She needs to talk about it, one of the Indian nurses had said, if you don't mind listening.

'Well, for God's sake, Thelma, what's wrong with that?'

'They call it pathological loss of control.'

It was just gone five o'clock; it would be dark in two hours, and the night would come down suddenly. I missed the English twilights out here.

'Pathological bullshit,' I said, 'if you'll excuse my French. You kept control for seven years, didn't you? That wasn't enough?'

She was watching me, her eyes puffy, her hair a mess, not unattractive, though, just unkempt, undone by life, unwanted, and do you take this woman, not bloody likely, she shot the last one dead, didn't she?

'You're doing me good,' she said, and as her pasty face cleared there came a certain beauty. 'Not many men would agree with you.'

'That's their problem.'

The last of the daylight was leaving the gardens and the lawn, well, not gardens quite, a few bushes and flowering plants, a glorious magnolia tree with blooms like water-lilies, and as the light lost its brightness the shadows softened, the shadows of the trees and the shrubs and the bird-bath in the centre.

'Where were you?' Pepperidge had asked. He'd phoned while I was at the British High Commission this morning.

'Working out in the physical therapy room.'

'Tell me about the surveillance.'

'I'm still not sure. I thought I saw one of the hit team that was round the hotel. Touch of paranoia, possibly, but all the same I'd be rather careful.'

His silence meant worry. God knew what he'd have said if I'd told him where I'd been.

'Let me know," he'd said, 'if you see them again."

Said I would. He'd taken a lot of care finding me the safe-house and couldn't really believe it had attracted ticks so soon. I felt for him.

'Keep away,' I told him, 'just in case. I mean that.' It wasn't a safe-house any more because I'd blown it across the street but that was going to work itself out. I didn't want Pepperidge walking into a surveillance net the first day he'd taken over the mission in the field. If I ever left here with vital signs I'd need him again. 'By the way,' I told him, 'Shoda's in Singapore.'

'Sayako told you?'

'Yes.' He hadn't sounded surprised, so I said, 'Did the bug stop producing?'

'Yes. But it told us that much - I think it might be on her private jet.' As lightly as he could, 'Don't worry about it.' I knew now that he hadn't been going to tell me she was here. I liked that: it was good handling of the ferret, protecting him from unnecessary worry.

'What are you doing here?' Thelma asked me.

'I'm paranoid.'

The light grew less, and sharp edges softened. People had started filling the verandahs on their way to the cafeteria for the evening meal.

'What form does it take?' she asked me.

'I think someone's stalking me. But only when it's dark.'

Had some Pork Pad Kee Mao, but didn't eat the meat, just the vegetables. The protein I'd eaten mid-day was into the sinews by now, and all I needed was something light, with the chilli paste as a stimulant for the blood.

David Thomas sat next to me in the cafeteria, call me Dave, all right, but don't you dare call me Marty, I can't stand that, made him laugh a bit, he was the man who'd lost his wife and children, shut himself in the garage with the engine running.

'Boy,' he said, 'this stuff's red hot.'

'Good for the circulation.'

According to the pathologist's report, the contents of the stomach were corn, bamboo shoots, green beens, onion and chilli. Pork Pad Kee Mao.

Oh, balls.

'Who?'

'He said his name was Singh.'

A couple of the doctors had been talking in the hall, earlier today, when I'd gone through there.

'I've never heard of him.'

'He's new here. Calcutta University.'

'They should have told us at Admin.'

Coconut ice-cream.

'How was your day?' he asked me, Dave.

'Can't complain. What about yours?'

'Okay.' He held his fork still. 'There's a chap here whose wife jumped out of a window, because they'd been rowing. How about that?'

'You can make a start with that, Dave. Find someone worse off even than you, and you can take another look.'

'That's what Israel said.'

'Terrific. You're on your way.'

Then I went along to the games room and played some snooker, or made an attempt, hitting the balls all over the place regardless, taking the tension down a degree. There wasn't anything worth looking at on the box, so I worked out again, this time with the weights to tune up the red muscle; I'd worked on the white muscle earlier with some speed punching at the bag.

Watching the time, of course, watching the people, the doctors in their white coats, most of them English because the place was run by them, but quite a few Chinese and Malaysian and one or two Indians.

'Going to bed?'

Thelma. We were in one of the corridors and it was a few minutes to nine, curfew time.

'On my way,' I said.

'Don't let it worry you. It's all in the mind.'