'A set-up.' To myself, more or less.

'It was a mission,' he said quietly. Another faint smile. 'I've know easier.'

Poor bastard, he couldn't have cared much for it. He'd been as bad as Loman, really, but I didn't hate him for it. Let me tell you something about Loman: if you ever meet him you'll hate his guts on sight.

'I thought we might have had our meeting tomorrow.' His small, calculating eyes on my face like a couple of snails. 'You've had a fatiguing day. But Pepperidge told me you weren't ready for sleep.'

Civil of him. He's like that. He pretends he's human.

'We don't need a meeting. The answer's no.'

He tried to look puzzled.

'The answer - ?'

'I'm not going on with the mission. Not for the Bureau.'

I felt Pepperidge watching me. I'd do it for him, go on to the objective and bring Shoda down, but not for those bastards in London. But what was I saying? He was Bureau himself. Thought flash, and I looked at him.

'Her too? McCorkadale?' * He nodded slowly.

That was why she'd been so useful, so efficient, behind the act she'd put on, I've never been so near so much drama, so forth.

And Chen. Johnny Chen.

'Sayako?'

'No.'

'Anyone else?'

'No.' He turned away and called out, 'You there, Flood?'

A man came through the doors, smartly, coming between the tables, looking from Loman to Pepperidge to me.

'Quiller, this is George Flood, our main contact out here.'

Medium height, good suit, muscle under it, his eyes blanked off, professional, slight nod of his head.

'Sir.'

I nodded back.

'He's manning our station,' Pepperidge said.

I didn't answer. It wasn't my concern. I was out of it now. The man took a step back, looking at no one. Chilly reception, yes, but I couldn't help that.

'The station is manned on a twenty-four -' Loman started in.

Got an echo, even in here.

Loman gave a sigh, hamming it. Pepperidge looked at Flood.

'Go and give it another try.'

'Yes, sir.'

He left us, clearing his throat to fill the silence, embarrassed, I suppose. And I quite agree, I can be terribly common, you know, when the mood hits me, but listen, I'd spent the whole bloody day holed up in a funny farm waiting for a top hit man to come for my head and there'd been two false alarms on the lawn out there and then I'd had to fight for my life in a lavatory and worst of all I'd finally had to take his away from him and now this bastard, I think you know who I mean, was trying to con me into going on with the mission and I was fed up to the back teeth, don't you understand?

'Let's just sit down for a minute, shall we?'

Loman.

So I sat down, dropped, actually, onto the couch, rather fatigued, yes, just as Mr Loman had suggested so courteously just now. I heard a breath come out of Pepperidge, relief, I dare say; he wanted this mission to go on because he'd been right in at the beginning and he'd still be my director in the field and earn himself a nice bit of credit if we got the job done.

He sat down on the other end of the couch and caught sight of something pink stuck in the cushions and pulled it out, pair of lace panties, glancing up at us and shoving them in his pocket, 'That kind of club,' an awkward laugh, Loman sitting there in the velvet wingback chair, face like a po, he probably didn't even know what the bloody things were, can you imagine Loman with a woman, you must be out of your mind.

He started talking, but I didn't take much of it in, because nothing he could say was going to change my mind; it was just nice sitting down again, that was all, various bits of the anatomy still throbbing, the hand quite painfully, I assumed they knew what they were doing at the clinic when they'd put the stitches in, no risk of infection, we'd been in the lav at the time, after all.

' - and I want you to know in any case,' Loman's voice floated in and out of my consciousness, 'that this place is under day and night observation by undercover officers of the Singapore police, with orders to arrest any loiterers on sight. So this isn't a safe-house, it's a fortress.'

Quite impressive. I would have been quite impressed, if in fact I'd needed a safe-house, or even a fortress for that matter.

'Secondly, if you have any misgivings about the death of Manif Kishnar, there will be no repercussions.' He was speaking with a lot of care, a lot of articulation, wanting me to understand every word, but the fact was, I wasn't interested, it was just pleasant sitting down instead of standing up, and the idea now occurred to me that it would be even more pleasant to lie down in a nice soft bed.

' - and you will appreciate that the government of Singapore is every bit as desirous of continuing peace in Asia as every other power in this -'

'Loman.'

He stopped. I got up and found some balance and stood looking down at him, and the fact that I was rather tired now didn't diminish the pleasure I was going to get in the next few seconds, because in the next few seconds I was going to blow this little bastard right out of his overweening bloody complacency. I made an attempt to mimic his studied articulation, but whether or not it came off I didn't know and didn't much care.

'I don't want to waste your time, so you should know that I haven't the slightest interest in anything you have to tell me.' He sat with his eyes turned upwards in a blank stare. 'I do not intend going on with the Shoda mission, and nothing you can say will change my mind. I repeat - nothing.'

He went on staring and I went on standing there. Pepperidge hadn't moved. Then Loman did. He gave one of his long-suffering sighs, got his briefcase from the end of the couch, stood up and without a glance at either of us walked away between the tables and through the doors, and as I watched him I had to fight down a wave of disgust, because everything I'd done since I'd come out here to Singapore had gone for nothing, was down the drain, including six lives lost, one of them ours, gone for nothing.

End of mission.

I don't know how long I stood there, wishing Loman would walk out of here under a bus, wishing Pepperidge, a man I'd come to like, come to respect, hadn't conned me into an abortive enterprise, wishing I could go and lie down somewhere and let the throbbing in the blood slow to the delta rhythm of sleep.

'Still can't get her to answer, sir.'

Man standing there. Flood.

'She's not at the High Commission?'

'No. They haven't seen her.'

Something trying to get through to me, but possibly unimportant. Ignore.