that really brought him awake. A hand gripped him by the front of his jacket, jerking him to his feet, and he was pushed across the cell and out through the door.
Two privates and a sergeant waited for him in the stone-flagged corridor, all dressed alike in quilted drab uniforms, the Red Star of the army of the People’s Republic on their peak caps the only splash of colour. The sergeant, a small man, turned away without a word and started along the corridor. Chavasse followed, the two privates bringing up the rear, their automatic rifles at the ready.
They mounted a flight of stone stairs to an upper corridor and halted outside a door. The sergeant knocked, listened for a moment and then led the way in.
The room had obviously once been the living quarters of a person of some importance. The wooden walls were beautifully painted, sheepskin rugs covered the floor and logs burned in the large stone fireplace. The green filing cabinet in one corner and the desk in the centre of the room looked somehow incongruous and out of place.
Colonel Li sat behind the desk, a typewritten report in one hand which he now continued to read. Chavasse stood beside a chair a foot away from the desk, his body sagging with fatigue, and examined himself in the narrow gold-framed mirror which hung on the wall behind Li.
The handsome, aristocratic face was haggard and drawn, the eyes dark pools set too far back in their sockets, and blood trickled sluggishly from a cut in his forehead. As he raised a hand to wipe it away, Colonel Li grunted, dropped the report on his desk and looked up.
An expression of immediate concern appeared in his eyes, and he frowned.
“But my dear chap, what have they been doing to you?” he demanded in impeccable English.
“Your concern is so touching,” Chavasse told him.
Li leaned back in his chair, a slight smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “So, you speak English. You see, already we have made progress.”
Chavasse cursed silently. He was tired – more tired than he had been for a long time, and because of that he’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book.
He shrugged. “Your round.”
“Naturally!” Li said calmly, and nodded to the sergeant and two privates, who immediately withdrew.
The warmth of the room was beginning to make Chavasse feel a little light-headed. He swayed slightly, groping for the edge of the desk to steady himself. Colonel Li rose to his feet at once. “I think you’d better sit down, my friend.”
Chavasse slumped into a chair and Li crossed to a lacquered cabinet in one corner, opened it, took out a bottle and two glasses and returned. He filled the glasses quickly and pushed one across the desk. Chavasse waited for the Chinese to drink first.
Li smiled faintly and emptied his glass. “Drink up, my friend,” he said. “I think you will be surprised.”
It was the finest Scotch and Chavasse coughed a little as it caught at the back of his throat. He reached for the bottle and filled his glass again. “I’m glad you approve,” Li said.
Chavasse toasted him silently and took it down in one quick swallow. As the liquor flooded through him, he felt better. He leaned back in the chair and said, “All the comforts of home, eh? You guys certainly have it rough working for the proletariat. By the way, you haven’t got such a thing as a cigarette, have you? Your boys cleaned me out. From the look of them, I’d say you don’t pay them very often.”
Colonel Li produced a packet of American cigarettes from his pocket and threw them across the table with a quick flip of his fingers. “You see, I can supply all your requirements.”
Chavasse took out a cigarette and leaned across the table for a light. “What’s the matter with your own brands?”
Li smiled pleasantly. “But Virginia cigarettes are extremely good. When our time comes, we will undoubtedly take them all for home consumption.”
“Careful, comrade,” Chavasse warned him. “In Peking they’d call that treason.”
Colonel Li smiled and adjusted a cigarette in his elegant jade holder. “But we are not in Peking, my friend. Here, I am in complete control.”
The voice was still pleasant, the mood tranquil, but Chavasse was beginning to recognize the technique, and he grudgingly admitted that it was being carried out by an expert.
“What happens now?” he said.
Colonel Li shrugged. “That depends entirely on you, my friend. If you cooperate, things can be made easier for you.”
Chavasse was interested. There was still a suggestion that a deal could be made, that much was obvious; but then, it was all part of a familiar pattern. He smiled at the colonel through smoke. “So there’s still a chance for me?”
“But of course,” Li said. “All you have to do is tell me who you really are and what your mission is here in Changu.”
“What happens if I do?” Chavasse said.
Li shrugged. “We can always make use of those who freely admit their errors.”
Chavasse laughed harshly and stubbed his cigarette out in the jade ashtray. “If that’s the best you can do, I’m not buying.”
The Chinese tapped the desk with one elegant hand and said reflectively, “It’s a very great pity.”
He sounded genuinely sorry, and Chavasse listened to him in a curious, if detached, sort of way. “What is?”
“The fact that we are on opposite sides. I am not a political idealist or fanatic. I’m quite simply a man who has always adjusted himself to the prevailing circumstances.”
“I hope it works out for you,” Chavasse said, an edge of irony in his voice.
“Oh, but it will, I assure you.” Li smiled gently. “You see,
Chavasse sighed and shook his head. “No thanks, Colonel. Better move into phase two.”
Li frowned. “Phase two? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You really ought to catch up on your reading,” Chavasse told him. “To be precise, the latest publication of the Central Committee in Peking.
Colonel Li sighed. “You people really have the strangest ideas about us.” He pressed a buzzer on the desk and, almost immediately, the door opened and the sergeant entered and stood behind Chavasse.
Chavasse got to his feet wearily. “Now what?”
The colonel shrugged. “It’s up to you. I can give you a few hours to think things over. After that…” He shrugged, picked up another report and opened it.
The two privates were waiting outside and they trailed behind as Chavasse followed the sergeant along the corridor and down the stone stairs to the basement and turned into another, more brightly lit corridor. Stout wooden doors were ranged along one wall and the sergeant opened one and motioned Chavasse inside.
He found himself in a small stone cell which was no more than six feet square. There was an iron cot against one wall and no window. The door clanged shut behind him and he was immediately engulfed in darkness. The walls and roof dripped with moisture and he groped his way cautiously towards the iron cot. There was no mattress, but in the state he was in, he could have fallen asleep on the floor. He lay down, the rusty springs digging into his back, and stared up into the darkness.
He had a breathing space. Why, he didn’t know, but at once he relaxed, the tension draining out of him. He was so tired; his limbs ached and there was a slight, nagging pain in the centre of his forehead. He sighed and closed his eyes, and immediately, the cell was filled with a hideous, frightening clamour.
He scrambled to his feet, every nerve tingling. A large bell was fixed just above the door and it rang continuously while a red light flickered on and off rapidly.
He was standing there looking up, sick to his stomach, knowing what was to come, when the key grated in the lock and the door was thrown open.
The little sergeant stood in the entrance, hands on hips, and smiled gently. Chavasse moved outside. The two privates were waiting, and they escorted him along the corridor. When the sergeant unlocked the door at the far end, a flurry of rain greeted them as they moved out into the night.
