'Go and shit.'

'You were -'

'Shuddup.'

'You went to Jade Imperial Mansion.'

'Someone else. Bloke in the snap.'

'Shall we tell Mr Tewson about your woman friend?'

'Moira? What's she got to do with --'

'Not Moira. Nora.'

'I haven't got a woman called Nora. She any good?'

'You went to Jade Imperial Mansion.'

Six times in six minutes.

Poor old Tewson, wonder what he's thinking now. Bit of a shaker for him. But it was pick-proof, that was all I cared. Just her name alone had given it credibility and he couldn't phone her to ask her about it because her line was bugged and they'd monitor his call this end and he'd know that. And he couldn't tell his Chinese fellow-workers because they'd shove him in shackles in case he believed me and tried to dive overboard. There wasn't anything he could do except worry, while the fuse went on burning in his head.

'So you have been lying!'

'I have not been lying!'

'With every word you have lied 1'

'I've told you the truth!'

Yelling at each other.

Heat of the lamp, his face coming and going.

'Lies! Lies! Lies!'

'I've told you the truth, sod you 1'

Look out, perk up.

Tired.

'I am sorry, Mr Cox.'

'What?'

'I am sorry.' Smile on his face. 'Of course I believe your story, but you must understand that we have to pay close attention if persons approach this oil drill. We have very expensive machinery here. I hope you will accept my apologies.'

Movement of air as he passed me.

'Listen,' I said. 'Can I go out and take some air on deck?'

'But of course, Mr Cox. It is a delightful evening.'

I leaned on the rail.

Below me the sea was amethyst, its haze reaching to the ochre line of the horizon where the sun had gone down. All was still, except where a sea bird wheeled in silence overhead.

'What's this stuff?'

'It's a kind of millet gruel.'

I thought it looked rather wet.

There was a dish of man-t'ou.

'What about this?' In public I was keeping the cover.

'Millet,' he said, 'corn, squash, potatoes. Not bad.'

The line shuffled along and we shuffled with it.

Think they've got anything except millet?'

He gave his quick white laugh but it was just habit: his nerves were pretty bad. 'There's some Pekin duck along there.'

Face and the lamp, swinging.

'Thank Christ for that.'

The canteen was very clean and everything shone under the bright lights. Music tinkled soothingly from the speakers Someone dropped his tin plate and there was immediate silence and then the clatter started up again. I didn't notice any smell of actual food: I suppose they kept it down with Airwick or something hygienic like that.

I shovelled some duck on my plate for the sake of protein and Tewson had some too. Then we went along the deck to his cabin, carrying our trays.

'Sorry there's no wine.'

As we put our trays on each side of the table I noticed his hands were shaking. His brick-red colouring had yellowed since I saw him last.

'This is very welcome.'

'Is it?' He seemed pathetically pleased. 'It doesn't taste too bad. I expect I've got used to it.'

'I mean the whole thing's welcome. The idea of being invited to dine on board with a fellow guest. If that's quite the word.'

He looked down.

'They suggested it.'