The Dragon and the Needle (17 page)

By the time Eleanor reached Mike outside the cinema in Leicester Square, the early rush-hour had begun. It had been a long day for her and the crowds jostled and pushed in all directions. She was tired and ready to unwind, but alert enough to look over her shoulder. A pointless thing to do, as she quickly realised. There were so many people; if she was being followed, she would never have known it.

As she neared the cinema she saw the car parked in front, then she noticed a group of policemen on the square’s side looking at the car. At that moment she also saw Mike: he was standing by the main centre doors. Then he saw her and hurried to her side. Seconds after that they were in the car together again on the rear seat, looking at each other.

Mike was the first to speak as the car drove away. ‘We’re going back to my flat,’ he said.

They continued looking at each other. Both sensed each other’s thoughts.

After a long moment she said, ‘Mike,’ then she paused and smiled, saying, ‘I’m famished! Where and when do we eat?’

‘I’ve got that organised. Do you like steak? Fillet, of course.’ She smiled again and repeated his words, ‘Fillet! Of course! Of course I do.’

‘Rare, medium or well done?’

‘Rare.’

‘Good. I’ve got a wonderful one in the fridge, and a bottle of Tattinger.’

That was just what she needed. Her fatigue vanished.

The enormity of Eleanor’s involvement began to settle in her mind soon after entering Mike’s flat. She had been through three strenuous interviews in the course of one day. Mike had poured out two glasses of champagne, telling her not to
talk, that he would keep quiet too – she must relax. Then he had gone into the kitchen and immediately reappeared, putting on an apron. She smiled, they kissed and embraced. No words were spoken. After he had gone into the kitchen to prepare supper, she settled down into the comfortable sofa, stressed still, but becoming generally more relaxed.

The American at the Embassy seemed light years away now, but she felt that all had gone well. The man, Patrick, at Whitehall, had given her a great deal of confidence – that had gone well. But Ah-Ming? He knew she had been to the US Embassy, but he had not mentioned MI5 or even the Foreign Office. Yet she had seen the Chinaman taking obvious interest in her in front of the Cenotaph. Had she done all right? She thought so. She reflected on Ah-Ming’s orders, for that is what they were, on the need to keep strictly to the schedule of travel; tickets, and all the other things she would need, she would find in her post box at her flat. When would she be leaving?

Then she heard Mike’s voice from the kitchen. ‘Are you OK?’ he called out.

‘Yes. Can I help?’

He appeared at the doorway to the kitchen, holding a frying pan. She smiled across at him, and got to her feet. On her way over to him, Mike said to her, ‘No, I’ve got everything under control. But you could help with a kiss.’

Mike thought how quickly they had seemed to achieve unity of mind. Now he wanted to take her in his arms. Tonight might be the last time they would hold each other close for a long while.

She brought him back to reality by saying, ‘That frying pan is pressing a shade too hard in my back.’

They laughed.

‘I’m sorry, darling, but I do love you. We mustn’t let a frying pan come between us.’

But with the humour she detected a solemn look on his face. She said, ‘What’s the matter, darling?’

Now they had both called each other ‘darling’! He tensed. ‘You’ve become very special to me.’

She did not answer. She moved closer to him again, sensing the reason for his solemnity, not knowing how soon they would be separated. And she would be in danger of her life.

Even now, he was thinking about her husband. What if he was alive? What then? Then he realised from the look of concern on Eleanor’s face that he was giving her bad vibrations. What would help? A quiet hour or so spent over steak and another glass of champagne might do just that. ‘I’ll get on with the steak now,’ he said. ‘You go and relax on that sofa.’

She nodded, went back to the sofa. But her thoughts too, centred on Chen: Chinese, liberal, a strong man. There had been occasions when his very strong personality enabled him to dominate others. He knew how he wanted the world to be run, the world of medicine. He wanted America to have a medical service open to all, irrespective of wealth, the one and only area where he seemed to be in agreement with the Chinese communists. She glanced at her watch. Perhaps she would have met him by this time, one day within the next week. But if he wasn’t alive? What kind of trap was lying in wait for her in Malinya? And what kind of trap awaited her if he was still living?

Mike appeared at the kitchen door and said, ‘Okay, madam! Dinner is served!’

When she got to the door he kissed her, holding her for a moment. He said softly, ‘I have orders for you, and they must be obeyed.’

She could tell from his expression that he was joking with her so she joined in the game. ‘What are they, sir?’

‘One: there is to be no shop talk during the meal. Two: I want you to stay here, with me, tonight.’

She looked up at him. ‘Those are easy orders. I obey.’

After her first bite of the steak, Eleanor smiled at Mike and said, ‘Where did you learn to cook so well?’

‘That’s a long story. But I know one hell of a lot about you, from what I’ve read in the files: where you lived in New York, your background, education, the lot. Perhaps it’s only fair that you should know a bit more about me.’

‘Shoot. I’d love that.’

‘Well, some of it may surprise you. My father was a miner, a coalminer. The life killed him, and as a direct result, my mother too. An aunt and uncle brought me up. I was lucky: they loved reading, books all over the house. Most of my boyhood friends did not make it to university. I read medicine. Let’s see, what else?’

‘You came from what they used to call working-class roots in Britain?’

‘That’s right. No brothers or sisters. Because of my father’s death, I suppose deep down inside me was the idea of good health for all.’ He paused and smiled. ‘Then,’ Mike continued, ‘I loved rugby, played for university and all that. I suppose that’s about it.’

She smiled across at him, ‘And no girls?’

‘Yes, but none like you. And I’m known as a workaholic. Maybe that’s just as well.’

By around 8.30, the dinner had got to the coffee stage. Now they were not smiling at each other. They both saw the anxiety in each other’s eyes. He spoke first.

‘Eleanor,’ he said, ‘I’m full of apprehension about us, especially about you.’

She read his eyes and gently bit her lip. She leaned across the table and took his hands in hers. ‘We both know the probabilities, don’t we?’

‘If I were to lose you,’ he said, ‘that would be the end for me. I must come with you!’

She felt sick with frustration. Neither of them could stop the direction of forces beyond their control. They could imagine, but were unable to grasp the possibilities in terms of each other, of human life. It all might end in a tragic
disaster. Eleanor rose to her feet and a moment later, he stood up and she crushed herself to his body.

‘You can’t do that!’ she cried out, ‘it would all explode in our faces and come to nothing. If for a moment they thought you were around, they would shut up shop, they would probably kill you and …’

She stopped talking and looked at Mike. She had never seen him with such an expression before. It was a mixture of dismay and astonishment.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ she said hoarsely, ‘Mike! What’s the matter?’ she repeated.

‘It’s the thought of what’s facing you! What kind of people, what kind of person is your husband, if he’s still alive!’ The face of her husband, this man totally unknown to him, flicked through his mind: Chinese, grim. MI5 had shown him a photograph of the man, told him how much he was liked. Chen Shousan, did he hold the key to all this misery? His racing heart checked him for a few seconds. Then he was holding her tightly in his arms, wanting to tell her much, much more.

Eleanor’s warm breath glided across his cheeks. He guided her towards the bedroom. Later, they would talk and plan. For now, they seemed to have cast a spell around one another, speaking no words, afraid the spell would break with words. Nothing else mattered. For a short while the strains and fears vanished.

Afterwards they talked of their love for each other. When she finally left, early the next morning, she looked back at him from the lift door. The way he stood reminded her of his strength – a rock. She felt more secure. They had arranged to meet once more before her departure for France, at MI5, to see Patrick.

A car was waiting for her in the street outside Mike’s flat: security agents had already taken over, to guard and protect
her. On the way to her flat, Eleanor began to plan her next moves.

It was 7.30 a.m. as she entered her hallway, and she saw Ah-Ming sitting, quite relaxed, on a sofa close to the lift. She had not for one moment thought of this as even a remote possibility. She glanced around quickly, suddenly feeling threatened. As she turned she also thought, is there a bodyguard behind me? Someone to help her? There was no one behind her that she could see. Her steps had faltered, but she suddenly regained courage.

As she approached him, Ah-Ming stood up to greet her, smiling. He bowed slightly from the waist, straightened himself and said, ‘You were up early this morning?’

Did he know she had been out all night? They stood facing each other, as she nodded and said, ‘Yes, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.’

He said nothing, but continued smiling at her, looking at her sideways, as though waiting for her to speak. She obliged with, ‘Have you been waiting long?’

He still did not speak, then, without any warning, there was a noise from the lift. It began to rise to the floors above.

Ah-Ming spoke abruptly. ‘We do not know who is in the lift, do we?’ he asked.

The strange question was quickly answered by Eleanor. ‘At the moment, there is no one, is there?’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. You can’t be sure. Although there is something that you can be sure of, Dr Johnson.’

She hid her mounting feelings of fear. Her face was a mask as she spoke. ‘And what is that?’

He bent closer to her face. There was silence in the hall once more, for the lift had stopped. Eleanor made no movement as he glanced at his watch. ‘Dr Johnson,’ he spoke quietly but harshly, ‘on the floor of your flat, just inside the door, you will find your instructions for travel, nothing more.’

As she stared at him, the noise of the lift recommenced.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the indicator show it was returning down to the hall. She nodded.

He went on, ‘Remember, always remember, that the reason you are still alive is our belief, your husband’s belief, that you can be of help to China.’ Then the hostility faded from his face as Ah-Ming said, ‘I’m glad to have the unexpected opportunity of meeting you again. Can you recall the last words I quoted to you yesterday?’

The lift had stopped behind Ah-Ming. In the few seconds left before the lift door opened, she said calmly, ‘Yes. I will never forget them. “He who assists a ruler with Tao does not force the world with arms.”’

The lift doors opened. Standing inside, his head slightly bowed, was a Chinese man. He came out of the lift, and she stood and watched him and Ah-Ming go down the hall together to the front door, open it, and disappear into the street outside.

The Minister of Health had played his part well in the Commons, he had even managed to urge the Press to pay greater heed to the secret nature of MI5 activities. But just when he felt at his most confident, the ‘serpent that lurketh in the grass’ struck. The ‘serpent’ in this case was a television programme broadcast only a few hours previously in the States. He was informed about it by the United States Secretary of Health – a positive, cooperative, thinking woman, a doctor like himself – when he had spoken to her on the telephone.

‘As you know well, Minister,’ the American said to him, ‘I’m keeping you fully informed on events over here. Now this goddam TV programme! Why the hell has the World Health Organization kept quiet on this?’

‘Kept quiet on what?’ the Minister asked.

‘Oh! Of course. I’m sorry, I assumed you knew the gist of the programme.’

‘’Fraid not.’

‘Well, the investigator said that the World Health Organization has latched on to a link of some sort between ENDS and Oriental medicine.’

‘Link?’ the Minister asked.

‘Yeah, that’s correct. Apparently a Chinese guy working in the set-up has been keeping strict covers on the connection. He’s been very successful, too.’

The Minister felt riled. Coupled with the efforts of MI5 and what he had been told about Clifford and the American, Dr Johnson, all had been moving well. Now this publicity! Could everything be put at risk? ‘But what exactly do they know?’

‘That’s the problem, Minister. Other than the victims’ occasional visits to the Chinese clinics and suchlike, nothing else at all.’

Thank God for that, Norman Hall thought. He felt better. He said, ‘As a matter of fact, I was going to contact you in the next few days – it might be good news. Meanwhile you may hear something yourself, perhaps from your President.’

The call between them continued for a minute or so longer. After the call, the Minister followed his own instincts. He was worried; he called MI5. What he was told made him feel much better.

Patrick of MI5 stood beside his desk, looking down at a map. He was smoking his fifth cigarette of the morning and waiting for Mike and Eleanor to arrive. He glanced at his watch. Eleanor was scheduled to leave for France on the 5th of the month. Today was the 3rd. He would have preferred more time to organise the French military at Mont Louis, the HQ of the elite ‘Choc’ troops in France, but the die had been cast. He had discovered that Eleanor’s orders from Ah-Ming included a strict timetable, one that she had to follow precisely.

He placed a finger on the map in front of him, and traced out the direct route from Mont Louis to Malinya. Well placed, he thought, for quick action, should it become necessary. He smiled to himself and wandered across to the window. His own team had obtained a copy of Eleanor’s orders. As he looked down at St James’s Park he thought for a moment of telling Eleanor about his team and the copy they had received, from a mole inside Ah-Ming’s organisation. He decided quickly against that idea. Dr Clifford already knew, in any case; it was better that Eleanor Johnson, at this stage, was ignorant of some MI5 activities. Under pressure, or worse, she might break down and disclose information.