Zero Minus Ten

by Raymond Benson

  Once on the street, he saw that the police were still at the scene of the explosion, talking to witnesses. He walked west, away from the area, and finally flagged down a taxi.

  The cab took him to Upper Lascar Row. He paid the driver and walked up the street towards the Woos’ antiques shop. There, he got another shock.

  The front door of the shop was smashed, the lock broken. No one was inside minding the store. He made his way to the keypad at the back, punched in the numbers, and went upstairs. The place had been ransacked. Files were overturned, papers were scattered all over the floor, and the furniture had been ripped up. Bond recognized a thoroughly professional job.

  “T.Y.?” Bond shouted. “Sunni?” He searched all the rooms and floors, but no one was there. The British Intelligence station in Hong Kong had been completely destroyed.

  TWELVE

  ONE OF THE LINKS

  6:30 P.M.

  What had happened to the safe house? How was their security breached? Where were T.Y. Woo, his brother, and his son? Where was Sunni? Maybe they were all safe somewhere. Bond hadn’t seen the company taxi cab parked near the building.

  Then he noticed his briefcase sitting undisturbed on the coffee table. It was still locked. Had someone tried to open it and left it there, or had T.Y. placed it on the table as some kind of message to Bond? Bond opened it, making sure it still contained the new transmitter and other important documents. The number “22” was displayed on the transmitter, which worked much like a telephone beeper with unlimited range. It was a command to call London. He didn’t dare do it from the safe house. He quickly changed into a nondescript black polo shirt and black trousers, then left the safe house.

  Bond wandered the streets, turning over the events of the past few days in his mind. He needed to clear his head. The bright neon of Hong Kong was beginning to shine around him. Sticking to the narrow side streets, he walked past street vendors packing up their stalls for the evening. He strolled through the beautifully landscaped Hong Kong Park, which was only a few years old. A spectacular walk-in aviary within the park contained 150 species of Asian birds, and this is where Bond chose to collect his thoughts.

  How did the pieces of the puzzle fit together? What about himself? Were the police looking for him? Had his actions at the Hongkong Bank been documented by photographers or hidden video cameras? Was his face known? Would the Dragon Wing Society be looking for him too, even though Sunni was the real object of their hunt? Would they recognize him if they saw him? The unfortunate stereotypical racist comment “All Chinese look alike” was also often made by the Chinese in reference to gweilo.

  What about Guy Thackeray and his corporation? What the hell happened at that press conference? One minute the man was alive, delivering a bombshell to the world, and the next minute a bombshell was delivered to him. Who was responsible? Was it the Triad? Was it China? Thackeray had referred to other attempts on his life. Was he referring to the incident in Macau? If so, how did he know about the secret exit and when to leave by it? Bond wanted to know if the police had identified Thackeray’s killer yet. If only Woo was around—he could talk to his contact with the Royal Hong Kong Police.

  Bond decided to take a risk by going back to the Mandarin Oriental. A room there would provide some privacy for a phone call to London. When he left the aviary, he noticed nearly a hundred people, most of them Chinese, walking through the park carrying signs. Written in Chinese and English, they were pro-democracy slogans. One read “Stay out of our hair, China.” Another read, “One country, two systems—remember your promise, China.” Yet another read, “No troops at the border.” It reminded Bond that Chinese troops had massed north of the New Territories. That alone would make any citizen of Hong Kong nervous.

  Bond walked to the hotel, stopping only to eat a quick dinner in a fast-food Chinese restaurant. Woo had checked him out of the hotel as promised, and Bond quickly learned that there were no other rooms available. Bond asked the attractive girl at the reception desk to locate the manager. There really were no rooms available, but the manager allowed 007 to use a private office for a phone call since he knew Bond personally.

  He dialled the access number to get a secure line. When the duty officer answered, Bond said, “Predator,” the code name which had been his for the last several years. The duty officer asked him to hold the line. After a few clicks, he heard the voice of Bill Tanner.

  “James? Where the hell are you? M’s beside herself!”

  “I’m fine, Bill. I’m at the hotel at the moment, but I’ve really no place to stay. The safe house …”

  “We know all about the safe house, James. Woo contacted us.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s all right, and so is his son. They are in hiding. I’m afraid the brother was killed.”

  “Christ. What about the girl?”

  “Girl?”

  “There was a girl at the safe house who helped me. We were going to try and get her to England.”

  “Oh, yes, we got that request. You should have heard M’s comments on that one! I won’t repeat them here. I don’t know about the girl. Maybe she’s with Woo. As far as a passport is concerned, M is thinking about it.”

  Bond hoped so. “What happened? Do we know who was responsible?”

  “Woo was out of the shop when it happened. He returned with his son to find his brother slashed to bits and the place in a shambles. He called a clean-up crew to dispose of the body and he and his son got out fast. We’re not sure where he is at the moment, but I imagine we will hear from him soon. Woo thought it was Triad.”

  Then it was possible Sunni wasn’t with him after all.

  “Do you know what happened to Thackeray?” Bond asked.

  “Yes, it’s all over the news already. Our morning television news programmes have covered it. EurAsia Enterprises is the hot topic. There’s a lot of speculation, and the PM is trying to contact China regarding the so-called sale of the company. It’s all extremely bizarre.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense to me, either. I’ve been unable to find out a thing, I’m afraid. Do we know who the killer was?”

  “It’s still too early. According to the Royal Hong Kong Police, the man had no identification on him. No one knows who the hell he was. Anyway, M still wants you on the case. Just because Thackeray’s no longer with us doesn’t mean you can’t still get to the bottom of it. Keep digging. If you can establish and prove the link between EurAsia and that Triad, you’ll have done your job.”

  “All right, I know where to go next. What’s happening in Australia?”

  “Nothing new there,” Tanner said with a sigh. “It’s as if it never happened. If anyone knows anything about it, they’re not talking. No one has come forward claiming responsibility. It’s a big mystery.”

  “Great.”

  “The worry now is the transition. The number of Chinese troops at the border is increasing. Beijing is complaining about all the prodemocracy demonstrations that are taking place. They’ve asked the Hong Kong Governor to put a stop to them, but he’s refused. He’s standing up for their rights. We all want the transition to be peaceful and dignified. Right now the air is full of distrust and near panic. I should probably tell you that we’ve sent a couple of warships your way.”

  “The Royal Navy?” Bond groaned. This was serious.

  “Let’s hope their presence will act as a deterrent.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  “No. How’s your arm? I heard you got cut.”

  “Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

  “You always do. Keep in touch. We’ll get you and Woo back together.”

  Tanner signed off and Bond suddenly felt very much alone, sitting in the middle of a powder keg just waiting to explode.

  The Container Port at Kwai Chung was Bond’s next stop. Woo had given him directions to EurAsia Enterprises’ warehouse located within the huge complex. The only problem was that he would have to get over a barbed-wire fenc
e, but he had encountered worse obstacles in his life …

  Bond took a taxi to Kowloon and then further north into the western New Territories. He told the driver to let him off in front of the fenced Container Terminal on Kwai Chung Road. It was night now, and Bond’s dark clothing should disappear into the shadows.

  Hong Kong is one of the busiest shipping ports in the world. The Kwai Chung Container Port is one of many such terminals in the colony, but it is the largest and serves as a transhipment centre for Chinese export goods because China’s own transport infrastructure is inadequate. It is as important to China as it is to Hong Kong.

  From where he stood, Bond could see hundreds of containers stacked high like coloured building blocks. They all had labels and logos painted on the sides—EVERGREEN, UNIGLORY, HYUNDAI, K LINE, WAN HAI, CHO YANG, HANJIN, and others. Tall orange cranes loomed over the containers at strategic points around the port, along with equally tall blue barges. White warehouse buildings were scattered throughout the extended terminal. One could easily get lost, but luckily Bond was equipped with the map that Woo had prepared for him.

  He removed his left shoe, pried open the heel, took out the small wire cutter and replaced the shoe. He climbed the fence and easily snapped the barbed-wire, slipped through and over the fence, and jumped down to the pavement on the other side. He took a moment to replace the wire cutter, then pulled the map from his pocket. The EurAsia Enterprises warehouse was at the southern end of the terminal.

  Apparently the port never closed, for there were men working here and there, even after hours. The place was well illuminated by tall floodlights. So much for dressing in dark clothes … Bond darted from one pile of containers to another, hoping no one would see him. After ten minutes, he found the warehouse. It was fully lit and its loading doors were open.

  The warehouse was near the shoreline, and Bond could see a large white cargo ship in Rambler Channel, the body of water adjoining the port. It was too far away for him to read the name on the side, but he assumed it was one of EurAsia’s ships. A smaller lighter was travelling from the ship to the shoreline, where cranes were ready to unload cargo. It appeared that the lighter had already made a trip or two, for men were busy moving crates into the warehouse on forklifts. Bond moved closer to the building, looking for an entry somewhere at the back.

  There was a door behind the warehouse, probably an emergency exit of some kind. Bond was sure it would be locked, but he tried it anyway. He was right. Twenty feet above him was an open window, but he had no way to scale the wall. Without a second thought, Bond snapped open the clasp on his belt buckle. Q Branch had devised this standard field issue piece of equipment many years ago. A set of fibreglass picklocks was hidden inside, undetectable by X-ray. Bond squatted so that he was at eye level with the door knob, and slowly tried each pick until he found one that worked. In three minutes, the door was unlocked. He replaced the picklocks and slowly inched open the door.

  He was at the back of the dimly lit warehouse. There was a token crew working, perhaps three or four men. Bond slipped in and shut the door, then moved quickly to an area containing stacks of cardboard boxes. By peering around the boxes, he got a view of the entire warehouse.

  It was full of crates, boxes, forklifts, and other machinery. A prefabricated building serving as an office was built on scaffolding. Metal steps led up to the office. Its door was open, light pouring out of it. Through the single window, Bond could see that someone was in there.

  The most curious thing about the warehouse was the object that sat upon a wheeled platform. It was a wooden sampan, a simple boat with a hood covering. The word “sampan” means “three planks,” and that was practically all it was. What was it doing here? Unlike the sampans one could see in Aberdeen Harbour, this one looked brand new, as if it had just been built. Bond doubted that it had ever been in the water. It was painted dark brown and had a bright red hood. Red was the Chinese colour of good luck.

  A figure emerged from the office and descended the steps. Bond’s jaw dropped when he saw who it was. The man was the albino Chi-nese he had dubbed “Tom”—the heaviest of the three men he had seen with Li Xu Nan at the Zipper. Tom spoke to the workers and pointed outside. Immediately, the men moved to the sampan and began to wheel it out of the warehouse. Tom followed them.

  Now was Bond’s chance to get into the office. He ran up the steps, knowing that he had a minute or two before Tom came back. In addition to the window which faced the warehouse, there was also one looking out over the harbour. On a desk beneath that window was a stack of papers. Bond recognized a shipping itinerary on top, printed on EurAsia Enterprises letterhead. Even though it was written mostly in Chinese, Bond could translate the name of the ship as the Taitai. A pair of binoculars lay on the desk. Bond used them to look at the ship in the harbour. There was very little light, but he could just make out the name of the vessel. Sure enough, the word Taitai was painted on the bow. Bond put down the binoculars and ran his finger down the itinerary, noting dates and routes for the boat. Its next stop was Singapore, scheduled for 26 June, with a planned return on 30 June.

  A metal briefcase also lay on the desk. Bond found that it was unlocked and looked inside. It was full of cash, all Hong Kong currency, and a lot of it—thousands of dollars.

  A map of Southeast Asia was tacked on to a cork bulletin board on the other side of the room. Bond studied it closely; it was marked with yellow highlights. Several lines apparently charted different routes, over land and sea, from Hong Kong to a circled area in the Yunnan Province in China. Bond immediately recognized it as the “Golden Triangle,” the infamous no-man’s land, the source of most of the world’s heroin.

  Bond glanced out of the window. Tom was still giving orders to the men. The sampan had been positioned under a crane. The lighter he had seen earlier was nearing the shoreline and was about to dock. Were they going to load the sampan on to the Taitai? Whatever for?

  He knew he only had a few more minutes. He opened a filing cabinet next to the desk and saw numerous manilla folders. They were all marked with innocuous headings, certainly all pertaining to the shipping business. One, however, caught Bond’s eye. It was marked “Australia.”

  He pulled out the folder and opened it, remembering that EurAsia Enterprises owned a gold-mining operation in Western Australia. The material in the folder pertained to that. There was an official letterhead reading “EurAsia Enterprises Australia,” and an address in Kalgoorlie. Thumbing through the pages, Bond found nothing of interest until he came to a large sheet of paper folded three times. He opened it up and saw that it was a map of the Kalgoorlie facility. The gold mine was clearly drawn, showing the winding passages, entrances, and locations of the lodes. One amorphous shape in the mine was marked “Off Limits Area.”

  That was enough for Bond. He folded up the map and pocketed it. He then replaced the folder, shut the filing cabinet and took another look out of the window. Tom wasn’t there! Bond moved to the doorway and peered out. The albino was standing in the entrance of the warehouse loading doors, looking out at the harbour. If Bond moved slowly and silently, the man wouldn’t see him. Bond stepped out of the door, swung his leg over the rail, heaved his body over, and carefully climbed down the scaffolding to the floor. He moved into the shadows against the wall just as Tom turned and began to walk back towards the office. When the albino reached the room above him, Bond sprinted to the back of the warehouse, where he had been earlier.

  A few moments later, Tom turned out the lights in the office, locked the door and descended the stairs. He was carrying the metal briefcase. At that moment, a forklift entered the warehouse with one of the newly unloaded crates. Bond watched as Tom opened the crate with a crowbar, inspected the contents, and pulled out a hessian bag. Another man wearing a suit entered and stood beside the forklift. Bond had never seen him before. Both he and Tom bent down to inspect the contents of the bag. They seemed to be in agreement about what they saw. Tom handed the metal briefcase to t
he new man. He opened the case for verification, then closed and locked the case and shook hands with Tom. They walked out of the warehouse together and the place was empty again.

  Bond sprinted to the opened crate and took a quick look at the hessian bag. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw what was there. He didn’t have to taste it to be certain that it was refined heroin. Without hesitating any longer, Bond hastened back to his position just as Tom and the other workmen returned to the warehouse. Bond slipped out of the back door, then moved around the side of the building so he could get a better view of the unloading.

  Sure enough, the sampan was in the process of being lifted by crane on to the lighter. Why the hell were they shipping a sampan to Singapore?

  A grey Rolls-Royce was parked near the entrance to the warehouse. The new man with the briefcase full of money was closer and plainly visible. He was Chinese and had a long scar that went across his nose and down his left cheek. Scarface opened the back door of the Rolls and got inside, joining another man sitting in the back seat.

  It was Li Xu Nan.

  At last, he had found one of the links in the puzzle! He had made the connection between EurAsia Enterprises and the Triad. Some kind of smuggling operation was being managed from this very warehouse. Guy Thackeray’s assassination was now making more sense. He must have learned of the smuggling and tried to stop it. The Triad must have killed him to get him out of the way. That still didn’t explain why he wanted to sell his company, though.

  Bond had to follow that Rolls. He made his way back through the Container Port to the fence, through the barbed-wire, as before, and jumped to the ground below. Sooner or later, the Rolls would leave the Port and drive down this road, but how could he follow it?