it.”
He paused and turned to Tsarong Rinpoche.
“Take her and the boys. See they’re given comfortable quarters for tonight. And make sure they’re well watched. I’ll hold you responsible if you let them give you the slip. Now, all of you get out. I want to speak with Mr. Wylam alone.”
As William passed, Christopher smiled at him and reached out a hand to touch his cheek. The boy was crying, all elation at his father’s appearance dashed to nothing by the realization that Christopher was as helpless here as himself.
“Don’t worry, William,” Christopher called to him.
“We’re not done for yet. Keep your spirits up.” But his words sounded trite and hollow. Things could scarcely be worse.
The Rinpoche and his men went out silently, taking Chindamani and the boys with them. At the door, she turned to look at Christopher. Their eyes met for a moment, then someone pulled her by the arm and she was gone.
“I see you like the girl,””Zamyatin said.
He spoke in English now, relaxed, urbane, mocking. The disinherited nobleman had picked up a veneer of sophistication somewhere along the way. Or had his urbanity come with the blood and the Slavic lips?
“She’s very nice, I don’t blame you. I toyed with the idea myself at one point. But women are a distraction you should know that.”
“A distraction from what? From murder?”
“From real life, of course. From the things that matter. Here, come and sit near me. It’s time we talked.”
Christopher took a cushion and sat facing Zamyatin, but he kept his distance: he wanted no intimacy with this man.
The Russian looked directly into his eyes.
“Your loyalty has impressed me, Major Wylam,” he said.
“I am not given to sentiment, but I will admit that this has taken me by surprise. Clearly, it does not pay to discount the baser emotions.
You have my congratulations. And my sympathy. Though perhaps you rather think yourself in need of neither.”
Christopher said nothing.
“Believe me,” Zamyatin continued, ‘your son was not taken from you gratuitously. It may have seemed that way to you, of course.
But I assure you, higher issues were at stake than you can possibly comprehend. I would not expect you to support the ends for which your boy was kidnapped. But I do expect you to acknowledge that what was done was done for the highest reasons. Not for profit or sensual gratification, but for the very highest of motives. You may condemn the action, but you must understand the justification.”
Christopher was growing angrier every moment.
“I’m the boy’s father!” he exploded.
“How the hell do you expect me to tolerate what you’ve done? Nothing gives you the right to kidnap a child and drag him off half-way across the world.
Nothing.”
“I’m sorry to hear you say that, Major. I had expected at least some acknowledgement of sympathy for my position. We are both professional men, you and I. You work for a country, I work for a cause. If I were an enemy soldier, surely I would be entitled to your respect. But I am fighting for a cause that stands above all petty particularities of race or nation the very prejudices that led to the world war. And yet you refuse to accord me the honour you would accord an enemy soldier.”
“Soldiers risk their lives in battle. You plot the snatching of a child from a safe distance. You send other men to do your dirty work for you.”
The Russian’s cheeks flushed. He stared hard at Christopher.
“And you Major Wylam when did you last go into battle? How many men have you killed or had killed in the course of your intelligence operations? How many agents have you instructed to kill on your behalf? For the common good. For the sake of the Empire. Don’t talk to me about morality. If your superiors told you to kidnap a Russian child tomorrow in the belief that it would help overthrow our revolutionary government, I don’t believe you would hesitate for a moment.”
Christopher said nothing. The horror was that Zamyatin was right. Higher necessity had dogged Christopher’s footsteps for every inch of his career in intelligence. In their gilded tombs, the sleeping dead listened. Light played on gold and bronze. Christopher felt the blade of the knife against his leg, pressing into his skin.
“Come to the point,” said Christopher.
“You haven’t asked me to stay for a cosy chat. What do you want from me?” He eased himself into a position from which he could more easily reach the handle of the knife.
Zamyatin moved his hands for the first time, lifting them from his lap and placing them together, palm to palm in front of him in an almost religious gesture. Oddly enough, it did not seem out of place for him to do so, even if he himself was a living contradiction of his surroundings.
“All I ask from you is a little help, a little information,” he said.
“You were an important man. Not so very long ago, you occupied a leading position with British intelligence in India. You have been deeply involved with your country’s plans for the region north of the Himalayas. You are a mine of information.
“Frankly, Major Wylam, I regard your presence here as an enormous bonus. When I first had investigations made into you and your son, I had no idea who you might be. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found such a central figure in an area of intelligence so close to my own heart Perhaps there are gods after all. Perhaps they are smiling on me.”
“I no longer work for British intelligence.” He scratched his knee, letting the fingers of his right hand move down towards the knife handle.
“I disagree. How did you get to India so quickly? Who told you where to go, what to look for?”
Christopher was nervous. A year was not very long. He still possessed information that could prove invaluable to Zamyatin and to the communist cells in India.
“Why should I tell you anything?” he said.
Zamyatin smiled.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence, Major. The cards are stacked against you: I beg you to bear that in mind. Your son has served his function. Admittedly, there are other uses to which I may be able to put him. But I have been weighing those up against the information I know you must possess. Your son may be more valuable to me dead than alive. Think about that, please.”
“If he dies, you can expect nothing from me.” Hidden by a thin shadow, Christopher’s fingers had found the top of the knife and were easing it upwards gently.
“Of course. I’m not a fool. But remember that death can be very slow And remember that there is an alternative. Your father made a deal with me. I am willing to make one with you. At the price of a little information hard information you may buy your son’s life.”
“He’s only a child, for God’s sake!”
“We are all children. You, me, your son. Men are still infants, silly and immature. The world grows up very slowly, very slowly indeed. We will only reach adulthood when a new society is created on earth. That is why I must be so hard now.
“Spare the rod and spoil the child” isn’t that what you say?
“I must be cruel to be kind.”
“You can bend a sapling, but not a tree.” You English have so many ways of expressing the idea.”
“And what happened tonight,” Christopher retorted warmly, ‘was that bending saplings?”
“Listen to me,” Zamyatin said.
“Your world is gone. The old order is being rolled up. A new one is being spread out in its place.
