He reached Chief Toynbee at the end of the line, took his elbow and led him aside. "What's the word, Chief?" he said, sotto voce.
"Hey, sir." Toynbee's tired face brightened. "Good t'see you. Good t'see a goddamn friendly face."
"I hear you. You and the men okay?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Some of us were roughed up a bit when they took us in."
"Tell me what happened."
In a low-voiced murmur, Toynbee began going through the previous evening's events, ending with the gun battle in the hostess club. "Actually, I figure they was trying to hustle the Russkies. Somehow we got mixed up in it. If it wasn't for Queenie, there… I mean, he made those damned gorillas back down. If the cops hadn't shown up when they did—"
"Okay, okay. You have your personal stuff? Wallets, ID?"
"Nossir. They took all that shit when they brought us in here. Even took our belts and shoelaces."
"Back in line." Garrett turned on Xian. "Lieutenant, my people are going to be here in just a few minutes, and when they arrive, they are going to want to take custody of these men. I want these men's personal effects here. Now. Wallets. Papers. Everything signed, sealed, and delivered."
"Sir, I'm afraid that would be…difficult to arrange. You see—"
"Lieutenant Xian. Have you heard the expression 'the ugly American'? You have? Good. Because you have no idea just how ugly I can get when I am provoked. You are going to have a whole roomful of very ugly Americans in just another few minutes.
"Now… you are going to decide how we play this. We can assume that, um, criminal elements tried to hustle my men last night. They fought back, completely in self-defense. We are sorry for any breakages and will pay for the damages. My men go back to the Seawolf with me now. I assure you, on my word as a U.S. naval officer, that they will be punished for their part in the fracas last night.
"Or we can assume that what happened last night was a rather heavy-handed Military Intelligence operation, one that went very bad. As such, it becomes an act of war, and I and my people will respond appropriately. I will take these people out of here. Afterward, I will order that this station be targeted by a cruise missile. You've heard of them? Very accurate." He slammed his palm down on the lieutenant's desk, making him jump. "One could land precisely on this spot if I gave the order. Do we understand one another, sir?"
The lieutenant nodded slowly, the color draining from his face.
"Good. Frankly, if I were you, I would be looking for a way to defuse this situation before you find yourself in a hole you can't get out of. Your superiors are not going to be happy about being caught up in any
MMI plots, are they? Or in being forced publicly to acknowledge the triad presence in Kowloon. You have more important things to do, I'm sure, than babysit drunken American sailors or be the tool of PLA Military Intelligence."
Xian and Garrett locked eyes for a long moment, neither man blinking, neither looking away. This was the payoff, Garrett thought. He'd given Xian a way to back down without losing face. Whether there were gangsters behind this mess or PLA spooks, he couldn't possibly want to have anything to do with the situation. If Xian would just let him show the way out…
Suddenly, Xian barked an order. Moments later several policemen arrived with boxes, the men's personal effects. "Queensly, Kenneth," one of the officers said, reading from a card.
"Get your things when they call you," Garrett ordered, "then get back in line. No talking."
"Uh… permission to speak, sir?" Toynbee said.
"What is it, Chief?"
"Well, sir… they got those Russians locked up back there still. Doesn't seem right, us getting off and them being in jail, y'know?"
Garrett sighed and looked away. "That's stretching it, Chief," he said quietly. "I don't know if I can get you guys out, much less the Russian Navy!"
"They're good people, sir."
"Drinking buddies? You just met them last night!"
"Well, yessir. What's your point? Like I say, they're good people, and we shouldn't leave 'em behind. Those cells back there are god-awful, sir."
Garrett took a deep breath, again catching the stink of the front room. The cell areas in the back must reek he thought. If the cleanliness of the front reception area was any indication as to how well the police force was supported by the new government…
"Back in line, Chief. I'll see what I can do."
He walked over to Xian's desk. The lieutenant looked up. "I am calling my captain," he said. "This is all very irregular."
"You go ahead and call. But when my people get here, we're going out through that door."
"You Americans are very sure of yourselves."
"No. Not at all. We just don't like being pushed around by people who think they can take advantage of us." He nodded toward the doorway leading to the cell blocks. "What about the Russians you brought in with my men?"
"What about them?"
"We have established that my men may have been guilty of damaging some private property. There were several Russian naval personnel involved as well. Why should my men walk free and the Russians stay in jail?"
"Your men may not walk free, sir! And the charges are very serious! Discharging firearms within city limits…drunk and disorderly conduct… "
"The firearms were used to threaten my people first, Lieutenant. You know it and I know it. They acted in self-defense — and with considerable restraint, I might add, if they didn't outright shoot anyone. Drunk and disorderly, well, that's Navy men on liberty. Isn't the first time it's happened, now, is it? I told you, I'll pay for the damages, and if you want to put the whole city of Hong Kong and Kowloon off limits to Americans and to American money in the future, well, that's your business.
"But right now you have to decide whether you're going to be the trip wire for an international incident… or have the common sense and decency to let these people go. All of them!"
They fenced back and forth for several minutes more, but Garrett could see Xian's resolve weakening. The lieutenant did not make the threatened phone call, and after a while he gave the order to have the Russian prisoners and their effects brought to the front as well.
Garrett continued to parade back and forth in front of the Seawolves, tearing into them for everything from their disrespect of authority to their slovenly personal habits. They would, he assured them, be chipping paint for the rest of the cruise, if they didn't all wind up in Portsmouth Naval Prison for insulting their hosts in a foreign port.
It was an act, of course, and the men knew it. They played along, however, wearing expressions that ran from bland self-control to something just short of terror.
It was nearly 1300 hours when the front door to the police station opened and Master Chief Dougherty himself entered. He was wearing a Sam Browne belt with a holstered 9mm Beretta and was carrying a thick manila envelope tied shut with string.
"The skipper's outside, sir," Dougherty told him, handing him the package. "He didn't want to come in and screw up anything you had going in here. Do you need him to take over? Or the shore party?"
"Have them stand by, COB. We should be out of here in a few minutes. Transport?"
"Covered, sir."
"Great. Tell 'em we'll be out in a few minutes."
"Aye aye, sir."
He handed the envelope to Xian, who took it, unwrapped the string, and began paging through the sheaf of bills inside.
"Will that cover the damages, sir?" Garrett asked.
"Yes. Yes, this should do nicely." He looked at Garrett. "You know, I should wait until my captain gets here. I do not have the authority to release these men."