“They seem like a couple of decent guys” John commented.
“The problem is John, that they really do expect that we are going to solve all their problems and in only a couple of weeks. Oh well, we can but try,” Big J grinned. “You happy about staying on board tonight?”
“Of course, I’ll have a couple of beers with my dinner and watch the local TV on my own,” replied John philosophically, taking his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the mock tears.
“Tears eh? Oh well, how about if I send a couple of young ladies to help you with the dishes or something?” Big J suggested patronisingly.
“Only two?” John laughed. “If only,” he muttered, thinking of his beloved Nancy and visualising her naked in the shower on that last evening before they sailed. He’d felt the baby wriggle in her swelling tummy. Their baby; the miracle of life created by two people deeply in love. He shook himself back to attention. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you go worrying yourself about me. Anyway I don’t suppose Chef will be going ashore either will he! So I won’t starve!”
Without further ado, they turned and went down to the deck. They had a long and difficult training programme to get underway — and precious little time to do it in.
Smothered in blood as they both were, going straight back to Alex’s hotel would have attracted too much attention, so they jogged the four blocks to Ling’s own apartment. Unsurprisingly they received a number of startled looks as they hurried through the occasionally busy back streets.
Ling let Alex in and closed the apartment door behind them. His wife, wearing a silk dressing gown and dainty slippers, was ashen faced when she saw them. She didn’t scream — just stood aghast with one of her hands knuckled at her mouth. Ling moved up to her and held her in his arms.
“It’s Amy, they’ve killed Amy.” The lady wrapped her arms even more firmly around her husband, ignoring the mess on his clothes, giving and sharing comfort together. After a few moments they separated.
“I’m sorry Alex this is my wife Mui.”
She gave a polite nod of the head.
“I think you need the bathroom?” she pointed to the door across the tiny lobby.
Alex thanked her and slipped inside the modest room. The face staring at him from the tarnished mirror was smeared in dried blood; his hair awry, his jacket liberally daubed with the same reddish-brown mess.
“My God — any wonder we attracted a stare or two,” he said to his grisly image. He washed thoroughly, repeatedly sluicing handfuls of water over his face, trying to wash the memory of that slaughterhouse scene from his mind. The face and hands were relatively easily cleaned, but the jacket would need special attention. He returned to the living room carrying the jacket. Ling had washed in the kitchen and was changing into clean clothes in the bedroom. Mui waited politely for Alex to finish “cleaning up”.
“If you leave your jacket with me I will see that it is properly cleaned,” she said with quiet authority.
“Thank you very much,” Alex said, handing it over.
Mui picked up another coat that had been laid carefully over a chair. “Try this, I think it’s about your size.” She handed over the lightweight jacket. He pulled it on. “That looks fine. How does it feel?” she asked politely.
“Made to measure,” Alex said gratefully. “Has Ling explained yet?” Alex asked cautiously.
“I know that David and Amy were attacked and that Amy’s dead. He won’t tell me much more. You see Mr Scott; I know something of what he does. We had to move twice because of the fear of retribution.” She paused, then with look of determination. “And I hate what he does — but love the man that does it. Difficult isn’t it?”
Alex sat in the easy chair.
“I’m married as well, so I do understand. The people we are fighting are unforgiving and ruthless. I fear you are going to have to move again — and soon. By soon I mean tonight. Ling may have wanted to tell you himself but he’s been badly shocked by the incident with David’s wife. Did he tell you that David was almost strangled to death? Hopefully he’s in hospital by now getting some proper attention.”
At that point Ling emerged from the bedroom freshly attired in clean clothes.
“I’m sorry but I’ve allowed myself to become a bit fuddled.” He took her hand. “Alex is quite right — we must get out tonight. We’ll have to organise our things later. Sorry darling, but I’m afraid the job’s caught up with us again.”
She pulled him to her and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“I’ve become an expert an instant removals. Just give me fifteen minutes!”
She vanished into the bedroom.
“Sorry if I stole your thunder there,” Alex apologised to Ling. “But you cannot possibly risk staying here tonight. What about my hotel, at least for tonight?” He looked at his watch. It was four o’clock. “My God, look at the time there isn’t much of this night left.”
The three of them slipped quietly into Alex’s hotel. The night porter was nowhere to be seen.
“Almost certainly asleep somewhere out of sight,” Alex suggested in a whisper as he helped himself to his room key and led them unobserved up to the bedroom.
Mui had been strong and understanding so far but the pressure was beginning to tell.
“What happens now?” she asked nervously.
Alex checked the time it was four-thirty.
“I suggest that you two try to relax a little and grab some sleep; you’ll be quite safe here for at least twenty-four hours, by which time I will have been able to sort things out. I’m going out now as there is something else I have to deal with. I won’t be back until around noon, so do not answer the telephone or door until I return, it that clearly understood?”
They looked at each other and then meekly towards Alex.
“Yes we understand — but shouldn’t I call into work to say I’m ill or something?” Mui asked.
“I’m sorry Mui but there can be no contact with the outside world, at least for the moment. I think you must know by now that these people mean business, so please try to rest for a while.” He took Ling by the elbow as he walked to the door. “Try to keep her calm. I’m going to call Haki in Tokyo. You may have to send her there for real safety!”
Ling looked back at his wife forlornly sitting on the bed and looking lost. “Whatever it takes to keep her out of it,” he said and looked back at Alex. “Don’t worry — we’ll wait as you suggest.”
Slipping unseen out of the hotel and onto the quiet pavement, Alex strolled towards the waterfront at a leisurely pace; he urgently needed time to think.
First Mui had to be found a safe home. Sending her to Tokyo could the best option but getting her out of Hong Kong was going to be quite difficult. Then they still had to find a way of destroying the arms. Ling’s idea of sinking them at sea made good sense because it ensured that they were completely lost forever but that meant setting charges, directly to the vessel. Either way the charge would have to be detonated by some kind of radio controlled device; a timer would not be sufficiently flexible.
He strolled along the docks thinking through the possible strategy. The old Chinese could get us into the warehouse; we could set charges in some of the crates and hope that they’re loaded so that maximum effect from the explosions would sink the ship, he thought to himself as he sat on a bollard staring absently across the harbour. “It sounds simple when you say it quickly but?” he said aloud, conscious of the sound of his own voice in the otherwise silent night. His attention was drawn to a seagull, apparently asleep on a pile of discarded canvas. That’s what I should be doing, not talking to myself like an escaped psycho! He thought. Then another noise suddenly caught his attention. He looked around to see a drunken sailor stagger along the quay towards an ocean-going tug, moored about three hundred metres away. Out of curiosity, he stood up and strolled towards the tug and as he got closer he saw the sailor collapse in a heap at the foot of the gangplank. Two figures emerged from the ship and trotted down the companionway; they bent to pick up the semi-conscious man.