Charlie’s Apprentice

‘He could say he attended my English classes, for a period. That was no secret anyway. But not that I knew him as anyone actively connected or particularly interested in the dissident movement.’

It wouldn’t matter, thought Charlie. The connection between Zhang and Snow would emerge, during the questioning of the Chinese dissident: it probably already had. Which gave them more than enough for a completely genuine spy trial, according to Chinese law. And that was before they even got to Snow’s trip and the material he had gathered in Shanghai, for which they were patiently waiting, believing Snow trapped and Gower at their mercy, for whatever they chose to do. Reminded, Charlie looked to the side of the room, where the small desk obviously utilized when it served as an office had been pushed against the wall in an unsuccessful effort to create more space. Nodding towards the package lying on it, he said: ‘There’s your photographs.’

‘I’ve got what Li gave me,’ announced Snow, in return, groping into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Charlie laid out on the table the Shanghai shots that had been doctored in London and then directly beneath each frame made the match from what the Chinese had provided. They weren’t absolutely identical – the innocuous Chinese shots were not precisely from the same spot – but Charlie accepted that scarcely mattered, for the use the Chinese intended to make of them. The technicians in London had done the best job they could. Snow’s prints appeared to have been very badly developed: in only one was there even a suggestion of a ship, and if he had not been looking specifically for it Charlie’s first impression would have been that it was a low cloud base. The down side was that the Chinese would be looking specifically.

‘They’re very good!’ said Snow, at his shoulder.

‘Not good enough,’ said Charlie.

‘What are we going to do then?’ demanded the priest, in instant alarm.

Charlie thought again how quickly the man would collapse, under pressure. ‘There’s a way round it,’ he promised, in fresh reassurance. ‘It’s all going to be all right.’

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow.’

Snow’s sigh of relief was audible, beyond his strained breathing. ‘I’ve got Father Robertson’s permission to leave.’

‘You told me.’ Charlie still wished the stupid clerical bureaucracy hadn’t been necessary, despite the security of the confessional.

‘I want to go to Rome, as soon as possible. I’m going to ask to go into a retreat. I need a lot of time.’

‘Let’s just think of getting out of Beijing at the moment,’ urged Charlie.

‘I won’t do any more,’ declared Snow.

Charlie frowned at the man, not understanding. ‘Any more what?’

‘Work for you. I thought it was important: still do. But it’s brought too much suffering. To the man who’s been arrested. And to Father Robertson. I have a lot of apologies to make, in prayer.’

‘We wouldn’t expect you to, not any more. We accept that this is the end.’ The man wouldn’t have any use, once he was out of Beijing, but Charlie decided it wasn’t necessary to make the cynicism as clear as that.

‘What must I do?’ asked Snow, obediently.

‘Everything exactly as I say,’ insisted Charlie. ‘And in precisely the sequence I set out. Don’t deviate, in any way …’ He picked up the London-supplied photographs, keeping them in his hands. ‘It’ll take the Chinese a while to prove these have been altered. Certainly more than a day …’ He started to separate the prints into two sets, carefully putting to one side the particular print that more obviously than all the rest showed something that Snow should not have photographed. Charlie added one more Shanghai picture and three innocent prints to the held-back pile, offering the rest to Snow. ‘For Li.’

‘He’ll know some are missing.’

‘I know he will,’ agreed Charlie, at once. ‘You’re going to tell him. Remember, everything in the order I dictate.’

‘Tell me how.’

‘You’re not sure if Li is Foreign Ministry or definitely the Public Security Bureau?’

Snow shook his head. ‘I’m fairly sure it’s the Bureau. He refused to let me try to contact him, when I offered. Said he’d always come to me.’

‘Good,’ said Charlie. He hesitated, wanting his explanation to be as clear as possible, to avoid Snow misunderstanding. ‘What we’re trying to achieve is the maximum confusion among people who might be watching the mission or watching the embassy and trying to connect the two of us.’

‘How much time do you think we’ve got?’ demanded the priest, dispirited.

Don’t collapse on us yet, thought Charlie: it was unsettling enough to consider the man collapsing at all. ‘Enough,’ he encouraged. ‘It won’t be easy and there are things that could go wrong, but if you do it like I say, there’s a bloody good chance it’ll all work out fine.’ That was an exaggeration, conceded Charlie: he couldn’t think of a better way and he’d known escapes far more tenuous than this – his own from Moscow, the first time he turned his back on Natalia, for instance – but this was pretty threadbare.

‘Just tell me what to do.’

There was a dullness in the way Snow was talking, a resignation that Charlie didn’t like. ‘Tomorrow morning, early, telephone the Foreign Ministry. Try to reach Li. But don’t try too hard. All we want to establish is that you tried to get in touch, and then get him and everyone else moving in the wrong directions when they get the message and you start to do what I’m going to tell you. Leave a message that you’re sending something to him. Then go personally to the Foreign Ministry …’

‘Go there?’ exclaimed Snow, astonished.

‘First,’ expanded Charlie. ‘Before you go to the Security Bureau offices.’

Snow was shaking his head, bewildered. ‘This doesn’t make sense …’

‘Neither will it to anyone who is watching the mission, to see what you are going to do. Think about it! Where is the last place in the world they would expect you to go?’

The head movement now was a slow nod, but there was more doubt than agreement. ‘Certainly not there.’

‘So they’ll be thrown off balance?’

‘Possibly.’

‘The Bureau is a large building? Like the Foreign Ministry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Leave the photographs I’ve given you at the Foreign Ministry, addressed to Li. With a letter apologizing that they are incomplete. Say you’re trying to find out what has happened to the rest. Leave the Foreign Ministry by a different door than how you entered. At the Bureau, enquire the possibility of your taking another trip: go through the formalities of making an initial travel application …’ Snow was looking at him but Charlie was unsure if the man was comprehending it all. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘I understand what you’re saying: not what it’s going to achieve.’

‘Confusion,’ repeated Charlie. ‘Leave the Bureau differently from the way you entered, too. This will be the most dangerous time: this is when you start to run.’

‘To the airport?’ guessed Snow, wanting to contribute.

‘That’s what they’ll hopefully think. I shall make a reservation in your own name, on a plane leaving direct for England the day after tomorrow. I want them to think they’ve got time to get into position. I don’t want confusion to become panic’

‘How then?’

‘Time your visits to get you out of the Bureau by mid-afternoon. Walk, initially. So that any pursuit will be on foot, not by car that can more easily pick you up when you switch to public transport. Go direct to the main rail terminus, for the five o’clock express to Shanghai.’

‘It takes …’

‘… I know how long it takes,’ cut off Charlie. ‘And you’re not supposedly going there anyway. Book yourself to Nanchang. There’s an express leaving for there at four forty-five: I’ve already checked. Your ticket will get you on to the platforms: if you are followed it’ll take longer than fifteen minutes for them to check where you’ve bought a ticket for, and when they find out it will be a long way away from where you’re going. According to the schedules, they can’t get on the Nanchang express en route for the first eight hours of the journey, at the first stop. And if they do – it’ll be in the middle of the night and I doubt they could