Baker turned from the mirror where he had been adjusting his tie. "Suppose we ask him," he commented.
The consul was waiting for us in his study. After the briefest greeting which his official position permitted, he got down to business.
"Gentlemen, I've had to pull a diplomatic boner of the first magnitude. I refer to the cloak and dagger method of getting you here. But believe me, it was the only way. They're onto your scheme. If you went to a hotel in New Macassar, you wouldn't be alive tomorrow morning."
"But, the taxi—" began Martin.
"It gave us a few hours. If I had sent the consulate car, they'd have us sealed off tight right now. I could keep you safe here, or get you on the Shanghai plane, but you couldn't make another move. As it is, we have perhaps two hours—with luck."
The consul settled back in his chair, evidently gathering his thoughts. We waited, more mystified than before, if that were possible. At length Stimson started again.
"You're well briefed on the general situation. Reid gave me the gist of his conversation. But there are some other things that even Reid doesn't know." He opened a folding blotter on his desk and drew out an eight by ten photographic print.
"You're aware of the efforts that have been made to look into the crater on Yat. To date we have not succeeded in getting an eye witness to the rim. We have flown over Yat, of course, and have taken pictures from every altitude from 5,000 to 70,000 feet, but so far they have outsmarted us. They have smoke generators all around the rim, which they fire up night and day whenever the natural clouds lift. We've used every color, including infra red. We've taken stereo pairs, and flash shots at night, but, with one exception, all we've ever gotten are beautiful pictures of clouds and smoke. The exception I have here. It was taken two weeks ago, during a brief break in a heavy storm. Before I say anything more, I'd like to have you look at it and form your own opinions."
He placed the print on the desk, facing us, and leaned back while we four crowded around. My first glimpse was disappointing. Fully two thirds of the picture was occupied by clouds. But gradually I made out the details. There seemed to be several buildings of uncertain size in the lower part, and a fringe of brush extending up to the left. Half visible through the mist were several structures which seemed to me, in comparison to the larger buildings, like chicken houses or perhaps rabbit hutches. No humans were in sight, evidently because of the storm. But in the center of the picture was the thing which fixed our attention from the first, leaving the other details for later scrutiny. This was an immense human figure, lying on its side with the head pillowed on its hands in the attitude of the colossal figures of the reclining Buddha found in the mountains of China. The body was partly covered by a robe, but whether this was part of the figure or a canvas protection against the rain, was difficult to tell. Only the head, hands and feet showed. The face was partly in shadow, but enough could be seen to identify the typical Buddha countenance: closed eyes and lips curled in an enigmatic smile.