to business. I have little time. I must make the return journey in no more than thirty minutes. What do you offer me?’
Mountbatten glanced at Stilwell, who shrugged, and the Admiral said to Mao, ‘Our American friends are not able to offer arms and ammunition to you and your forces.’
‘But everything the Generalissimo needs they will supply?’ Mao asked.
He stayed surprisingly calm and Mountbatten said, ‘I believe I have a solution. What if the RAF flew in ten thousand tons a month over the Hump to Kunming, assorted weapons, ammunition and so forth.’
Mao selected a cigarette from an old silver case and the young officer lit it for him. The Chairman blew out a long plume of smoke. ‘And what would I have to do for such munificence?’
‘Something’ Mountbatten said. ‘I mean, we have to have something. That’s only fair.’
‘And what would you have in mind?’
Mountbatten lit a cigarette himself, walked to the open door and looked out at the rain. He turned. ‘The Hong Kong Treaty, the lease to Britain. It expires 1 July 1997.’
‘So?’
‘I’d like you to extend it by one hundred years.’
There was a long silence. Mao leaned back and blew smoke to the ceiling. ‘My friend, I think the rains have driven you a little crazy. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek rules China, the Japanese permitting, of course.’
‘But the Japanese will go,’ Mountbatten said.
‘And then?’
The room was very quiet. Mountbatten turned and nodded. The Corporal clicked his heels and passed the file to Major Campbell who opened it and took out a document which he passed across the desk to the Chairman.
‘This is not a treaty but a covenant,’ Mountbatten said. ‘The Chungking Covenant, I call it. If you will read it and approve it with your signature above mine, you will agree to extend, if you ever control China, the Hong Kong Treaty by a hundred years. In exchange, His Majesty’s Government will supply you with all your military needs.’
Mao Tse-tung examined the document, then glanced up. ‘Have you a pen, Lord Mountbatten?’
It was the Corporal who supplied one, moving in quickly. Mao signed the document. Major Campbell produced three more copies and laid them on the table. Mao signed each one, Mountbatten countersigned.
He handed the pen back to the Corporal and stood up. ‘A good night’s work,’ he said to Mountbatten, ‘but now I must go.’
He started for the door and Mountbatten said, ‘A moment, Mr Chairman, you’re forgetting your copy of the covenant.’
Mao turned. ‘Later,’ he said. ‘When it has been countersigned by Churchill.’
Mountbatten stared at him. ‘Churchill?’
‘But of course. Naturally this should not delay the flow of arms, but I do look forward to receiving my copy signed by the man himself. Is there a problem?’
‘No.’ Mountbatten pulled himself together. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Good. And now, I must go. There is work to do, gentlemen.’
He went out and down the steps followed by the young officer, crossed to the Dakota and climbed in. The door was closed, the steps wheeled away, the plane started to taxi and Stilwell burst into laughter.
‘God help me, that’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen in years. He certainly is a character. What are you going to do?’
‘Send the damn thing to London for Churchill’s signature, of course.’ Mountbatten turned back in the entrance and said to Major Campbell, ‘Ian, I’m going to give you a chance to have dinner at the Savoy. I want you on your way to London as soon as possible with a dispatch from me for the Prime Minister. Did I hear another plane land?’
‘Yes, sir, a Dakota from Assam.’
‘Good. Give orders for it to be refuelled and turned around.’ Mountbatten glanced at the Corporal. ‘You can take Tanner with you.’
‘Fine, sir.’
Campbell shuffled the papers to put them in the file and Mountbatten said, ‘Three copies. One for Mao, another for the Prime Minister and the third for President Roosevelt. Didn’t I sign four?’
‘I took the liberty of making an extra copy, sir, just in case of accidents,’ Campbell said.
‘Good man, Ian,’ Mountbatten nodded. ‘On your way then. Only one night out at the Savoy then straight back.’
‘Of course, sir.’
Campbell saluted and went out followed by Tanner. Stilwell lit a cigarette. ‘He’s a strange one, Campbell.’
‘Lost his eye at Dunkirk,’ Mountbatten said. ‘Got a well-earned Military Cross. Best aide I ever had.’
‘What’s all this Laird of Loch Dhu crap?’ Stilwell said. ‘You English are really crazy.’
‘Ah, but Campbell isn’t English, he’s Scots and, more than that, he’s a Highlander. As Laird of Loch Dhu he heads a sect of Clan Campbell and that, Joe, is a tradition that existed before the Vikings sailed to America.’
He walked to the door and stared out at the driving rain. Stilwell joined him. ‘Are we going to win, Louis?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Mountbatten nodded. ‘It’s what will come after that bothers me.’
In Campbell’s quarters, Tanner packed the Major’s holdall with military thoroughness while Campbell shaved. They had been together since boyhood, for Tanner’s father had been a gamekeeper on the Loch Dhu estate, and together they endured the shattering experience of Dunkirk. When Campbell had first worked for Mountbatten at Combined Operations Headquarters in London he had taken the Corporal with him as his batman. The move to Southeast Asia Command had followed that. But to Jack Tanner, a good soldier with a Military Medal for bravery in the field to prove it, Campbell would never be anything else but the Laird.
The Major came out of the bathroom drying his hands. He adjusted the black eye-patch and smoothed his hair then pulled on his tunic. ‘Got the briefcase, Jack?’
Tanner held it up. ‘The papers are inside, Laird.’
He always gave Campbell the title
