"No. I won't. I won't do it. And I don't want drug money! I'll never take drug money and I counsel you to get out of the drug trade immed—"
The whole junk was suddenly floodlit. Everyone was momentarily blinded. The searchlight was to starboard.
"Haul to!" came the order in English over the loud-hailer, then repeated in Haklo, then in Cantonese.
Wu and Goodweather Poon were the first to react and in a split second they were in motion. Wu swung the tiller hard to port away from the Marine Police patrol boat and gunned both the engines to full ahead. Poon had leapt down the gangway to the main deck and now he sliced the cargo line and the wake of bales vanished as the bales sank into the deep.
"Haul to for boarding!" The metallic words ripped through Paul Choy who stood paralysed with fright. He watched his father reach into a nearby sea locker and bring out some crumpled PRC peaked soldiers' hats and shove one on. "Quick," he ordered, throwing one to him. Petrified, he obeyed and crammed it onto his head. Miraculously all the crew were now wearing the same kind of hat and a few were struggling into equally drab and crumpled army tunics.
His heart stopped. Others were reaching into sea lockers and bringing out PRC army rifles and submachine guns as still others went to the side nearest the police boat and began shouting obscenities. The boat was sleek and battle grey with a deck gun, two searchlights now and her riding lights on. She lay a hundred yards to starboard, her engines growling, keeping pace with them easily. They could see the neat, white-clad sailors and, on the bridge, the peaked British officers' caps.
Four Fingers had a loud-hailer horn now and he went to the side, his hat pulled well down, and he roared, "Go fornicate yourselves, barbarians! Look at our colours!" His hand stabbed toward his masthead. The PRC marine flag fluttered there. Aft on the stern was a fake Canton PRC registration number. "Leave a peaceful patrol alone... you're in our waters!"
Poon's face was split into a malevolent grin. A PRC automatic pistol was in his hands and he stood at the gunnel silhouetted in the light, the cap pulled well down to preclude identification by the binoculars he knew were raking the ship. His heart was racing too and there was a sick-sweet-sour bile in his mouth. They were in international waters. Safety and PRC waters were fifteen minutes away. He cocked the gun. Orders were quite clear. No one was boarding tonight.
"Haul to! We're coming aboard!"
They all saw the patrol boat slow and the cutter splash into the sea and many aboard lost their initial confidence. Four Fingers squeezed the throttle forward to get the last fraction of power. He cursed himself for not seeing the police boat or sensing their presence earlier but he knew that they had electronic devices to see in the dark whereas he had to rely on eyes and nose and the sixth sense that so far had kept him and most of his people alive.
It was rare to find a patrol boat so close to Chinese waters. Even so, the boat was there and though his cargo was gone, there were guns aboard and so was Paul Choy. Joss! All gods defecate on that patrol boat! Goodweather Poon was partially right, he told himself. The gods will decide if it was wise or not to bring the youth aboard.
"Go fornicate yourselves! No foreign devil comes aboard a patrol boat of the People's Republic of China!" All the crew cheered enthusiastically, adding their obscenities to the din.
"Haul to!"
The old man paid no attention. The junk was headed toward the Pearl River estuary at maximum speed and he and all aboard prayed that there were no PRC patrols nearby. In the searchlight they could see the cutter with ten armed sailors on an intercept course but it was not fast enough to overtake them.
"For the last time, haul tooooo!"
"For the fornicating last time leave peaceful PRC patrol to their own waters...."
Suddenly the patrol's sirens started whoopwhoopwhooping and she seemed to jump forward from the violent thrust of her engines, a high churning wake astern. The searchlight still kept them centred as she charged ahead and cut across the junk's bow and stayed there, her engines growling malevolently, barring the path to safety.
Paul Choy was still staring at the battle grey, sharp-nosed craft with its deck gun manned and machine guns manned, big, with four times the power they had, the gap closing fast with no room to manoeuvre. They could see the uniformed sailors on her deck and the officers on the bridge, radar aerials sweeping.
"Get your head down," Wu warned Paul Choy who obeyed instantly. Then Wu ran forward to the bow, Goodweather Poon beside him. Both had automatic machine guns.
"Now!"
Carefully he and his friend sprayed the sea toward the patrol boat that was almost on them, taking extreme care that none of the bullets splashed the deck. Instantly the searchlight went out and at once, in the blinding darkness, the helmsman put the junk hard to starboard and prayed that Wu had chosen correctly. The junk slid around the other ship with a few yards leeway as the other craft gunned ahead to get out of the way of the bullets. The helmsman heaved her back on her course and her dash for safety.
"Good," Wu muttered, knowing he had gained another hundred yards. His mind carried the chart of these waters. Now they were in the grey area between Hong Kong and PRC waters, a few hundred yards from real safety. In the darkness all on deck had kept their eyes tightly shut. The moment they felt the searchlight again, they opened their eyes and adjusted more quickly. The attacker was ahead and to port out of machine gun range but still ahead and still in the way. Wu smiled grimly. "Big Nose Lee!" His chief deckhand came promptly, and he handed him the machine gun. "Don't use it till I order it and don't hit one of those fornicators!"
Suddenly the darkness split and the parrang of the deck gun deafened them. A split second and a vast spout of water burst from the sea near their bow. Wu was shocked and he shook his fist at the ship. "Fornicate you and all your mothers! Leave us alone or Chairman Mao will sink all Hong Kong!"
He hurried aft. "I'll take the tiller!"
The helmsman was frightened. So was Paul Choy, but at the same time he was curiously excited and vastly impressed with the way his father commanded and the way everyone aboard reacted with discipline instead of as the motley ragtag bunch of pirates he had imagined them to be.
"Haul to!"
Again the gap began closing but the patrol boat kept out of machine gun range and the cutter kept out of range aft. Stoically Wu held his course. Another flash then another and par-rang par-rannng. Two shells straddled the junk rocking her.
"Fornicate all mothers," Wu gasped, "all gods keep those gunners accurate!" He knew that the shots were only to frighten. His friend the Snake had given him assurances that all patrols were ordered never to hit or sink a fleeing junk carrying PRC colours in case the colours were real, never to forcibly board unless one of their own seamen was killed or wounded. "Give them a burst," he called out.
Obediently but with great care, the two men on the bow sprayed the waters. The searchlight never wavered, but suddenly it went out.
Wu kept his course firm. Now what? he asked himself desperately. Where's that fornicator going? He searched the darkness, his eyes straining to see the patrol boat and the promontory he knew was nearby. Then he saw the silhouette to port aft. She was bearing down fast in a swirling rush to come up alongside with grappling hooks. Safety was a hundred yards ahead. If he turned from the new danger he would parallel safety and stay in international waters and then the ship would do the same again and shepherd him into open seas until his ammunition was gone or the dawn came and he was lost. He dare not make a real battle for he knew British law had a long arm and the killing of one of their seamen was punished with hanging, and no money or high friends would prevent it. If he held his course the ship could grapple him and he knew how adept and well trained these Cantonese seamen were and how they hated Haklos.
His face split into a grimace. He waited until the patrol boat was fifty yards astern, coming up very fast, the siren whooping deafeningly, then grimly he turned the tiller into her and prayed the captain was awake. For a moment the two ships hung in the balance. Then the patrol boat swung away to avoid the collision, the wash from her props spraying them. Wu wheeled starboard and slammed all throttles forward even though they were already as far forward as they could go. A few more yards were gained. He saw the patrol boat recover quickly. She roared around in a circle and came back at them on a different tack. They were just within Chinese waters. Without hope Four Fingers left the tiller and picked up another submachine gun and sprayed the darkness, the barking thwack thwack thwack and the smell of cordite making his fear more intense. Abruptly the searchlight splashed him, its light vicious. He turned his head, blinded, and blinked, keeping his head and cap well down. When he could see again he pointed the automatic directly at the light and cursed obscenely, frightened that they would grapple him and tow him from safety. The hot barrel shook as he aimed for the light, his finger on the trigger. It would be death if he fired and prison if he didn't. Fear spread through him and throughout his ship.
But the light did not swoop down as he expected. It remained aft and now he saw her bow wave lessening and her wake waves lessening and his heart began to beat again. The patrol boat was letting him go. The Snake had been right!
Shakily he put down the gun. The loud-hailer was nearby. He brought it to his mouth.
"Victory to Chairman Mao!" he bellowed with all his might. "Stay out of our waters, you fornicating foreign devilllls!" The joy-filled words echoed across the waters. His crew jeered, shaking their fists at the light. Even Paul Choy was caught up in the excitement and shouted too as they all realised the patrol boat would not venture into Chinese waters.
The searchlight vanished. When their eyes had adjusted they saw the patrol boat broadside, making hardly any way, her riding lights on now.
"She'll have us on their radar," Paul Choy muttered in English.
"Wat?"
He repeated it in Haklo, using the English word, radar, but explaining it as a magic eye. Both Poon and Four Fingers knew about radar in principle though they had never seen one. "What does that matter?" Wu scoffed. "Their magic screens or magic eyes won't help them now. We can lose them easily in the channels near Lan Tao. There's no evidence against us, no contraband aboard, no nothing!"
"What about the guns?"
"We can lose them overboard, or we can lose those mad dogs and keep our guns! Eeeee, Goodweather Poon, when those shells straddled us I thought my anus was jammed shut forever!"
"Yes," Poon agreed happily, "and when we fired into the darkness at the fornicators... all gods fornicate! I've always wanted to use those guns!"
Wu laughed too until the tears were running down his face. "Yes, yes, Old Friend." Then he explained to Paul Choy the strategy that the Snake had worked out for them. "Good, heya?"
"Who's the Snake?" Paul Choy asked.
Wu hesitated, his small eyes glittering. "An employee, a police employee you might say, Profitable Choy."
"With the cargo gone the night's not profitable at all," Poon said sourly.
"Yes," Wu agreed, equally sourly. He had already promised Venus Poon a diamond ring that he had planned to pay for from tonight's transactions. Now he would have to dip into his savings, which was against all his principles. You pay for whores out of current earnings, never out of savings, so piss on that police boat! he thought. Without the diamond present... Eeeee, but her Beauteous Box is everything Richard Kwang claimed, and the wriggle of her rump everything rumour had promised. And tonight... tonight after the TV station closes, her Gorgeous Gate is due to open once more!
"Filthy joss, that sharp-nosed bandit finding us tonight," he said, his manhood stirring at the thought of Venus Poon. "All that money gone and our expenses heavy!"
'The cargo's lost?" Paul Choy asked, greatly surprised.
"Of course lost, gone to the bottom," the old man said irritably.
"You haven't got a marker on it, or a beeper?" Paul Choy used the English word. He explained it to them. "I presumed it would have one—or a float that would release itself in a day or two, chemically—so you could recover it or send frogmen to fetch it when it was safe to do so." The two men were gaping at him. "What's the matter?"
"It is easy to find these 'beepers' or to arrange a delayed float for a day or two?" Wu asked.
"Or a week or two weeks if you want, Father."
"Would you write all this down, how to do it? Or you could arrange it?"
"Of course. But why don't you also have a magic eye, like theirs?"
"What do we need with them—and who could work them?" The old man scoffed again. "We have noses and ears and eyes."
"But you got caught tonight."
"Watch your tongue!" Wu said angrily. "That was joss, joss, a joke of the gods. We're safe and that's all that matters!"
"I disagree, Captain," Paul Choy said, without fear now as everything fell into place. "It would be easy to equip this boat with a magic eye—then you can see them as soon or sooner than they can see you. They can't surprise you. So you can thumb your noses at them without fear and never lose a cargo. Heya?" He smiled inwardly, seeing them hooked. "Never a mistake, not even a Little one. And never danger. And never a lost cargo. And cargo with beepers. You don't even need to be anywhere near the drop. Only a week later, heya?"
"That would be perfect," Poon said fervently. "But if the gods are against you, Profitable Choy, even magic eyes won't help. It was close tonight. That whore wasn't supposed to be here."
They all looked at the ship, just lying aft. Waiting. A few hundred yards aft. Wu set the engine to slow ahead. "We don't want to go too deep into PRC waters," he said uneasily. "Those civilised fornicators are not so polite or so law-abiding." A shiver went through him. "We could use a magic eye, Goodweather Poon."
"Why don't you own one of those patrol boats?" Paul Choy said, baiting the hook again. "Or one a little faster. Then you could outrun them."
"One of those? Are you mad?"
"Who would sell us one?" Wu asked impatiently.
"Japanese."
"Fornicate all Eastern Sea Devils," Poon said.
"Perhaps, but they'd build you something like that, radar equipped. They—"
He stopped as the police patrol boat cut in her deep growling engines, and, with her siren whoopwhoopwhooping, hurtled off into the night, her wake churning.
"Look at her go," Paul Choy said admiringly in English. "Classy son of a bitch!"
He repeated it in Haklo. "I'll bet she's still got the Thai trawler in her magic eye. They can see everything, every junk, every ship and cove and promontory for miles—even a storm."
Thoughtfully Four Finger Wu gave a new course to the helmsman that kept them just in PRC waters heading north for the islands and reefs around Lan Tao Island where he would be safe to make for the next rendezvous. There they would transfer to another junk with real registrations—PRC and Hong Kong—to slide back into Aberdeen. Aberdeen! His fingers nervously touched the half-coin again. He had forgotten the coin in the excitement. Now his fingers trembled and his anxiety was rekindled as he thought about his meeting with the tai-pan tonight. There was plenty of time. He would not be late. Even so he increased speed.
"Come," he ordered, motioning Poon and Paul Choy to join him on the cushions aft where they would be more private.
"Perhaps we'd be wise to stay with our junks, and not get one of those whores, my son." Wu's finger stabbed the darkness where the patrol boat had been. "The foreign devils would become even madder if I had one of those in my fleet. But this magic eye of yours... you could instal it and show us how to use it?"
"I could get experts to do that. People from the Eastern Sea-it would be better to use them—not British or German."
Wu looked at his old friend. "Heya?"
"I don't want one of those turds or their magic eyes on my ship. Soon we'd rely on the fornicators and we'd lose our treasures along with our heads," the other man grumbled.
"But to see when others can't?" Wu puffed on his cigarette. "Is there another seller, Profitable Choy?"
"They would be the best. And cheapest, Father."
"Cheapest, heya? How much will this cost?"
"I don't know.20,000 U.S., perhaps 40—"
The old man exploded. "40,000 U.S.? Am I made of gold? I have to work for my money! Am I Emperor Wu?"
Paul Choy let the old man rave. He was feeling nothing for him anymore, not after all the night's horror and killing and entrapment and cruelty and blackmail, and most of all because of his father's words against his girl. He would respect his father for his seamanship, for his courage and his command. And as Head of the House. Nothing more. And from now on he would treat him like any other man.
When he felt the old man had raved enough, he said, "I can have the first magic eye installed and two men trained at no cost to you, if you want."
Wu and Poon stared at him. Wu was instantly on guard. "How at no cost?"
"I will pay for it for you."
Poon started to guffaw but Wu hissed, "Shut up, fool, and listen. Profitable Choy knows things you don't know!" His eyes were glittering even more. If a magic eye, why not a diamond too? And if a diamond, why not a mink coat and all the necessary plunder that that mealy-mouthed whore will require to sustain her enthusiastic cleft, hands and mouth.
"How will you pay for it, my son?"
"Out of profit."
"Profit on what?"
"I want control, for one month, of your money in the Victoria."
"Impossible!"
"We opened accounts for 22,423,000. Control for one month."
"To do what with?"
"The stock market."
"Ah, gamble? Gamble with my money? My hard-earned cash? Never."
"One month. We split the profit, Father."
"Oh, we split? It is my fornicating money but you want half. Half of what?"
"Perhaps another 20 million." Paul Choy let the sum hang. He saw the avarice on his father's face and knew that though the negotiation would be heated, they would make a deal. It was only a matter of time.
"Ayeeyah, that's impossible, out of the question!"
The old man felt an itch below and he scratched the itch. His manhood stirred. Instantly he thought of Venus Poon who had made him stand as he had not stood for years and of their coming bout tonight. "Perhaps I shall just pay for this magic eye," he said, testing the young man's resolve.
Paul Choy took his spirit completely into his own hands. "Yes, yes you can, but then I'm leaving Hong Kong."
Wu's tongue darted spitefully. "You will leave when I tell you to leave."
"But if I can't be profitable and put my expensive training to work, why should I stay? Did you pay all that money for me to be a pimp on one of your Pleasure Boats? A deckhand on a junk that can be raped at will by the nearest foreign devil cutter? No, better I leave! Better I become profitable to someone else so that I can begin to repay your investment in me. I will give Black Beard a month's notice and leave then."
"You will leave when I tell you to leave!" Wu added malevolently. "You have fished in dangerous waters."
"Yes." And so have you, Paul Choy wanted to add, unafraid. If you think you can blackmail me, that I'm on your hook, you're on mine and you've more to lose. Haven't you heard of Queen's evidence, turning Queen's evidence—or plea bargaining? But he kept this future ploy secret, to be used when necessary, and kept his face polite and bland. "All waters are dangerous if the gods decide they're dangerous," he said cryptically.
Wu took a long deep drag of his cigarette, feeling the smoke deep within him. He had noticed the change in this young man before him. He had seen many such changes in many men. In many sons and many daughters. The experience of his kmg years screamed caution. This whelp's dangerous, very dangerous, he thought. I think Goodweather Poon was right: it was a mistake to bring Profitable Choy aboard tonight. Now he knows too much about us.
Yes. But that's easy to rectify, when I need to, he reminded himself. Any day or any night.
10:03 PM
"Well, what the devil are you going to do, Paul?" the governor asked Havergill. Johnjohn was with them and they were on the terrace of Government House after dinner, leaning against the low balustrade. "Good God! If the Victoria runs out of money too, this whole Island's ruined, eh?"
Havergill looked around to make sure they were not being overheard, and dropped his voice. "We've been in touch with the Bank of England, sir. By midnight tomorrow night, London time, there'll be an RAF transport at Heathrow stuffed full of five- and ten-pound notes." His usual confidence returned. "As I said, the Victoria is perfectly sound, completely liquid and our assets here and in England substantial enough to cover any eventuality, well almost any eventuality."
"Meanwhile you may not have enough Hong Kong dollars to weather the run?"
"Not if the, er, the problem continues but I'm sure all will be well, sir."
Sir Geoffrey stared at him. "How the devil did we get into this mess?"
"Joss," Johnjohn said wearily. "Unfortunately the mint can't print enough Hong Kong dollar notes for us in time. It'd take weeks to print and to ship the amount we'd need, and it wouldn't be healthy to have all those extra notes in our economy. The British currency's stopgap, sir. We can just announce that the, er, that the mint is working overtime to supply our needs."
"How much do we actually need?" The governor saw Paul Havergill and Johnjohn look at each other and his disquiet increased.
"We don't know, sir," Johnjohn said. "Colony-wide, apart from ourselves, every other bank will also need to pledge its securities-just as we've pledged ours temporarily to the Bank of England—to obtain the cash they need. If every depositor on the Colony wants every dollar back..." The sweat was beading the banker's face now. "We've no way of knowing how extended the other banks are, or the amount of their deposits. No one knows."
"Is one RAF transport enough?" Sir Geoffrey tried not to sound sarcastic. "I mean, well, a billion pounds in fives and tens? How in the hell are they going to collect that number of notes?"
Havergill mopped his brow. "We don't know, sir, but they've promised a first shipment will arrive Monday night at the latest."
"Not till then?"
"No sir. It's impossible before then."
"There's nothing else we can do?"
Johnjohn swallowed. "We considered asking you to declare a bank holiday to stem the tide but, er, we concluded—and the Bank of England agreed—if you did that it might blow the top off the Island."
"No need to worry, sir." Havergill tried to sound convincing. "By the end of next week it will all be forgotten."
"I won't forget it, Paul. And I doubt if China will—or our friends the Labour MPs will. They may have a point about some form of bank controls."
Both bankers bridled and Paul Havergill said deprecatingly, "Those two berks don't know their rears from a hole in the wall! Everything's in control."
Sir Geoffrey would have argued that point but he had just seen Rosemont, the CIA deputy director, and Ed Langan, the FBI man, wander out onto the terrace. "Keep me advised. I want a full report at noon. Would you excuse me a moment? Please help yourself to another drink."
He went off to intercept Rosemont and Langan. "How're you two?"
"Great, thank you, sir. Great evening." Both Americans watched Havergill and Johnjohn going back inside. "How're our banker friends?" Rosemont asked. "Fine, perfectly fine."
"That MP, the Socialist guy, Grey, was sure as hell getting under Havergill's skin!"
"And the tai-pan's," Ed Langan added with a laugh.
"Oh I don't know," the governor said lightly. "A little opposition's a good thing, what? Isn't that democracy at its best?"
"How's the Vic, sir? How's the run?"
"No problems that can't be solved," Sir Geoffrey replied with his easy charm. "No need to worry. Would you give me a moment, Mr. Langan?"
"Certainly, sir." The American smiled. "I was just leaving."
"Not my party, I trust! Just to replenish your drink?"
"Yes sir."
Sir Geoffrey led the way into the garden, Rosemont beside him. The trees were still dripping and the night dark. He kept to a path that was puddled and muddy. "We've a slight problem, Stanley. Si's just caught one of your sailors from the carrier passing secrets to a KGB fellow. Bo—"
Rosemont stopped, aghast. "Off the Ivanov?"
"Yes."
"Was it Suslev? Captain Suslev?"
"No. No, it wasn't that name. May I suggest you get on to Roger at once.
Both men are in custody, both have been charged under the Official Secrets Act but I've cleared it with the minister in London and he agrees you should take charge of your fellow at once... a little less embarrassing, what? He's, er, he's a computer chap I believe."
"Son of a bitch!" Rosemont muttered, then wiped the sudden sweat off his face with his hand. "What did he pass over?"
"I don't know exactly. Roger will be able to fill you in on the details."
"Do we get to interrogate... to interview the KGB guy too?"
"Why not discuss that with Roger? The minister's in direct touch with him, too." Sir Geoffrey hesitated. "I, er, I'm sure you'll appreciate..."
"Yes, of course, sorry, sir. I'd... I'd better get going at once." Rosemont's face was chalky and he went off quickly, collecting Ed Langan with him.
Sir Geoffrey sighed. Bloody spies, bloody banks, bloody moles and bloody Socialist idiots who know nothing about Hong Kong. He glanced at his watch. Time to close the party down.
Johnjohn was walking into the anteroom. Dunross was near the bar. "Ian?"
"Oh hello? One for the road?" Dunross said.
"No, thanks. Can I have a word in private?"
"Of course. It'll have to be quick, I was just leaving. I said I'd drop our friendly MPs at the ferry."
"You're on a pink ticket too?"
Dunross smiled faintly. "Actually, old boy, I have one whenever I want it, whether Penn's here or not."
"Yes. You're lucky, you always did have your life well organised,"
Johnjohn said gloomily.
"Joss."
"I know." Johnjohn led the way out of the room onto the balcony. "Rotten about John Chen, what?"
"Yes. Phillip's taking it very badly. Where's Havergill?"
"He left a few minutes ago."
"Ah, that's why you mentioned 'pink ticket'! He's on the town?"
"I don't know."
"How about Lily Su of Kowloon?"
Johnjohn stared at him.
"I hear Paul's quite enamoured."
"How do you do it, know so much?"
Dunross shrugged. He was feeling tired and uneasy and had been hard put not to lose his temper several times tonight when Grey was in the centre of another heated argument with some of the tai-pans.
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