Free Twelve Hours To Destiny by John Glasby Page A

inside China,” she murmured philosophically as the junk began to move slowly out of the harbour. “I have been forced to kill sometimes.”
    “You?” Surprise tinged Carradine’s voice. He stared at her face, in profile, against the pale darkness of the sky as she sat in the stern. It was a calm, beautiful face; one he would never have associated with violence and death. Then he recalled all that the people of China had been forced to endure since Japan had attacked them thirty years before. Then it had been the all-conquering soldiers of Nippon, and afterwards the bitter civil conflict between the companies and the Nationalists under Chiang-Kai-Chek.
    “The battle for freedom in China is far from won,” she said simply. “Because under the Communist, one either obeys blindly, or dies. It is as simple as that. Nobody is now allowed to think for himself.”
    “But surely you can’t hope to win. Your efforts must be mere pinpricks against the regime.”
    “Perhaps. But so long as the spirit of freedom is kept alive, they cannot afford to relax and someday there may be a new revolution.”
    “At the moment, my job is to try to prevent a world revolution. So far, Russia seems to have accepted the fact of peaceful co-existence. But whether the present leaders of your country will, is another problem. Personally, I doubt it. It seems to me that once they firmly believe they have a superior weapon to any possessed by the West—or by Russia—they will start on that plan for world conquest. If they do, then it will very likely be the bloodiest revolution this world has ever known.”
    By now, they were well out from Hong Kong Harbour, out on the gentle swell of the sea with a faint breeze blowing from the south-east and only the bright stars and the pale moon giving them any light. It was just possible, in their glimmering starshine, to make out the rising mountains ahead of them, marking their destination. The girl guided the boat with an uncanny instinct. It was possible, Carradine thought idly, that she was navigating by the stars, but somehow he doubted it. The soft swell almost sent him to sleep as he sat near the big sail, listening to the faint to slap of the water against the hull.
    Out here in the midst of all the quiet stillness, the danger and violence which he knew were to come, seemed so far away as to have faded into utter insignificance. Only the hard feel of the Luger automatic in his belt gave any indication of it.
    It must have been two hours later that the girl came forward and laid a hand on his arm. In a low voice, she whispered: “We must be very quiet and careful now. The Communists have men patrolling the coast. They look mostly for smugglers or people trying to get out of the country and across to Hong Kong but they also know that there are some Nationalist soldiers entering the country. They watch for these too.”
    “I can imagine they do,” Carradine murmured grimly. He rose to his knees, peered into the pale wash of moonlight directly ahead. He could just make out the stretch of coastline about three hundred yards away with the white lines of breakers which crashed on hidden reefs guarding any approach. He had to admit that Ts’ai Luan had chosen a particularly rugged part of land on which to attempt to beach the junk. As far as he was able to see in the dimness, there was no suitable landing place. Small as the junk was, it would require a narrow stretch of sand or shingle on which to ground.
    The girl busied herself with the sail and a moment later, it came rattling down at his feet. He glanced at her in surprise. “They sometimes have searchlights to help them pick up fishing vessel who come close to the shore,” she explained. “The sail would give us away at once if there are any men looking out on the top of the cliffs.”
    “How do you intend to get ashore?” Carradine narrowed his eyes, searching the area. As far as he was able to see there was nothing but bare rock rising