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“What happened?” Bond asked.

“Guy Thackeray never told a soul about this meeting apart from his own English solicitor, Gregory Donaldson. He spent the following five years consulting Donaldson about the matter. Donaldson was sworn to secrecy, and they searched for a way out. But it was hopeless. Once China took over the colony, their law would reign supreme and the original agreement would be deemed legal. For the next seven years, Guy Thackeray lived with the knowledge that he would have to give up his family’s company and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He became a bitter, unhappy man—a friendless recluse prone to gambling for high stakes in Macau.”

Bond realized that this explained the man’s eccentric behaviour and his alcoholism.

“Thackeray arranged a meeting with me one rainy night in 1995 and told me the news. At first, I was ecstatic that my great-greatgrandfather’s agreement still existed. Then, as the truth of the matter sank in, I was filled with hatred and the desire for revenge. I hated the Thackeray family for their role in the history of the mess, and I detested General Wong for stealing what was rightfully mine.”

Li smiled wryly as he ended the extraordinary story. “Since then, the drug-smuggling partnership has kept operating—it was business as usual. After all, a profit could still be made until things changed in 1997.”

James Bond had listened to Li Xu Nan’s story, fascinated and repelled at the same time. It was a classic case of injustice and irony. A vicious criminal was being cheated out of something of great value that was rightfully his, and Bond found himself feeling the man’s outrage, too.

“So you see, Mr. Bond,” Li said, “Mr. Thackeray and I had a mutual interest in keeping Wong from taking over the company. Thackeray and I were not friends. We were enemies, but we had a common goal. I did not kill him.”

“But why would General Wong kill him?” Bond asked. “If he was going to gain control of the company on July the first anyway, why murder Thackeray?”

Li shrugged. “I do not know. You will have to ask him.”

“And why was the solicitor, Donaldson, also killed? And the other Directors?”

“Perhaps they were going to get in the way legally,” Li suggested. “Maybe there was a loophole, and that was the only way Wong could close it. General Wong may be a Communist, but he is one of the most corrupt capitalist pigs I know.”

It made sense. It was Thackeray’s murder that was the big question mark.

“The other night we were in Macau. Some Triads chopped up a mahjong game at the Lisboa Casino. Were they your men?”

“No. I give you my word,” Li said.

Bond sat in thought. A big piece of the puzzle was still missing.

“Now we come to the task I must ask you to do, Mr. Bond,” Li said. “As I mentioned earlier, you are in my debt. If you perform this task for me and succeed, I will release you from my debt and also spare your life.”

“I don’t know what it is you want me to do, Li,” Bond said, “but I can tell you right now I don’t work for criminals. You can kill me now. I’ve lived my entire life with the prospect of death coming at any moment.”

Li nodded. “Brave words, Mr. Bond. Why don’t you hear me out first?”

Bond sighed. “All right. What is it you want?”

“I want you to go to Guangzhou and pay a little visit to General Wong.”

“And then what?”

“Steal my great-great-grandfather’s agreement. Wong keeps it in a safe in his office. Bring it back to me. If you have to eliminate the good general in the process …” Li shrugged his shoulders.

Bond laughed. “You must be joking, Li! How the hell do you think a gweilo like me could get anywhere near this general, much less break into his bloody safe? Don’t you think I would stick out like a sore thumb in China?”

“Hear me out, Mr. Bond. I have a plan.” Bond raised his hand, gesturing for Li to continue, but he knew the very thought was absurd. “You are sceptical, Mr. Bond, I see that, but listen to me. We have learned that a new lawyer from London will be arriving in Hong Kong later this morning after the sun rises. He is Gregory Donaldson’s replacement as EurAsia Enterprises’ solicitor. Since Mr. Thackeray’s untimely demise, this new lawyer will be handling things. He has an appointment in Guangzhou the next day with General Wong himself. I propose that you go to Guangzhou in his place. My organization has contacts at the airport. We can do a switch before the man even enters Immigration. You will be hand-delivered to General Wong by EurAsia executives. You will meet Wong privately. He will most certainly show you the original document. You will have the perfect, and probably the only, chance to get it. Then my brothers will help you get out of Guangzhou and back to Hong Kong.”

“Not on your life, Li.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to die, then.”

“I’ve heard worse threats.”

Li said, “Very well, I will offer you another incentive—the life of that girl, the traitor. She can leave with you, and I will cancel the death warrant on her head.”

Bond closed his eyes. The man had played the trump card.

FIFTEEN

DAY TRIP TO CHINA

10:30 A.M.

The British Airways flight that carried James Pickard, Esquire, of Fitch, Donaldson and Patrick, arrived on time at Kai Tak Airport. “Representatives” from EurAsia Enterprises were waiting, not in the gate area or in the Greeting Hall beyond Immigration, but right in the movable airbridge that attached to the door of the aircraft.

Two Chinese men in business suits stopped Pickard as he stepped off the aircraft.

“Mr. Pickard?”

“Yes?”

“Come with us, please. We take you to hotel.”

The men opened a service door in the airbridge and gestured towards a set of metal steps leading down to the tarmac. Pickard was confused.

“Don’t I have to go through Immigration?” he asked.

“That already taken care of,” one of the men said in broken English.

Pickard shrugged, chalked it up to Chinese efficiency, and was pleased he was getting the VIP treatment. He happily walked down the steps and into a waiting limousine. As soon as the car was away, James Bond ascended the same set of steps and entered the jetbridge. He walked through it and into the terminal. As he had not got much sleep the night before anyway, he looked and felt as if he really had just flown the long haul from London. He was dressed in an Armani suit borrowed from Li Xu Nan, and carried a briefcase full of law books. He was unarmed, having reluctantly left his Walther PPK with Li.

The passport and travel documents with which Li’s people provided him were top-notch forgeries. As James Pickard, British citizen, he sailed through Immigration and Customs, and was met in the Greeting Hall by an attractive blonde woman and a Chinese man, both in their thirties.

“Mr. Pickard?” the woman said. She was English.

“Yes?”

“I’m Corinne Bates from the Public Relations office at EurAsia Enterprises.” She held out her hand.

Bond shook it. “Hello. James Pickard.”

“How was your flight?”

“Long.”

“Isn’t it though? I find it dreadful. This is Johnny Leung, assistant to the interim General Manager.”

“How do you do?” Bond said, and shook the man’s hand.

“Fine, thank you,” Leung said. “We have a car waiting.”