private things and we’re not like that.’ She giggled.
‘Christ, you’re stoned?
‘And without taking the Lord’s name in vain,’ countered the young man, ‘you’re very drunk.’
‘We don’t believe in alcohol,’ added the spaced-out girl. ‘It produces hostility. It rises to the surface like Lucifer’s demons.’
‘Get yourself detoxified, neighbour,’ continued the young American liltingly. Then get healthy with grass. I will lead you into the fields where you will find your soul again-‘
Bourne raced out of the room, slamming the door, and grabbed d’Anjou’s arm. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, adding as they approached the staircase. ‘If that story you gave the brigadier gets around, those two will spend twenty years deballing sheep in Outer Mongolia.’
The Chinese proclivity for close observation and intense security dictated that the airport hotel should have a single large entrance in the front for guests and a second for employees at the side of the building. The latter was replete with uniformed guards who scrutinized everyone’s working papers and searched all bags and bulging pockets when the employees left for the day. The lack of familiarity between guards and workers suggested that the former were changed frequently, putting space between potential bribes and bribers.
‘He won’t chance the guards,’ said Jason as they passed the employees’ exit after hastily checking in their two canvas bags, pleading lateness for a meeting due to the delayed plane. They look as if they get Brownie points for picking up anyone who steals a chicken wing or a bar of soap.’
They also intensely dislike those who work here,’ agreed d’Anjou. ‘But why are you so certain he’s still in the hotel? He knows Beijing. He could have taken a taxi to another hotel, another room.’
‘Not looking the way he did on the plane, I told you that. He wouldn’t allow it. / wouldn’t. He wants the freedom to move around without being spotted or followed. He’s got to have it for his own protection.’
‘If that’s the case, they could be watching his room right now. Same results. They’ll know what he looks like.’
‘If it were me – and that’s all I’ve got to go on – he’s not there. He’s made arrangements for another room.’
‘You contradict yourself!’ objected the Frenchman as they approached the crowded entrance hall of the airport hotel. ‘You said he’d be receiving his instructions by phone. Whoever calls will ask for the room they assigned him, certainly not the decoy’s, not Wadsworth’s.’
‘If the phones are working – a condition that’s a plus for your Judas, incidentally – it’s a simple matter to have calls transferred from one room to another. A plug is inserted in the switchboard, if it’s primitive, or programmed, if it’s computerized. It’s not a big deal. A business conference, old friends on the plane – read that any way you like – or no explanation at all, which is probably best.’
‘Fallacy!’ proclaimed d’Anjou. ‘His client here in Beijing will alert the hotel operators. He’ll be wired into the switchboard.’
‘That’s the one thing he won’t do,’ said Bourne, pushing the Frenchman through a revolving door out on to the pavement, which was crawling with confused tourists and businessmen trying to arrange transportation. ‘It’s a gamble he can’t afford to take,’ continued Jason, as they walked past a line of small, shabby buses and well-aged taxis at the kerb. ‘Your commando’s client has to keep maximum distance between the two of them. There can’t be the slightest possibility that a connection could be traced, so that means everything’s restricted to a very tight, very elite circle, with no runs on a switchboard, no calling attention to anyone, especially your commando. They won’t risk wandering around the hotel, either. They’ll stay away from him, let him make the moves. There are too many secret police here; someone in that elite circle could be recognized.’