“I’ll be leaving,” Nick said.
“Please,” Ossa whined. “I have an offer I wish to be making you.”
“What kind of offer?” Nick made no move toward the chair. Instead he took one side step so his back was against the wall.
Ossa gave up on getting Nick back to the chair. “You helped Professor Loo to work on the compound, no?”
Nick suddenly became interested in the conversation. “What is your offer?” he asked.
Ossa squinted his eyes again. “You are having no family?”
“None.” Nick knew that from the file at headquarters.
“Money, then?” Ossa asked.
“For what?” Killmaster wanted him to say it.
“For to work with Professor Loo once again.”
“In other words, to join him.”
“Exactly.”
“In further words, to sell out, defect.”
Ossa smiled. He wasn’t sweating quite as much. “To be bluntly, yes.”
Nick crossed to the table, placing both his palms on it. “You’re not getting the message, are you? I’m here to persuade John to come home, not join him.” Standing at the table with his back to the curtain was a mistake. Nick realized it as soon as he heard the beads rustle.
The wiry man came up behind him. Nick whirled and jabbed the fingers of his right hand into the man’s throat. The man dropped the dagger and staggered back against the wall clutching his throat. He gagged several times while sliding down the wall to the floor.
“Get out!” Ossa screamed. His chubby face was red with rage.
“That’s us Americans,” Nick said softy. “Just full of caution and violence.”
Ossa narrowed his eyes, his pudgy hands balled into fists. In Cantonese he said, “I will show you violence. I will show you violence such as you have never known.”
Nick felt he had worn out his welcome. He turned and left the table, ripping down two strings of beads as he passed through the curtain. In the bar the girl was splashed with red, just finishing her song. Nick crossed to the steps, took them two at a time, half-expecting to hear a gunshot or a knife being thrown at him. He reached the top step as the girl ended her song. The audience applauded as he went through the door.
Icy wind slapped his face when he got outside. There was a mist in the wind now, the sidewalks and streets glistened with wetness. Nick waited by the door, letting the tension ease slowly out of him. The sign above him flashed brightly. The wet wind felt refreshing on his face after the smoky heat of the bar.
One isolated rickshaw was parked at the curb, the boy crouched in front of it. But as Nick studied the crouched form, he realized it was not the boy at all. It was Ossa’s partner, the smaller of the two men who had been following him.
Killmaster sighed deeply. There would be violence now.
CHAPTER FIVE
Killmaster moved away from the doorway. For an instant he thought of walking down the sidewalk instead of approaching the rickshaw. But he would only be putting it off. Trouble had to faced sooner or later.
The man saw him coming and leaped to his feet. He still wore his coolie outfit.
“Rickshaw, mister?” he asked.
Nick said, “Where’s the boy I told to wait?”
“He go. I good rickshaw boy. You see.”
Nick climbed into the seat. “You know where the Dragon Club is?”
“I know, you bet. Good place. I take.” He began moving down the street.
Killmaster didn’t care for the setup. His followers weren’t together anymore. Now he had one in front of him and one behind, which put him right in the middle. Obviously there was another way in and out of Bar Wonderful besides the front door. That was how Ossa had got in and changed clothes before Nick arrived. Ossa would have left the place by now, and would be waiting someplace for his friend to deliver Nick. There was little choice left to them now. They couldn’t get Chris Wilson to defect; they couldn’t buy him out of Hong Kong. And they knew he was there to persuade Professor Loo to return home. There was no other way. They had to kill him.
The mist grew heavier, beginning to soak through Nick’s coat His glasses became spotted with moisture. Nick removed them and placed them in the inside coat pocket of his suit. His eyes searched both sides of the street. Every muscle in his body relaxed. He quickly judged the distance between the seat he was sitting on and the street, trying to figure the best way to land on his feet.
How would they try it? He knew Ossa was waiting somewhere up ahead. A gun would be too noisy. After all, Hong Kong did have its police. Knives would work better. They’d probably kill him, rob him of everything he had, and dump him someplace. Quick, neat and workable. To the police it would be just another tourist robbed and killed. It happened often in Hong Kong. Of course Nick had no intention of letting them pull it off. But he figured they’d be as professional a pair of street fighters as they were amateur followers.
The small man trotted into an unlighted destitute section of Kowloon. As far as Nick could tell, the man still headed in the general direction of the Dragon Club. But Nick knew they would never reach the club.
The rickshaw went into a narrow alley, lined on both sides with four-story unlighted buildings. Except for the steady slap of the man’s feet on wet asphalt, the only other sound was the spasmodic dripping of rainwater from roofs of the buildings.
Even though Killmaster expected it, the move came suddenly, catching him slightly off-balance. The man pushed the front of the rickshaw up high. Nick twirled and jumped over the wheel. His left foot hit the street first, throwing him more off balance. He went down, rolling. On his back, he saw the smaller man rushing toward him, the ugly dagger high in the air. The man lunged with a scream. Nick brought his knees to his chest, and the balls of his feet caught the man’s stomach. Grabbing the wrist holding the dagger, Killmaster pulled the man toward him, then stiffened his legs, throwing the man over his head. He landed with a loud grunt.
As Nick rolled over to get to his feet, Ossa kicked his side, the force knocking him back down. At the same time Ossa swished the air with his own dagger. Killmaster felt the sharp point slice across his forehead. He rolled, and kept rolling until his back hit the wheel of the overturned rickshaw. It was too dark to see. Blood began oozing from his forehead into his eyes. Nick got his knees under him and started to rise. Ossa’s heavy foot glanced along his cheek ripping the skin. The force was enough to knock him off to one side. He was pushed over on his back; then Ossa’s knee with all his weight behind it plunged into Nick’s stomach. Ossa had aimed for his groin, but Nick had brought his knees up, deflecting the blow. Still, the force was enough to take Nick’s breath away.
Then he saw the dagger coming down to his throat. Nick caught the fat wrist with his left hand. With his right fist he punched toward Ossa’s groin. Ossa grunted. Nick swung again, a little lower. This time Ossa yelled in agony. He fell away, taking the pressing knee with him. Nick caught his breath, and using the rickshaw for support, got to his feet. He wiped the blood from his eyes. Then the smaller man came from his left. Nick caught a glimpse of him just before he felt the blade slice into the muscle of his left arm. He backhanded the man across his face, sending him cartwheeling into the rickshaw.
Hugo was in Kill master’s right hand now. He backed to one of the buildings, watching the two shadows coming toward him. Now, gentlemen, he thought, now come and get me. They were good, better than he thought they’d be. They fought with vengeance, and left little doubt that their intention was to kill him. With his back to the building, Nick waited for them. The cut on his forehead did not feel serious. The bleeding had diminished. His left arm felt painful but he’d had worse wounds. The two men widened their positions so that each came at him from opposite sides. They were crouched low, determination on their faces, the daggers pointing upward at Nick’s chest. He knew they would try to plunge their blades up under his rib cage, high enough so the point would pierce his heart. There was no chill in the alley. All three men were sweating and panting slightly. The silence was broken only by raindrops falling from roof tops. It was as dark a night as Nick had ever seen. The two men were mere forms, only their daggers glinting now and then.