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 clinbed into the back seat of the army staff vehicle and settled back, his case on his lap. As opposed to thenervous 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?”
“I, 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 suffering 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 of national shrines—not unlike your Linkolon 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 Tai.”
“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?”
“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 springing of a pistol’s safety catch.
He decided not to think about it. It was better that way. He
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 clinbed into the back seat of the army staff vehicle and settled back, his case on his lap. As opposed to thenervous 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?”
“I, 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 suffering 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 of national shrines—not unlike your Linkolon 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 Tai.”
“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?”
“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 springing of a pistol’s safety catch.
He decided not to think about it. It was better that way. He
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