In a moment I said, 'In any case, London won't know, will it?' Pringle had just said that London would be 'perfectly satisfied'. The streetlamp flickered into life again, and I turned my head to look at him. 'Or has that changed?'

'It was a generic term. I meant Control, not London, But since you ask, it may be that the Bureau will be brought into things, somewhere along the line.'

Ohreally. I'd thought we were meant to be a one-man show, with Flockhart pushing a single pawn across the board towards the enemy lines. 'Why?' I asked Pringle.

'Let me clear up a few aspects of the debriefing,' he said, 'before we get to that. Do you mind?'

Kid gloves, and I didn't like it. At a debriefing the director calls the shots.

'No, but I'm not going to forget the question.'

'I'm quite sure. But in the meantime, tell me why you think the Khmer Rouge has established a camp in this area, not far from the town?'

'If they're planning some kind of assault on the nineteenth — or at any time — it'd give them a springboard.'

'An assault on Pouthisat?'

'On Phnom Penh. This is the nearest airfield from the capital to the west, where the main camp is supposed to be. And by road it's only a couple of hundred kilometres from the camp to Phnom Penh, if they want to transport troops en masse and by night.'

Pringle uncrossed his legs again, crossed them the other way.

I didn't like it that he was so restless; he hadn't been like this at the airport when we'd first met. But perhaps he was sitting on an exposed seat-spring, as I was.

'Do you believe an assault is imminent?' he asked me. 'As close as the nineteenth — in five days' time?'

'The men I saw at the camp were active, wearing battledress, moving vehicles around. But it could've been simply because Colonel Choen was there.'

'By «there», do you mean paying a visit? Making an inspection? Or do you think he's based there?'

'I couldn't tell.'

'Make an educated guess.'

'I'd say he's visiting, just as he visited the people in Phnom Penh. Going the rounds, tightening security near the capital.'

'And then he'll report back to Pol Pot, in the west?'

'Just a gut feeling.'

'You've no actual — '

'Look, you asked me for an educated guess and you've got it.

Not at my best, no, but what do you expect, I'd done nothing useful yesterday, nothing, it didn't matter what Pringle said, he was just eager to signal Control with something, to show we were in business, but we weren't, not on any effective scale. Listen, what actually happened? I'd located a camp that half this town probably knew about and I'd got spat on by a street urchin in uniform and then led like a lamb to the bloody slaughter, and if it hadn't been for my training and experience this whole thing, Salamander, would have gone straight down the drain, finito.

'I'm sorry,' Pringle said. 'You're perfectly right.'

'Next question?'

He uncrossed his legs. 'I rather think that's all. Now tell me, have you any — '

'Why is it possible,' I asked him carefully, 'that the Bureau will be brought into things, somewhere along the line?'

'Ah, yes.' As if he'd quite forgotten. He hadn't. The street-lamp flickered and went out again, and I sensed that he was glad of it, didn't want me to see his eyes when he spoke. 'Nothing has changed, actually, no. Or not yet. We are still running a totally clandestine operation — not only vis-a-vis the Khmer Rouge but also the Bureau itself. But if you succeed in getting closer still to Pol Pot — to the man himself — your further actions might well involve the highest military authority in London and Washington.'

'They'd give me the battalion I asked for?'

'It's not quite like that.' He hitched himself towards me a little. 'Neither the CIA in the States nor DI6 in London is officially interested in what happens in Cambodia at the present moment. There are too many other turbulent theatres of unrest engaging their attention both in Europe and Asia. But if it were known with certainty that Pol Pot means to make a final attempt to seize power again, and has the capacity, there might be a decision by shall we say — the more covert factions of government in Washington, London, Tokyo, Bonn and Paris to stop him — with or without reference to the United Nations.'

'By military force?'

'I suggest we leave that to them. The point is that when I say, "If it were known" that Pol Pot has this ambition, I clearly mean If you can find out. All we are asking you for, you see, is information, as I told you at the airport in Phnom Penh.'

'You don't think it's asking just a little too much,' I said, 'for one solitary spook to stand in for the CIA and DI6 because they're busy?'

'I also suggest we leave that to Mr Flockhart.'

'What you want first,' I said as the streetlamp flickered into life again, 'is the precise position of the main Khmer Rouge camp in the jungle, somewhere west.' Because if this man was talking about 'highest military authority' and 'covert factions of government' he was talking about an air strike, and just because the US had brought coals on its head for doing it before, it didn't mean they wouldn't do it again if they thought it was necessary, history being repetitive.

'We would very much like to know, yes,' Pringle said, 'the precise position of the main KR forces. And we might assume that this would also give us the precise whereabouts of Pol Pot.'

'He's still the target.'

'Specifically. And you should bear that in mind.'

'Noted.'

'What the major democratic powers want to avoid, in fine, is the potential destruction of a further million Cambodians in new and improved killing fields, and the potential risk of Pol Pot's subsequent invasion of North Vietnam, which is at present militarily vulnerable, with the blessing and support — in terms of bargain-price material — of China, creating a Communist bloc.'

I gave it some thought for a moment and Pringle left me to it, shifting slightly away in a symbolic gesture of withdrawal. Through the filthy window I watched a dog crossing the waste-ground, dragging something heavy, some kind of food it had seized from somewhere, perhaps, and wanted to hide, its ribs showing and its legs buckling sometimes, forcing it to rest, its jaws still locked on the trophy, the means of maintaining life for a few more days. I couldn't see exactly what it was but it was angled like a human foot, deep crimson, almost black in the acid light of the streetlamp as the dog got up and went on again, dragging its spoils through the rubble.

'Is the prime minister,' I asked Pringle when I was ready, 'being kept informed?' The Bureau is directly and exclusively responsible to the PM in all its activities. Hence its ability not, virtually, to exist.

'I'm not sure,' Pringle said.

'You mean you don't know? Or you think so, but you're not sure?' It was important. If the PM was already aware of Salamander then we were operating close to the 'highest military authority' Pringle had mentioned.

'Frankly,' he said, 'I don't know. But let me put it this way: the moment you achieve any kind of breakthrough, the prime minister will indeed be informed that we have a mission running, and told the nature of the objective.'

'And will you let me know when that happens?'

'You have my word.'

'I want assurance,' I told him, 'that I can eventually get support on an effective scale if I need it, since I'm taking on an army.'

'And with the prime minister in the picture, that would of course be guaranteed. I understand.'

He was very understanding, was our Mr Pringle, and he wore kid gloves and was stroking me with them. Why in God's name couldn't Flockhart have given me Ferris? Ferris or Pepperidge or even that bastard Loman, who at least has the grace to return my disregard. I don't like people who help me gently up the steps to the guillotine.