Chilung was Tapei’s port, so the Golden Buddha would be shipped out from there.
Bathed and shaved, Shayne selected a gray suit that had just come from the cleaners and a light blue shirt with a dark blue tie. He also remembered to shine his shoes. Addicted to slacks and sports coats, Shayne had only recently begun to style up his wardrobe, gently prodded by Lucy Hamilton. It would be a long time, however, before the rugged redhead would vie for the distinction of the Best Dressed Man in Miami Beach.
When he called for her, Lucy was ready and waiting. She’d donned a smartly tailored pants suit that exhibited her fine figure to the best advantage, and wore a white silk scarf knotted loosely about her throat.
It never ceased to amaze Shayne how much Lucy changed when one of their nights on the town rolled around.
“You’re a walking dream,” Shayne complimented Lucy. “What did you do with your hair?”
“Washed it, silly.” Lucy’s quick smile sparkled. “Shall we go?”
III
Pressed duck, Cantonese style, with various candied vegetables and brown rice, accompanied by cups of warm rice wine as well as tea, left both Shayne and Lucy in a mellow mood when they’d finished their dinner in the small private dining room shut off from the rest of the restaurant with delicately painted screens.
Demure young Chinese girls had served their meal. It had been a leisurely dinner and Shayne had become accustomed to sitting on a mat to eat from the low table. He stretched and sighed.
“Now this is living,” he told Lucy. “Maybe we should move our office to Taiwan.”
Lucy laughed.
“What’s funny?” Shayne asked.
“I was picturing you in a kimona.”
“Don’t the Japanese men wear those at home?” Shayne asked. “I don’t know what Chinese men wear.”
Lucy shrugged her slender shoulders. “You could be right.”
“What should we do with the rest of the evening?” Shayne said.
“I just happen to have wine chilling, my stereo stacked with the kind of music we like and a cold late supper ready to serve,” Lucy told him. “But if you have something more exciting in mind...”
“Bite your tongue,” Shayne said. “You’re pure and unadulterated excitement with your womanly wiles and ways. Let’s get out of here.”
Lucy sighed. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Shayne grinned. “Like hell you didn’t.”
The next morning Shayne took a taxi to the airport to catch his early flight. “So you’re Mr. Shayne?” the pretty young woman at the check-in counter said.
“It’s early to tell,” Shayne said, “but I think I am.”
The woman smiled and reached to the cubby holes behind the desk. “Message for you, Mr. Shayne.”
Tully Franco now charged with murder one in California, Shayne read. Never mind contacting Francis. Have a good trip and bring me back a Geisha girl.
The message was from Will Gentry.
“Do they have Geisha girls on Taiwan?” the uniformed woman behind the counter asked.
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Shayne told her with a grin.
She made a note on his boarding pass. “This gets you aboard armed,” the woman told him. “Just don’t hijack us please.”
Shayne’s flight was abroad a 747 with its two layers of passengers, non-stop to San Francisco. The extra roominess in the first class section was a relief for Shayne after his last tourist flight. Folding his big frame into tourist section seats had been a harrowing experience! When he arrived at Miami International he complained to Lucy about having high-altitude bends. He silently blessed his secretary for booking him through to Taiwan as a first class passenger.
Shayne had only three hours between planes when he reached San Francisco International, so he was relieved Will Gentry had changed his mind about questioning Tully Franco in the SFPD’s custody. He ate a hearty meal in one of the terminal restaurants to fortify himself for the long hop to Honolulu and on to Tapei.
Shayne had his boarding pass and was waiting for his flight number to be called when the PA system announced, “Mr. Michael Shayne, please report to the Orient West counter.”
“What next?” Shayne grumbled to himself. He hoped Chief of Police Will Gentry hadn’t changed his mind.
When Shayne had identified himself the man clerk said, “Mr. Shayne we have a rather extraordinary request.” He pointed toward a slender Chinese girl sitting on a bench near the counter. Dark glasses with their wide oval lenses couldn’t disguise the fact she was a beautiful young woman. “She is on your flight as another first class passenger.”
“Do you have her name?”
The clerk glanced at a slip of paper. “Dr. Mary Su Lin of the University of San Francisco,” he said. “She wants you to look after her on the flight. Her destination is the same as yours.”
Shayne looked around at the Chinese girl. She sat as she had before, looking into space, hands folded in her lap.
“I don’t quite understand this.” Shayne frowned. “She seems perfectly capable of taking care of herself. If she isn’t, flight attendants will be aboard. I have no idea how she got my name or knew I would be taking this flight.”
“The girl is blind, Mr. Shayne.”
“Oh. Well, in that case...”
The clerk was relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Shayne. Have a most pleasant flight.”
Shayne approached the seated Chinese girl. “Hello, Dr. Su Lin. I’m Michael Shayne.”
She turned her face in his direction and held out a slender hand. “Good of you to help me,” she said in a soft voice.
Shayne gently shook her hand. “They are about to call our flight and open the gates.”
When Mary Su Lin arose from her bench, Shayne discovered the top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulder. She took the arm he offered.
“This is good of you, Mr. Shayne,” she said. “I suppose I could have managed alone, but since we have a common interest I decided you might not mind being burdened with a sightless person.”
As they walked, Shayne, matching his usually long strides to Mary’s short steps, said, “What is it we have in common?”
“The Golden Buddha.”
The long hours ahead crossing the Pacific would be time enough to find out her interest in the Golden Buddha of Hsinkao Shan, Shayne decided, and concentrated on leading Mary through the crowded air terminal to their boarding gate.
Aboard the plane Shayne helped Mary fasten her seatbelt. As the 747 moved out and down the blacktop alley for the head of the runway the pilot would use for take-off, Mary Su Lin seemed to shrink in her seat and Shayne noticed that her hands were trembling.
“Are you afraid to fly?” he asked.
“Always.” She managed a stiff smile, but her olive-skinned face was pale.
Shayne put an arm around the slender Chinese girl’s shoulders. “Satchel Paige had something to say about flying,” he told her, then decided against quoting Satchel to the frightened girl until they were safely airborne.
“Sat-chel? What an extraordinary, name. Who was he?” she asked.
“You’d have to be a baseball can to remember Satch,” Shayne told her. “He was a pitcher in the black leagues who finally made the majors at the end of his career.”
The pilots had been cleared for take-off. As the huge plane gathered speed the jet-engine whine rose to a banshee scream.
“What did he say?” Mary asked.
“Tell you when we’re in the air,” Shayne said.
The plane’s nose tilted and the 747 went into a 45 degree climb, the maze of criss-crossed runways-quickly dwindling until San Francisco International looked like some sort of board for a child’s game.