stuck in a hideout near a Chinese line of communication. They were to wait until they could safely ambush just one Chinese soldier carrying mail, say, or a couple of chaps in a lorry, and knock them out with a gas that would keep them unconscious for three hours or so. Then they give them the plague and disappear. The Chinese blokes come to, feeling perfectly okay, and continue their journey to the fighting areas or back to their base. Nothing happens for about ten days, by which time scores of them have had the same treatment. Then they start their symptoms.
'It was decided that these symptoms ought to be as unpleasant as possible so as to have the maximum psychological effect. Ordinary plagues weren't good enough from that point of view. Fever, inflamed glands, delirium, difficulty in speaking and walking. Nothing much out of the way there. Our bacteriologists found they couldn't get as far as they wanted with just improving the existing plagues. But plagues are so handy, because they're so easily passed on. So they decided to start at the other end, with a more unpleasant disease that wasn't a plague that they'd tinker about with until it could be transmitted like a plague. Finally a scientist called Venables came up with something he'd managed to make just about as infectious as what's called pneumonic plague, and in the same way: in your breath, in droplets, like the common cold. They found this out two or three years ago, by the way, and kept it by them. It was all ready when they needed it.
'Well, what Venables had invented was a form of hydrophobia. That's what you get when a mad dog bites you. Only now you could get it off somebody's breath. Some people say it's the most extreme form of suffering. A man who's caught it starts off with feeling very depressed and frightened. There'd be plenty of that when you'd seen your friends die of it. Then the man gets very agitated and can't breathe properly. But the main point is that he gets very thirsty, only he chokes and has convulsions whenever he tries to drink. Or when he sees water, or hears it being poured, or thinks of it. Or when there's a draught or somebody touches him. Or a lot of other things. In between he breathes with a sort of barking sound and snaps his jaws. He has four or five days of that. Then he dies. It's an odd thing, but just before he dies he can breathe and drink and swallow perfectly well.
'Each detachment on Operation Apollo was to be issued with a number of small plastic tents just big enough for one person. The idea was that you put your unconscious Chinaman in there and sealed it up. Then you turned on a tank full of air which had water droplets in it, and the droplets had the hydrophobia virus in them. You gave the chap a couple of hours of it, took him out, stuck him back in the cab of his lorry, and moved off to another area. The chances of him developing hydrophobia were better than ninety per cent. Oh, there is an antidote thing, but they'd never have been able to get it made and distributed in time to make any difference.
'Anyway, that's what James thinks he's got to go and do.'
Catharine sat on for a few moments, then rose to her feet.
'I think I'll go and see James now,' she said, and went.
'I hope it works,' said Leonard.
'Brian, you didn't tell the people at the hospital any of that, did you?'
'Of course not. I got by on bluff and luck. I talked about international crises and secret weapons and spies. The luck came when they telephoned Whitehall and my master was out. There was only a junior on the desk and I soon settled him. Even then I don't think I'd have managed it if the doctor hadn't made the mistake of admitting that there wasn't any likelihood of Catharine's health suffering by this trip. I'm afraid she was very bewildered until I got a couple of minutes alone with her. What a marvelous girl she is. She'll bring it off if anyone can.'
'Brian, what will happen when your master finds out what you've been up to with the ambulance and everything?'
'He'll be so angry he won't be able to speak. For a minute or two. He'll speak then all right.'
'Don't you mind?'
'Well, it had to be done, hadn't it? And I've got the sack anyway. Already.'
Leonard picked up his sherry bottle and uncorked it.
'Brian.'
'Yes?'
'If you've got the sack, can you stay the night?'
'Oh yes, please, Lucy.'
By now Catharine was with Churchill. After some effort, she arranged things so that she was able to put her arms round him and take his head on her lap. Twice she raised him so that his face was near hers. Both times she looked into his face very longingly, though without managing to see in it more than she could have recognized at first glance. She felt not at all sure of being able to do what she had found she must do. When she spoke, she tried to use her mouth and lips so that they would put the words into exactly the right shape to penetrate the barrier of his hearing and reach him, reach the person she knew was there.
'Dearest James. I haven't got to tell you who this is, have I? Because all the most important part of you doesn't need to be told. It couldn't ever forget. Little James. We said it was all right to say that. You've always listened to everything I've ever said to you. You're to go on listening now.
'First there's me. I've had the operation. It all went off all right. Everybody's very pleased with me. I'm afraid there are bits of me missing now. But that's something you're not going to mind as much as all that. Not as much as you expected to. There's not everything gone from there. And they've promised me it isn't going to look horrible. I believe them, because they're very good. You don't know how good they are. Now they say I've got to have a lot of treatment which I shan't like at all. I'll have to keep going to hospital for a few weeks while I'm having it. But that's all right, because you'll be able to see me the rest of the time. Yes you will. You're going to. And they say I've got a good chance, because they took it so terrifically early. That's thanks to you, that they managed to do that. A good chance. You gave me a good chance.
'Now, darling. I know there's more to it than just me. And you're not to mind me knowing it and saying it. There are bound to be some things love doesn't reach as far as, however you look at it. It wouldn't be right any other way. There are things you can't ever do. Like giving people hydrophobia. I've just finished being told all about that. It was all right me hearing, because it's not going to happen. It never was going to. It was just a threat. I know exactly what you've been thinking, because I've been told. Sometimes you have to be told things. That man you were going to put into a little plastic bag and spray with stuff so that he couldn't swallow however thirsty he got. He's been let off. It's not going to be done to him. And that hasn't come about by chance. People have decided not to do it. They never even meant to.
