Quiller Salamander

'Was that why the Bureau turned you down?'

'I was advised, as I say, that the goal of saving Cambodia for whatever reason would be impossible to achieve, now that the United Nations has pulled out.' He looked at me, tilting his head. 'So I made a direct approach to the prime minister, who was interested enough to contact the UN and the United States. I have since had meetings with the ambassadors to both.'

'Suggesting an air strike.'

'Of course. It's the only possible step, in military terms.' He leaned forward, his hands flat on the table as I'd seen them on his desk in London. Take it as a gesture of frankness or leave it. 'Provided, obviously, that we could locate the main forces of the Khmer Rouge with absolute certainty. And you have done that.'

'You've seen the footage?'

'Yes, the moment I got off the plane from the capital. It's completely convincing, of course. The prime minister had told me earlier that he'd accept my word alone, so I telephoned him immediately. Meanwhile the film itself is on its way to him, with copies to the Ministry of Defence, the United Nations and the Pentagon, time being critical.'

'They can't act that fast,' I said. 'They're bureaucrats.'

Flockhart looked down. He did it often, and I noted it. 'My only hope is that by the grace of God they will.' To Pringle: 'Let me see your debriefing notes, will you?'

Pringle unzipped his briefcase and Flockhart studied the three sheets, sometimes brushing back his wisps of greying hair, sometimes dropping a word or two that neither of us could understand, weren't, perhaps, expected to. For the first time it occurred to me that Flockhart was a man driven by inner fires, no longer enraged by the Bureau's indifference but transferring his rage to a galvanic energy; I also sensed that he was committing himself to something conceivably beyond even his powers to achieve, and that he knew it. I couldn't see it in his square, bland face, or in his pale eyes. I could simply detect, on the subtlest level, a smell of burning.

'I congratulate you,' he said at last, looking up at me, 'on having made a safe return from your ordeal in the jungle. Also on having brought back the film, which of course is now the key element in this enterprise.'

Stroking me. I didn't like that, didn't answer. I didn't like the word 'enterprise' either, we weren't bloody buccaneers; the errand of an intelligence agent is to gather intelligence.

'Should we rely on this rumour about Pol Pot, that he's ill?'

'I got it confirmed last night,' I said, 'when I questioned a KR rebel. I can guarantee he was telling the truth — as far as he knows it.'

'I see. And where might Pol Pot be sequestered, as an invalid?'

'I've no idea.'

'Probably Bangkok,' Pringle said, 'under medical supervision.'

'Then I wish him the least speedy of recoveries.' Flockhart's tone was hushed: perhaps he was over-correcting. I thought that if he ever found himself within touching distance of Pol Pot he would kill him with his bare hands, and not quickly. 'Pringle,' he said to me in a moment, 'has sketched a rough map of the area embracing the Khmer Rouge camp and the village, according to your description.' He spun the sheet of paper around for me. 'Does it look accurate?'

'As accurate as he could make it, from what I told him.'

'The village is approximately fifteen kilometres from the camp, is that correct?'

'It was the monk's estimate.'

Flockhart's finger traced its way across the sketch. 'The road would be more or less straight?'

'It'll be a bullock track, not really a road. But probably straight, yes — the area's just flat jungle, so it wouldn't have to go around any hills.'

'A track — but it's used by motorized vehicles?' He was glancing at Pringle's notes.

'According to the monk.'

'And frequently.'

'Yes.'

'In terms of acoustics, how close would you think one could take a motorized vehicle to the camp, with complete security?'

'In deep jungle like that I'd say a mile, coasting in neutral over the last hundred yards and depending on wind-direction and the type of vehicle used, the type of engine and exhaust system.'

Flockhart turned to Pringle. 'Do we have anybody here who could do that?'

'Bracken's available in Phnom Penh. I could fly him here in an hour, by daylight. Another three hours from here to the village' — glancing at me — 'which is the time it took you to get here, coming the other way. Is there any difference in elevation?'

'Not much. The track runs through valleys most of the time.'

Flockhart got out of his chair, I thought a little wearily. He wouldn't have slept much on the flight from London through Kuwait; this burning energy of his would have kept him restless. He began pacing, hands dug into his pockets, and on the wall the salamander trickled towards the grille.

'Do you think we should put a vehicle there, a mile or so from the camp, concealed in the jungle and manned round the clock?'

He wasn't looking at either of us so I waited for Pringle, who gestured with a hand, giving the question to me.

'On principle,' I said, 'yes.' Flockhart was going by the book: having located the opposition it's good practice to set up surveillance.

Control looked at Pringle: 'Bracket is what, a sleeper or an AIP?'

'Bracken, sir. Actually he's stand-by support.'

Flockhart looked down at him. 'Better still. Is he married?'

I liked him for that. Doing a peep single-handed on an encampment of twelve thousand armed men was a short-fuse assignment.

'No, sir.'

'He's experienced?'

'He led the support group for Cobra in Pakistan.'

'Indeed. You did well to have him available.'

'Thank you, sir.' Liked being stroked. But in fact he'd done well, yes, because he'd not only had to bring the man in but he'd had to keep him from getting assigned to the next official mission to hit the signals room.

'I suggest we send Bracken out there,' Flockhart told him, as soon as we're finished here. You have a radio available?'

'Yes, sir. We can receive on this one.'

'Give it to him.' To me, with a swing of his head — 'How are you off for sleep?'

Either it showed or he was simply assessing my resources, had something lined up for me.

'I need a few hours.'

'Get them.' He took another turn and came back and stood with his hands on the back of a chair. 'Then as soon as you can, I want you to locate General Kheng. There can be no hope of a decision from London, obviously, until we know for certain where he is; an air strike at his forces alone could well fail if he remains at large. The moment you have any information I can contact the prime minister direct on his hotline from here. Will you need any kind of back-up?'

'No.'

'Have you any questions?'

I looked at Pringle. 'Did you mount a peep on Slavsky?'

'Yes, with a contact in support.'

'I think that's it,' I told Flockhart.

'Very well.' He hesitated, looking at neither of us as he went on quietly, 'We should keep it in mind that if in fact General Kheng intends to launch a missile attack on the capital on the nineteenth, we have only until midnight to stop him.'

24: SONG

Kim woke me just before noon.

He was the man Pringle used as a contact, knew where to find me, at the house of the one-legged girl. He told me that Slavsky, the Russian, had gone to the airfield.

I drove there in the Mine Action van I'd used before: they were perfect camouflage, you saw them everywhere looking for those bloody toys.

The peep was waiting for me inside the gate to the freight area, short, round-shouldered, pointed face, bush jacket, looked like a pleasant rat, the way Disney would draw one.