you think he’ll talk to me?’
‘He probably won’t. But you know better than I what questions to ask.’ Chang Zhangyi tried to inflect his voice with flattery, but it came out more like a threat: Ask the right questions, or else.
‘I’ll do what I can. What are you most concerned about?’
‘The M80 and M90 stages of the project. I don’t understand it, but I’m told that information about these aspects might make it possible for the British or the Americans to develop counter-measures. Is that so?’
Karim nodded. There were elements in both those stages, and in a few others, that would suggest useful neutralization techniques to a scientist of the proper calibre. He turned to the man.
‘Can you hear me?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Huang Zhengmei, ‘he can hear you. Just ask your questions.’
‘Did you know that the M80 experimental stage of the weapons project had five protocols?’
No answer.
‘Did you know that only three of those were followed?’
No answer.
‘Did you know that M80 was a multiple-level stage within a much larger experiment called Hsiao Ch’u, within a project known as Hong Cha?’
No answer. He turned to Huang Zhengmei.
‘He’s not responding,’ he said. ‘I think he’s too far gone to answer, maybe even to understand.’
‘Tell him that, if he answers, we will let him out of the cage. Tell him death will be very slow and very painful it he refuses to reply to your questions. He can be given drugs to keep him alert for as long as it takes to die. But if he answers, I will see to it that he suffers no longer. Tell him that.’
Karim felt the bile rise in his throat, and grew afraid he would throw up in front of them. This was unfair.
He’d been brought here as a scientist, not an interrogator. He succeeded in fighting the acid back, and told the prisoner everything Huang Zhengmei had said. He would have risked telling the prisoner just to nod, whatever the question; but he wasn’t sure how much Uighur Chang Zhangyi understood. Or the woman.
‘Please, try to answer this as well as you can. It will help us both. Hsiao Ch’u refers to sub-atomic particles. I think you must know that. But do you know what sort of particles were involved in the experiment?’ No answer.
Huang Zhengmei pushed him aside. She snapped at the prisoner in Chinese, but there was no response. Again she shouted at him, still there was no response. The man was breathing stertorously, and when Karim looked into his eyes he saw more than a flicker of recognition. He looked at the woman’s face and saw it changed. He’d been wrong to think that nothing terrible could happen in her presence. Very wrong indeed.
‘Send him out of here!’ she snapped at Chang Zhangyi, indicating the guard, who stood a few yards away, watching impassively. Chang Zhangyi grunted, and the guard walked back down the room and through the door.
‘You,’ she said, looking at Karim. 'I want you to stay here. But I want you to understand that this is not for your pleasure.’ To Karim’s surprise and confusion, she started to unbutton her jacket. Carefully and methodically, she undid the buttons from top to bottom, then unfastened the sleeves and removed the jacket, handing it to Chang Zhangyi. Next came her boots, then her trousers. Underneath, she wore an army-issue bra and pants, but not even the tired green underwear of the People’s Liberation Army could conceal the perfection of her body. Karim did not know which way to look. He wanted to close his eyes, but try as he might, he could not tear them from Huang Zhengmei. As though stripping in the shower-room among a hundred other women, she removed her bra and pants and passed them to Chang Zhangyi.
‘He can see me,’ she said. ‘Somewhere in his mind, he finds me attractive. He can’t help that. Beneath all the filth he’s still a man. Watch.’
She took a step forward and put her hand inside the cage. Softly, she began to stroke the prisoner’s
‘He probably won’t. But you know better than I what questions to ask.’ Chang Zhangyi tried to inflect his voice with flattery, but it came out more like a threat: Ask the right questions, or else.
‘I’ll do what I can. What are you most concerned about?’
‘The M80 and M90 stages of the project. I don’t understand it, but I’m told that information about these aspects might make it possible for the British or the Americans to develop counter-measures. Is that so?’
Karim nodded. There were elements in both those stages, and in a few others, that would suggest useful neutralization techniques to a scientist of the proper calibre. He turned to the man.
‘Can you hear me?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Huang Zhengmei, ‘he can hear you. Just ask your questions.’
‘Did you know that the M80 experimental stage of the weapons project had five protocols?’
No answer.
‘Did you know that only three of those were followed?’
No answer.
‘Did you know that M80 was a multiple-level stage within a much larger experiment called Hsiao Ch’u, within a project known as Hong Cha?’
No answer. He turned to Huang Zhengmei.
‘He’s not responding,’ he said. ‘I think he’s too far gone to answer, maybe even to understand.’
‘Tell him that, if he answers, we will let him out of the cage. Tell him death will be very slow and very painful it he refuses to reply to your questions. He can be given drugs to keep him alert for as long as it takes to die. But if he answers, I will see to it that he suffers no longer. Tell him that.’
Karim felt the bile rise in his throat, and grew afraid he would throw up in front of them. This was unfair.
He’d been brought here as a scientist, not an interrogator. He succeeded in fighting the acid back, and told the prisoner everything Huang Zhengmei had said. He would have risked telling the prisoner just to nod, whatever the question; but he wasn’t sure how much Uighur Chang Zhangyi understood. Or the woman.
‘Please, try to answer this as well as you can. It will help us both. Hsiao Ch’u refers to sub-atomic particles. I think you must know that. But do you know what sort of particles were involved in the experiment?’ No answer.
Huang Zhengmei pushed him aside. She snapped at the prisoner in Chinese, but there was no response. Again she shouted at him, still there was no response. The man was breathing stertorously, and when Karim looked into his eyes he saw more than a flicker of recognition. He looked at the woman’s face and saw it changed. He’d been wrong to think that nothing terrible could happen in her presence. Very wrong indeed.
‘Send him out of here!’ she snapped at Chang Zhangyi, indicating the guard, who stood a few yards away, watching impassively. Chang Zhangyi grunted, and the guard walked back down the room and through the door.
‘You,’ she said, looking at Karim. 'I want you to stay here. But I want you to understand that this is not for your pleasure.’ To Karim’s surprise and confusion, she started to unbutton her jacket. Carefully and methodically, she undid the buttons from top to bottom, then unfastened the sleeves and removed the jacket, handing it to Chang Zhangyi. Next came her boots, then her trousers. Underneath, she wore an army-issue bra and pants, but not even the tired green underwear of the People’s Liberation Army could conceal the perfection of her body. Karim did not know which way to look. He wanted to close his eyes, but try as he might, he could not tear them from Huang Zhengmei. As though stripping in the shower-room among a hundred other women, she removed her bra and pants and passed them to Chang Zhangyi.
‘He can see me,’ she said. ‘Somewhere in his mind, he finds me attractive. He can’t help that. Beneath all the filth he’s still a man. Watch.’
She took a step forward and put her hand inside the cage. Softly, she began to stroke the prisoner’s
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