Mallory was standing by the open window that led to the verandah. He wore his red beret and the swagger stick in his right hand beat restlessly against his thigh. It was the eyes which told Li his fate, those strange, unfathomable eyes like holes in the white face, staring through and beyond him.

There was nothing to say, nothing at all. He stood there, a slight, careful smile on his face, hands thrust into the pockets of his silk-dressing-gown, and Mallory made a slight gesture with his hand that brought Tewak and his men into the room.

Mr. Li moved to a small coffee table, selected a cigarette from a jade box and lit it. “Who told you?”

Mallory shook his head. “Suwon was a mistake. Girls like her value their looks too much. They haven’t got anything else to trade with.”

The bookcase against the far wall came down with a splintering crash and three of the soldiers rammed the butt ends of their rifles against the wooden panelling. A moment later a large segment fell out, revealing a cupboard, perhaps three feet square, containing a wireless transmitter and several files.

Mallory examined the find, nodded and turned quickly. “So far, so good. Now let’s get down to business. According to our intelligence reports you have between sixty and seventy guerrillas operating in Perak. I’d like to know where they are.”

“You’re wasting your time, my dear Mallory,” Li said. “And that’s something you can’t really spare, isn’t it? When is it they’re coming for you – Friday? Thirty-six hours, that’s all.”

He started to laugh and Tewak raised a hand. Mallory shook his head. “No sense in wasting time on the preliminaries. Bring him into the living-room, there’s a fire there.”

Li was aware of a coldness clutching at his inside. The stories he had heard about this man Mallory, of his Tigers and the way they operated. No one really believed it because the English didn’t fight in this way. Didn’t use such methods, which was their greatest weakness. Brainwashing and psychological pressures he had been prepared for, but this…!

They hustled him into the other room and across to the wide stone fireplace in which he had ordered the servants to light a log fire against the dampness of the rains. Mallory nodded and Li’s dressing-gown and pyjama jacket were ripped away, baring him to the waist. His hands were jerked roughly behind his back and lashed with a length of rope.

There was a disturbance outside the door and Mallory heard Mary Hume’s voice raised shrilly. He crossed the room and moved past his men into the corridor. The dark circles under her eyes accentuated the paleness of her face and she had obviously been crying.

“What’s going on in there?” she said. “I demand to know.”

Tm questioning Mr. Li,” Mallory told her. “We’ve just discovered that he’s not quite what he seems to be.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Well, that’s just too bad. At a later date I’ll be happy to show you the transmitting set he had hidden in his room, but right now I’m busy.” He turned to the corporal on his left. “Escort Mrs. Hume to her room and see that she doesn’t leave it.”

He went back into the living-room, slamming the door on her sudden, indignant outburst, and crossed to the fire. He sat down in the chair opposite Li, took out a cigarette and lit it.

“Have you ever been tortured?” Li made no reply and Mallory continued: “In 1943 I was working under cover in France. I was only twenty. The Gestapo got hold of me. The first two days I didn’t do too bad, but by the end of the week I was telling them everything they wanted to know. Of course, by that time London had changed everything round, so it didn’t really matter.”

“How very interesting,” Li said.

“I thought you might say that.” Mallory picked up a poker and inserted it into the fire. Tm afraid I can’t wait for a week, you understand that, but I don’t think I’ll have to. I’ve had the extra advantage of two years in a Communist prison camp. They taught me a lot, those friends of yours.”

Li gazed at the poker in fascinated horror and his throat went dry. He moistened his lips and croaked: “You wouldn’t dare. The marks would be on my body for all to see. Mrs. Hume would be a witness to all that had taken place.”

“They told me to clean out Perak," Mallory said, “and I’ve only got till Friday morning to do it. That means cutting a few corners. You understand, I’m sure.”

He took the poker from the fire. It was white hot and he turned and said gently, “Tell me where your men are, that’s all I want to know.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Li said. “You might as well shoot me and get it over with.”

“I don’t think so.” Mallory considered him carefully and shook his head. “I’d say you might last two hours, but I doubt it.”

It was perhaps three hours later when Li regained consciousness on his bed in the cool darkness of his room. His hands had been roughly bandaged and pain coursed through his entire body, sending his senses reeling.

And he had talked. That was the shameful thing. He had poured out everything to the terrible Englishman with the white face and the dark eyes that pierced straight through to the soul.

He pushed himself upright and slowly hobbled across the floor, grinding his teeth together to keep from crying out. He paused at the window and peered outside. The verandah was deserted. There was no one in sight. He pushed the window open and crossed to the steps. He stood there for a moment, inhaling the freshness of the rain, a faint excitement stirring inside him, driving the pain from his mind. He would win. He would beat Mallory in the end and that was the important thing.

He stumbled down the steps and started across the lawn. He was perhaps half-way across when he heard the click of a bolt as a weapon was cocked. He turned, mouth opening to cry out, conscious that even now Mallory had won.

The line of fire erupting from the bushes spun him around twice and drove him down against the earth. For a moment only there was the scent of wet grass in his nostrils, then nothing.

In his office at the command post Mallory heard the rattle of the sub-machine-gun clearly. He paused for a moment, head raised, then returned to the map in front of him. A few minutes later the door opened and Tewak entered, shaking rain from his groundsheet.

Mallory sat back. "What happened?”

“The sentry got him as he was crossing the garden. Mrs. Hume’s outside. Apparently she ran out of the house when she heard the shooting. She saw his condition.”

“Bring her in,” Mallory said.

She was wearing an old Burberry that was far too big for her, the shoulders soaked by the rain. Tewak led her forward and she slumped into a chair and sat looking at Mallory, her face old and careworn.

“I saw Mr. Li,” she said dully. “I saw what you’d done to him.”

“Mr. Li was directly responsible for the murder by torture of Lieutenant Gregson and his men,” Mallory said. “He was responsible for the deaths of thirteen schoolgirls two weeks ago and very many more innocent people during the past two years.”

"You tortured him,” she said. ““Tortured him in cold blood, then shot him down.”

“If he’d gone to Singapore he’d have been tried and very probably sentenced to ten years at the most as a political offender,” Mallory said. “His friends would have got him out before then, believe me.”

“You fool,” she whispered. “You’ve lost everything. Everything. Don’t you see that?”

Mallory leaned forward. “There are sixty-three Communist guerrillas in Perak, Mrs. Hume. That’s something I got out of Li. About thirty of them are camped at this moment on an abandoned rubber estate near Trebu. I’ve got a large patrol in that area now. They’ll be in position to attack at 2 a.m. The rest are going to pass downriver hidden in two fishing boats within the next hour. Apparently, they’d intended to destroy the railway bridge at Peg at dawn. I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed.”