From this distance I could see the Taunus easily enough, and the traffic passing it. There'd been a slot and I'd backed it in and it was still there where I'd left it. The square was a lawful parking zone but I'd taken the last slot and there hadn't been any vacancies since then, or they'd only just arrived. The Humber was double-parked with the bonnet up, some kind of engine trouble so the police couldn't move it on in a hurry. The red van had Typhoo Tea on it in gold letters but there wasn't a grocer's or a cafe or a tea shop anywhere near: they were all souvenir shops and cheap jewellers' on that side of the square, but the van was parked with two wheels on the pavement and the roller-door was down as if there was a delivery being made. The Chinese on the bike was just sitting there with his arms folded watching the traffic, not even bothering to fetch a paper or something to read.
The others I couldn't see or hope to recognize. There'd be others, I knew that. This was about the roughest static surveillance job I'd ever seen but that wasn't the point. The point was that the Taunus was a death trap.
The left eyelid was flickering: it always did when the nerves got close to the edge. And I was cold, standing by the doorway in the sunshine, because I knew Ferris was up there in the room below the roof, thinking I still didn't know how that tag had been on my back when I'd gone into the snake shop; well, he was bloody well wrong because I knew. I knew now. And the unnerving thing was that I'd known for quite a while, and could have told him, put him out of his misery. It was just that I'd had other things on my mind and hadn't taken too much notice.
I wasn't prepared to dodge the issue by saying that boy had sighted me by chance, even though Ferris had offered me the option. I might have been sighted by chance, but it was damned unlikely. And the only other way that boy could have got on to my back was by a communications pitch and the only way they could have found any use for communications was by having a signals source and he could be only one man: the one in the Honda at the Golden Sands Hotel. He'd been somewhere on the ground floor and seen me and recognized me and got on to the phone and told headquarters, and headquarters had put out an all-points bulletin and from that moment the Taunus was a marked target. I'd checked and double-checked on the way up to the safe-house but there were limits to what I could do in a narrow winding street already crowded with Chinese, and the boy had been the first one to sight the Taunus and he had my photograph — they all did — and he came to make the hit.
The people down there in the square didn't know that. He'd been an isolated case on his way from base to station or nosing along the Capri travel pattern of two evenings ago and he'd been lucky, if that was the word. Then someone else had sighted the Taunus but I wasn't there so there was no one to follow, so he signalled headquarters and brought the pack in: there could be twenty or thirty down there in the doorways and behind windows, besides the people on station near the van and the Humber and on the bicycle. They would be deployed along the streets leading to the square, the surveillance spreading tentacles in every direction to make sure I couldn't get within a hundred yards of the Taunus without being seen. Or two hundred: the distance from there to where I was standing now, close, very close, to the doorway.
My hand was throbbing. Must take care of it, she'd said. The feeling of deathly cold wouldn't go, and I got fed up because I ought to get more bloody control over myself: the mission was still in its access phase and I ought to be feeling right on my toes and I wasn't and there was no excuse.
'Tui mm chiu.'
I stood back, keeping clear of the actual doorway but remaining close enough to use it. Two other people went in, a woman and her small boy, and it wouldn't do if the wrong people saw me and recognized me and went in, say three or four men, and turned round and blocked the doorway while the rest of them came up. I wouldn't know any of them. I wouldn't have time to know anything at all, if they came.
I began working back up the shallow steps — it was a ladder street like most of them in this area — having to push my way through tourists and vendors and groups of shopkeepers gathered in the bright morning sun, want roast duck? The scent of cheap perfumes and the drains, long time no rain, people said, working back towards the snake shop but turning off as soon as I could to avoid the cardinal sin of visiting a safe-house with surveillance known to be active, want haircut? The sudden clatter of a mah-jong game in a doorway, a stall with wardrobes for the dead, is this the place where you can get to see those fruit sellers, do you know? A child's laughter as a fortune-telling bird picked a card from the basket, turning into the alley and walking faster, checking twice and going on, using every pane of glass there was, bumping into people because I had to watch the reflections, tui mm chiu, sometimes attracting attention and that could be dangerous, slowing down, taking the next street, a wider one, looking for a taxi. Finding one.
'Lane Crawford's.'
When we reached there I went through the front and out by the back way, climbing over a new delivery of merchandise, finding a bar and calling Ferris.
We listened for bugs.
'My car was covered in ticks.'
'Oh I see,' he said. He meant that was how the boy had got on to me.
'It could be rigged as well.'
'Of course. Anything in it?'
'A suitcase.'
'Everything all right apart from that?'
'It is now.'
I rang off and sat down in the corner of the bar with my left shoulder against the wall, the mirror on the other side of the room and the door facing me. I was clear of the Taunus trap but they were getting very insistent and I could be picked up anywhere, anywhere at all, because of the photograph.
'Coffee.'
To help chase some of the adrenalin out of the system: there was no chance of physical exercise. The eyelid had stopped flickering, I should bloody well hope so, I must be getting old or something. Relax, switch off, leave things to Ferris. He'd be on to the police by now, telling them where to find the Taunus and what to do with it: check it for an explosive device, check the suitcase, take the car back to Fleet-way and put the case into the harbour or wherever they liked, because i wouldn't get it back: they'd hold it for me but they wouldn't part with it or with me either without asking me an awful lot of questions Hong Kong is just like other places: the police don't like being rung up and told to look for bombs in abandoned cars without wanting to know why. Ferris could pull enough rank to tell them to shut up but it'd mean revealing the fact that we were on the island and we didn't want to advertise it.
I'd asked him to do a couple of other things for me while he was about it: pay my bill with Fleetway, and get a dozen gardenias sent to El Caliph before eight o'clock tonight with a message: Please forgive, been called to Rome due to the devaluation crisis, tried four times to ring you but not home. Will never forget you. Clive.
I put on the mask.
The nerves were back to normal and it hadn't taken so long as I thought: for three hours I'd been moving around Central as free as a tourist and nobody had tried to raid me or even get on my tail, besides which Ferris hadn't been mean: it was a white summer-weight linen suit and quite a good fit and I felt a bit less like a lavatory brush with the mange. I'd kitted up again at Lane Crawford's: new suitcase, shaver, toilet things, shoes, so forth, and the case was genuine leather because I can't stand plastic, so that scaly old hell-hag in Accounts was going to cough up her brimstone when she got the bill.