John Gardner - Brokenclaw

He saw her wrists were marked with deep bruises. ‘What did he do, Chi-Chi?’

‘He said . . .’ she faltered. ‘He said that if I did not give him all the information I knew, he would kill me on the spot.’ She gulped a sob. ‘I told him to kill me.’ Once more she gave a sob and began to weep gently, the tears flowing down her cheeks, the delicious little nose crimson. ‘He said they did not have time to waste with drugs. He said he knew the best way to deal with me.’ A shuddering sigh. ‘They stripped me; hung me with leather thongs around my wrists and whipped me. I screamed. I even became unconscious. But, James, the pain went on and on. I just told him so that it would stop. I’m sorry.’

‘There’s no need to be sorry, Chi-Chi.’ He put his arms around her, taking care not to touch the bruised and bleeding back. ‘The person has yet to be born who doesn’t give in. If the brutality hadn’t worked, they’d have tried some other way.’

She moaned as he cradled her like a small child.

‘What else happened? Do you know?’

‘They have the Navy people here. He put me in a cell across from them. They’re in a bad way in a special area, a very narrow passage running off the north underground wing. There’s a wall, and it opens up when you kick a brick on the lower left side. They have a lot of guards. I was there for a while, then the big one, Ding . . .’

Bond nodded.

‘. . . Ding came down. He seemed very angry. He grabbed at me and said I was going to nurse you, that you were lucky to be alive, that he had been in a helicopter accident with you. The pilot was killed, he told me. Then he dragged me to you. We’re in a secure room in the north wing passage, near the other prisoners.’

Bond was sitting up, now. Almost back to normal. ‘How long?’ he asked. ‘How long have I . . . ?’

‘I’ve been with you for two hours, maybe more. I was frightened you would die. I think they’ve already spent quite a while trying to bring you round. They said you were concussed, and when Ding came, he had obviously been hurt. He had been bandaged and treated before he was sent to me. Brokenclaw said that if I did not keep you alive, he would burn me on your funeral pyre. They said it was essential for you to be alive.’

‘Very necessary. I prefer to have you alive, Captain Bond.’ They had heard no door open, yet there was Brokenclaw, standing in the cell-like room. In one hand he held the bank draft for five million dollars. ‘I presume this is useless?’ He did not raise his voice and the way he asked sounded as though he thought it oddly amusing.

‘Quite useless. Just as all your plans are useless now, Mr Lee.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so, Captain Bond. There is time. Incidentally, you haven’t met the man who was supposed to have been your controller from Beijing. He arrived a little earlier than expected. May I present General Hung Chow H’ang.’ He stepped to one side to reveal a short, old man. He was slightly stooped, moved slowly and wore a black patch over his left eye.

‘It is interesting to meet you.’ H’ang spoke almost unaccented English and his voice somehow seemed to belie his age, for it was strong, almost young. ‘You are not unlike my man Argentbright. Interesting. Argentbright-Abelard-Bond. Who cares about the name? We still have the secrets of the Anglo-American submarine detection weapon known as Lords, and its antidote, Lords Day. I can leave now. Be gone within the hour with them. Believe me, Captain Bond, I can get away quite undetected.’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘Incidentally, it was my helicopter that brought you down. You are lucky to have survived. But it’s for the best. You see, we have to know if your masters have any information on where we are, also on our Operation Jericho . These two things, we don’t know. But you’ll tell us.’

‘Not a chance.’ Bond’s voice was stronger.

H’ang did not flinch. Quietly he turned to Lee. ‘Ah, yes, we require Captain Bond to tell us all things.’

‘It will be done, General. I’m going to see to it personally.’ Lee gave Bond a courteous little bow. ‘I’m terribly sorry about this, Bond, but we have little time for the kind of finesse you would use in an interrogation. Speed, time, as the lawyers say, are of the essence, though I really don’t think you have a great deal to tell us. Ding and poor old Frozen Stalk had their eyes on you all the time, except when you were in the so-called bank, and I’ve had that searched now, so I know it is empty – no telephones, nothing. A dead drop presumably, and you just had time to leave some message there, so we will have to put you to the question.’

‘You’d have scored a lot of brownie points had you been with the Spanish Inquisition.’ Bond looked him straight in the eyes, unblinking.

Brokenclaw gave a throaty laugh. ‘I think you’ll find there is a pretty irony in our method of inquisition. You should appreciate it.’

‘Really?’ He sounded more interested than afraid, though warning sirens of an unspeakable horror to come were already sounding in his head.

‘Yes.’ Brokenclaw looked relaxed and quite at ease, as though he had all the time in the world. ‘Your code names. Well, General H’ang’s code names really, Peter Abelard and Héloïse. A nice touch. You are familiar with your history books, Captain Bond? You remember the story of Abelard and Héloïse, and what happened to them? You know all that?’

‘Not intimately, no. Just a kind of rough outline.’

Brokenclaw chuckled. ‘Oh, yes, it was rough. But in the eleventh century, they were rough and ready. They were not squeamish. Peter Abelard was a theologian who scandalised the church, not only by his philosophy and theology, but also by his affair with, and possible marriage to, Héloïse. He was declared a heretic, and unhappily, the beautiful Héloïse was the niece of a very influential priest, Canon Fulbert of Notre-Dame. Poor Héloïse, she ended up in a nunnery. Abelard was disgraced and spent the rest of his days in the Abbey of Saint-Denis.’ He gave a broad smile. ‘I like the disgrace part myself. Peter Abelard was castrated, Captain Bond. Neutered. Lost his manhood. I’m sure we’ve talked of this before.’

‘I believe it was mentioned.’

‘Then, Peter Abelard, I suggest that you answer all our questions. Tell us what we need to know and tell us quickly; tell us what information your masters have about us, about where we are, about Jericho . We do not ask much.’

Bond returned Brokenclaw’s smile and shook his head.

‘What a pity, James Bond. What a great pity, because when we have done what must be done, there will be no abbey in which you can hide. In fact, there will be little of you left. When you see what we have ready for you, then I think even you will change your mind.’ He leaned back into the passageway and snapped his fingers.

Two armed men, Chinese and wearing some kind of grey uniform, came into the little room.

‘Say your farewells, Peter Abelard. Say farewell to your Héloïse. I fear that if you remain stubborn, she’ll not see you again.’

‘James.’ Chi-Chi moved close to him. ‘Tell them. What can it cost now? Please tell them.’

Rising from the floor on which he had been lying, he took her in his arms. Holding her close, he whispered, urging her to try not to worry. ‘If I tell them, they’ll do away with both of us anyway.’ And with a last, close embrace he kissed the fragile-looking girl and turned to his captors.

There were more men than he had ever seen before in the long corridors and the main rooms. They all seemed to be armed, and many wore the grey uniform of the men who held him. He saw that some had badges of a claw riven in half on the breast pockets of their jackets. What was it M had said? ‘We’re getting together an assault team.’ Well, he had better be bloody quick about it, because friend Brokenclaw obviously had something original and unpleasant in store.