Hong See shuffled away silently on his padded, thick-soled shoes. Willow and I followed. We were taken to an ill-smelling dressing room. I was seated before a makeup table in front of a large mirror bordered by frosted light bulbs.
The ancient kabuki performer had me strip to the waist then began working on me.
The transformation was miraculous. I saw myself changed from an unmistakable Caucasian to a bona fide Oriental under the deft skill of the venerable Chinese. The application of a latex coating over my eyelids to conceal the folds of skin converted my appearance considerably. It gave my eyes the smooth, almond shape which is a telltale Asian facial characteristic. The addition of other subtle, yet fundamental changes, altered my angular western physiognomy to the broad, moonfaced features of an Asian. A penetrating ochre-shade stain was applied to all portions of my skin that may become exposed to scrutiny, including my feet and legs up to my hips. Eyebrows and hair were darkened, but only after a straightedge razor had revealed much more of my skull and left my ears apparently much lower on my head.
Willow stood to one side, nodding approval and voicing compliments to the deft Hong See. She was demonstratively pleased.
I had one worry: how long would it hold up. Willow translated to the old man who was adding the finishing touches. He seemed to be giving sincere assurances, but twice he punctuated them with high-pitched; cackling laughs. Their rapid conversation concluded with the old man eyeing me enviously. “What’s all the gabbing about?” I asked.
“Well,” said Willow lightly, “you’re not going to shed your new identity easily. The longer it stays on, the more difficult it will be to remove. I’m no stranger to stage makeup, you know, so I can make any minor repairs if necessary.”
“That’s not what you were laughing about,” I said.
“No. We discussed how much physical activity your camouflage could withstand. Hong See advises against prolonged immersion in sea water, but otherwise it should endure. When I mentioned what a handsome Vietnamese he’d made of you, Hong See revealed himself to be a dirty old man. He suggested we give his handiwork a critical test. It would bring to life one of my fantasies.”
The glint in Willow’s eyes was an unconcealed challenge. It was clear what she had in mind, and it took no more than that look to bring me in tune with her desires. She sensed my like-mindedness. Her words came faster. “Bu Chen is going to be busy for some time. Hong See says we can remain here, but must stay out of sight. He suggests the prop room will be safe.”
I turned back to look for Hong See’s reflection in the dressing table mirror. It was gone. “He’s digging out some appropriate clothing to fit the roles we’ll be playing. He’ll tell us when Bu Chen has returned.”
Willow took me by the hand and led me through a passageway and down some stairs to a storeroom under the stage. It was well-organized considering it was a catchall for hundreds of items used in conjunction with a variety of kabuki dramas. Few scenery flats were in evidence because kabuki concentrates on costumes, dancing, and music more than the trappings of a stage set.
A wide, low couch was pushed against one wall. A full-length mirror was fastened to the back of the door which Willow closed behind us. I used it to stare at my new self while Willow disappeared behind an ornate, handcarved wooden screen. I literally didn’t recognize a single thing about myself. I was still staring when another figure moved into view beside me in the mirror.
Willow wore a single sheer garment. It half-contained the jutting thrust of satiny tan breasts above while it flirted at mid-thigh with hinted-at shadowy depths beneath. I felt an increased stirring in my groin.
“We make a very attractive Vietnamese couple,” Willow said. “No one would think otherwise.” Her hands were busy with my clothing. Standing in shorts only, I looked a little absurd with yellowish-brown stained legs below a lighter-skinned torso. She wasn’t looking at either. The growing warmth between my legs responded to the eager heat in her eyes.
She led me to the couch. She was self-assured, bold, and skillful. With a paradise of sleek, passionate female in my arms, I lost all concern for the job at hand. Willow made the experience mind-bending. It was that way for her, too. We shared an explosion of frantic, muscle-gripping spasms which almost bounced us off the couch.
I rolled aside spent and momentarily exhausted. She rolled too, pressing her warm, yielding flesh against me. I got up finally and went to the mirror. The makeup was unsmeared and firmly in place. I was satisfied in more ways than one. When I turned back, Willow was smiling at me from the couch. “If you feel that experiment was inconclusive in its results, there’s another technique we might employ.”
She had to be kidding. I thought she was until she coaxed me back to sit on the edge of the couch. Willow was teasingly persistent, amazingly energetic, and deliciously abandoned. She left me limp, light-headed, and drained.
Willow awakened me by shaking my shoulder. She handed me a handleless mug of strong, steaming-hot tea. It helped a lot. The clothes she brought for me were dark, pajama-type peasant garb. They were identical to those she was wearing. The choke-collar quilted jacket I put on was loose-fitting around the waist, but short in the sleeves. The trousers had ample room around the middle, but were also a little short.
While I dressed, Willow described how Bu Chen had accomplished everything asked of him in remarkably short order.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“One fifteen local time. You’ve had almost five hours of sleep.”
“And everything’s set?”
“With the Thai police breathing down Bu Chen’s neck, and you giving him a free ride out plus a bonus to boot, what do you think? God only knows what it cost. I think Bu Chen’s laid some IOUs on the American Embassy, but you’re shopping list is satisfied. I can tell from the wide grin on his face he is. He’s sitting upstairs drinking tea with Hong See. The old guy’s reveling in the first excitement to come his way in twenty years. You’d think he was going along with us.”
“What do you mean, us?” I said. “I admit I would have been stymied without you so far, but now that Bu Chen is locked in he can take your place.”
“No way, Nick,” Willow snapped back. “This is my assignment, too, don’t forget. I got my orders directly from Hawk. If he’d wanted me to back off he would have keyed his message that way. He knows you need me.”
“I’ve got Bu Chen now.”
“And how much can you trust him? Sure, he’s set up the getaway scam, mainly because he’s saving his own neck. Once you clear the Thai border, he could disappear leaving you needle-naked despite your disguise.”
I knew she was right on all counts. There were other aspects about our tight relationship she could have mentioned, which I hoped she wouldn’t. It would be hard to argue against them.
She didn’t give me any peace. “Come on, Nick. You can’t desert me. How in hell am I going to get out of here by myself. By noon I’ll be on the Thai National Police’s most wanted list along with Bu Chen. The only way I can save my ass is to stick with you. In case Bu Chen can’t cut it later and bolts, I’m your insurance in a Vietnamese-speaking environment.”
I gave in to her and felt better immediately. I was glad that I did. She had more cogent qualities besides her sexual expertise that made her a most valuable companion. Lots of girls make it in the sack; Willow’s usefulness to me was measured on a far different scale.
Bu Chen and Hong See were engaged in animated conversation. A dozen rice bowls were on the table in front of them. Each one was heaped with gold coins. Most were British Victorian pounds, long the basic medium of exchange among men without trust or honor. “He’s telling Hong See who gets paid what,” Willow explained.