'Then I shan't let you go.'
He swung her up into his arms and carried her across to the bed. There was a brief struggle, punctuated by laughter and then his mouth found hers and they kissed.
She drew away with a sigh and looked up at him as he leaned over her. 'You're so different, so very different. Are you happy, Paul?'
'In spades. Thanks to Yuan Tao and you.'
'You have missed him since he returned to Hong Kong?'
'A great deal.'
'And would you miss me as much?'
He stopped smiling and sat up at once, frowning slightly. 'What is it? What's happened?'
'I'm going home, Paul,' she said simply.
'To Hong Kong?'
'That's right. I had a letter from my uncle this morning. My sister and her husband are opening a night club on Repulse Bay. They need me to help things get started.'
'What about the Red Dragon?'
She shrugged. 'It can continue quite adequately under management. I came to England for the experience, Paul, nothing more.'
'And what about me?'
'What are you trying to say? That you are in love with me?'
Chavasse hesitated, staring down at her and she shook her head. 'No, Paul, we've had a lot of fun together, but now it's time for me to go home.'
He took one of her hands and held it tight. 'It's going to take a little getting used to.'
She stood up. 'It'll take me two or three weeks to arrange things. This isn't the end.'
But she was wrong, they were both conscious of that as they went down in the lift and from now on, every meeting, every kiss would be coloured by the fact of her going.
They passed the porter at his desk and moved out through the swing doors. The taxi was waiting at the kerbside and Su-yin paused on top of the steps, a hand on his sleeve.
'No need to come down, Paul.' She kissed him briefly. 'You'll call me?'
'Of course.'
But he wouldn't, not again. He knew that suddenly and she knew it too, he could tell by the way she paused before getting into the taxi, turning to look up at him as if she was aware that it was for the last time, one hand raised in a brief little gesture that carried its own finality.
He was in the shower when the door-bell rang. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist and padded across to the front door, leaving damp footprints on the parquet floor.
When he opened the door a maid stood there wearing a blue nylon overall that was obligatory for all female staff. She was young and rather pretty with dark brown hair and hazel eyes.
'Mr. Chavasse, sir?' she said enquiringly, 'I've come to change the bed linen.'
'It's a hell of a funny time for that, isn't it?' Chavasse said.
'It should have been taken care of this afternoon, sir, but I believe you left word that you weren't to be disturbed.'
He grinned suddenly. 'I was forgetting. You're new, aren't you?'
She moved past him into the flat and nodded. 'That's right, sir.'
Chavasse closed the door. 'And what might your name be?'
'Peggy, sir.'
She had a faint Irish accent and smiled, colour staining her cheeks. Chavasse was suddenly aware of his nakedness and grinned. 'Sony, but you caught me in the shower. I'll leave you to it.'
He returned to the bathroom and stepped back into the shower. His stomach was aching for food and he faced the rest of the evening with pleasant anticipation, wondering where to eat, going over the possible choices one after the other in his mind.
He turned off the shower, stepped out of the stall and was at once aware of a strange sound in the living- room. He paused, frowning, then wrapped a towel about his waist and went through quickly.
Peggy was in the act of closing the front door and in the centre of the room stood a large laundry basket on rubber wheels. She turned and catching sight of Chavasse, smiled.
'Oh, there you are, sir.'
Chavasse nodded at the basket. 'What on earth's that thing doing in here?'
'The basket, sir?' She smiled and put a hand on it. 'Oh, the basket's for you, sir.'
The man who stepped in from the bedroom was of medium height and at least fifty with a kindly, wrinkled face. He wore white overalls and carried a Webley with a silencer fitted to the end of the barrel.
'Just lie down on the couch, hands behind your head, sir,' he said briskly.
'For God's sake,' Chavasse said. 'What is this?'
Peggy produced a flat black case from one pocket of her overalls. She opened it, took out a hypodermic and primed it briskly.
'Much better to do as he says, Mr. Chavasse.'
Chavasse took another look at the Webley and lay down on the couch. She came close, bending over him so close that for a moment he was aware of her perfume and then she pulled the towel away with a quick gesture and he felt the needle enter his right buttock.
Whatever it was, it was good, he had to give them that. It had roughly the effect of a rather soft blow from a hammer and he dived into dark waters.
He drifted up from a well of darkness and something exploded inside his head as a hand slapped him across the face. He felt no pain, that was the extraordinary thing. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him. Each sound seemed to come from somewhere in the middle distance and yet he could hear everything with the most astonishing clarity.
He opened his eyes slowly. The room was festooned with giant grey cobwebs that stretched from one wall to the other, and undulated slowly. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, fighting back the panic that rose inside him. When he opened them again, the cobwebs had almost disappeared.
He was lying on a single bed against one wall of a large, square room. A shaded light hung down from the ceiling and curtains were drawn across the window. The only other furniture was a small table and a single chair which stood in the centre of the room.
Peggy, the Irish girl, was deep in conversation with a large man in an ill-fitting blue suit whose snow-white hair was close-cropped to the skull. They were speaking in Russian, and the girl's accent, while not wholly perfect to the trained ear, was still extremely good. The man was obviously Russian born, Georgian from the sound of him. Another man stood at the open door. He was of medium height, but heavily built with fair hair and an impassive face. He wore a neat white jacket of the type affected by medical orderlies in hospitals.
'You're sure he's all right?' the man in the blue suit said. 'Eight hours is a long time.'
'There's nothing to worry about,' the girl said. 'The dose was an exact one. There are individual variations in response, that's all. He could be out for another hour or two.'
'He must receive further sedation for the flight. We don't want any trouble.'
She nodded. 'It'll be taken care of. When will the plane leave?'
'I'm not sure. This damned fog might make things difficult and the pilot can't leave the airport without an official clearance. Whatever happens, his touchdown here can't last for longer than five minutes. We should be ready to go at any time during the next three hours.'
'I'll see to it,' she said.
He went out and she turned and walked across to the bed, immediately aware of Chavasse's fixed stare. She looked down at him calmly. 'So you're awake at last, are you? How do you feel?'
He moistened dry lips and managed a smile. 'Terrible.'
'A little coffee will soon fix that.' She spoke to the man at the door. 'See to it, Karl.'
He went out and the girl sat on the edge of the table and crossed one slim leg over the other. She was
