Bond was surprised that Chang had come to the point so quickly. It was not unusual to spend an hour or more in pleasantries before getting down to business. The fast response put him on his guard.
‘It is probably impossible,’ he said slowly, ‘but you have done such favours for me in the past.’
‘So?’
‘I am in need of two revolvers and ammunition.’
‘Ayeea! You wish to see me imprisoned? Taken away in chains and kept for the bureaucrats of Beijing who will come in 1997 anyway, never mind?’
Already in Hong Kong they were using the Chinese name for Peking – Beijing – as the year approached for power to be ceded back to China. It was ironic that the street hawkers were now selling green caps emblazoned with the red star among their usual tourist junk.
Bond lowered his voice, still playing the game expected of him. ‘Respectfully, this has never bothered you in the past. Big Thumb Chang’s name is well known in my profession. It is held in great reverence, for it is a password to obtaining certain items forbidden in the Territory.’
‘Certainly it is forbidden to import arms, and in recent years the penalties for such things have been great.’
‘But you can still put your hands on them?’
‘Ayeea! With the greatest difficulty. One revolver and a few miserable rounds of ammunition I might be able to find, and that at great cost. But two! Ah, that would be miraculous, and the cost truly exorbitant.’
‘Let’s pretend you could lay your hands on two good revolvers – say a pair of very old Enfield .38s – with ammunition, of course . . .’
‘This is impossible.’
‘Yes, but if you could get them . . .’ He paused, watching the Chinese shake his head in apparent incredulity at Bond’s request. ‘If you could get them, how much would they cost?’
‘A veritable fortune. An emperor’s ransom.’
‘How much?’ Bond pressed. ‘How much in cash?’
‘One thousand Hongkong for each weapon, the size not counting. Another two thousand Hongkong for fifty ammunition, making four thousand Hongkong dolla.’
‘Two thousand, for the lot,’ said Bond, smiling.
‘Ayeea! You wish my wives and children to go naked in the streets? You wish my rice bowl empty for all time?’
‘Two thousand,’ Bond repeated. ‘Two thousand and the weapons returned to you before I leave, with an extra thousand Hongkong on top.’
‘How long you here, never mind?’
‘A few days only. Two, three at the most.’
‘You will see me beggared. I shall have to send my best daughters on to the streets as common whores.’
‘Two of them were already making good money on the streets the last time I was here.’
‘Two thousand dolla, with two thousand when guns are returned.’
‘Two thousand, and one more on return,’ Bond said firmly. There was good reason for his asking for revolvers. He would not trust an automatic pistol begged, borrowed, hired or stolen in Hong Kong. He knew that even Big Thumb Chang could supply only basic weapons.
‘Two, with two thousand when you return.’
‘Two and one. That’s my last and only offer.’
Big Thumb Chang threw up his hands. ‘You will see me begging in Wan Chai, like No Nose Wu or Footless Lee.’ He paused, eyes pleading for a higher bid. None was forthcoming. ‘Two thousand, then. And one when you return the weapons, but you will have to leave five hundred Hongkong as deposit in case you do not come back.’
‘I’ve always come back.’
‘There is the first time. Man always comes back until the first time. What else will you steal from me, Mr Bond? You wish to sleep with my most beautiful daughter?’
‘Take heed,’ said Bond, giving him a withering look. ‘I have a lady with me.’
Chang realised that he had gone too far. ‘A thousand pardons. When you wish to collect the items?’
‘How about now? You used to keep an arsenal under the floor in your back room.’
‘And many dolla it cost me to keep away the police.’
‘I don’t think so, Chang. You forget that I know exactly how you work.’
Big Thumb Chang gave a sigh. ‘One moment. Excuse please.’ He rose and waddled through the bead curtain that separated the rooms.
Ebbie started to speak, but Bond shook his head, mouthing, ‘Later.’ Now that anyone from the Cream Cake team was suspect, it was dangerous enough to have her there at all.
They heard Chang rooting about in the adjoining room. Then, quite unexpectedly, the bead curtain parted and instead of Chang a European appeared, dressed in slacks and a white shirt; a tall slim man in his late fifties with iron grey hair and eyes to match. His eyes twinkled brightly as Ebbie breathed,
‘Swift!’
‘Good day to you both.’ He spoke in a flat, unaccented English. Bond moved quickly, placing himself between Ebbie and the newcomer. Swift held up a forestalling hand.
‘Our mutual Chief told me I would probably make contact with you here,’ he said softly. ‘If that happened, I was to say, “Nine people were killed in Cambridge and an oil fire started at Canvey Island.” Does that mean anything to you?’ He paused, the grey eyes holding Bond’s.
Unless they had M tied up in some safe house and pumped to the eyebrows with sodium pentathol, this was indeed Swift – a noted member of Service – and he had received orders directly from M. Bond always carried in his head an identification code from his Chief, agreed in ultimate security. Anyone repeating it to him must be genuine. The current code, unchanged for six months, had been given to Bond in M’s office without a word passing between them.
‘Then I am to reply that the sentence comes from Volume VI of Gilbert’s excellent biography of Winston Churchill.’ Bond held out his hand. ‘Page 573. Okay?’
Swift nodded. He had a firm grip. ‘We must speak alone.’ He clicked his fingers and Chang’s second daughter by his third wife appeared behind him.
‘Ebbie,’ said Bond with a warm smile. ‘Ebbie, I wonder if you would go with this girl, just for a few minutes, while we have some man’s talk.’
‘Why should I?’ she asked indignantly.
‘Why should you not, Ebbie?’ Swift’s eyes held a firm command. She resisted for a few seconds and then meekly followed the girl. Swift glanced back through the curtain. ‘Good, they have all gone out. We have ten minutes or so. I am here as M’s personal messenger boy.’
‘Demoted?’ Bond asked lightly.
‘No, only because I know all the participants. First, M apologises for having put you in such an intolerable position.’
‘That’s good of him. I am getting a little tired of playing the odd man out. I didn’t even know about Smolin.’
‘Yes, so he told me. M has asked me to find out how much you do know, and how much you have put together.’
‘To begin with, I trust nobody, not even you, Swift. But I’ll talk because it’s unlikely you could get that code from anyone but M. What I now know, or at least suspect, is that there was something terribly wrong about Cream Cake; so wrong that two agents were murdered and London realised it had to be taken care of. Presumably one or more of the survivors have been turned.’
‘Almost correct,’ said Swift. ‘At least one has always been a double. That became all too apparent after Smolin was left in place; and, yes, we have no idea which one. But there’s a good deal more to it than that.’
‘Go on.’
‘M is being leaned on so heavily that certain people in the Foreign Office are calling for his resignation. A lot of things have gone wrong for him and when the Cream Cake business resurfaced he saw yet another disaster heading his way. He put a plan up to the Foreign Service mandarins and they turned it down flat as too dangerous and non-productive. So he had to go it alone. He chose you because you are his most experienced operator. He underbriefed you, even withheld a large wedge of intelligence from you, because he believed you would eventually put two and two together.’