The Spy Quartet: An Expensive Place to Die, Spy Story, Yesterday’s Spy, Twinkle Twinkle Little Spy

‘That’s what I am here to discover.’

‘Then begin, sir.’

‘Get Kuang.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean get Kuang. K.U.A.N.G. Get him here.’

Datt changed his mind about the drink; he poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it. ‘I won’t deny he’s here,’ he said finally.

‘Then why not get him?’

He pressed a buzzer and the maid came in. ‘Get Monsieur Kuang,’ he said.

The old woman went away quietly and came back with Kuang. He was wearing grey flannel trousers, open-neck shirt and a pair of dirty white tennis shoes. He poured himself a large Perrier water from the bar and sat down in an armchair with his feet sprawled sideways over the arm. ‘Well?’ he said to me.

‘I’m bringing you an American hydrogen expert to talk to.’

Kuang seemed unsurprised. ‘Petty, Barnes, Bertram or Hudson?’

‘Hudson.’

‘Excellent, he’s a top man.’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Datt.

‘You don’t have to like it,’ I said. ‘If Kuang and Hudson want to talk a little it’s nothing to do with you.’ I turned to Kuang. ‘How long will you want with him?’

‘Two hours,’ said Kuang. ‘Three at the most, less if he has written stuff with him.’

‘I believe he will have,’ I said. ‘He’s all prepared.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Datt complained.

‘Be quiet,’ said Kuang. He turned to me. ‘Are you working for the Americans?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m acting for them, just this one operation.’

Kuang nodded. ‘That makes sense; they wouldn’t want to expose one of their regular men.’

I bit my lip in anger. Hudson had, of course, been acting on American instructions, not on his own initiative. It was a plan to expose me so that the CIA could keep their own men covered. Clever bastards. Well, I’d grin and bear it and try to get something out of it.

‘That’s right,’ I agreed.

‘So you are not bargaining?’

‘I’m not getting paid,’ I said, ‘if that’s what you mean.’

‘How much do you want?’ asked Kuang wearily. ‘But don’t get big ideas.’

‘We’ll sort it out after you’ve seen Hudson.’

‘A most remarkable display of faith,’ said Kuang. ‘Did Datt pay you for the incomplete set of documents you let us have?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Now that our cards are on the table I take it you don’t really want payment.’

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘Good,’ said Kuang. He hooked his legs off the arm of the chair and reached for some ice from the silver bucket. Before pouring himself a whisky he pushed the telephone across to me.

Maria was waiting near the phone when I called her. ‘Bring Hudson here,’ I said. ‘You know the way.’

‘Yes,’ said Maria. ‘I know the way.’

29

Kuang went out to get ready for Hudson. I sat down again in a hard chair. Datt noticed me wince.

‘You have a pain in the spine?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I did it in a discothèque.’

‘Those modern dances are too strenuous for me,’ said Datt.

‘This one was too strenuous for me,’ I said. ‘My partner had brass knuckles.’

Datt knelt down at my feet, took off my shoe and probed at my heel with his powerful fingers. He felt my ankle bone and tut-tutted as though it had been designed all wrong. Suddenly he plunged his fingers hard into my heel. ‘Ahh,’ he said, but the word was drowned by my shout of pain. Kuang opened the door and looked at us.

‘Are you all right?’ Kuang asked.

‘He’s got a muscular contraction,’ said Datt. ‘It’s acupuncture,’ he explained to me. ‘I’ll soon get rid of that pain in your back.’

‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘Don’t do it if it’s going to make me lame for life.’

Kuang retreated back to his room. Datt inspected my foot again and pronounced it ready.

‘It should get rid of your pain,’ he said. ‘Rest for half an hour in the chair.’

‘It is a bit better,’ I admitted.

‘Don’t be surprised,’ said Datt, ‘the Chinese have practised these arts for centuries; it is a simple matter, a muscular pain.’

‘You practise acupuncture?’ I asked.

‘Not really, but I have always been interested,’ said Datt. ‘The body and the mind. The interaction of two opposing forces: body and mind, emotion and reason, the duality of nature. My ambition has always been to discover something new about man himself.’ He settled back into his chair. ‘You are simple. I do not say that as a criticism but rather in admiration. Simplicity is the most sought-after quality in both art and nature, but your simplicity encourages you to see the world around you in black-and-white terms. You do not approve of my inquiry into human thoughts and actions. Your puritan origin, your Anglo-Saxon breeding make it sinful to inquire too deeply into ourselves.’