The boy brought the beer for Ferris, and he sat for a moment with his thin sensitive hand round the glass, moving it in small precise circles on the teakwood table.

"He's your replacement," he told me.

Ice along the spine.

I didn't forgive him for a long time, for using both barrels at point blank range.

"When's he replacing me?"

He looked surprised. "As soon as you're ready."

I tried to think back to the signal I'd sent to the Embassy. Something was wrong. I said: "I'm not ready."

"Part of your signal read: Where is Youngquist? I assumed you wanted him to take over."

This time I made him wait, and when I was ready I leaned over the table and spoke very quietly. "In the six missions we've done together, have I ever asked for a replacement?"

He didn't have to think. "No."

"What makes you think I'm asking for one now?"

He moved his head and the reflection left his glasses and I could see his eyes, and they were surprised. "You're staying in?"

"Yes. I always have."

"I must say I'm rather glad." He drank some beer.

I sat back again. "I think this is a good time to get one thing straight. If you ever get a signal from me asking for a replacement, discount it. Okay?"

"That's what I did this time," he said. "Then I began thinking."

"You want girl?"

"Fuck off," I said.

Ferris gave his soft sinister laugh. "Of course I didn't tell London. I wanted to see you first."

"I should bloody well hope so. What did you begin thinking?"

"Well, they tried to smash you up in London, and you flew out here full of dope; then there was that thing in Pekin, which left you a bit washed out; and according to your signal they tried again twice. I don't know the details, but it struck me that you might not be physically operational any more. Sorry."

"I would have said so."

"Point taken."

"I asked who Youngquist was, not where."

He thought that over. "We'll have to do better, won't we?"

"I don't want any cutouts or contacts, Ferris. The police are looking for me, as well as the opposition. They can pick up my trail at any time. Any kind of contact could be fatal."

"Agreed. I'll try setting up a radio."

"Do that. And one other thing: when was Youngquist sent out here?"

He'd been hoping I wouldn't ask him.

"After they tried to finish you off, in Pekin. I told Croder you were still operational, but he makes his own rules."

I was going to have to work on him. "What else has he done?"

Reluctantly Ferris said, "There's now quite a bit of support in the field."

"Oh really."

"I told him you prefer working solo."

"Good of you."

He said: "There's no point in your going through the roof. This is Croder, and we'll both have to live with it."

"Just keep the support away from me," I said slowly. "Tell Croder that's what I want. Tell him that if he's not prepared to let me have it, then he can have Youngquist. Tell him he's decided to send this particular executive into the field, and if he wants me to do the job then I'm going to do it my way. Tell him that, Ferris, or by Christ I'm leaving the mission."

In the oblique light from the coloured lanterns I could see the slight movement of his jaw muscle, and noted it.

"It really would be rather nice," he said in his thinnest tone, "if one day some kind soul would give me a mission to field-direct where Control and the executive aren't mortal enemies."

He was in a rage, but I couldn't help that. I said:

"It's my life on the line, not his."

I didn't have to spell anything out for him. Contacts and cutouts can be a lot of help in an operation when signals have broken down or we have to pass papers or a code or documents back to base; but when the executive is on the run and trying to stay alive until he can find access to the opposition then a contact with less than executive-level training and experience can trip him or expose him and bring him down.

"I'll do what I can," Ferris said.

"Tell him those are my terms. No contacts, cutouts, shields or supports. No one else in the field with me. Unless I ask."

He sipped at his beer and put the glass down without a sound. "Understood. Now I need a report."

It took me ten minutes: Soong Li-fei, the man on the staircase, and the information I'd got from Spur.

"We've heard of Tung," Ferris nodded.

"Oh really." I waited.

"You'd better finish your report first."

"Fair enough. There's a leak somewhere."

His head moved slightly. "Oh?"

"You put me on that flight to Seoul with total security, but when I checked into the Chonju Hotel there was this woman Soong Li-fei waiting for me."

"But you said she told you she'd made a mistake — you were the wrong man."

"They told her I was the right one. They told her I'd killed her brother, and she went there to square the account."

"Do you think she's in the opposition?"

I thought about it, aware of the dangers of the halo effect: the exquisite features and the cinnamon eyes, the delicate poise of her head, the soft lilting accents, the grace of her walk. Discount all that and remember there'd been a gun in her hand and a bullet ready to rip through the rib cage and bury in the heart.

"I gave her the chance of using the gun on me again, and she didn't take it; it didn't even occur to her. She said she had a brother, Yongshen, who was murdered in Pekin; and that was true. And I think if she'd been putting on an act while I was with her, she'd have made a name by now on the stage, and a big one. I don't think she's in the opposition, but I think they tried to use her to kill me. So there was in fact a leak."

"At the Embassy," Ferris said at once.

"The cypher clerk?"

"No. He's Bureau. But he must have been overheard when I signalled him to tell him where you'd be in Seoul. Or there's a bug."

"For God's sake," I said quietly, "get it out."

"Yes indeed."

I finished my report, telling him about Sadie.

"Is she safe?"

"No one," I told him, "is safe. All she's got to do is make a slip of the tongue in the wrong quarter. That whole area is a red sector now: the Chonju Hotel, Li-fei's house and Sadie's place are all in the same network of streets and alleyways, and Spur's wine shop isn't far off."

"You need a new base."

"And a new name."

"I've got your papers with me."

"They'll have to be good. I can't avoid a police check forever."

He passed me a fat envelope and I put it away at once.

"A good one," he said. "Made in London."

"There wasn't time."

"They sent me five, the day you arrived. That too is Croder. He obviously knows you've got staying power."

I didn't want to talk about Croder and I didn't want to think about needing three more changes of cover: the statistics are that if an executive gets blown more than twice he's either dead or back in London with the psychiatrists trying to stop him jumping out of windows.

"Have you got a safe-house for me?" I asked Ferris.

"Spur says you can stay with him."

"Civil of him, but he happens to keep a full-grown boa constrictor as a pet. You'll have to find somewhere else."

"Surely it's harmless?"

"Till it wants someone to play with."

"It's going to take time to find somewhere else."

"Then hurry."

"How long," he asked with a shut face, "can you stay at Sadie's?"

"I'm not going back there. These people are only one step behind me and one fine day she's going to have to call in the cleaners to get the blood off the rug, and you know how fussy London is about involving the public at large in our operations. Until you can find me somewhere I'll hire a car and use it as base. I can sleep in it if I've got to. That whole area's a distinct red sector now and I'm going to stay clear of it after I've seen Spur tonight."