by Neil Hunter
They were moving directly towards the office. And from the staring expression on their faces they weren’t on a house call.
Bloody hell, the Englishman thought, no walking away from this.
He slipped his Colt from its holster, easing back the hammer.
‘Jason,’ he called.
Brand came out of the back room and joined him at the door.
‘Visitors,’ Hunt said. ‘And I don’t see them as very friendly.’
As Brand looked on the Chinese produced weapons from beneath their tunics. He pushed the door shut.
‘Definitely not friendly.’
The two Chinese stepped up on the boardwalk, launching kicks at the door, sending it crashing back open. They came straight through into the office.
Hunt had already backed off, raising his drawn pistol as the black clad Chinese confronted him. The Englishman didn’t hesitate, moving faster than the newcomers might have expected, taking the fight directly to them. The Colt thundered loudly in the confines of the office and the closest intruder, clutching a short-handled hatchet spun away as the .45 caliber lead slug embedded itself in his chest. At the short range the slug lost none of its power. It dug a damaging path through the man’s body, breaking rib bones and expanding as it went on to tear at the man’s heart.
As his companion dropped the other Chinese launched himself in Hunt’s direction, slashing the air with the long-bladed, wide knife he was wielding. Hunt backed up, attempting to bring his Colt on target, but the frantic, close up attack forced him to lose the advantage. The Chinese made an angry howl, striking out again. The blade of his knife struck the barrel of the pistol, jarring it from Hunt’s grasp. He took a hasty step back, heel catching against the edge of the carpet laid across the floor. He stumbled, falling, recognized the wild expression in the Chinese man’s eyes, and realized – without it doing him any good – that the man was under the influence of opium. His drugged condition had pushed him into a state of violent excess…
‘Hey,’ Brand yelled loudly.
The loud exclamation delivered in a commanding tone, distracted the Chinese. He flicked his head around and found himself staring into the barrel of Brand’s .45. Yet in his aroused condition he still went for Brand, who fired from no more than a couple of feet away. The Chinese went down heavily, blood and flesh in his wake as the slug took the top of his skull off.
Hunt picked up his discarded pistol and climbed to his feet.
‘I owe you for that, Jason,’ he said.
‘Can’t abide people barging in like that.’
Hunt nodded. ‘Something tells me we have upset Mr. Teng.’
Brand had bent over the Chinese, sniffing the air. ‘These two smell heavily of opium. Giving themselves a boost.’
‘What in the world has been going on here?’
Dr. Boyd stood framed in the back room doorway.
‘A couple of Tung’s thugs,’ Hunt said.
‘It appears to me that heathen is determined to make life difficult for us all,’ Hunt said.
‘It seems so,’ the doctor agreed. ‘What were they after?’
‘At a guess Henry Lee. Wanting to finish what they started when he broke away from them.’
‘Their information wasn’t so good then. Not even knowing the poor fellow is already dead.’
‘Tung wants to make sure he removes anyone who could stand in his way,’ Hunt said.
‘How will he feel if Bodie succeeds in rescuing Jasmine Soong?’
‘What if he fails?’ Boyd said.
‘Right now that’s something I don’t want to consider,’ Brand said.
Chapter Nineteen
Bodie and Jasmine Soong showed up late morning. He had reclaimed his gear and horse before they had ridden away from the hideaway house. They rode directly to the police station where Bodie asked for Hallows. The Inspector took one look at Bodie’s appearance and quickly directed them through to his office.
‘Are you hurt, Miss Soong?’
Jasmine shook her head. ‘A little damp is all, Inspector.’
‘How did you manage to get her away from Tung’s people?’ Hallows asked.
‘We managed.’
‘Mr. Bodie is being modest,’ Jasmine said. ‘He confronted my kidnappers and dealt with them. Then set fire to the boat to cause a distraction before we took horses. And here we are.’
‘By confronted you mean…’ Hallows said.
‘It involved a great deal of shooting,’ the young woman said. ‘Mostly by Mr. Bodie.’
Bodie said, ‘Miss Soong is still a little shaken from what happened.’
‘Please. Do not make so little of it. Of it had not been for his actions things may not have ended so well for me.’
‘Where’s Brand?’ Bodie asked. When Hallows told him Bodie said he needed to join him. ‘Hallows, I don’t know what Tung might do if he finds out Jasmine is back in town. I need you to keep her here. Protected.’
‘You believe Tung might try to get to her again?’
‘Let’s plan for the worst.’
‘She’ll be safe her. A whole police station to look out for her,’ Hallows said. ‘What are you planning to do, Mr. Bodie?’
‘I figured you’d know,’ he said. ‘It’s time to end this. For good.’
Chapter Twenty
In Boyd’s office Bodie stood and listened to what Brand had to say. The most important piece of information had come from Butler. The chloroform administered by the doctor during his work on the man’s shoulder had loosened the man’s tongue and he had been talking a great deal. Although there had been a deal of nonsense in his speech Butler did confirm that the warehouse where Henry Lee had been taken was where Tung stored his large consignment of opium as well as other contraband.
‘It will make me a happy man to see that stuff taken away from Tung and Traeger,’ Bodie said. ‘Damnit, Jason, it’s what this is all about. I don’t see that hombre making a profit for all the misery it’s caused.’
‘Kind of matches my own feelings,’ Brand said.
Bodie finished checking his Colt. Jammed it back in the holster and turned his attention to the Greener he had borrowed from the police station armory. He slid a pair of 12 gauge shells in place and locked the breech, dropping extra shells in his pocket, glancing across at Brand who had just checked his own weapons.
‘You set for this?’ he asked.
‘Surprised you even have to ask,’ Brand said.
‘I’ve had my fill of San Francisco. Let’s get this done so we can go home.’
They took a slow walk through the streets until they reached the waterfront area and located Tung’s premises. In the cover of the last warehouse before Tung’s they viewed their target.
‘Looks peaceful enough from here,’ Bodie said.
‘What we want is inside.’
They eased out of the shadows and stepped into the open. The Tung warehouse stood isolated, wide and seemingly deserted. No sound. No movement.
It was too peaceful.
They crossed the open jetty. On their left the Pacific rolled against the dock pilings, lapping against the timbers. Gulls whirled and swooped out of the sky.
A single figure leaned out from a part open door, spotted the approaching pair and quickly drew back out of sight.
‘Had a feeling that might happen,’ Brand said.
They broke into a run, closing the gap, and came up short against the bleached boards of the warehouse.
The gaping door was pushed open and an armed man stepped into view, bringing up the rifle he carried. He was at an awkward angle, so the first shot went wide.
Bodie fired the Greener from the waist, the burst scattering only briefly so that the man took a hefty charge. He was flung back, torso shredded. A surge of blood welled from the gaping wound, his body almost cut in half.
In the empty moment Bodie ran forward, past the open door, and flattened against the warehouse front on the opposite side. Voices were raised inside. A mix of Ch
inese and English.
Someone fired from inside, slugs clearing the open door, finding no targets.
Bodie raised a hand, jerking it to indicate he was going to move around the warehouse. He moved fast, skirting the corner of the warehouse and made his way along the side. He opened the shotgun, plucking out the used cartridge and replaced it with one from his pocket. There were no windows except those high up near the roofline, so he wasn’t going to be spotted from inside. The downside was any rear entrance could work as an exit.
He found that out as he neared the back corner of the building. An armed figure appeared. A Chinese wielding a rifle. He burst into view, eyes scanning the side of the warehouse.
His rifle swung up as he saw Bodie.
As Bodie took a shallow roll forward he heard the weapon fire. The slug burned the air above him.
The Chinese uttered a sharp yell, running forward. Brought the rifle’s muzzle down to line up on Bodie. Flat down on the ground Bodie pushed the Greener in front of him, angling the muzzle forward and tripped both triggers. The shotgun jerked in recoil as twin lances of flame issued from the muzzles. The double charges hit the Tong man in the upper chest and neck. Bodie saw him flung backwards in a flash of red, thumping to the ground on his back, legs kicking in dying spasms. The rifle slipped from the man’s hands and twisted over and over as it fell.
Bodie pushed to his feet, reloading again, and continued on towards the rear of the warehouse.
He picked up the sharp crackle of a Winchester from where he had left Brand…
…impatience overcame caution and Brand lowered to a crouch and went in through the open door, breaking to the left as he made out a stack of filled bales, wooden kegs and crates. His move caught whoever was inside the warehouse. He had gained cover before shots hammered the silence. He heard slugs strike the cover he had found.
Whispered voices reached him. The scrape of movement as someone changed position. Brand gauged at least three. There could have been more deeper in the warehouse.
He heard a distant shot. From outside the building. Then the double blast as a shotgun fired both barrels. The sound generated a reaction and Brand saw dark figures emerging from the scattered goods around the warehouse.
A rush of sound caught his ears. Brand turned. Saw the glitter of a metal blade slashing the air. A fast moving figure emerged from the shadows. A slashing blade cut down at him and Brand turned sideways on, his rifle pushed forward to parry the downward blow. He felt the vibration as the Chinese sword came into contact with his Winchester, biting against the steel. The rifle was jarred from his grasp. Brand countered by snatching out the Colt holstered on his hip, dropping low and thrusting the .45 forward, hammer snapping back as he cocked the weapon. He caught a blurred glimpse of his attacker, the face twisted in an angry scowl as the man reversed the sword and made a second strike. The sword blade sliced Brand’s sleeve, scoring his flesh. The Colt fired and the heavy lead slug burned its way into the Tong’s throat. The man fell back, dropping his sword and clutching at his torn flesh, blood surging between his fingers.
As he slid between the stacked goods Brand drew his second pistol from the shoulder holster and fired when he saw a moving figure. The man dropped without a sound. Brand had set himself now, his nerves steady, his aim steadier as he confronted his adversaries. He fired his pistols from both hands, eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he moved with a confident stride that pushed the opposition back, his on-target shots hitting home with precision…
…Bodie held the Greener chest high as he hit the flimsy rear door on the move, weathered timber splintering under his physical assault. He ducked through the opening, breaking to the left, the shotgun leveling to a firing position. He caught hurried movement close by. Heard the rattle of a shot and felt the slug score his left cheek. Instinctively he dropped to one knee, the twin bores of the Greener cutting the air and settling on the scowling face of the shooter. Bodie’s finger stroked the first trigger. The Greener jerked in his hands on recoiled. The dimmer light inside the warehouse was briefly illuminated by the powder flash as the shotgun boomed out its hard sound. The lethal twelve-gauge burst cut into the shooter as he attempted to take his follow-up shot. He fell back with a startled scream, clutching his bloody chest.
Bodie had already moved, shotgun muzzle sweeping back and forth as he went deeper into the building. He picked up the steady crash of shots. Unhurried. Imagined Brand delivering killing shots as he routed the warehouse crew.
The scuff of boots on the hard timber floor warned Bodie of a close threat and he ducked close to a row of packing cases, three high, using the shotgun to search around him.
A handgun fired close by. The slug scored a burn across Bodie’s left shoulder, a second missed by a fraction, and Bodie dropped, turning his upper body. His shotgun followed his actions, catching the dark clad figure moving in, pistol following through. Bodie dropped the trigger and the shotgun slammed out its heavy sound. The target’s forward rush was brought to an abrupt stop as the Greener’s full burst ripped into the man’s body. His chest was shredded. Lacerated flesh exposed bone and organs as the concentrated hail of lead shot ripped him apart. As he fell Bodie caught a glimpse of the man’s bruised and battered face.
It was Bennett. The big man who had braced him at the Barbary Coast saloon.
‘That’s what happens when you play sneaky…’ Bodie said.
He broke the shotgun and plucked out the empty casings, tossed them, aside and reached into his pocket for fresh shot.
His attention was drawn away from his surroundings for the scant seconds it took to reload.
Out the corner of his eye he picked up a fleeting moving shadow. It was to one side and higher up. Bodie turned. Saw a figure lunging down at him from the stacked packing cases.
The falling body slammed into him, the impact knocking him off balance. Bodie slammed to the floor, losing his grip on the Greener. He saw the black clad Chinese standing feet away. The man had a short handled hatchet in his hand, the keen blade catching the light as he worked it back and forth.
‘Fortune smiles on me,’ the Chinese said in his heavily accented English. ‘First Henry Lee. Then Li Hung. And now the Gweilo who they called friend. Time for you to die – Bo-die.’
Chapter Twenty-One
This had to be Lo Keye, Tung’s enforcer. The one who had caused the deaths of Lee and Hung.
Bodie pushed up off the warehouse floor, his right hand dropping to his side and sliding the Colt free. He raised the pistol, then felt a solid blow to his hand and felt the weapon jarred from his grip. The .45 was tossed aside. It hit the floor yards away. It was only then Bodie saw Keye’s right leg draw back from the kick he had launched. So fast Bodie hadn’t seen it coming.
He pulled back, rising to his full height. Saw the hatchet in Keye’s hand cutting the air. The weapon seemed to be part of the man’s limb, his gestures smooth and fast. There was a thin smirk on Keye’s lips as he demonstrated his skill.
The hell with you, feller, Bodie thought. We can all bring a blade to the party.
He dropped his hand to his side and grasped the knife sheathed on his belt. The razor sharp weapon was the one he had taken from the half-breed Silverbuck and made his own. He’d had to kill the breed twice to make sure he finally stayed down, but Bodie only blamed himself for that. He should have made certain the first time round. His mistake had almost cost him his own life on their second meeting. It had taught the manhunter a lesson and left him with some serious injuries before he near cut off Silverbuck’s damn head. As he brought the knife into view Bodie warned himself not to make the same mistake again.
Keye registered the knife. His eyes flickered and he eased back a little. He was not showing fear – simply respect for the cold steel. The Tong enforcer was facing an opponent with his own weapon. Not a defenseless individual with little chance to fight back. It made a difference.
But Keye was far from being a novice himself.
Bodie watc
hed the Chinese. Seeking the signs that Keye was about to go on the offensive and knowing he was going to need his wits about him. Keye was not going to make it easy…
Bodie saw Keye’s forward right foot edge forward, his leg tense as he set himself, and leaned forward a little. He had turned the hatchet edge on to Bodie, ready to make a sweep that would cut across Bodie’s torso.
Though Bodie anticipated the move it came almost too fast for him to counter. Keye’s arm was a blur, the cold steel of the blade arcing round and shearing through Bodie’s shirt as he pulled back. The cut, not as deep as intended, left a stinging wound that bled immediately. Bodie’s response was to hit out with his own knife, catching Keye’s right side as the man’s body turned. The heavy blade slashed Keye’s tunic and bit into his flesh over his ribs. The speed of Bodie’s response had caught the Chinese off guard. He fell back, conscious of the blood streaming down his side from the gash.
Seeing a possible opening Bodie lunged forward, his blade spearing in at Keye’s torso. The strength behind the manhunter’s move slammed him against Keye and they stumbled back, crashing against the stacked crates. Bodie felt his blade slide into Keye’s left shoulder, grating against bone. The Chinese uttered a yell of pain, swung his hatchet at Bodie, but the closeness of their bodies stopped him making a clean strike. Bodie clamped his free hand around Keye’s wrist and forced the hatchet clear of his body. Keye brought up his right leg, driving his knee into Bodie’s side, a solid blow that hammered Bodie’s ribs. In response Bodie, still gripping the handle of his knife, concentrated his strength and pushed the blade deeper into Keye’s shoulder, driving it all the way into the joint and out the other side, the exposed blade piercing the wooden crate the Chinese was pushed up against. In a moment of pure frenzy Keye clamped his free hand across Bodie’s face, fingers clawing at his cheeks. With the knife blade buried in his shoulder Keye’s hand had weakened and Bodie was able to wrench his head to one side, freeing himself from the hand over his face.