beating up people to giving them so-called shock or burn treatment.
Allied to these first premises, there was another, possibly the most important step. The hostage had to be removed from what psychiatrists called ‘normal daylight patterns’. In simple language, they would be, literally, kept in the dark.
‘Once you have unbalanced a person through abduction, restrained that person, made that person vulnerable, and disorientated that person by removing his time pattern, the rest is relatively simple and can be divided into three stages,’ Franks continued in his cold, matter-of-fact tone which made Bond wonder how many times this man had practised these very techniques.
‘You begin to control through random violence and random reward. A person is beaten up three times in, say, five hours, but between these acts of violence there is one reward – a glass of water or a hunk of bread, a cigarette or the use of a bathroom. But always in the dark, always isolated, always unsure of why this is happening.’
Further, Franks told them, there were other pressures – threats to the victim’s family, threats of harsher treatment by some unseen and unknown person who is painted as a monster, sudden and irrelevant leniency. ‘Four days of this kind of treatment can, in well-controlled circumstances, bring the victim to rely wholly on his captor. It is then that the captor makes himself known, makes promises and begins to show the victim that he is in charge. If the scenario has been properly played out, then the rest is child’s play. Confused and lost, the victim will sign anything, give any information, just by being promised a return to normal life.’
Again, Franks maintained that so far, all five hostages had described their treatment in those very terms. They were held in dark cupboards, blindfolded and chained to the wall, naked and with no room to move. They were beaten up one minute, given food the next. They
‘I defy anyone not to give up even stratospherically classified material under these circumstances,’ Franks finished. ‘I am certain, also, that all these men will suffer only a court of enquiry. None will be required to go through a court martial.’
During Franks’ long explanation of how the kidnapped officers and men had been separated from the classified information, the CIA man, Grant, had taken two telephone calls and spent a short time whispering to M, who now told them that he could fill in the debit side of the balance sheet ‘Indeed, I am in a better position to do that, for Mr Grant’s colleagues have come up with certain pieces of new intelligence.’
Soberly, M said that the news was not good. ‘First, it appears that both the Chinese General H’ang, and his associate, Brokenclaw Lee, have vanished into thin air.’ The helicopter which had undoubtedly brought H’ang to what M referred to as Brokenclaw’s lair, had been found abandoned only five miles north of San Francisco.
‘H’ang came into this country posing as a Hong Kong businessman. That is now certain. We have details and records. The passport, visa and other papers were impeccable forgeries. Our CIA friends have yet to discover how he came to be provided with a helicopter, but doubtless the Lee fellow could tell us that, if we could find him. Naturally, all ports and airports are being watched. There is a police alert out for both men, but H’ang in particular.’
He went on to say everyone was convinced that Lee was essentially the leading Chinese Intelligence resident in the United States. ‘As such, he is undoubtedly privy to the identity and whereabouts of every single Chinese agent at large in the United States. Therefore, it is essential that Lee is caught, sooner rather than later. I would go as far as to say that he is America’s and Britain’s most wanted man.’
Bond said nothing. Already he thought he knew where Brokenclaw Lee could be found, but he was battered, bruised and very tired. He put the thoughts on hold. There would be time enough to follow up his theories which were more than mere hunches.
‘Sadly,’ M continued, ‘we see no reason for keeping the
The words were hardly out of his mouth before Chi-Chi whispered in Bond’s ear, ‘Please, James, please, you stay with me, yes?’
He gave her a long look which needed no further explanation. ‘Certainly. I’m honoured, Chi-Chi.’
‘Hey, James.’ Big Ed Rushia was behind him. ‘You’re welcome to come stay with me and my little child bride; she’s the damnedest cook. Makes an incredible gazpacho, if you like cold soup. She also produces apple pies just like Ma used to make.’
‘Unhappily, my ma never made apple pies.’ Bond tilted an eyebrow. ‘I’d love to stay, Ed, but I’m afraid I’ve had a previous invitation which not even the demon Brokenclaw could make me give up.’
‘Ah!’ Rushia said, looking at Bond and then at Chi-Chi. ‘Ah!’ again. ‘Bless you, my children. May your days be long and your nights longer. I’ll give you my number, though, just in case the novelty wears off.’ He slipped his card into Bond’s hand, and with a cheery wave, left the cabin.
Tanner approached them, saying they would have to delay any departure as Franks wanted to go through one or two points with both of them. It was well after five before they were taken back to the mainland.
Chi-Chi lived high in an apartment building on Union Street. ‘It’s not all fixed up yet,’ she warned him, but, when they arrived, Bond was impressed by what he saw. It was not large – a living room, bedroom and kitchen, but it had a huge picture window looking out towards the Golden Gate Bridge and the furnishings were new, modern and very comfortable. There were a couple of extremely good reproductions on the walls of the living room, together with an attractive, framed museum poster advertising a da Vinci exhibition and an excellent original oil by Eyvind Earle in the bedroom.
Within half-an-hour he felt comfortable and relaxed, as though he had lived in this apartment for some time. There was no clutter and the kitchen was what his old housekeeper, May, would have called ‘prick neat’.
‘Relax, James. I’ll get us some dinner. Unless you want to go out and live it up.’
‘I don’t really think you’re in any condition to go out and live it up, and I feel as though I’ve just gone four rounds with Mike Tyson. In fact, I really think you ought to go to bed while I get you something light on a tray.’
‘That an invitation, James?’
‘Could be. You Chinese are so inscrutable, though.’
‘I’m an inscrutable American, Captain Bond.’ She came towards him, her eyes again locking with his. She winced slightly as he put his arms around her and he quickly apologised for his clumsiness. Then his mouth was on hers and it was as though he had known her lips for years. He pressed harder and she pushed against him. In the bedroom he said, ‘Your back, Chi-Chi. Be careful of your back.’
‘James, my dear, I know many ways to please us both without lying on my back.’
Three hours later, he had to concede that she knew a whole encyclopedia of ideas that neither hurt her back nor his own bruised ribs. There were moments when Bond experienced that sense of wonder only granted to some men once in a lifetime, as her slim body seemed to float above his, light as a wisp of gauze yet giving and taking something more than just lustful pleasure.
They ate a simple meal of what Chi-Chi called
They sat over the coffee and brandy looking at the great undulating strings of lights marking the bridge, until Chi-Chi stifled a yawn.
‘I’m sorry.’ Bond reached over and held her hand. ‘I haven’t been talking much. A lot on my mind, Chi- Chi.’
‘There is an old proverb.’ She looked at him from under lowered lids. ‘I think maybe it is Chinese, and it says, “Those who have love need no prattle.”’
Bond gave her a smile with his eyes. ‘I didn’t know there was a Chinese word for prattle.’
‘Maybe it’s an old English proverb.’
‘Maybe.’ He was silent again for a moment. Then, ‘You remember when we woke in Brokenclaw’s lair? The morning when we thought we were in Virginia?’
‘Could I forget?’
‘I thought I had forgotten, but at one point during that day I remembered something. It was a sundial in
