'When did you hear I'd got something going?' I asked him.

Head on one side. 'Sojourner was indiscreet. So you see, I'm prepared to do a lot for China. That's why I'm here now, to take over your operation. And be assured-' his huge hand rose in a gesture of avowal- 'be assured that I shall see our friend safely in Beijing according to plan.'

I thought I'd better put it on the line, because I needed to know exactly what I was up against. 'If I let you leave here with him, I mean supposing I trusted you to see things through, where would I stand?'

The heavy brows lifted, I think he was surprised, thought I already knew the answer to that one. 'You can't use this as your sanctuary forever. You'll have to show yourself in the streets, tomorrow or the next day. You're a risk, you see. You'd expose me as soon as those buggers in the PSB got down to the questions.' A little shrug- 'and I can't afford that. It could destroy my plans for him, for us all.' Another step closer. 'There would be nothing personal, you must understand. It's a question of expedience.'

These things happen when there is a great deal at stake, but believe me, I feel bad about him — he was nothing more than a holy man doing what he believed was right.

I heard myself asking a strange question, those bloody birds on my mind, I suppose.

'Would I be given burial?'

Chapter 23: Needle

'Burial? Only if you insisted, and if we had time.'

'A dead body's going to attract attention.' Trotter was within six feet of me now, still not close enough.

'But it couldn't be made to talk. Forgive me for putting it like that. I have great admiration for you, and if things had turned out better you would have completed your operation and our friend would have reached Beijing under your aegis, and I personally would have been mightily pleased.' He took another step closer, perhaps because Chen was here, and understood English, and this was an intimate matter we were talking of now, Trotter and I, my death at his hands, directly or otherwise. 'I can only hope it's a consolation for you to know that your goal will be reached, nevertheless.'

This worried me too: he wasn't putting it on, wasn't enjoying this. He meant what he was saying, that he would have to kill me to keep me quiet, crudely put, if you like, but that was the crux of the matter. And he'd feel genuine reluctance, genuine sorrow, and it worried me because it gave him deadly credibility.

I needed to know more; the organism was clamouring for information: my eyes were measuring the distance between us and the height of the carotid artery on the right side of his neck and noting that his left foot was slightly in front of his right and would spin him effectively out of reach if he was faster than I when I moved; my ears were sifting the aural data available: street sounds, the moan of the wind gusts through the cracks in the wall, alert for anything that could give me clues to the environment outside; but it was my mind that was desperate for information on a level far more subtle, and it could only get it from the mind of the man in front of me.

'Why did you take him by force like that from the monastery, get a man killed to do it? Why didn't you contact me instead, as soon as you started thinking I couldn't get him to Beijing, and ask me to hand him over?'

A smile of disbelief. 'You would have agreed?'

'Just wanted to know if you were listening.' But I'd learned a bit more. 'So where do we go from here?'

'I need certain information from you — the name of the man who's to meet our friend at Gonggar, the type of aircraft I must look for, the time of its arrival.'

There were four minutes to go, give or take a bit to allow for mental-clock error, and the nerves were tight now, the adrenaline coming into flow. I took a step toward him, five feet away, slightly less, but still not close enough.

'Oh, for Christ's sake,' I said, 'how on earth do you think you can put him on a plane at Gonggar, get him past the security, the police, the PSB agents, the military?'

'More easily than you. I'm not a wanted man.'

'But they'll recognize him, don't you know that?' Nerves in my voice, it was a shade too loud, a slight slackening in control, and dangerous, I'd have to watch for that. We were getting down to the centre of things now and the rational fear of my getting killed had given way to the overwhelming thought that these people would take Xingyu Baibing to Gonggar and try to get him through and lose him to the police or the military, finis.

'In winter here,' Trotter said reasonably, 'everyone is wrapped up in hats and scarves, as you know.'

'Listen, anyone trying to leave Gonggar is going to be told to take off his hat and his scarves and stand under a bloody floodlight, you're not even thinking, Trotter.'

His eyes flickered again; he didn't like being told off. 'You got him through Hong Kong,' he said, 'and Ghengdu, and Gonggar. If-'

'At that time the whole of the People's Liberation Army wasn't hunting him down.'

And he'd had a mask on. Couldn't tell him that.

Look, there's this to be said: he had a point, I was a risk. If he was really trying to get Xingyu into Beijing I could stop him in his tracks if the police picked me up and I couldn't get to the capsule and they beat everything out of my skull — they'd start hunting for this man too and find Xingyu, capito.

'You can't get him airborne at Gonggar,' I said, 'unless I remain alive.'

I had the mask.

'That is untrue, in my opinion.' Quietly said, but with an edge: he was starting to dislike me. That would be useful to work on, get him riled, off-balance.

'Look, Trotter, what's your motivation? Who's running you?'

'No one is running me. I'm engaged in this enterprise because of my profound love for China and her people and because of what happened to them in Tiananmen Square.' Black eyes smouldering. 'There is my motivation in Tiananmen.'

'Off on your own little crusade. Tell you this, Trotter, you can not get him out of Tibet if you kill me off, because there's a certain element involved that will guarantee his getting through Gonggar and onto the plane, and you haven't got it, and I have.'

He watched me carefully, seemed interested. 'An element. Would you be more specific?'

'As good as a passport, as good as a laissez-passer, the only certain means of getting him through.'

In a moment,' «Element»… "means"… I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. Unless you're prepared to tell me precisely what it is.'

'Not bloody likely.'

He looked offended. There was something frighteningly genuine about this man. He was telling me quite simply that it was regrettably necessary to kill me off and that I was expected to feel consoled to know that at least Xingyu Baibing would reach Beijing, and he seemed surprised that I wasn't totally ecstatic about the idea. I was missing something.

Then I got it.

Tiananmen.

He'd spelled it out for me, after all, but it hadn't connected. His rage at Tiananmen was all-consuming, and the only thing he had in his mind was to turn it into action, put the messiah back in the capital and kick out the geriatric junta there and let the people free, lay the bloodied ghosts of Tiananmen. And compared to that, the life of one solitary spook, already hunted by the police, already on his way to the execution yard, was not to be counted.

'Then I'm afraid we must proceed,' he said.

'Do what you like. Kill me, you lose him, you lose everything.' Needed time to think.

Trade? Time to think about that. Trade my life for the mask, let him take me to Xingyu and fit the mask and let them go on their way, and then get under the ground and tunnel my way out of Tibet like a bloody mole.