She chortled again, delighted with the impact of her confidence. "Yes."

The young man took hold of his blown mind and put the pieces quickly back together; if this were true he would get the reward and the promotion and maybe an invitation to join Special Intelligence. "You're making this up!"

"Would I lie to someone from my own village? My friend's one of them I tell you. He's also a 489 and his Brotherhood's going to be the richest in all Hong Kong."

"Eeeee, how lucky you are, Elder Sister! And when you see him again please ask if perhaps he can use someone like me. I'm a street fighter by trade though my triad's poor and the leader stupid and a stranger. Is he from Ning-tok?"

"No. He'sa he's my nephew," she said, and the young man knew it was a lie. "I'm seeing him later. Yes, he's coming later. He owes me some money."

"Eeeee, that's good, but don't put it in a bank and certainly not in the Ho-Pak or y"

"Ho-Pak?" she said suspiciously, her little eyes narrowing suddenly in the creases of her face. "Why do you mention the Ho-Pak? What has the Ho-Pak to do with me?"

"Nothing, Elder Sister," Wu said, cursing himself for the slip, knowing her guard was now up. "I saw the queues this morning, that's all."

She nodded, not convinced, then saw that her chicken was pack- aged and ready so she thanked him for the tea and cake and scuttled off, muttering to herself Most carefully he followed her. From time to time she would look back but she did not see him. Reassured, she went home. : The CIA man got out of his car and walked quickly into police headquarters. The uniformed sergeant at the information desk greeted him. "Afternoon, Mr. Rosemont."

"I've an appointment with Mr. Crosse."

"Yes sir. He's expecting you."

Sourly Rosemont went to the elevator. This whole goddamn-piss- poor island makes me want to shit, and the goddamn British along with it.

"Hello, Stanley," Armstrong said. "Whattre you doing here?"

"Oh hi, Robert. Gotta meeting with your chief."

"I've already had that displeasure once today. At 7:01 precisely." The elevator opened. Rosemont went in and Armstrong followed.

"I hope you've got sonne good news for Crosse," Armstrong said with a yawn. "He's really in a foul mood."

"Oh? You in this meeting too?"

"Afraid so."

Rosemont flushed. "Shit, I asked for a private meeting."

"I'm private."

"You sure are, Robert. And Brian, and everyone else. But some bastard isn't."

Armstrong's humor vanished. "Oh?"

"No." Rosemont said nothing more. He knew he had hurt the Englishman but he didn't care. It's the truth, he thought bitterly. The sooner these goddamn limeys open their goddamn eyes the better.

The elevator stopped. They walked down the corridor and were ushered into Crosse's room by Brian Kwok. Rosemont felt the bolts slide home behind him and he thought how goddamn foolish and useless and unnecessary; the man's a knucklehead.

"I asked for a private meeting, Rog."

"It's private. Robert's very private, Brian is. What can I do for you, Stanley?" Crosse was politely cool.

"Okay, Rog, today I got a long list for you: first, you're personally 100 percent in the creek with me, my whole department, up to the director in Washington himself. I'm told to tell you among other things your mole's surpassed himself this time."

"Oh?"

Rosemont's voice was grating now. "For starters, we just heard from one of our sources in Canton that Fong-fong and all your lads were hit last night. Their cover's gone they're blown." Armstrong and Brian Kwok looked shocked. Crosse was staring back at him and he read nothing in his face. "Got to be your mole, Rog. Got to be fingered from the tai-pan's AMG papers."

Crosse looked across at Brian Kwok. "Use the emergency wireless code. Check it!"

As Brian Kwok hurried out, Rosemont said again, "They're blown, the poor bastards."

"We'll check it anyway. Next?"

Rosemont smiled mirthlessly. "Next: Almost everything that was in the tai-pan's AMG papers's spread around the intelligence com- munity in London on the wrong side."

"God curse all traitors," Armstrong muttered.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, Robert. Next, another little gem AMG was no accident."

"What?"

"No one knows the who, but we all know the why. The bike was hit by an auto. No make, no serial number, no witnesses, no nothing yet, but he was hit and of course, fingered from here."

"Then why haven't I been informed by Source? Why's the infor- mation coming from you?" Crosse asked.

Rosemont's voice sharpened. "I just got off the phone to London. It's just past 5:00 A.M. there so maybe your people plan to let you know when they get to the office after a nice leisurely bacon and eggs and a goddamn cup of tea!"

Armstrong shot a quick glance at Crosse and winced at the look on his face.

"Youra your point's well taken, Stanley," Crosse said. "Next?"

"The photos we gave you of the guys who knocked off Voranskia what happened?"

"We had their place covered. The two men never reappeared, so I raided the place in the early hours. We went through that whole tenement, room by room, but found no one who looked anything like the photographs. We searched for a couple of hours and there were no secret doors or anything~like that. They weren't there. Perhaps your fellow made a mistakea"

"Not this time. Marty Povitz was sure. We had the place staked out soon as we deciphered the address but there was a time when it wasn't all covered, front and back. I think they were tipped, again by your mole." Rosemont took out a copy of a telex and passed it over. Crosse read it, reddened and passed it over to Armstrong.

Decoded from Director, Washington, to Rosemont, Deputy Director Station Hong Kong: Sinders MI-6 brings orders from Source, London, that you are to go with him Friday to witness the handover of the papers and get an immediate photocopy.

"You'll get your copy in today's mail, Rog," the American said. "I can keep this?" Crosse asked.

"Sure. By the way, we have a tail on Dunross too. W"

Crosse said angrily, "Would you kindly not interfere in our juris- diction!"

"I told you you were in Shitsville, Rog!" Tautly Rosemont placed another cable on the table.

Rosemont, Hong Kong. You will hand this cable to Chief of SI personally. Until further orders Rosemont is authorized to proceed independently to assist in the uncovering of the hostile in any way he chooses. He is, however, required to stay within the law and keep you advised personally of what he is doing. Source 8-98/3.

Rosemont saw Crosse bite back an explosion. "What else've you authorized?" Crosse asked.

"Nothing. Yet. Next: We'll be at the bank on Fri"

"You know where Dunross's put the files?"

"It's all over town among the community. I told you your mole's been working overtime." Abruptly Rosemont flared, "Come on for chrissake,Rog, you know if you tell a hot item to someone in London, it's all over town! We've all got security problems but yours're worse!" With an effort the American simmered down. "You could've leveled with me about the Dunross screw-up it would've save us all a lot of heartache and a lotta face."

Crosse lit a cigarette. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I was trying to maintain security."

"Remember me? I'm on our side!"

"Are you?"

"You bet your ass!" Rosemont said it very angrily. "And if it was up to me I'd have every safety deposit box open before sundown and the hell with the consequences."

"Thank God you can't do that."

"For chrissake we're at war and God only knows what's in those other files. Maybe they'll finger your goddamn mole and then we can get the bastard and give him his!"

"Yes," Crosse said, his voice a whiplash, "or maybe there's nothing in the papers at all!"

"What do you mean?"

"Dunross agreed to hand the files over to Sinders on Friday.

What if there's nothing in them? Or what if he burned the pages and gives us just the covers? What the hell do we do then?"

Rosemont gaped at him. "Jesus is that a possibility?"

"Of course it's a possibility! Dunross's clever. Perhaps they're not there at all, or the vault ones are false or nonexistent. We don't know he put them there, he just says he put them there. Jesus Christ, there're fifty possibilities. You're so smart, you CIA fellows, you tell me which deposit box and I'll open it myself."

"Get the key from the governor. Give me and some of my boys private access for five hours an"

"Out of the question!" Crosse snarled, suddenly red-faced, and Armstrong felt the violence strongly. Poor Stanley, you're the target today. He suppressed a shudder, remembering the times he had had to face Crosse. He had soon learned that it was easier to tell the man the truth, to tell everything at once. If Crosse ever really went after him in an interrogation, he knew beyond doubt he would be broken. Thank God he's never yet had reason to try, he thought thankfully, then turned his eyes on Rosemont who was flushed with rage. I wonder who Rosemont's informants are, and how he knows for certain that Fong-fong-and his team have been obliterated.

"Out of the question," Crosse said again.

"Then what the hell do we do? Sit on our goddamn lard till Friday?"

"Yes. We wait. We've been ordered to wait. Even if Dunross has torn out pages, or sections, or disposed of whole files, we can't put him in prison or force him to remember or tell us anything."

~ 'If the director or Source decide he should be leaned on, there're ways. That's what the enemy'd do."

Crosse and Armstrong stared at Rosemont. At length Armstrong said coldly, "But that doesn't make it right." ~ ~ "That doesn't make it wrong either. Next: For your ears only, Rog."

At once Armstrong got up but Crosse motioned him to stay. "Robert's my ears." Armstrong hid the laughter that permeated him at so ridiculous a statement.

"No. Sorry, Rog, orders your brass and mine."

Armstrong saw Crosse hesitate perfectly. "Robert, wait outside. When I buzz come back in. Check on Brian."

"Yes sir." Armstrong went out and closed the door, sorry that he would not be present for the kill.

"Well?"

The American lit another cigarette. "Top secret. At 0400 today the whole Ninety-second Airborne dropped into Azerbaijan supported by large units of Delta Force and they've fanned out all along the Iran-Soviet border." Crosse'seyes widened. "This was at the direct request of the Shah, in response to massive Soviet military preparations just over the border and the usual Soviet-sponsored riots all over Iran. Jesus, Rog, can't you get some air conditioning in here?" Rosemont mopped his brow. "There's a security blanket all over Iran now. At 0600 support units landed at Teheran airport. Our Seventh Fleet's heading for the Gulf, the Sixth that's the Mediterranean is already at battle stations off Israel, the Second, Atlantic, is heading for the Baltic, NORAD's alerted, NATO's alerted, and all Poseidons are one step from Red."

"Jesus Christ, what the hell's going on?"

"Khrushchev is making another real play for Iran always an optimum Soviet target right? He figures he has the advantage. It's right on his own border where his own lines of communication're short and ours huge. Yesterday the Shah's security people uncovered a'democratic socialist' insurrection scheduled to explode in the next few days in Azerbaijan. So the Pentagon's reacting like mashed cats. If Iran goes so does the whole Persian Gulf, then Saudi Arabia and that wraps up Europe's oil and that wraps up Europe."

"The Shah's been in trouble before. Isn't this more of your overreacting?"

The American hardened. "Khrushchev backed down over Cuba first goddamn time there's been a Soviet backoff because JFK wasn't bluffing and the only thing Commies understand is force. Big-massive-honest-to-goddamn force! The Big K better back off this time too or we'll hand him his head."

"You'll risk blowing up the whole bloody world over some illiterate, rioting, fanatic nutheads who've probably got some right on their side anyway?"

"I'm not into politics, Rog, only into winning. Iran oil, Persian Gulf oil, Saudi oiltre the West's jugular. We're not gonna let the enemy get it."

"If they want it they'll take it."

"Not this time, they won't. We're calling the operation Dry Run. The idea's to go in heavy, frighten 'em off and get out fast, quietly, so no one's the wiser except the enemy, and particularly no god damn liberal fellow-traveler congressman or journalist. The Pentagon figures the Soviets don't believe we could possibly respond so fast, so massively from so far away, so they'll go into shock and run for cover and close everything down until next time."

The silence thickened.

Crosse's fingers drummed. "What am I supposed to do? Why're you telling me this?"

"Because the brass ordered me to. They want all allied chief SIs to know because if the stuff hits the fan there'll be sympathy riots all over, as usual, well-coordinated rent-a-mob riots, and you'll have to be prepared. AMG's papers said that Sevrin had been activated here maybe there's a tie-in. Besides, you here in Hong Kong are vital to us. You're the back door to China, the back door to Vladivostok and the whole of east Russia and our best shortcut to their Pacific naval and atomic-sub bases." Rosemont took out another cigarette, his fingers shaking. "Listen, Rog," he said, controlling his grumbling anger, "let's forget all the interoffice shit, huh? Maybe we can help each other."

"What atomic subs?" Crosse said with a deliberate sneer, baiting him. "They haven't got atomic subs yet an"

"Jesus Christ!" Rosemont flared. "You guys've got your heads up your asses and you won't listen. You spout detente and try to muzzle us and they're laughing their goddamn heads off. They got nuclear subs and missile sites and naval bases all over the Sea of Okhotsk!" Rosemont got up and went to the huge map of China and Asia that dominated one wall and stabbed the Kamchatka penin- sula, north of Japan. "a Petropavlovsk, Vladivostoka they've giant operations all along this whole Siberian coast, here at Komsomolsk at the mouth of the Amur and on Sakhalin. But Petropavlovsk's the big one. In ten years, that'll be the greatest war-port in Asia with support airfields, atomic-protected subpens and atomicsafe fighter strips and missile silos. And from there they threaten all Asia Japan, Korea, China, the Philippines not forgetting Hawaii and our West Coast."

"U.S. forces are preponderant and always will be. You're over- reacting again."

Rosemont's face closed. "People call me a hawk. I'm not. Just a realist. They're on a war footing. Our Midas III's have pinpointed all kinds of crap, oura" He stopped and almost kicked himself for letting his mouth run on. "Well, we know a lot of what they're doing right now, and they're not making goddamn ploughshares."

"I think you're wrong. They don't want war any more than we do."

"You want proof? You'll get it tomorrow, soon as I've clearance!" the American said, stung. "If it's proved, can we cooperate better?"

"I thought we were cooperating well now."

"Will you?"

"Whatever you want. Does Source want me to react in any specific way?"

"No, just to be prepared. I guess this'll all filter down through channels today."