No one had come to the cabin yet Maybe no one would.

It depended on their thinking: they knew the three mikes were dead and they knew I'd done it and they knew why. But they also knew they could break this poor bastard open and play the whole thing back. They wanted to know what we were talking about and they couldn't do that if they came along here because we'd shut up. The only thing they could do by coming in here would be to show themselves up as a bunch of lemons, and there's this face thing they're all so fussy about.

'How much longer is this job going to take, Tewson?'

He stared at me through the lenses.

'What did you say?'

I'd dragged his thoughts back, God knew from what particular hell.

'This job you're doing for them. How long's it going to take?'

He tried to concentrate.

'About two weeks.'

'All right. You've got two weeks to live. Thought I should tell you.'

Chapter Eighteen: OBJECTIVE

His silhouette came into the window again.

This was a different one: they'd changed the guard at midnight. His ears stuck out from a rather thin neck. I couldn't see his eyes. The window was narrow and I'd taken a lot of time measuring it to see if my body could pass through it. In the end I gave it up.

That was before he'd started again. Not this one, the one with the red-rimmed eyes.

Why did you destroy the listening devices?

I've told you.

Why did you destroy the listening devices?

Gave me three hours.

Three hours can be a long time. I could still see the lamp.

What did you say to him?

Leave me alone you bastard!

What did you say to him?

Screw yourself.

One hundred and eighty minutes and five repetitions every minute and the light making pools at the back of my empty skull, blazing its way right through the sockets. One hundred and eighty temptations to tell him.

The light was still in my eyes.

They were shut but it was still there.

I would like to sleep. I would like to sleep. I would like to see the light go out and hear the dark and feel the silhouette turning slowly, the tape running through the bright metal dishes, anything else but millet? Of course if I'd known you were married, she laughed and opened her legs and the blood was there in a long smear down the road, a man flower, what is a man.

Watch it.

Mouth dry and the breath pumping, happened, what happened?

Bloody well wake up.

Window was blank he wasn't at the window.

Check.

00.55.

Don't do again. It again. Tired that's all, haven't had any sleep since eight o'clock last night, last no, night before, yes, a long time.

I raised my head off the pillow and waited.

He came again.

Very regular. Every five minutes. Assumption was that he paced the width of the deck and took station at the rail and surveyed and paced back. The door was locked from the outside and he'd remain within earshot and I couldn't do anything with the door and if I tried the window it'd make a noise.

What did you say to him?

Oh Christ don't you start.

Very well. In the morning you will be escorted to Pekin.

Down the long narrowing tunnel.

The silhouette left the window and I got off the bunk again and picked up the twist of newspaper and lit the end and held it to the air extractor. The grille was getting sooty: this was the fourth time and there didn't seem to be much reaction. I shut my eyes, standing there with my arm raised. My eyes wouldn't stand the light of the flame.

The night was quiet. I listened but the night was quiet.

Don't you face it, hope in hell.

The heat of the flame on my fingers.

I blew it out but didn't take it away till the last of the smoke was drawn through the grille. There was another twist of paper ready because I'd found I could light two within the five-minute period when the guard was absent. I lit the second one and the light of the flame pushed into my skull through the eye-sockets. I could smell the paintwork burning around the grille.

O Jesus Christ you're in a locked room and the guard's armed and there are four others out there, at least four others, you saw them last night and you'd get fifty yards in the sea if the drop didn't kill you, fifty yards before they started firing and you wouldn't even float because of all the lead so what are you doing here lighting bits of bloody paper off your rocker or something?

Heat on my fingers.

Sleep.

Bells.

Quite loud bells, don't you go to sleep on your feet, I'm warning you. Bit of action to wake you up. Whole place full of bells, more noise out there than a fleet of fire engines. They must have smelt smoke somewhere.

I hadn't really expected it to work and it took a second or two to get the brain-think going again. The ball of newspaper was in the corner with the cheap cardtable over it, three-ply, go up a treat.

I lit the newspaper.

There were voices outside. A lot of shouting. Time I went.

It wasn't really a refinement. The thing had to be credible and if I'd just started a fire in here and banged on the door they'd see what I was doing, trying to get out. But if the alarm system went off they'd take it seriously. So I broke the window and shouted and went to the door and started hammering and the place filled up with smoke and the heat was on my back and I began wondering if he'd get here and open up before the fumes knocked me out. I didn't want to try the window till there was nothing else for it, because it was so bloody narrow that I might get stuck halfway and the whole thing would turn into a barbecue.

Eyes running and the fumes burning in my throat, table was crackling, some sparks flying off. I kept on hammering but I couldn't shout any more, couldn't breathe. Everything red behind me now and roaring.

Then the door fell down and I went on top of it and the flames came blowing in the air rush as he got me by the wrists and dragged me across the deck. Hands beating at my back, slapping my shoulders, got me there I suppose, the flames had got me there. Bells.

Bells and feet running and the clang of a fire bucket Shouting.

They dropped me against the bulkhead below the derrick and I let my head sag. One of them had got the hose from the nearest point and they were in business now and I watched them but you haven't got time to watch them, couldn't see too well because eyes streaming and everything blurred but come on for Christ sake come on!

They were forming a group, watching the blaze, some of them bringing another hose, and I crawled as far as the iron ladder and got on my feet and knew I couldn't do it and then did it, still there where I'd left it but sweet Jesus be careful, be careful.

Thing weighed a ton.

One of them was coming now and when he saw I was on my feet he pulled his gun and I brought my arms up high, lifting the thing above my head, ready to throw it.

He stopped.

And the man behind him stopped.

The man behind him was naked to the waist, just out of bed.

He was my interrogator.

'Tell the guard,' I said, 'to drop his gun.'

He stood still, staring above my head.

The thing weighed a ton but only because I was so bloody tired. Normally it wouldn't take a lot of lifting, a lot of holding up.

'Tell him — ' but my throat was too sore.

So I brought it forward suddenly and he made a shrill sound to the guard and repeated it and the guard dropped his gun. I raised my arms again to make it easier to hold there. The big deck lamp was behind me and I could see the shadow, enormous, with the horns sticking out from its sphere. They'd be gleaming quietly in the light above my head, copper coloured, copper red. I couldn't see them.