n your fornicating restaurant。 Get me a fornicating beer or I'll have my men slit your Secret Sack and feed those peanuts you call your treasure to the nearest dog！〃
The man said nothing。 Sullenly he went to the next street stall and got a San Miguel and brought it back and set it on the counter； opening it。 The other diners were still gaping at Armstrong。 Abruptly he hawked loudly and spat and put his cold blue eyes on the man nearest him。 He saw him shiver and look away。 Uneasily the others went back to their bowls too； unfortable to be in the presence of a barbarian policeman who had the bad manners to swear so colloquially in their tongue。
Armstrong eased more fortably on the stool； then let his eyes range the road and the alley； waiting patiently。
He did not have long to wait before he saw the small； squat chunky European ing up the alley； keeping to the side； stopping and peering into the storefront of a cheap shoe shop behind the street stalls that crowded the narrow roadway。 Ah； he's a professional； Armstrong thought； very pleased； knowing the man was using the glass as a mirror to case the restaurant。 The man took his time。 He wore a shapeless plastic raincoat and hat and appeared nondescript。 His body was hidden for a moment as a coolie swayed past him with huge bundles on either end of the bamboo pole on his shoulders。 Armstrong noticed his knotted calves； varicose…veined； as he watched the feet of the other man。 They moved and he walked out of the alley； covered by the coolie； and did not stop； just continued up the road。
He's very good； the policeman thought admiringly； still having him in sight。 This bugger's done this before。 Must be KGB to be this smart。 Well； it won't be long now； my fine fellow； before you're hooked； he told himself without rancor； as a fisherman would seeing a fat trout teasing the bait。
The man was shop…watching again。 e along； little fish。
The man was acting just like a trout。 He made several passes and went away and came back but always very carefully and without attracting attention。 At last he went into the open…faced restaurant and sat down and ordered a beer。 Armstrong sighed again； happy now。
It seemed to take the man an interminable time before he； too； got up； asked where the toilet was； walked through the few diners and went under the bead curtain。 In time he reappeared and went for his table。 At once the four coolie diners fell on him from behind； pinioning his arms and holding him helpless； while another strapped a stiff high collar around his neck。 Other diners； real customers； and not undercover SI police； gaped； one dropped his chopsticks； a couple fled and the others froze。
Armstrong got up from his stool leisurely and walked over。 He saw the tough…looking Chinese behind the counter take off his apron。 〃Shut up； you bastard；〃 the fellow said in Russian to the man who cursed and struggled impotently。 〃Evening； Superintendent；〃 he added to Armstrong with a sly grin。 His name was Malcolm Sun； he was a senior agent； SI； and ranking Chinese on this 16/2。 It was he who had organized the intercept and had paid off the cook who usually worked this shift and had taken his place。
〃Evening； Malcolm。 You did very well。〃 Armstrong turned his attention to the enemy agent。 〃What's your name？〃 he asked pleasantly。
〃Who you？ Let me go 。。。 let go！〃 the man said in heavily accented English。
〃All yours； Malcolm；〃 Armstrong said。
At once； Sun said in Russian； 〃Listen you mother…eater； we know you're off the Ivanov； we know you're a courier and you've just picked up a drop from the American off the nuclear carrier。 We've already got the bastard in custody and you'd bet… 〃
〃Lies！ You've made a mistake；〃 the man blustered in Russian。 〃I know nothing of any American。 Let me go！〃
〃What's your name？〃
〃You've made a mistake。 Let me go！〃 A crowd of gaping； gawking onlookers was now surrounding the store。
Malcolm Sun turned to Armstrong。 〃He's a ripe one； sir。 Doesn't understand very good Russian。 I'm afraid we'll have to take him in；〃 he said with a twisted smile。
〃Sergeant； get the Black Maria。〃
〃Yes sir。〃 Another agent went off quickly as Armstrong went closer。 The Russian was gray…haired； a squat man with small； angry eyes。 He was held perfectly with no chance of escape and no chance to put a hand into a pocket or into his mouth to destroy evidence； or himself。
Armstrong searched him expertly。 No manual or roll of film。 〃Where did you put it？〃 he asked。
〃I no understand！〃
The man's hatred did not bother Armstrong。 He bore him no malice； the man was just a target who had been trapped。 I wonder who shopped this poor bugger who's frightened to death； rightly； who's now ruined with the KGB and with his own people forever and might as well be a dead man。 I wonder why it's our coup and not old Rosemont's and his CIA boys？ How is it we're the ones who knew about the drop and not the Yanks？ How is it Crosse got to know about this？ All Crosse had told him was the where and the how and that the drop was going to be made by a sailor from the carrier and intercepted by someone off the Ivanov。
〃You're in charge； Robert； and please； don't make a balls up。〃
〃I won't。 But please get someone else for Brian K… 〃
〃For the last time； Robert； you're doing the Kwok interrogation and you're seconded to SI until I release you。 And if you bitch once more I'll have you out of the force； out of Hong Kong； out of your pension and I hardly need remind you SI's reach is very long。 I doubt if you'd work again； unless you go criminal； and then God help you。 Is that finally clear？〃
〃Yes sir。〃
〃Good。 Brian will be ready for you at six tomorrow morning。〃
Armstrong shivered。 How impossibly lucky we were to catch him！ If Spectacles Wu hadn't e from Ning…tok … if the old amah hadn't talked to the Werewolf … if the run on the bank … Christ； so many ifs。 But then that's how you catch a fish； a big fish。 Pure； bloody； unadulterated luck most times。 Jesus Christ； Brian Kwok！ You poor bugger！
He shivered again。
〃You all right； sir？〃 Malcolm Sun asked。
〃Yes。〃 Armstrong looked back at the Russian。 〃Where did you put the film； the roll of film？〃
The man stared back at him defiantly。 〃Don't understand！〃
Armstrong sighed。 〃You do； too well。〃 The big black van came through the gawking crowd and stopped。 More SIs got out。 〃Put him in and don't let go of him；〃 Armstrong said to those holding him。 The crowd watched and chattered and jeered as the man was frog…marched into the van。 Armstrong and Sun got in after him and closed the door。
〃Off you go； driver；〃 Armstrong ordered。
〃Yes sir。〃 The driver let in his clutch easing through the crowds and joined the snarled traffic heading for Central HQ。
〃All right； Malcolm。 You can begin。〃
The Chinese agent took out a razor…sharp knife。 The Soviet man blanched。
〃What's your name？〃 Armstrong asked； sitting on a bench opposite him。
Malcolm Sun repeated the question in Russian。
〃D 。。。 Dimitri Metkin；〃 the man muttered； still held viselike by the four men and unable to move a finger or a toe。 〃Seaman； first class。〃
〃Liar；〃 Armstrong said easily。 〃Go ahead； Malcolm。〃
Malcolm Sun put the knife under the man's left eye and the man almost fainted。 〃That es later； spy；〃 Sun said in Russian with a chilling smile。 Expertly； with a deliberate malevolent viciousness； Sun rapidly sliced the raincoat away。 Armstrong searched it very carefully as Sun used the knife deftly to cut away the man's seaman's jersey and the rest of his clothes until he was naked。 The knife had not cut or even nicked him once。 A careful search and re…search revealed nothing。 Nor his shoes； the heels or the soles。
〃Unless it's a microdot transfer and we've missed it so far； it must be in him；〃 Armstrong said。
At once the men holding the Russian bent him over and Sun got out the surgical gloves and surgical salve and probed deeply。 The man flinched and moaned and tears of pain seeped from his eyes。
〃Dew neh loh moh；〃 Sun said happily。 His fingers drew out a small tube of cellophane wrapping。
〃Don't let go of him！〃 Armstrong rapped。
When he was sure the man was secure he peered at the cylindrical package。 Inside he could see