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Authors: Anthony Grey
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and had just begun to bind my wrists when the old man sprang. The long pointed dagger that he’d taken from the dead body of the vanquished camel train leader forty years before buried itself in Chiao’s chest above his heart. At the same moment the man in the doorway opened fire with the machine gun.
He held his finger curled tight around the trigger until the magazine was exhausted, turning the muzzle this way and that across the yurt, dragging a broken line of gaping scarlet punctures across the back of old Tsere n g and the bodies of his wife and daughter on the floor. Neither of them screamed or uttered any sound as they died, Old Tsereng clung to his adversary for a moment then his heavy bulk toppled slowly backward to the groun d His hand was cl enched so tight round the hilt of his dagger that he dragged it out of Chiao’s lung and fell dead with the crimson-bladed weapon still clutched in his right fist
Chiao’s companion was joined silently in the doorway by a third Chinese and together they finished binding my wrists Then they attended to Chiao’s wound and one of them helped him outside into his saddle. I was dragged outside too and thrust onto the back of another horse. The third man mounted up behind me and turned the a n i m a l’s head back towards the yurt. I could see now that old Tsereng’s son was lying dead on the ground outside.
The first of Chiao’s companions took a large can of petrol and splashed it around quickly inside the yurt. Then he threw the can inside, lit a large rag-bound torch already soaked in petrol and raced for his horse. He rode to the door and tossed the burning torch inside. As we turned to ride into the driving rain, the interior of the yurt exploded with a thump and began burning fiercely. It continued blazing despite the torrential downpour and faded only slowly into the darkness behind us as we rode away.
WASHINGTON, Sunday—The United States has received what officials here describe as the first ‘hard evidence’ from Peking that Li n Piao, China’s Defence Minister and constitutional successor to Chairman Mao Tse-tung is seriously—and possibly fatally—ill. But they will not disclose or discuss the origin of the reports.
New York Times, 11 October 1971
4
‘Do you think Yang himself is the survivor?’ Nina turned on her side as she spoke and raised herself up on her elbow, The single sheet covering her slipped, revealing her naked shoulders and breasts. She looked quickly at Scholefield, but be was oblivious. Dressed only in a bathrobe, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, staring at the pink folios he’d propped up on the tea-tray between the milk jug and the sugar bas in .
‘That looks like the inference we’re supposed to draw.’ He spoke over his shoulder and wiped the back of his hand across his damp forehead.
‘Couldn’t it be true?’
‘It’s just too damned sensational for words.’ He began leaf in g through the pink sheets again and Nina reluctantly covered herself: Although it was only nine o’clock in the morning the temperature in the room was already in the upper seventies. Outside the Open window the low sky glowed with a dull metallic incandescence as if some great burnished tureen cover had been clamped over London to keep the breathless heat trapped close to the ground. A stale, dry, sauna-cabin smell of scorched wood hung in the air outside.
‘He did limp badly, didn’t he?’
Scholefield nodded without turning his head. ‘Yes—and I don’t believe that cock and bull tale about being a bent PLA acupuncture student.’
‘It didn’t ring true to me either. He doesn’t seem the type. But why such an elaborate cover story?’
‘I think for some reason I was meant to see through it. It could have been a signal to look for something more profound.’
Nina smiled. ‘Like the folios in the chocolate box?’
Scholefield stared at the pink sheets of paper without seeing them.
‘China is well
He held his finger curled tight around the trigger until the magazine was exhausted, turning the muzzle this way and that across the yurt, dragging a broken line of gaping scarlet punctures across the back of old Tsere n g and the bodies of his wife and daughter on the floor. Neither of them screamed or uttered any sound as they died, Old Tsereng clung to his adversary for a moment then his heavy bulk toppled slowly backward to the groun d His hand was cl enched so tight round the hilt of his dagger that he dragged it out of Chiao’s lung and fell dead with the crimson-bladed weapon still clutched in his right fist
Chiao’s companion was joined silently in the doorway by a third Chinese and together they finished binding my wrists Then they attended to Chiao’s wound and one of them helped him outside into his saddle. I was dragged outside too and thrust onto the back of another horse. The third man mounted up behind me and turned the a n i m a l’s head back towards the yurt. I could see now that old Tsereng’s son was lying dead on the ground outside.
The first of Chiao’s companions took a large can of petrol and splashed it around quickly inside the yurt. Then he threw the can inside, lit a large rag-bound torch already soaked in petrol and raced for his horse. He rode to the door and tossed the burning torch inside. As we turned to ride into the driving rain, the interior of the yurt exploded with a thump and began burning fiercely. It continued blazing despite the torrential downpour and faded only slowly into the darkness behind us as we rode away.
WASHINGTON, Sunday—The United States has received what officials here describe as the first ‘hard evidence’ from Peking that Li n Piao, China’s Defence Minister and constitutional successor to Chairman Mao Tse-tung is seriously—and possibly fatally—ill. But they will not disclose or discuss the origin of the reports.
New York Times, 11 October 1971
4
‘Do you think Yang himself is the survivor?’ Nina turned on her side as she spoke and raised herself up on her elbow, The single sheet covering her slipped, revealing her naked shoulders and breasts. She looked quickly at Scholefield, but be was oblivious. Dressed only in a bathrobe, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, staring at the pink folios he’d propped up on the tea-tray between the milk jug and the sugar bas in .
‘That looks like the inference we’re supposed to draw.’ He spoke over his shoulder and wiped the back of his hand across his damp forehead.
‘Couldn’t it be true?’
‘It’s just too damned sensational for words.’ He began leaf in g through the pink sheets again and Nina reluctantly covered herself: Although it was only nine o’clock in the morning the temperature in the room was already in the upper seventies. Outside the Open window the low sky glowed with a dull metallic incandescence as if some great burnished tureen cover had been clamped over London to keep the breathless heat trapped close to the ground. A stale, dry, sauna-cabin smell of scorched wood hung in the air outside.
‘He did limp badly, didn’t he?’
Scholefield nodded without turning his head. ‘Yes—and I don’t believe that cock and bull tale about being a bent PLA acupuncture student.’
‘It didn’t ring true to me either. He doesn’t seem the type. But why such an elaborate cover story?’
‘I think for some reason I was meant to see through it. It could have been a signal to look for something more profound.’
Nina smiled. ‘Like the folios in the chocolate box?’
Scholefield stared at the pink sheets of paper without seeing them.
‘China is well
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