Toll for the Brave. Jack Higgins
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which led to a gallery above what was obviously the central half of the old temple. There was a statue of Buddha at the far end, flickering candles, the murmur of voices at prayer from a group of Zen monks in yellow robes.
Madame Ny said, ‘If I asked you who was the commander of Tay Son you would say Colonel Chen-Kuen of the Army of the People’s Republic.’
‘So what?’
‘The commander is down there at this moment.’
The monks had risen to their feet, their Abbot magnificent in saffron robes at their head. He glanced up at that moment and looked straight at me before moving on. Colonel Chen-Kuen.
We returned to her office in silence. I sat down and she said, ‘So, nothing is as it seems, not even Ellis Jackson.’
I made no reply and an orderly came in with the usual afternoon pot of China tea and tiny porcelain cups. It was unfailingly and deliciously refreshing. She passed me a cup without comment and I took the first long sip with a sigh of pleasure and knew, almost instantly, that I was in trouble.
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