Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt

by The Road To Gandolfo [lit]

  their eyes, thought Sam.

  He was met at the Peking airfield by

  an American diplomatic vehicle,

  escorted by two flanking Chinese army

  cars and eight Chinese army officers.

  All smiling; even the vehicles.

  The two nervous Americans that came

  with the diplomatic car were attaches.

  They were anxious to get back to the

  mission; neither was comfortable

  around the Chinese troops.

  Nor did either attache care to discuss

  very much of 42

  anything except the weather, which was

  dull and overcast. Whenever Sam

  brought up the subject of MacKenzie

  Hawkins_nd why not? he had relieved

  himself on their roof their mouths

  became taut and they shook their heads

  in short, lateral jerks and pointed

  their fingers below the windows at

  various areas of the automobile. And

  laughed at nothing.

  Finally Devereaux realized they were

  convinced that the diplomatic car was

  bugged. So Sam laughed, too. At

  nothing.

  If the automobile was fitted with

  electronic surveillance, and if

  someone was listening, thought

  Devereaux, that person was probably

  conjuring up a picture of three adult

  males passing dirty comics back and

  forth.

  And if the ride from the airfield

  seemed strange to Sam, his half-hour

  meeting with the ambassador at the

  diplomatic mission in Glorious Flower

  Square was ludicrous.

  He was ushered into the building by

  his cackling escorts, greeted solemnly

  by a group of serious-faced Americans

  who had gathered in the hallway like

  onlookers in a zoological

  laboratory unsure of their safety but

  fascinated by the new animal brought

  in for observatior~and propelled

  quickly down a corridor to a large

  door that was obviously the entrance

  to the ambassador's office. Once

  inside, the ambassador greeted him

  with a rapid handshake, simultaneously

  raising a finger over his slightly

  quivering moustache. One of the

  escorts removed a small metal device

  about the size of a pack of cigarettes

  and began waving it around the windows

  as though blessing the panes of glass.

  The ambassador watched the man.

  "I can't be sure," whispered the

  attache.

  "Why not?" asked the diplomat.

  "The needle moved a touch, but it

  could be the Joudspeakers in the

  square."

  "Damn1 We have to get more

  sophisticated scanners. Scramble a

  memo to Washington." The ambassador

  took Sam s elbow, leading him back to

  the door. "Come with me, General."

  "I'm a major."

  "That's nice."

  The ambassador propelled Sam out of the

  office, across 43

  the corridor to another door, which he

  opened, and then preceded Devereaux

  down a steep flight of stone steps

  into a large basement. There was a

  single light bulb on the wall; the

  ambassador snapped it on and led Sam

  past a number of wooden crates to

  another door in the barely visible

  wall. It was heavy and the diplomat

  had to put his foot against the

  surrounding cement in order to pull it

  open.

  Inside was a long-out-of-use,

  walk-in refrigerator, now serving as

  a wine cellar.

  The ambassador entered and struck a

  match. On one of the racks was a

  candle, half burned down. The

  ambassador held the flame to the wick,

  and the light swelled ffickeringly

  against the walls and the racks. The

  wine was not the best observed

  Devereaux silently.

  The ambassador reached out and

  yanked Sam into the center of the

  small enclosure and then pulled the

  heavy door almost shut, but not

  completely.

  His lean, aristocratic features

  accentuated by the wavering flame of

  the candle, the ambassador smiled

  apologetically.

  "We may strike you as a touch

  paranoid, but it's not the case at

  all, I can assure you."

  "Oh, no, sir. This is very cozy. And

  quiet."

  Sam tried to return the ambassador's

  smile. And for the next thirty minutes

  he received his last instructions from

  his government. It was an appropriate

  place to get them: deep underground,

  the surrounding earth inhabited by

  worms that never saw the light of day.

  Armed with his briefcase and no

  courage whatsoever, Devereaux walked

  out the mission's white steel door, to

  be greeted by a Chinese officer who

  waved at him from the foot of the

  path. Sam saw for the first time the

  evidence of wreckage large splinters

  of wood, several angle irons lying

  about on the lawn.

  The officer stood outside the border

  of the property and grinned a flat

  grin. "My name is Lin Shoo, Major

  Deveroxx. I will escort you to

  Lieutenant General Hawkins. My car

  should you please."

  Sam clinked into the back seat of

  the army staff vehicle and settled

  back, his case on his lap. As opposed

  to the 44

  nervous Americans, Lin Shoo was not at

  all inhibited about talking. The

  subject quickly became MacKenzie

  Hawkins.

  "A highly volatile individual, Major

  Deveroxx," said the Chinese, shaking

  his head. "He is possessed by dragons."

  "Has anyone tried reasoning with him?"

  '1, myself. With great and charming

  persuasion."

  ' But not with great or charming

  success, I gather."

  "What can I tell you? He assaulted

  me. It wasn't proper at all.'

  "And you want a full-scale trail

  because of that? The ambassador said

  you were adamant. A trial or a lot of

  hazzerai."

  "Hazzerai?"

  "It means trouble. It's Jewish."

  "You don't look Jewish...."

  "What about this trial?" interrupted

  Sam. "Are the charges centered on

  assault?"

  "Oh, no. That would not be

  philosophically consistent. We expect

  to suffer physically. Through struggle

  and suf

  - fering there is strength." Lin Shoo

  smiled; Devereaux

  - didn't know why. "The general will be

  tried for crimes against the

  motherland."

  "An extension of the original

  charge," said Sam, making a quiet

  statement.

  - "Far more complex, however," replied

  Lin Shoo, his smile fading into

  resigned depression. "Willful

  destruction

  roof national shrines not unlike your

  Li
nkolon Memorials. He escaped once,

  you know. With a stolen truck he ran

  into the statuary on Son Tai Square. He

  is now charged with defacement of

  venerated artistic craftsmanship the

  statuary he ran into was sculptured

  after the designs of the chairman's

  wife. And there can be no

  counterargument concerning drugs for

  this. He was seen by too many

  diplomatic people. He made great sums

  of noise in Son Tail"

  "He'll claim extenuating

  circumstances." No harm in testing,

  thought Devereaux.

  "As with assault, there is no such

  thing."

  "I see." Sam didn't but there was no

  point pursuing it. "What could he

  draw?"

  45

  "How so? Draw? The sculpture?"

  "Prison. What sort of prison sentence?

  How long?"

  "Roughly four thousand, seven hundred

  and fifty years."

  "What? You might as well execute him!"

  "Life is precious to the sons and

  daughters of the motherland. Every

  living thing is capable of

  contribution. Even a vicious criminal

  like your maniac imperialist general.

  He could have many productive years in

  Mongolia."

  "Now just hold on!" Devereaux

  changed his position abruptly to look

  Lin Shoo full in the face. He could

  not be sure, but he thought he heard

  a metallic click from the front seat.

  Not unlike the of a pistol's safety

  catch.

  He decided not to thinktabout it. It

  was better that way. He returned his

  attention to Lin Shoo.

  "That's crazy! You know that's just

  plain dumb! What the hell are you

  talking about? Four

  thousand Mongolia?" Devereaux's

  attache case fell out of his lap; he

  heard again the metallic click. "I

  mean, let's be reasonable.-. ."

  Devereaux's words drifted off

  nervously. He picked up the leather

  case.

  '1hese are the legitimate penalties

  for the crimes," said Lin Shoo. "No

  foreign government has the right to

  interfere with the internal discipline

  of its host nation. It is

  inconceivable. However, in this

  particular case, perhaps, it is not

  entirely unreasonable."

  Sam paused before speaking; he

  watched the scowl on Lin Shoo's face

  return slightly, ever so slightly, to

  its previous polite, unhumorous smile.

  "Do I detect the beginnings of an

  out-of-court settlement?"

  "How so? Out of court?"

  "A compromise. Do we talk about a

  compromise?"

  Lin Shoo now allowed the scowl to

  float away. His smile came as close to

  being genial as Devereaux could

  imagine. "Please, yes. A compromise

  would be enlightening. There is

  strength, also, in enlightenment."

  "And maybe a little less than four

  thousand years in Mongolia in the

  compromise?"

  "Fraught with possibilities. Should

  you suffled where others have not.

  After all, it is to our mutual

  advantage to reach a compromise."

  46

  "I hope you know how right you are.

  Hawkins is a national hero."

  "So was your Speeroo Agaroo, Major.

  Your President said so himself."

  "What can you offer? Dispense with the

  trials"

  Lin Shoo dropped his smile, too

  suddenly for comfort thought Sam.

  "We cannot do that. The trial has

  been announced. Too many people in the

  international community know of it."

  "You want to save face, or do you

  want to sell gas?" Devereaux sat back;

  the Chinese officer did want a com-

  promise.

  "A little of both is a compromise, is

  it not?"

  "What's your little? In the event I

  can get Hawkins to be reasonable.

  "A reduction of the sentence would

  be one consideraffon." Lin Shoo's

  smile returned

  "From four thousand to twenty-five

  hundred years?" asked Devereaux.

  "You're all heart. Let's start with

  probation; I 11 concede acquittal.

  "How so? Probation?"

  "I'll explain later; you'll like it.

  Give me some real incentive to work on

  Hawkins." Sam fingered the top of his

  attache case, tapping his nails on the

  leather. It was a silly thing that

  usually split adversaries'

  concentration and sometimes produced

  a hasty concession.

  "A Chinese trial takes many forms.

  Long, ornate, and quite ritualistic.

  Or very short, swift, and devoid of

  excess. Three months or three hours.

  I can, perhaps, bring about the latter

  "

  "That and probation, I'll buy," said

  Sam quickly. "That's incentive enough

  to make me want to work real hard.

  You've got a deal."

  "This probation. You will have to

  define more legalistically."

  "Basically, you not only save face

  and sell gas, but you can show how

  tough you are and Stan be heroes in the

  world press. All at the same time.

  What could be better than that?"

  Lin Shoo smiled. Devereaux wondered

  briefly if there wasn't more

  understanding beyond that smile than

  the Chinese cared to show. Then he

  dismissed the thought; 47

  Lin Shoo distracted him by asking a

  question and answering it before Sam

  could speak.

  'What could be better than that?

  Having General Hawkins out of China.

  Yes, that would be better."

  "What a coincidence. Because that's

  one insignificant part of

  probation."

  "Really?" Lin Shoo looked straight

  ahead.

  "You, I can handle," said Sam,

  almost reflectively. "I've still got

  to worry about Brand X."

  48

  CHAPTER Sew

  The cell could be seen clearly through

  a single pane of unidirectional glass

  embedded in the heavy steel door.

  There was a western-style bed, a

  writing desk recessed overhead lights,

  both a desk lamp and bedside light,

  and a large rug on the floor. There

  was an open door on the right wall

  that led to a small bathroom, and a

  horizontal clothes rack on the leR.

  The room was no more than ten feet by

  twelve feet, but all things

  considered, far grander than Sam had

  visualized.

  The only thing missing was MacKenzie

  Hawkins.

  "You see," said Lin Shoo, "how

  considerate we are, how well appointed

  are the general's accommodations?"

  "I'm impressed," replied Devereaux.

  "Except I don't see the general."

  "Oh, he is there." The Chinese

  smiled and spoke s
oRly. "He has his

  little games. He hears the footsteps

  and conceals himself on either side of

  the door. Twice the guards were

  alarmed and made ill-considered

  entrances. Fortunately, there were

  several to overcome the general's

  strength. Now all the ships are

  alerted. His meals are delivered

  through a slot."

  "He's still trying...." Sam chuckled.

  "He's something."

  "He is many things," added Lin Shoo

  enigmatically as he approached a

  webbed circle beneath the

  unidirectional glass and pushed a red

  button. "General Hawkins? Please

  General, show yourself. It is your

  good and gracious friend, Lin Shoo. I

  know you are beside the door General."

  "Up your ass, slant eyes!"

  Lin Shoo released the button

  momentarily and turned to Devereaux.

  "He is not always the essence of

  courtesy." 49

  The Chinese returned to the speaker

  and pushed the button again. "Please,

  General, I have a countryman of yours

  with me. A representative of your

  government. From the armed forces of

  your nation "

  "You better check her goddamned

  purse! Maybe up her skirt! Her

  lipstick might be a bomb!" came the

  shout from the unseen general officer.

  Lin Shoo turned back to Devereaux in

  bewilderment. Sam gently moved the

  Chinese out of the way, pushed the

  button himself, and yelled into the