The eleventh hour indeed. Major Yu might think he held all the cards, but the watch would still be transmitting, and even now MI6 Special Operations must be closing in.
Alex got dressed in the new clothes and sat down in a comfortable armchair. He had even been supplied with some books to read:
Just after midday, there was a rattle of a key turning in the lock and the door opened. A maid, wearing a black dress with a white apron, came in. She looked Indonesian.
“Major Yu would like to invite you for lunch,” she said.
“That’s very kind of him,” Alex replied. He closed his copy of
“He’s in the dining room,” the maid replied.
Alex followed her out of the room and down a wood-paneled corridor with oil paintings on the walls. They all showed scenes of the English countryside. Briefly he thought of overpowering the maid and making another bid for freedom, but he decided against it. There was part of him that reacted against the idea of attacking a young
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woman, and anyway, he had no doubt that—following the events on the
They reached a grand staircase that swept down to a hall with a suit of armor standing beside a second, mon- umental fireplace. More classical paintings everywhere.
Alex had to remind himself that he was still in Australia.
The house didn’t fit here. It felt as if it had been imported brick by brick, and he was reminded for a moment of Nikolei Drevin, who had transported his own fourteenth-century castle from Scotland to Oxfordshire. It was strange how very bad men felt a need to live somewhere not just spectacular but slightly insane.
The maid held back and gestured Alex through a door and into a long dining room with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the sea. The room was carpeted with a table and a dozen chairs, suitable for a medieval banquet. The paintings in this room were modern: a portrait by David Hockney and a wheel of color by Damian Hirst. Alex had seen similar works in galleries in London and knew that they must be worth millions. Only one end of the table had been laid. Major Yu was sitting there, waiting for him, the walking stick leaning against his chair.
“Ah, there you are, Alex,” he said in a pleasant voice, as if they were old friends meeting up for the weekend.
“Please come and sit down.”
As he walked forward, Alex examined the snakehead
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boss properly for the first time, taking in the round, shrunken head, the wire-frame glasses, the white hair sitting so oddly with the Chinese features. Yu was wearing a striped blazer with a white, open-necked shirt. There was a silk handkerchief poking out of his top pocket. His gloved hands were crossed in front of him.
“How are you feeling?” Yu asked.
“My head hurts,” Alex replied.
“Yes. I’m afraid I must apologize. I really don’t know what came over me, hitting you like that. But the truth is, I was angry. You did a lot of damage on the
“Even so, it was unforgivable of me. My mother used to say that you can lose money, you can lose at cards, but you should never lose your temper. Can I offer you some apple juice? It comes from High House Farm in Suffolk, and it’s quite delicious.”
“Thank you,” Alex said. He didn’t know what was going on here but had decided he might as well play along with this madman. He held out his glass, and Yu poured.
At the same time, the Indonesian maid came in with the lunch: cold roast beef and salad. Alex helped himself. He noticed that Yu ate very little and held his knife and fork as if they were surgical implements.
“I’m very glad to have had this opportunity to meet
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you,” Major Yu began. “Ever since you destroyed our operation Invisible Sword and caused the death of poor Mrs. Rothman, I’ve been wondering what sort of boy you were . . .”
So Mrs. Jones had been right. Major Yu was indeed part of Scorpia. Alex filed the information away, knowing with a sense of dread that it gave Yu another reason to want to kill him . . . to settle an old score.
“It’s just a shame that we have so little time together,” Yu went on.
Alex didn’t like the sound of that. “I have a question,” he said.
“Please go ahead.”
“Where is Ash? What have you done with him?”
“Let’s not talk about Ash.” Yu gave him a thin smile.
“You don’t have to worry about him. You’ll never see him again. How is the beef, by the way?”
“A little bloody for my taste.”
