Midnight Never Comes - PC 04 (v5) Read Free

was a moment of heavy dangerous silence as they challenged each other across the desk and then Mallory sat down heavily. When he spoke, he was completely in control again.
    'You'll get the usual pension, Paul, we owe you that at least.' He opened a red file and took out a letter. 'I've been in touch with an old friend of mine, Hans Muller. He has the chair in Modern Languages at one of the new universities in the Midlands. He'll be glad to have you on his staff.'
    Chavasse laughed once and it had an ugly sound. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. 'It's been fun, Mr. Mallory. As our American friends say, a real ball.'
    He started for the door and Mallory jumped to his feet. 'For God's sake, Paul, don't be a fool.'
    Chavasse paused, one hand on the door knob and grinned crookedly. 'I remember reading somewhere once about a French abbe who'd come through the revolution. Someone asked him what he'd done during the Terror. "I survived," he said. "I survived." I suppose I could say the same. Something to be grateful for at least.'
    He opened the door quickly before Mallory could reply and went out.

2
    The man who had ch'i
    Somewhere in the distance Big Ben struck midnight, the sound curiously muffled by the fog and then there was silence. It was raining heavily and Chavasse paused on a corner to button the collar of his trenchcoat up around his neck.
    Since leaving Jean Frazer's flat, he had walked aimlessly, turning from one street into another until he had come to the river again. He wasn't too sure where he was, probably Wapping from the look of it. Not that it mattered very much. He walked across the road past towering warehouses and paused beneath a street lamp, leaning on the stone parapet above the river.
    He unbuttoned his coat, sliding his hand inside searching for his cigarette case and his fingers touched the butt of the Walther. He pulled it out and examined it quickly, a slight frown on his face. Technically speaking he would be committing an offence from now on simply by continuing to keep it without a permit.
    He held it out over the dark water for a moment and then changed his mind and slipped it back into its pocket. When he found his cigarette case, it was empty and he continued along the wet pavement, turning the corner into an old square surrounded by decaying Georgian houses.
    There was a Chinese restaurant on the other side, a ten-foot dragon in red neon glittering through the rain and he crossed towards it, opened the door and went in.
    It was a long, rather narrow room obviously constructed from the ground floor of the house with the internal walls taken out. It was scrupulously clean and decorated in a vaguely Eastern manner, probably to please the clientele.
    There was only one customer, a Chinese of at least sixty with a bald head and round, enigmatic face. He couldn't have been more than five feet in height, but was incredibly fat and, in spite of his immaculate tan gaberdine suit, bore a distinct resemblance to a small bronze statue of Buddha which stood in a niche at the back of the room, an incense candle burning before it. He was consuming a large plate of chopped raw fish and vegetables with the aid of a very Western fork and ignored Chavasse completely.
    The Chinese girl behind the bar had a flower in her dark hair and wore a cheongsam in heavy black silk brocade embroidered with a red dragon that was twin to the one outside.
    'I'm sorry, sir, we close at midnight.'
    'Any chance of a quick drink?'
    'I'm afraid we only have a table licence.'
    She was very beautiful. Her skin had that creamy look peculiar to Asian women and her lips an extra fullness that gave her a distinctly sensual air. For some strange reason Chavasse felt like reaching out to touch her. He took a grip on himself, started to turn away and then the red dragon seemed to come alive, writhing across the dark dress like some living thing and the walls moved in on him. He lurched against the bar and was aware of her voice