Charlie’s Apprentice

one yet.

The receptionist at the embassy looked up enquiringly when Charlie reached her desk in the vestibule.

‘I think some people are expecting me,’ he said, smiling to ingratiate himself. He usually tried at the beginning.

It wasn’t dysentery but it was bad enough, and instead of throwing most of the water away Gower used it to keep himself as clean as possible. He tried to cleanse his hands as best he could, too. He was still managing to restrict himself to the four sips of water at a time, hovering on the brink of dehydration, and his lips had begun to crack, widening into painful sores risking further infection through their being open. He hadn’t eaten the food.

He hadn’t been taken for any further interrogation, and without being able to count whether it was night or day, from seeing sunlight or darkness, he had completely lost track of time. He guessed he had been in custody for more than a week – it certainly couldn’t have been any less – but it could have easily been longer, nearer two. He was expecting another questioning session soon: the constant noise had erupted again, as well as the perpetual rattle of peep-hole surveys to which he performed. Gower believed he had restored a lot of his sleep bank, and even though the noise had been resumed he still found it possible to close much of it out, suspending himself into something approaching rest.

It was night when he was taken from his cell again. Gower had tried to exercise, in between door-hole inspections, but out of the restricted cell he had great difficulty walking properly. It seemed impossible for him to retain a straight line, wavering from side to side and twice colliding with the escorting soldiers. It was hard for him to lift his feet, as well; he tried at first but then relapsed back to shuffling, hoping it would help maintain a better direction, but it didn’t.

‘It’s all over!’ announced Chen. He was smiling, triumphant.

Nothing to which he should respond, Gower told himself. Keep everything to the minimum.

‘We’ve arrested him!’

‘Him’, isolated Gower: no longer the mistake of ‘them’. So it could be Snow, picked up at the shrine. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He lisped because of the cracks in his lips.

‘Just a few hours ago. And already he’s confessed. Admitted everything. Hardly worth protecting, was he? You’ve lost.’

Still no response. Worryingly, Gower was hearing the Chinese oddly, the words loud and then receding, although the man was remaining in the same position directly in front of him.

Chen nodded to the waiting note-takers at the side of the room. ‘They’re waiting.’

Something to which he could reply. ‘What for?’

‘Your denials are ridiculous!’

‘Nothing to deny.’

‘Exactly! It’s all written down, elsewhere.’

‘Not guilty of anything.’

‘You’ll be treated better when you confess: give up this nonsense. Be allowed to bathe. Eat better food.’

‘I want contact with my embassy.’

‘They’ve been told.’

Momentarily the reply off-balanced Gower. ‘Why haven’t I seen anybody?’

‘You will see somebody when you’ve told us the truth.’

‘I have told you the truth.’

‘We can hold you for as long as we like,’ threatened Chen. ‘Weeks if we want to.’

Gower wished the voice did not keep ebbing and flowing. It was becoming difficult for him to remember everything that was being said. There’d been a lecture about that: always vital to recall every word. And then he did remember. We’ve arrested him, Chen had said. And then: Just a few hours ago. That wasn’t possible! Despite the time loss, he had to have been in custody for more than a week: more than seven days. And the arrangement was for Snow to check the signal spot every three days. Any arrest would not have been just a few hours before. It would have been days before. So they still didn’t have the priest: suspected him but still hadn’t seized him. And all this was still a bluff, to get a confession. ‘You are holding me illegally. With no justification.’

‘You are subject to our laws,’ said Chen. ‘You will tell us what we want to know.’

Not yet, thought Gower: not for a very long time yet. If ever.

‘Why the hell wasn’t he on the plane he was supposed to be on?’ demanded the enraged Miller.

‘It’s typical,’ said Patricia. She hadn’t anticipated Charlie’s manoeuvre and it irritated her, although not as much as Miller. ‘At least we know it’s not sinister. Special Branch got a definitive photo identification from the Pakistan Airlines desk.’

‘Why does the bloody man do things like this?’

‘I don’t think he knows himself a lot of the time.’

Forty-four

The embassy introductions were formal but not as immediately hostile as some Charlie had experienced. There seemed to be a slight surprise at Charlie’s appearance, but then he was accustomed to that. On this occasion he returned the curiosity, head tilted upwards: the man had to be a long way over six foot tall. There was, of course, no open conversation until they got to Samuels’ office. Once inside Samuels said: ‘This is a hell of a mess.’

‘So everyone keeps telling me.’ Even seated, Samuels seemed as tall as he was when he was standing. Which gratefully he wasn’t.

‘Gower was accredited to this embassy, for God’s sake! If they proceed with these espionage accusations, and prove them to their satisfaction, there could be diplomatic expulsions.’

‘That’s why I am here. To try to stop them being proved.’

‘You weren’t on the plane upon which we’d been advised you’d arrive. I waited for two hours.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Charlie, emptily. ‘Decided on a different flight.’

‘London want an explanation: they’re very annoyed.’

‘I’ll give it to them later,’ said Charlie, casually. ‘Are there any more details about Gower’s arrest?’

‘Only that it happened near a Taoist shrine, to the west of the city.’

London had already inferred that, merely from learning the district of Beijing. Just as they’d inferred Gower had been moving to place the signal, so that the seizure had been made before he had done anything incriminating. ‘Nothing else?’

Samuels shook his head. ‘And there’s no movement on access.’

Time to see how things were really going to be here at the embassy. ‘There should have been a request from London to give me every possible assistance.’

Samuel’s face tightened. ‘There was.’

‘With Foreign Office endorsement?’

‘Yes.’ Samuels appeared reluctant to make the admission.

‘I need to call upon it.’

Samuels raised his hands, in a stopping gesture. ‘The ambassador has protested in the strongest terms, about what’s already happened because of you people. And about this … your coming and possibly further involving the embassy.’

‘I’m trying to avoid a problem, not worsen it.’

‘Sir Timothy met Gower. Warned him …’ The man snorted a laugh. ‘For all the good that did! You can see the danger, can’t you?’

‘Help me,’ suggested Charlie. To get the maximum cooperation he’d have to go along at the diplomat’s pace.

‘If Gower makes a confession, Sir Timothy could be named in it!’ said Samuels, impatiently. ‘Associated with an espionage situation! He could be one of the expulsions!’

He shouldn’t have been such a silly sod to have got involved in the first place, thought Charlie. ‘All the more reason for me to be given as much assistance as possible, so the whole thing can be contained.’