It was pointless to re-study the dossiers. Whatever inconsistencies he might find would take too long to unearth for they – or it – had eluded his own experienced eyes as well as London's. There was no time for intricate analyses, the painfully slow exploration of nine individual lives. He had only one choice. A frontal assault on each man, and the word 'front' was intrinsic to his plan. If he could play the role of a taipan, he could play the part of a traitor. He realized that his plan was not without risk – a risk neither London nor the American, Havilland, would tolerate, but it had to be taken. If he failed, Sheng Chou Yang would be alerted to the secret war against him and his counter moves could be disastrous, but Lin Wenzu did not intend to fail. If failure was written on the northern winds nothing else would matter, least of all his life.
The major reached for his telephone. He pushed the button on his console for the radio operator in the computerized communication centre of MI6, Special Branch.
'Yes, sir?' said the voice from the white, sterilized room.
'Who in Dragonfly is still on duty?' asked Lin, naming the elite unit of nine who reported in but never gave explanations.
'Two, sir. In vehicles Three and Seven, but I can reach the rest in a few minutes. Five have checked in – they're at home -and the remaining two have left numbers. One is at the Pagoda Cinema until eleven-thirty, when he'll return to his flat, but he can be reached by beeper until then. The other is at the Yacht Club in Aberdeen with his wife and her family. She's English, you know. '
Lin laughed softly. 'No doubt charging the British family's bill to our woefully inadequate budget from London. '
'Is that possible, Major? If so, would you consider me for Dragonfly, whatever it is?'
'Don't be impertinent. '
'I'm sorry, sir-'
'I'm joking, young man. Next week I'll take you to a fine dinner myself. You do excellent work and I rely on you. '
'Thank you, sir!'
The thanks are mine. '
'Shall I contact Dragonfly and put out an alert?'
'You may contact each and every one, but quite the opposite of an alert. They've all been overworked, without a clean day off in several weeks. Tell each of them that of course I want any changes of location to be reported, but unless informed otherwise we're secure for the next twenty-four hours, and the men in vehicles Three and Seven may drive them home but not up into the territories for drinks. Tell them I said they should all get a good night's sleep, or however they wish to pass the time. '
'Yes, sir. They'll appreciate that, sir. '
'I myself will be wandering around in vehicle Four. You may hear from me. Stay awake. '
'Of course, Major. '
'You've got a dinner coming, young man. '
'If I may, sir,' said the enthusiastic radio operator, 'and I know I speak for all of us. We wouldn't care to work for anyone but you. '
'Perhaps two dinners. '
Parked in front of an apartment house on Yun Ping Road, Lin lifted the microphone out of its cradle below the dashboard. 'Radio, its Dragonfly Zero. '
'Yes, sir?'
'Switch me to a direct telephone line with a scrambler. I'll know we're on scrambler when I hear the echo on my part of the call, won't I?'
'Naturally, sir. '
The faint echo pulsated over the line, with the dial tone. The major punched in the numbers; the ringing began and a female voice answered.
'Yes?'
'Mr Zhou. Kuair said Lin, his words rushed, telling the woman to hurry.
'Certainly,' she replied in Cantonese.
'Zhou here,' said the man.
'Xun su! Xiaoxir Lin spoke in a husky whisper; it was the sound of a desperate man pleading to be heard. 'Sheng! Contact instantly! Sapphire is gone!'
'What? Who is this?'
The major pressed down the bar and pushed a button to the right of the microphone. The radio operator spoke instantly.
'Yes, Dragonfly?'
'Patch into my private line, also on scrambler, and reroute all calls here. Right away! This will be standard procedure until I instruct otherwise. Understood?'
'Yes, sir,' said a subdued radioman.
The mobile phone buzzed and Lin picked it up, speaking casually. 'Yes?' he answered, feigning a yawn.
'Major, this is Zhou! I just had a very strange call. A man phoned me – he sounded badly hurt – and told me to contact someone named Sheng. I was to say that Sapphire was gone. ' 'Sapphire? said the major, suddenly alert . 'Say nothing to anyone, Zhou! Damned computers – I don't know how it happened but that call was meant for me. This is beyond Dragonfly. I repeat, say nothing to anyone!'
'Understood, sir. '
Lin started the car and drove several blocks west to Tanlung Street. He repeated the exercise and again the call came over his private line.
'Major?
'Yes?'
'I just got off the phone with someone who sounded like he was dying! He wanted me to... '
The explanation was the same: a dangerous error had been made, beyond the purview of Dragonfly. Nothing was to be repeated. The order was understood.
Lin called three more numbers, each time from in front of each recipient's apartment or boarding house. All were negative; each man reached him within moments after a call with his startling news and none had raced outside to a random sterile pay phone. The major knew only one thing for certain. Whoever the infiltrator was, he would not use his home phone to make contact. Telephone bills recorded all numbers dialled and all bills were submitted for departmental audit. It was a routine containment procedure that was welcomed by the agents. Excess charges were picked up by Special Branch as if they were related to business.
The two men in vehicles Three and Seven, having been relieved of duty, had checked in with headquarters by the fifth telephone call. One was at a girlfriend's house and made it plain that he had no intention of leaving for the next twenty-four hours. He pleaded with the radioman to take all 'emergency calls from clients', telling everyone who tried to reach him that his superiors had sent him to the Antarctic. Negative. It was not the way of a double agent, including the humour. He neither cut himself off nor revealed the whereabouts or the identity of a drop. The second man was, if possible, more negative. He informed headquarters-communications that he was available for any and all problems, -major or minor, related or unrelated to Dragonfly, even to answering the phones. His wife had recently given birth to triplets, and he confided in a voice that bordered on panic -according to the radioman – he got more rest on the job than at home. Negative.
Seven down and seven negative. That left one man at the Pagoda Cinema for another forty minutes, and the other at the Yacht Club in Aberdeen.
His mobile phone hummed emphatically it seemed, or was it his own anxiety? 'Yes!'
'I just received a message for you, sir,' said the radio operator. '"Eagle to Dragonfly Zero. Urgent. Respond."'
'Thank you. ' Lin looked at the clock in the centre of the dashboard. He was thirty-five minutes late for his appointment with Havilland and the legendary crippled agent from years past, Alexander Conklin. 'Young man, said the major, bringing the microphone back to his lips, the line unbroken.
'Yes, sir?'
'I have no time for the anxious if somewhat irrelevant "Eagle", but I don't wish to offend him. He'll call again when I don't respond and I want you to explain that you've been unable to reach me. Of course, when you do, you'll give me the message immediately. '
'It will be a delight, Major. '