by John Creasey
“My friend,” he said, “I do not think that any of my family can ever be out of your debt. Here in Hong Kong we have many friends, and those who work for us have many friends, also, and so we hear a great deal of what goes on, even though word of it does not appear in the newspapers or over the radio. So we know what nearly happened to my brother last night. We are all shocked that it could have occurred on board an American ship, but even more shocked by what could have happened had you not been so observant and so prompt. We believed that we were in your debt before, but it was nothing to this. I am almost ashamed to ask more help from you, and yet it could be of such great importance. Will you forgive me?”
It was as flowery as it was long-winded, and yet it seemed to come from the heart. Mannering motioned to a chair, waved a disclaimer, and said: “Of course, I will help if I can.”
“I understand you have been to a conference with the police and with other officials,” Raymond Li Chen said. “Do you know if they have been able to recommend any specific action?” He paused, and then went on as if he had now really reached the point of all he had come to say: “Do you know if they consider it safe to open the exhibition? I am very much afraid, for fear there should be more attacks of vandalism, such as there was at the shop.”
Mannering paused long enough to make it seem that he was giving this deep consideration before saying: “They think it’s safe to open the exhibition, although they didn’t tell me what they proposed to do, except that they would redouble the security measures near the gallery. It’s a matter of honour that nothing should go wrong, and that the exhibition should be staged.”
“I suppose that is something I should be thankful for,” said Raymond Li Chen, but he did not look as if he were particularly cheered. “Mr. Mannering, it is not a question of making sure that nothing will go wrong, it is a question of trying to make sure that something will go right. I had thirty-four acceptances to this exhibition. I will make no secret of it to you. I hoped that it would be possible to arrange for some of the dealers to take many of these goods off my hands, I am deeply worried by the fact that I have so much in my stores. Thirty-four acceptances,” he repeated, “from dealers in the main European countries, in the United States, in Canada, Australia, the Middle East, but now only a handful of them will come. The others were sent a cable, yesterday, from Hong Kong, saying that it had been cancelled. I have had cables back already, saying that some of the dealers hope that it is only postponed. Is it worth opening the exhibition with so few interested persons present?”
Chapter Eighteen
The General
Mannering seemed to hear Vansitter and Christiansen talking about the poor response; at least they would now be satisfied that the Li Chens would not regard it as an affront. For a few seconds there was nothing he felt he could usefully say, and words for the sake of them had never appealed to him. Very gradually, the expression in Raymond Li Chen’s eyes changed, there was positively a spark of humour in them.
“But of course, you are thinking that as you have come so far, then at least you should have the opportunity of seeing the treasures! And there are several dealers here, in all I believe nine arrived before the cables reached them, those who had some other business here, or who decided that Hong Kong in February is the perfect place for a holiday. Mr. Mannering, allow me to ask one more question, and that is the last.”
“Yes, of course.”
“When you left the conference did you feel that it would be folly for me to open the exhibition?”
“No,” answered Mannering promptly. “On the contrary, everyone there seemed to think that the security measures were so good that the risk was a reasonable one. They don’t have the last word, of course, you do. They considered asking you not to open the exhibition, and decided not to.”
“Then I am very much happier,” said Raymond Li Chen. “So will many people be. It is a great occasion for Hong Kong, where there are perhaps more dealers in fine art and objets d’art than anywhere else in the world, including the great cities. It has long been my dream to make Hong Kong the true trading centre of oriental antiques, to make it far more, far greater than an enormous bazaar where tourists come and buy a few trinkets or a cheap carving, and go away believing they have a great bargain. As indeed some of them have, but …”
Raymond Li Chen talked almost dreamily for a long time, and Mannering let him go on, although he was becoming anxious to talk to the two consuls. Abruptly, Li Chen broke off, actually laughed, and said: “But I am becoming garrulous! Everything will go on as arranged, then. Tomorrow, at six o’clock in the evening, we shall open the exhibition with a reception almost as distinguished as that on board the aircraft-carrier. Allow me to show you the gallery where it will be held.” He drew Mannering to the window and pointed across the harbour. “First, you see the tall, narrow building, with the red sign on top … now you look towards your left, past the new ferry terminal, and you see the old building with the flags … Yes? … Now look up the hill, towards the top. You see almost immediately above the old building there is a long white one, with no other buildings close to it but with some trees and shrubs … Yes?”
“I can see it,” Mannering said.
“That is the gallery, in the centre of the Ho Sun Gardens. Ho Sun was a wealthy Chinese citizen of Hong Kong who surrounded himself with such treasures as those we shall see there tomorrow. He bequeathed the house and gardens to the Colony, in gratitude for the fact that they allowed him to take up British citizenship when he was a refugee from China in the days of the Boxer Rebellion. It is a museum but is let from time to time for private exhibitions. The one which I have arranged is the most magnificent of them all. I really believe,” Raymond Li Chen added, and now he was smiling gently again, “that I would think it worth opening the exhibition if you were the only visitor. Now, I must go. Thank you, thank you a thousand thousand times.”
His handclasp was so strong that it was almost painful.
Mannering waited long enough to see his visitor to the lift, before he sat on the side of the bed and put in a call to the Chinese Consulate. On the note that Brabazon had given him there was a name: General Suno. He asked for Suno, and was put through almost at once.
“Ah yes, Mr. Mannering, I will be glad to see you,” the General said in excellent English. “What time would be most convenient for you, please?”
“Is half past two all right?”
“It is very suitable,” said the General. “I look forward to seeing you very much.”
Mannering put down the receiver thoughtfully. The way had been smoothed very quickly, and he began to wonder if there was more in it than met the eye, whether Brabazon was not being even more tortuous-minded than Mannering had considered. He was acutely aware of the strangeness of the circumstances, the differences in the attitudes and the thinking of the Chinese; Europeans who had lived here for some time and had to work closely with them day in, day out, might begin to think in the same way. It was possible that he was being used as a pawn in a game that all of them were playing with consummate skill. As he thought that he pictured Dooley’s face, and told himself that the American Consul-General had been completely frank. He wasn’t so sure about Brabazon.
He called the second number, the Nationalist government’s Consul; here he was to ask for Dr. Hueng Hanno. Again he was put through at once, as if his call had been expected. Dr. Hanno had a very soft, persuasive kind of voice.
“Yes indeed, Mr. Mannering, it will be my privilege to meet you. I have had the pleasure of visiting your famous shop in London, but unfortunately at the time you were not in England. We have mutual interest in fine art, you understand. At what time would it be convenient for you to come and see me?”
“Is half past four suitable for you?”
“It is indeed. I look forward to it very much. For now, Mr. Mannering, au revoir.”
Mannering put down the receiver this time and stood looking at it. The doubts that he had felt after talking to
General Suno were much stronger. Brabazon had been able to say open sesame, and all doors had opened. He went to the window and looked across the harbour at the white building, and reflected that it should be easy to guard the place; judging from this distance, there were no trees or bushes within fifty yards of the building itself, and nowhere to hide.
It was now half past twelve, and he had not too much time. He telephoned Lovelace, who said: “If you’ll bring your box of tricks along here I’ll give you a room in which you can change back to Mannering, and then have you taken to the General. You can decide what to do about James C. Mason when you’ve finished with the two consuls.” Lovelace was brisk and to the point. “There won’t be much time for lunch. Shall I fix something for you while you’re changing?”
“Please,” said Mannering. “I’ll get a cab right away.”
“There’s a car waiting for you outside,” said Lovelace.
At ten minutes past two, Mannering stood up from a dressing-table in a small dressing-room set aside usually, he understood, for V.I.P. visitors to the Police Headquarters. As he saw his reflection, he gave a snort of a laugh. Even to him, the change was astonishing, and he had watched himself gradually rub James C. Mason away, and bring back himself. In a peculiar way it was almost as if this face, the face of the cavalier in the office at Quinns, was really the disguise. He had come to Hong Kong as Mason, and in a way he thought that he was thinking as Mason.
He fastened his case, locked it, left it in a corner, and then went outside. A different orderly from the one who had seen him come in was on duty, and so showed no surprise at all. He was led downstairs to Lovelace’s office, and went into the small, almost barely-furnished room. Lovelace was on the telephone. He squinted round at Mannering as he was speaking, then suddenly stuttered, turned round, stared wide-eyed, and breathed into the telephone: “I’ll call you back, something’s cropped up.” He put the receiver down slowly, still staring, and said as if fervently: “Thank God you’re not a crook! That disguise was masterly.” He gave a jerky little laugh. “It would shake a few people, such as the Li Chens, I fancy.” He glanced at his wrist-watch and then jumped up. “But you’re tight for time. I’ll take you down to the car.” As they walked down a flight of narrow steps, Lovelace was still talking. “The General is a bit big for his boots, and can be an obstructionist, but at least he always listens and he can make up his mind quickly. Dr. Hanno likes to sleep on all his decisions, but he’s generally speaking more progressive and outward-looking than most of the Chinese in Hong Kong.”
“Are there any taboos?”
“Meaning?”
“Can I mention the Nationalists to the one and the Reds to the other?”
Lovelace laughed. “Oh, they each know the other exists! All you’ve got to do is make sure that you don’t appear to favour one or the other. Tell me something, Mr. Mannering.”
“Yes?”
“Have you decided what your approach is going to be?”
“I haven’t decided a thing,” Mannering said, “except that there are millions of pounds’ worth of some of the most beautiful works of art in the world here in Hong Kong, most of them never seen in the West, and I’d hate to see them destroyed.”
“Pious thought,” said Lovelace.
At half past two exactly the black Austin car, in which Mannering was driven to the Consulate of the Peking government, pulled up outside the gateway. Two guards were outside the gates, two armed guards just inside the gates. One came forward to look at the credentials, peered at Mannering much more intently than most immigration officers, and waved the car through. They pulled up outside a large, old-fashioned building, more European than Chinese, and a man in a black coat and striped trousers came hurrying down to open the door and to welcome Mannering. This V.I.P. treatment was puzzling, but he was here and he wanted to go through with it. The General’s faculty for making up his mind quickly was the factor on which to pin his hopes.
He was handed on from one secretary to a second, then to a third, then into a long, narrow room, overlooking the harbour. It was so beautifully furnished in traditional Chinese style, except for a high table in one corner, that Mannering almost held his breath.
The General rose from his chair behind the table. He was a short, very broad man, in a beautifully fitted dark-grey suit. On the wall above him was a photograph of Chou En Lai and another of the Chinese President. His face was very round, very brown, smooth shaven except for a wispy moustache which was out of keeping with everything else about him. He had very little hair, and what there was was cut very short; it looked like fluff. As he shook hands with Mannering, a door opened and another man in black coat and striped trousers brought in green tea, in the now familiar little cups without handles.
General Suno might be obstructionist, Mannering reflected, but at least he went straight to the point.
“I am told, Mr. Mannering, that you have some proposals regarding the safe custody and the future of the treasures which belong to China, and which are now in possession of the family of Li Chen. Please understand, I know that there is some argument about the legality of the ownership of the treasures, but my government has no doubt that they were removed from China unlawfully, and like all stolen goods should be returned to their lawful owners. It is regrettable that some individuals should suffer heavy loss in consequence, but—” He shrugged. It was almost possible to believe that he added under his breath: “But as these are mostly Americans, why should we worry?”
“May I be very frank, General?” asked Mannering mildly.
“I am sure that you will be, and I would be disappointed if you were not, Mr. Mannering. It is a common misconception that we Chinese are a cunning and tortuous-minded race. I assure you there is nothing we like better than simplicity, nothing we respect more than truth and integrity of purpose, once we are satisfied of their genuineness. Please, what are your proposals?”
“May I ask one or two questions first?” countered Mannering. “That would make sure that we start from the same point when considering any proposals.”
“I will answer if I can.”
“Do you agree that the treasures in the forthcoming exhibition are of rare and in many cases unique value?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Do you agree that apart from the issue of legal ownership, if they were to be damaged in any way it would be a tragic loss to the world’s artistic culture, and particularly to classical Chinese culture?”
“Mr. Mannering,” said the General gravely, “I believe it would be an irreplaceable loss. I should perhaps add that in the view of my government, these very remarkable objects should never have left the country. They are part of the heritage of our history, and they should be housed in Peking, where one of the old imperial palaces has been set aside for their display.”
“Do you think every possible effort should be made to make sure that they are not damaged or destroyed?”
“Yes, most emphatically I do. I am sure that the authorities here, with the most competent police force, will make sure that no act of vandalism can take place.”
“General, some very strange things have happened in Hong Kong,” said Mannering. “You may or may not know of the attempt to destroy some valuable and historical treasures only yesterday. You may or may not know that last evening it was possible for a Chinese, whose identity is not known, to secrete himself on board the aircraft-carrier Chesapeake, and to attempt to poison one of the guests. My police friends do a very fine job here in Hong Kong, but it is impossible for them to make sure that no one smuggles themselves into some part of the island. You know how many come across the border of the New Territories, and how many come from Formosa by sea. You know better than we can ever do the methods which criminals from either place might adopt to rob or to damage or to destroy. Will you help to guard the collection inside the Ho Sun Gallery and in the grounds?”
Throughout all this, the General kept an absolute poker face; it was as if he had suddenly
been turned to weathered oak or teak; his eyes did not move, no muscle of his face moved. Mannering had no idea whether he had known about the poisoning or the attack on the Li Chens’ shop, and had no idea what kind of reaction he would get from this man. As the seconds passed, he began to fear that it would be antagonistic, if not hostile.
The General asked quietly: “Is Sir Hugh Brabazon aware of the nature of your proposals?”
“Yes.”
“Will he accept help from us?”
“Yes.”
“Will he also expect help from another place?”
He meant Chiang Kai Shek’s government, of course; this was probably the rock on which the proposals would break.
The General pushed his chair back, and moved to the window. He studied the busy harbour and the sunlight shining on the pale mist of the hills and the foreshore for a long, long time. He stood with his hands behind him, the fingers interlocked, and as far as Mannering could judge he did not move a muscle until he turned round.
“Yes,” he said. “And I will be happy to discuss details with Sir Hugh at any time convenient to him.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Forces Of Security
“Mr. Mannering,” said Dr. Hueng Hanno, “will you please allow me a little time to consider these suggestions? Most interesting suggestions, indeed. I might say almost bold. It is most refreshing to meet a person of such directness and such obvious goodwill. May I telephone you at your hotel, shall we say at—” Mannering held his breath, half fearful that Hanno would want too long to consider. “… seven o’clock this evening? That will allow me time to consult my superiors.” He smiled as he spoke, so gently.