“Never seen anything like it,” continued Gudrun. “Here they cast their nets into the lake in the usual way, but instead of pulling them in by hand, they have engines to do the hard work. Mechanical trawling from the shore, as it were. Unique. Fascinating.”
Wondering where this was leading, we agreed it was unique: fascinating.
“Made me think it might be fun to celebrate with a cruise on the lake,” she continued.
We said nothing. I couldn’t work out what there was to ‘celebrate’. We had failed to persuade Freddie to return; were going home with our tails between our legs. Why celebrate?
Oblivious to all the questions she was creating, Gudrun pressed on. “But first Mr Cho and I need to get to know each other...”
Yesterday they had been foes, today they were to be buddies. What the hell...?
“So I’ve just rung the Academy and invited him to dinner at the Hilton. Six-thirty for drinks, followed by a meal in the Italian restaurant. I’m delighted to say he has accepted.”
I was beyond speech, but heard Alexei say,
“Panda’s never heard of you. No idea who you are. How did you explain your presence here?”
“Told him I was Max’s Godmother...”
“You did what!”
“Don’t worry, Max. White lies can be quite useful. Mr Cho then wanted to know more about the role of Godmother in western society, so I explained...”
“More lies. And not very white ones.”
“Bound to make him suspicious,” added Alexei.
“Far from it. I was all charm. Told him I was in Hong Kong on business. Heard about your little trip. Popped over to say hello.”
“A likely tale!”
“Well, Mr Cho seemed to lap it up. Especially as I went on to heap praises on the Academy and everything Chinese. Amazing what lashings of flattery will do.”
“You know nothing about the Academy.”
“We know everything about the Academy. Well, almost everything. We’ve been monitoring the place for the last couple of years.”
It took a few moments to digest the implications of this cosy new regime. Then Alexei asked, “Are we also invited?”
“Of course. You, Max, Freddie, Su. Everyone. Party of six to celebrate. Friendship between our nations.”
“Grand finale being a cruise on the lake?”
Gudrun beamed. “Yes, that’s fixed for tomorrow morning. Exciting, eh?”
My word would have been bizarre, but I was too numbed by the turn of events to argue.
36
Alexei and I needed to get away from Gudrun for a private discussion, so after absorbing her bombshells we took a cab back to the old town, where we invested in a couple of cappuccinos.
“It’s the sensible thing to,” began Alexei, clearly unconvinced. She was not referring to the coffee.
“Sensible, but out of character,” I said.
“Gudrun’s fed up with hitting her head against a brick wall,” continued Alexei. “She’s bowing to the inevitable.”
“Never known her bow to anything.”
“Is there any other explanation?”
We could not find one. Freddie was determined to stay in China. Panda would make sure he did. So Gudrun and Stockmann had given up the hopeless struggle. The logic was impeccable.
Alexei and I spent the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the old town, unable to settle. We eventually returned to the hotel to put on our glad rags, arriving at the Hilton exactly on schedule. Found the rest of the party, who had come direct from the Academy in Panda’s car, just ahead of us. Su was eye-catching in a flouncy red skirt and beaming smile. Freddie must have been talked into a visit to a local tailor, because he was sporting a brand new pair of grey trousers, a fashionable striped shirt, even a new pair of shoes. Panda had gone to the extent of wearing a jacket. As usual, Alexei beat the lot of them for looks.
Gudrun, long-skirted and suave, was in the lobby to greet us.
“So good of you to come, Mr Cho.”
She topped Panda by a good couple of inches, but he didn’t seem the least put out.
Smiled back and said, “Please call me Panda.”
“Of course... Panda.” She enclosed his outstretched hand in both of hers. I had been the recipient of all sorts of attention from Gudrun, but never a double handshake. She did not do hugs, so this was probably her ultimate accolade.
With his single mitt firmly in her grasp, she looked him straight in the eyes and added, “It’s an honour to welcome you.” Then she released him.
It may have been corny, but the ex-ambassador’s wife knew her stuff. Panda was smitten.
“I suggest an aperitif,” she continued, leading the way towards the bar. “Naturally, you’re all my guests...”
Panda started the ritual protests which Gudrun waved away imperiously.
“I believe you enjoy a taste of Scotland’s finest: a Single Malt.” A statement rather than a question. Whether this was inside information or merely guess, it found its mark. Panda nodded, his round face a picture of joy. I swear the inside of his Himmler specs were starting to mist up.
The details of what I came to call our ‘Last Supper’ are unimportant. Gudrun presided, godlike, giving most of her attention to Panda. President Xi Jinping had recently been photographed outside No 10 Downing Street, so her gospel was the commercial Utopia in prospect between China and Europe. Leading the way would be the Dali Cyber Academy.
The rest of us, the ‘youngsters’, formed our own little clique, which again tended to split: Alexei talking to Freddie; Su to me.
I could well understand how Freddie had fallen for Su, a bubbly personality, whose English, already excellent, was becoming better and more idiomatic for every day she spent with us. Her language skills had already taken her twice to Singapore, which is English speaking, and once to Japan, where it’s the language of ‘bizniz’. A clever girl with a bright future.
The party broke up shortly before ten, Su doing the driving back to the Academy, because Panda was by now incapable. But very happy.
As we left, Gudrun reminded us that on the morrow we had our ‘Grand Finale’, a lake cruise. 9am at a location that had been agreed with Panda. She would collect Alexei and me en-route at 8.30.
So that was that. In a couple of days Alexei and I would take a bus to Kunming, followed by return flights via Hong Kong, to London. Gudrun would disappear as mysteriously as she had arrived. And Freddie, with his new love, would get down to some serious cyber stuff at the Academy.
It had been an interesting experience. One day we must return to China. For now we just wanted to get home and return to normal. No jobs admittedly, but Alexei had a healthy bank balance, we were young, and our monthly Stockmann retainers...
Our Stockmann money...? That was strange. We had failed, so surely these payments would cease. Yet Gudrun had said nothing. I dismissed the thought from my mind.
Which was a mistake.
37
Lake Erhai is said to be so named because it is shaped like an ear, but at about 25 miles long by 5 miles wide that makes it unlike any human ear I’ve ever seen; or perhaps like one of those African tribesmen, who hang weights from their earlobes to lengthen them.
Equally strange is Yunnan’s climate; although lying deep within Continental Asia, its weather is as wet and unpredictable as that of maritime Britain. Dali had greeted us with torrential rain; then a period of spring sunshine. Now, the day of our farewell lake cruise, it was back to low cloud and mist, as yet without any precipitation.
Gudrun arrived promptly at 8.30, not by taxi but at the wheel of a rental car. She explained that this was more convenient, seeing that our boat was moored out in the country and the length of our cruise uncertain. Later I realised there was a more potent reason.
We first headed south, through modern Dali, where small cabin cruisers were lined up on the waterfront awaiting their customers. We passed them by. She had said a thirty minute drive. Erhai is an Alpine lake at an elevation
of over 6,000 ft, bordered on its western shore by a narrow shelf of flat land that is intensively built up and farmed. We rounded the southern end of the lake and proceeded up the opposite eastern side, where the hills, although lower, often came right down to the water, thus less suitable for commerce or cultivation. More rural.
She eventually pulled up in a car park serving a small waterfront settlement. To this day I don’t know its name. No sign of the others.
“Weird place for a lake cruise,” I commented. “What was wrong with those boats we passed in Dali? Much closer.”
“You’ll see.” Gudrun sat there placidly. Waiting.
The Academy contingent arrived five minutes later. Drew up beside us. Panda, Freddie and Su got out. Stretched their legs.
“We cruise from here?” Like me, Panda was puzzled.
“I thought we’d enjoy an adventure.” Gudrun put a hand on Panda’s shoulder. Coy, almost coquettish.
We allowed ourselves to be led fifty yards or so to a small bay with houses right on the waterfront, some with balconies overhanging the lake. Many were equipped with solar panels. All were of traditional Chinese design.
An elderly man was waiting for us. How Gudrun had arranged this with no knowledge of the local language was a mystery: must have had an interpreter. Now we had two interpreters, Panda and Su, who proceeded to have an animated discussion with our boat owner. Although we had no idea what was actually said, the tone and body language provided some clues.
Everyone was clearly puzzled that Gudrun’s ‘cruise’ would be taking place in what was a very basic rowing boat. Long ago painted a tired blue, it had two double sets of seats in the centre and one in the bow. The oarsman - or woman - operated from a slightly raised single seat in the stern. Maximum capacity six. As though tailored for us.
The owner was clearly proud of his modest craft, which made it difficult, if not impossible, for Panda to say what he really thought. The Chinese are a polite people, for whom ‘face’ is important, so Panda and Su started our embarkation with every sign of delight. Gudrun handed the boat owner a pile of Yuan notes, I was told to take first shift with the oars, and off we went.
I started to propel us out of the bay, an awkward job because this sheltered part of the lake was covered in floating vegetation. The oars were long with square shaped blades, which I had to shake clear of greenery after every stroke. However, we were soon in open water, at which point Gudrun suggested we set course for the nearby headland. Everyone started to relax.
“Imagine we’re like Admiral Zheng He, the famous Chinese explorer,” said Gudrun. I suspect she was trying to deflect some difficult questions about the nature of her ‘cruise’.
Panda managed a smile. “A great man. But even six hundred years ago I think his boats were bigger than this.”
“We’re going back to nature,” said Gudrun. “No diesel fumes, just God’s fresh air. And good exercise for Max.”
Not a very convincing argument, so our little group relapsed into silence. In spite of the primitive conditions, I believe we started to enjoy it. Would have been better in sunshine, but at least it was still dry.
Soon we were clear of the small headland, but still close to land, which at this point was deserted. The western shore, five miles away, was lost in the mist. I continued to row, rather aimlessly. At the back of my mind something was starting to stir. Couldn’t put my finger on it. Tried to dismiss it.
“Look! Fish!” Gudrun leant over the side, pointing.
Panda, on the same side of the boat, followed her gaze.
It happened so fast I could honestly say I saw nothing. Just heard the splash and felt the boat rock.
“Help! Man overboard!”
The boat bucked again, as Gudrun dived in to the rescue.
The water around us became a cauldron as the two bodies struggled for survival.
Survival? Suddenly that elusive something at the back of my mind came into focus. Val Fornet. The black run. Our first meeting with Gudrun. Kuznetsov, alias Vishnevskaya tumbling to his death. Kuznetsov. Panda.
I knew then that this was no rescue attempt. But I did nothing. Just sat there on my elevated stern seat, as if turned to stone.
Again the boat heaved and almost capsized as one - or both - contestants slammed against the bottom, to reappear in a maelstrom on the other side.
Whether Freddie and Su thought Gudrun was really trying to save Panda I don’t know. She was making a realistic show of it. Had I not seen Gudrun at work before, I too might have been fooled. I caught Alexei’s eye: horror-struck, she had also made the connection. Like me, she did nothing.
As I sat there, immobile, watching what I knew must be Panda’s death throes, everything fell into place. Gudrun’s inexplicable conversion as Panda’s ally had been merely a ploy to gain his trust. Her purpose to remove the one great obstacle to Freddie’s repatriation: Mr Cho, boss of the Dali Cyber Academy. How Gudrun hoped to now get Freddie back to Acacia road London, where he could be controlled, was anyone’s guess.
Other uncertainties began to surface, in particular the roles Alexei and I were expected to play. I realised that our Stockmann contracts had not been terminated because we still had jobs to do. £2,000 per month might not buy a first class assassin, but would be appropriate for that assassin’s apprentices.
I’ve no idea how long Panda’s futile struggle lasted. Although they must have been of similar age, Gudrun was the larger, the heavier and, by some distance, the fitter of the two. I don’t think the Chinaman was much of a swimmer, whereas the Norwegian was as happy in the water as she had been on snow. This was a well-planned assault that took poor Panda completely by surprise.
Eventually Gudrun’s head appeared over the side of the boat, gasping: “I tried and tried. But he kept on struggling. Wouldn’t let me help.”
It was a performance worthy of a stage Shakespearean.
“Is he...?” Su was wide-eyed with shock.
Gudrun, between heaving intakes of breath: “Can’t get him back into the boat... too heavy with water... must tow him to shore... see if we can do anything.”
If there was still a spark of life left in Mr Cho, this final journey would hopefully finish him off. The nearest land was a strip of shingle under a forbidding cliff. The far shore was lost in the mist. No one could see us. I had to take my hat off to Gudrun: it had been a superb piece of military planning.
As oarsman, I now earned my Stockmann money, because Gudrun could only take care of herself, leaving Panda’s body as a dead weight trailing behind in the water. Although the eastern shore appeared close enough, it took twenty minutes of my hard labour before we finally beached. And laid Panda down on dry land.
Su started fussing over him. Tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Loosened his clothes. Listened for a heartbeat. Made strange mewing sounds, as though some secret incantation might bring her boss back to life.
Gudrun just sat on the beach, getting her breath back. Her heart must have been in her mouth, because if she had failed in her mission - if Panda was still alive, the full weight of Chinese justice would descend on her. Also on Alexei and me.
In fact, Gudrun had done her job well. After a few minutes Su had to admit defeat. Red-eyed, she looked up and asked, “What to do now?”
That, indeed, was the question. Here we were in a foreign country, not known for its liberal attitudes, with a dead body on our hands. A body about whose demise some serious questions could be asked. Much meticulous thought must have gone into Panda’s execution. I could only pray that our escape strategy had received a similar degree of attention.
“We all know this was a terrible accident,” replied Gudrun brazenly. “But will the authorities - the police - take a similar view?”
She let this thought hang in the air. For a few moments no one replied. Then Su said, “Why should they not... believe us?”
Gudrun shrugged. “We’re foreigners and therefore viewed with suspicion. With reason, you could say. The Opium wars
and Treaty Ports humiliations are recent history. Su’s parents will have grown up in a country that was hermetically sealed from the outside world. Attitudes can’t change completely in one generation.”
Su, “What do you think will happen?”
Gudrun’s reply was another question. “Do you know how many people are executed in China every year?”
Su shook her head.
“Of course you don’t. Because these figures are a state secret. All we do know is that China legally puts to death more people than the rest of the world combined. Estimated at well over two thousand a year.”
“They can’t do that to us.” Su did not sound convinced.
Another shrug from Gudrun: “Legal process is always a lottery. Being innocent doesn’t always protect you from being fried in the electric chair; or hanged; or shot by firing squad; or lethally injected.”
“They must see this was an accident,” repeated Su.
“Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. Who can tell? As I said, the law does not get it right all the time. Perhaps even not most of the time. For us foreigners the odds are a good deal worse.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“The only option for the four of us - Max, Alexei, Freddie and me - is to get out of China as fast as possible. Before anyone realises what’s happened.”
“And me?”
“I’m afraid, Su, you have a difficult decision. If you stay to face the inevitable investigations and recriminations... well, it’s your country, so you can probably answer that question better than any of us. Or you can come back to England with Freddie.”
“But... how can I do that? With nothing booked... no plans...”
I smiled to myself. Gudrun might not have anything booked, but I’d be willing to bet she had everything planned. In fact, our lives depended on it.
To prove my point, she replied at once, “Going back the way we came is out of the question. A six hour drive to Kunming, then trying to get a flight to Hong Kong; more waiting there for anything that might get us out of the country. Could take days. Exits via Beijing or Shanghai would probably take even longer. But Burma is only a few hours away by road. We have two cars. As long as we don’t hang about, we can be across the border by nightfall.”
ROAD TO MANDALAY Page 15