The Road to Gandolfo (7 page)

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 the
nervous 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 returned his attention to Lin Shoo.

“That’s
crazy
! You know that’s just plain dumb! What the hell are you talking about? Four thousand—
Mongolia
?” Devereaux’s attaché case fell out of his lap; he heard—again—the metallic click. “I mean, let’s be reasonable …” Devereaux’s words drifted off nervously. He picked up the leather case.

“These are the legitimate penalties for the crimes,” said Lin Shoo. “No foreign government has the right to interfere with the internal discipline of its host nation. It is inconceivable. However, in this particular case, perhaps, it is not entirely unreasonable.”

Sam paused before speaking; he watched the scowl on Lin Shoo’s face return slightly, ever so slightly, to its previous polite, unhumorous smile. “Do I detect the beginnings of an out-of-court settlement?”

“How so? Out of court?”

“A compromise. Do we talk about a compromise?”

Lin Shoo now allowed the scowl to float away. His smile came as close to being genial as Devereaux could imagine. “Please, yes. A compromise would be enlightening. There is strength, also, in enlightenment.”

“And maybe a little less than four thousand years in Mongolia—in the compromise?”

“Fraught with possibilities. Should you succeed where others have not. After all, it is to our mutual advantage to reach a compromise.”

“I hope you know how right you are. Hawkins is a national hero.”

“So was your Speeroo Agaroo, Major. Your President said so himself.”

“What can you offer? Dispense with the trial?”

Lin Shoo dropped his smile, too suddenly for comfort, thought Sam.

“We cannot do that. The trial has been announced. Too many people in the international community know of it.”

“You want to save face, or do you want to sell gas?” Devereaux sat back; the Chinese officer did want a compromise.

“A little of both is a compromise, is it not?”

“What’s your little? In the event I can get Hawkins to be reasonable.”

“A reduction of the sentence would be one consideration.” Lin Shoo’s smile returned.

“From four thousand to twenty-five hundred years?” asked Devereaux. “You’re all heart. Let’s start with probation; I’ll concede acquittal.”

“How so? Probation?”

“I’ll explain later; you’ll like it. Give me some real incentive to work on Hawkins.” Sam fingered the top of his attaché case, tapping his nails on the leather. It was a silly thing that usually split adversaries’ concentration and sometimes produced a hasty concession.

“A Chinese trial takes many forms. Long, ornate, and quite ritualistic. Or very short, swift, and devoid of excess. Three months or three hours. I can, perhaps, bring about the latter—–”

“That
and
probation, I’ll buy,” said Sam quickly. “That’s incentive enough to make me want to work real hard. You’ve got a deal.”

“This probation. You will have to define more legalistically.”

“Basically, you not only save face and sell gas, but you can show how tough you are and
still
be heroes in the world press. All at the same time. What could be better than that?”

Lin Shoo smiled. Devereaux wondered briefly if there wasn’t more understanding beyond that smile than the Chinese cared to show. Then he dismissed the thought;
Lin Shoo distracted him by asking a question and answering it before Sam could speak.

“What could be better than that? Having General Hawkins out of China. Yes,
that
would be better.”

“What a coincidence. Because that’s one insignificant part of probation.”

“Really?” Lin Shoo looked straight ahead.

“You, I can handle,” said Sam, almost reflectively. “I’ve still got to worry about Brand X.”

The cell could be seen clearly through a single pane of unidirectional glass embedded in the heavy steel door. There was a western-style bed, a writing desk, recessed overhead lights, both a desk lamp and bedside light, and a large rug on the floor. There was an open door on the right wall that led to a small bathroom, and a horizontal clothes rack on the left. The room was no more than ten feet by twelve feet, but all things considered, far grander than Sam had visualized.

The only thing missing was MacKenzie Hawkins.

“You see,” said Lin Shoo, “how considerate we are; how well appointed are the general’s accommodations?”

“I’m impressed,” replied Devereaux. “Except I don’t see the general.”

“Oh, he is there.” The Chinese smiled and spoke softly. “He has his little games. He hears the footsteps and conceals himself on either side of the door. Twice the guards were alarmed and made ill-considered entrances. Fortunately, there were several to overcome the general’s strength. Now all the shifts are alerted. His meals are delivered through a slot.”

“He’s still trying.…” Sam chuckled. “He’s something.”

“He is many things,” added Lin Shoo enigmatically as he approached a webbed circle beneath the unidirectional glass and pushed a red button. “General Hawkins? Please, General, show yourself. It is your good and gracious friend, Lin Shoo. I know you are beside the door, General.”

“
Up your ass, slant eyes!
”

Lin Shoo released the button momentarily and turned to Devereaux. “He is not always the essence of courtesy.”
The Chinese returned to the speaker and pushed the button again. “Please, General, I have a countryman of yours with me. A representative of your government. From the armed forces of your nation—–”

“You better check her goddamned purse! Maybe up her skirt! Her lipstick might be a bomb!” came the shout from the unseen general officer.

Lin Shoo turned back to Devereaux in bewilderment. Sam gently moved the Chinese out of the way, pushed the button himself, and yelled into the speaker.

“Get off it, you chickenfucker! Show that hairy ass you call a face or I’ll open the slop-shoot and drop in that fucking lipstick! I’ll
frag
you, you miserable son of a bitch!—– Incidentally, Regina Greenberg says hello.”

The immense head of MacKenzie Hawkins slowly appeared in the pane of unidirectional glass. It merged from the side, huge, crew-cut, leather-lined. Mac’s expression was one of utter consternation. A half-chewed cigar was gripped between his teeth, beneath wide, bloodshot eyes that betrayed disbelieving curiosity.

“How so? What do you say?” Lin Shoo’s controlled lips were parted in astonishment.

“It’s a highly classified military code,” said Devereaux. “We only employ it under extreme conditions.”

“I will not pursue the matter; it would not be courteous. If you flip the lever on the side of the glass, General Hawkins will see you. When you feel comfortable, I shall admit you. However, I will remain outside, please.”

Sam pushed the small handle on the sides of the glass; there was a click. The large, squinting face reacted with instant hostility. Devereaux had the feeling that Hawkins was observing something very obscene but unimportant: Sam, the military accident.

Devereaux nodded to Lin Shoo. The Chinese reached out with both hands, as if to pull with one and push with the other, and unlatched the door. The heavy steel panel opened; Sam walked in.

To an enormous fist that came rushing toward him, on a direct collision course with his left eye. The impact came; the room, the world, the galaxy spun out of orbit into the
shimmering of a hundred thousand splotches of white light.

Sam felt the wet cloth over his face before he felt the pain in his head, especially his eye, and he thought that was strange. He reached up, pulled the cloth away and blinked. All he saw at first was a white ceiling. The center light hurt his head, especially his left eye. He realized he was on a bed, so he rolled over and everything came back to him.

Hawkins was at the writing desk, papers and photographs scattered about the top. The general was reading from a sheaf of stapled papers.

Devereaux did not have to move his painful head farther to know that his opened attaché case was somewhere near the general. Nevertheless, he did so and saw it at Hawkins’s feet. Open and upside down. Empty. The contents in front of the general.

Sam cleared his throat. He could not think of anything else to do. Hawkins turned; his expression was not pleasant. Somehow absent was that welcoming, manly bond of recognition between comrades-at-arms.

“You little pricky-shits have been busy, haven’t you?”

Painfully, Devereaux swung his legs over the side of the bed and touched his left eye. He touched it gently, mainly because he could barely see out of it. “I may be a shit, General, but I’m not so little, as one day I hope to prove to you. Christ, I hurt.”

“
You
want to prove something”—Hawkins gestured at the papers and allowed himself the inkling of a cynical grin—“to
me?
With what you
know
about me? You’ve got moxie, boy. I’ll say that for you.”

“That phrase is about as antediluvian as you are,” muttered Sam as he stood up. Unsteadily. “You enjoying the reading material?”

“It’s some goddamned record! They’ll probably want to make another movie about me.”

“Leavenworth Productions. Film processed in the prison laundry. You
are
a bonafide fruitcake.” Devereaux pointed to a blanket draped over the door covering the
pane of unidirectional glass. “Is that smart?” He gestured at the blanket.

“It’s not dumb. It confuses them. The oriental mind has two very pronounced pressure points: confusion and embarrassment.” Hawkins’s eyes were level.

The statement startled Sam. Perhaps it was Hawkins’s choice of words, or maybe the quiet intelligence behind the voice. Whatever it was, it was unexpected. “I mean it’s a little useless; the room is bugged. Bugged, hell! All they have to do is push a red button and they can hear everything we say.”

“Wrong, soldier,” replied the general as he got out of the chair. “If you
are
a soldier and not a goddamn lace-pants. Come here.” Hawkins walked over to the blanket and folded back, first, a corner on the right, then the opposite section of the cloth on the left. In both small areas were barely visible holes in the wall, now very visible with wet toilet paper shoved into the centers. Hawkins dropped the two sections of the blanket and then pointed to six additional plugs of wet toilet tissue—two on each wall, upper and lower—and grinned his leather-lined grin. “I’ve gone over this fucking cell palm-spread by palm-spread. I’ve blocked out each mike; there aren’t any others. Naturally, I didn’t touch ’em before. See how careful the goddamned monkeys were? Even got one right over the pillow in case I talked in my sleep. That was the toughest to spot.”

Grudgingly, Sam nodded his approval. And then he thought of the obvious. “If you
have
plugged every one, they’ll race in here and move us. You should realize that.”

“You should think better. Electronic surveillance in close areas is wired terminally into a single unit. First, they’ll figure they’ve got a short in the unit circuit, which will take ’em an hour to trace—if they don’t have to break down the walls and can do it with sensors—and that’ll confuse ’em. Then, if they rule out a short, they’ll guess
I
plugged ’em and that’ll embarrass ’em. Confusion and embarrassment; the pressure points. It’ll take ’em another hour to figure how to get us somewhere else without admitting error. We’ve got at least two hours. So you better do some pretty fine explaining in that time.”