The Chinese Assassin (21 page)

Because the Trident lurched forward as I leapt from
the top of the embarkation
steps,
I
fell
sprawling onto the
floor
of the fuselage inside
the
hatch. A
foot smashed
into
the
side of my face
and
another
stamped
on my wrist. My revolver exploded harmlessly into the galley then a
hand
matched it up
and flung
it away. Lao Kao had
already been
struck down
and
lay in the gangway
with
blood
running
from a wound on his temple.

Our
three adversaries were all
dressed
in long
white
hospital gowns. They also wore
white
headcovers
and
gauze
surgical
masks
around
their faces.
One
of them clutched at a spreading red
stain around his left shoulder
where a bullet from
Lao Kao’s gun
had found
its
mark. All were armed
with
automatic rifles.

I struggled to my knees as the Trident gathered speed
and swung
out onto the runway.
Through
the
open
hatch I could
see
Comrade Ma
driving
a ponderous yellow fuel bowser
flat
out
across the
grass. Then once
again a foot
smashed into my face
and I fell
backwards against a bulkhead. I heard a brief
burst
of
gunfire
from
outside
before
one
of the
white-gowned men
slammed the hatch
closed.
Then I
was seized and
dragged half- conscious along the
gangway and bundled
into a seat.

I felt the Trident shudder
and
gather
speed. Through
a side window I
saw
Comrade Ma’s fuel
bowser veering across
the grass towards us. As I
watched,
Ma leapt from
the cab and left
the bowser to
career
driverless onto the concrete runway in front of us.

My spirit
soared because
I
was
sure
our
take-off had been
aborted.
The guards were
flung in all directions
as the Trident swerved off the runway. The whole aircraft
shook
violently as we thundered across the
pitted grass surface
at high
speed.
It seemed as
if the aircraft must
break up. But
the
pilot succeeded miraculously in
swinging
round the bowser
and
steered us back onto the concrete
further along
the runway. He accelerated frantically
then,
and
m
oments later,
with a great
roar, lifted us steeply off the very
end
of the airfield into the
dark sky.

I
struggled
upright between the seats, trying to grapple
with the nearest guard. But he raised his automatic rifle high above his
head and
crashed the
butt-end
down into my face with savage force. As I fell I felt another
heavy
blow on top of my head
and I lost
consciousness.

When
I
regained
my senses, my
ears
were roaring
and there was a dull, sick pain
in my head. I found a white-masked figure
standing in the
gangway glaring along his
rifle
at us.
Red
PLA
flashes
were visible on the collar of the
tunic
under his
white
gown. His eyes were bright
with
aggression above his mask
and
I
judged him to be a simple peasant in his
first years in
the
army.
Lao
Kao
was sitting beside me. Both of us were handcuffed,
our arms wrenched painfully behind our
chair backs. Another
guard, like
the first, wearing mask, gown
and
headcover over an army
unifo
rm
,
stood by the door at the front of
the
Trident holding his automatic
rifle
stiffly
across
his chest. He
was
older than the
peasant boy
but his expression
was dull and
vacant.

Lao
Kao’s
face
was caked
with dried blood that ha
d run
from
the wound on his temple. He struggled to smile but
was
obviously in
great
pain. ‘We’ve been in the air
near
ly
two
hours,’ he told me
through bloodied
lips. ‘They
say
we’re going to
Shanghai. They say they have
some
important party members
on
board suf
fe
ring
from
an infectious disease. Their orders are
to allow nobody to come into contact
with
them or their doctor
until-we
land.’ He nodded towards the forward compartment at the
front
of
the aircraft.

I
looked round
at the
body
of
the third guard,
dumped
across
the
seats
on the far side of the gangway. The red
stain had
widened to cover all his
chest and
he lay very
still.
The
peasant
boy, noticing my glance, stepped forward
and
jabbed the muzzle of his
rifle viciously
into
Lao
Kao’s chest. ‘You will pay for
that crime
when we
land.’ -

‘No,
it is
you who will pay—with your lives.’ I spoke very
quietly
in
reply. ‘You will pay for a
much more
towering
crime that
you have not even committed.’

The simple face of the young peasant
soldier
clouded. He
looked
round
uncertainly
at the other
guard
at the front of the
cabin.
‘Have you thought why
two
junior fighters have
been given charge,
of
such an important task?’ I
h
ad raised
my voice
deliberately so that both could
hear.
‘So that you can be made scapegoats for one of the greatest treacheries in China’s history!’ They both
gaped at
me
‘Do you know who is in there?’ I nodded towards the forward compartment. They continued to gape
and I thrust
my right shoulder forward
indicating
the right breast pocket of my
army tunic. ‘Inspect my pass!’ Although
all visible markings of
rank
were abolished in 1963
the two
army
m
en,
like
all soldiers, recognised
that
the four pockets on my military jacket
and
the
fineness
of
the
cotton weave denoted high officer
status.
The
peasant boy reached
out
and undid
the flap. He
pulled
out my
identity
card—and his
eyes
widened immediately. He hurried to
the
front of the cabin
and
showed it to his comrade. Then they
both stared
round apprehensively at
the closed
door of the forward
compartment.

‘How do you know you
are flying
to Shanghai?’ I
called.
‘How do you know your commander
Marshall
Li
n
and his family have not
already
been murdered in that compartment? If
they
have, ‘you
two
will be accused of causing
their
death, when we reach
our destination.’

They
continued
staring open-mouthed, stunned by the
enormity
of my
suggestion. They then
looked back at my pass. ‘There is a doctor in there.’
They nodded diffidently
towards the door. ‘It is
dangerous
to enter
because
of the
risk
of
infection.’

‘Call him!’
I shouted my words
contemptuously.
‘Call to him.
and as
k
him to confirm
who’s in there. You have been duped!’

They began shouting immediately.
But no
reply came through the flimsy partition. The steady roar
of
the
Trident’s engines
from outside in
the
darkness was
the only sound in the
cabin.
My head
throbbed and
the agony of not knowing
what had happened to Marshall Lin was making
me sick
with
tension.

At last the
two guards both came
back to where we
sat and
stood
looking
down at us
indecisively.
‘Break the door down
and
go in
and see
for
yourselves before
it
is too late,’ I urged.

They shook their heads. ‘Our
orders
came
from the office of
Chairman
Mao himself’
said the
senior guard.
T
he risk
of
infection is too great.
Nobody
may enter.’

‘I will go in,’ I said
softly, ‘With my
handcuff
s
on,
I will risk infection—to
show you.’

They stared at each other for a moment. Then
the
senior man
nodded his head and ordered
me to
stand
up. He
forced
my
hands up painfully behind me until they came free of the seat- back. Then he pushed me ahead of him with the end of his rifle towards the front of the plane.

I stopped for a moment in front of the door to the forward compartment, apprehensive of what I might find there. But the guard was holding the rifle firmly in the small of my back and as I hesitated he prodded sue forward again. So I turned quickly and lashed out with my foot. The flimsy door gave immediately and flew back on its hinges. I took two paces into the co
m
partment and stood still, staring in horror.