“It is a stout heart—and not so old as mine.”
“All that I have done has been under your direction.”
“What of the reorganization of the People’s Army? You are too modest, Tsung-Chao. But between us we have gained the confidence of Peiping. I have unlimited authority, for Peiping remains curiously, but fortunately, ignorant of the power of the Si-Fan.”
“I pray that their ignorance may continue.”
“I have inspected many provinces, and have found our work progressing well. I detected several United States agents, and many of Free China. But Free China fights for the same goal as the Si-Fan.”
“But not for the same leader, Master!”
Dr. Fu Manchu smiled. His smile was more terrifying than his frown.
“You mean for the same
“I await the day, Master!”
“It will come. But if the United States, Britain, or particularly Soviet Russia, should unmask the world-wide conspiracy of the Si-Fan, all our plans would be laid in ashes! So, when I am in China, my China, I must travel incognito; I am a shadow.”
The old general smiled; a wrinkled but humorous smile. “I can answer for most of our friends in Formosa. From the United States agents you have little to fear. None of them knows you by sight—only by repute. I have entertained several Soviet visitors—and your name stands high with the Kremlin. But news reached me yesterday that Nayland Smith has left England, and I believe is in Hong Kong.”
“Tehee!” It was a hiss. “The old hound is hot on my trail! He will not be working alone. We must take precautions. He lacks genius. He is a product of the Scotland Yard tradition. But he has inexhaustible patience. Note this, Tsung-Chao: any suspect arrested by the blundering Communists in or near Szechuan must be reported to me at once. I shall interrogate such suspects, personally . . .”
* * *
Tony awoke with a start, shot upright in bed.
It wasn’t the rats and it wasn’t the lice. It was a woman’s scream that had pierced his sleep like a hot blade.
Everything was silent again, the night hot and still. His cell stank foully. But he hadn’t dreamed. He had heard a woman scream—a sudden, agonized scream. He clenched his fists. His palms were clammy. And he listened— listened.
He had no means of knowing what time it was, how long he had slept. The barred window resembled a black hole in the wall. It overlooked a small courtyard and he could barely see the sky.
Further sleep was out of the question. His brain was on fire. Somewhere, in this hell hole, they were persecuting a woman.
Footsteps and voices broke the silence. He recognized one voice. It was that of his jailer.
They were coming for him!
This would be the great test.
The heavy door was unlocked. Two armed men wearing the uniform of the Red Army held up lanterns. His thickset, leering jailer opened the padlock which confined McKay’s ankle.
“This way, Chi Foh. They want to ask you something about fishing!”
He assumed that stony passivity which belonged to his part. Head held low, he went out between the two guards. Quite unnecessarily, they prodded him with their rifle butts to keep him moving. Strange how Soviet training dehumanized men!
Colonel Soong sat at a bamboo table in the lighted courtyard. The governor, an older man whom Tony could have respected, sat on the colonel’s right. A junior officer who looked like a coolie in uniform was on his left. Two soldiers stood behind them.
“Stand him there,” Colonel Soong commanded, pointing, “where he can see what we do with spies!”
The governor had put on heavy-rimmed spectacles, and was trying to read some document which lay before him—probably, the several examinations of Suspect Wu Chi Foh. The junior officer watched Tony with an expression a gourmet might assume before a choice meal.
“Those who admit their guilt, Chi Foh”—the colonel was addressing him—”die an easy death. I recommend an open confession. Bring in the prisoners.”
Escorted by four soldiers, two men came into the courtyard, their hands tied behind their backs.
Tony saw the elderly Chung Wa-Su, and the younger Li. He had covered many hundreds of miles by road, river and canal since his dealings with them. Yet here they were to confront him, lined up no more than three paces away.
“Wu Chi Foh, do you know these men? Make them look up.”
Guards prodded the prisoners. Both stared impassively at Tony.
“No, Excellency”
“You are a lying son of a pig! Again I ask you—and this is your last chance of an easy death—do you know these men?”
“No, Excellency”
Colonel Soong rapped out a harsh order. The official executioner came in, a stocky, muscular figure, stripped to the waist and showing a torso and arms like those of a gorilla. He carried a short, curved sword.
Neither of the prisoners displayed the slightest interest in the proceedings . . .
When, with an efficiency which commanded Tony’s reluctant admiration, Chung Wa-Su and Li had been beheaded and their bodies hauled from the courtyard: “That is the easy death, Chi Foh,” Colonel Soong told him. “I am returning you to your cell to consider this. Be prepared at any hour to buy the same painless end.”
Tony was dragged back to the smelly dungeon which had confined him so long, and was thrown in with such sudden violence that he fell on his face. The chain was relocked to his ankle.
He dropped onto the bed and sank his head into his hands.
Even supposing that neither Chung Wa-Su nor Li had involved him in their confessions (and it was possible), he was marked for death. He could admit all he had learned (very little), and have his head neatly lopped off by an expert, or he could persist in his story that he was a harmless fisherman. Then he would be put in the stocks, and —
They had no evidence whatever to connect him with Sir Denis Nayland Smith. The wonderful little long-range walkie-talkie which Sir Denis had entrusted to him before he set out, he had, mercifully, managed to drop in the river when he saw them coming to arrest him.
He seemed to hear again that snappy voice: “If anything goes wrong—get rid of it, fast . . .” It had helped him in many emergencies, made him feel that he wasn’t alone. Now—
He could, of course, reveal his true identity and challenge Soong to execute a United States officer. But there’s a code in these affairs, and it is never broken, except by renegades.
This was the end . .
Something came through the window bars and fell right at his feet.
It made a dull thud, but there was a faint metallic jingle, too. Tony stooped eagerly and picked up a piece of thin paper wrapped around two keys and another metal object.
His hands shook as he unrolled the parcel. The third object was a cigarette-lighter!
He snapped it up and read on thin rice paper:
From Nayland Smith.
The smaller key frees your chain. The other opens the door. Leave before daylight. The guard on the gate is bribed. Your boat still lies where you left it. Money and some food aboard. Follow Min River left bank, down to any navigable creek, then use irrigation canals to Niu-fo-tu on Lu Ho River. Ask for the house of the Lama. He expects you. Memorize and swallow message.
His heart leapt madly. Thank God! Nayland Smith hadn’t lost contact with him! His last message on the walkie-talkie had placed his location—and he was no longer alone.
Tony had little difficulty in memorizing the directions, for his journey up to Chia-Ting had made him familiar
