Free The Chinese Assassin by Anthony Grey Page B

the shower, opened the cold tap and threw his head back under the stinging spray. He shook the water out of his eyes and shivered, despite t h e heat. ‘We knew all hell had broken loose in China in the m iddle of September because military radio messages monitored in Japan recalled all China’s troops urgently from leave. And the messages were going out en clair, n ot coded. They were obviously at panic stations. The American satellites 4etected a lot of unusual troop movements, and all civilian flights were suddenly grounded throughout the country. Foreigners in China were just stranded where they were. Then to cap it all the annual Liberation Day parade in Peking on October 1st was cancelled at the eleventh hour without any explanation. Whether it was civil war, or war with Russia, they were worried about—or both—we don’t know. But China was certainly standing rather unsteadily on one ear at that time.’
    Nina slipped the bath robe on and stared thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror. She removed the shower cap, unpinned her hair and began drawing a wire-bristled brush through it with long slow strokes, tilt in g her head fro m side to side. Scholefield stayed under the cold shower until his teeth were chattering, then he stepped out and towelled himself vigorously.
    ‘How could the Americans and Israelis come to get mixed up in all this? That sounds a bit unlikely, doesn’t it?’ She stopped brushing her hair and gazed enqui rin gly at his reflection in the mirror. ‘Has that just been thrown in, do you think, so the Chinese can be sure of selling the motion picture rights of your folios to Hollywood for hard western dollars when it’s all over?’
    Scholefield draped the towel round his shoulders and moved up behind her. He smiled at her in the mirror as be slipped his hands into the front of the bathrobe. ‘You’re a cynical bitch Nina.’ Her breasts were still silkily damp from the shower and she shrugged her shoulders in a deliberately provocative movement, her eyes fixed on his in the glass. ‘Mrs. Chou En-lai contributed her two-pennyworth of mystery by telling some visiting American ladies rather enigmatically that the CIA had found out about Li n ’s plotting first. Nobody ever really got out of her what she meant by that. And the CIA haven’t exactly been forthcoming on the subject. Perhaps you should ask Harvey K etterman about it when you meet him.’
    ‘Would be tell me—if he knew?’
    ‘He never told anybody else.’ She squirmed back against his chest, still watching his face intently in the mirror.
    ‘But then, who knows? He might succumb to your more obvious charms if you ask him nicely.’
    ‘Does he work for the CIA then?’
    ‘He doesn’t wear any badge that says so.’
    ‘I’ll ask him for you anyway.’
    ‘He has a very legitimate-looking office at the State Department, so go carefully.’ He smiled at her. ‘Some Washington rumours did get into the papers, anyway. They said that Israeli intelligence, which has good contacts in the Kremlin, picked up details of Li n ’s “coup” plans from the Russian end of the “conspiracy”. They passed it on and the CIA then tipped off Mao about the plot. All of which was presumably designed to encourage Mao to welcome Nixon with open arms when he dropped in to change the history of the world, as he modestly put it, in one week in February 1972.’
    Nina put down the hair brush and covered his hands with her own. She stared at his reflection for a moment, her expression suddenly more serious. ‘But do you really believe there’s a plot to kill Mao? And could they really want to involve you?’
    He shrugged and leaned forward until his face rested against hers, smiling suddenly at her puzzled child’s face in the mirror.
    At that moment the doorbell ra n g again. Nina turned and looked up at him over her shoulder with a mischievous expression in her eyes. That’ll be your books. I think you’d better go this time. I