“But your holy relics might be in that chest!” I shot back at him.
“That may well be the case, but it also might not be the case. And we do as the Bishop directs, without question.”
“But the Church could lose everything!” Sue said, almost yelling, knowing that we could be doing the same.
“Without question,” was his quiet answer.
It was obvious what his feelings were, and I was certain that he had pleaded our case with Bishop Petro and the words he had just spoken had been the Bishop’s and not his own.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “So, what do we do?”
“We will try and get a good night’s rest and we will pray. The prayer will give us spiritual strength to overcome this difficulty and the sleep will strengthen our bodies.”
I wasn’t certain how much sleep Angelo got, but Sue and I tossed and turned all night. Even sleeping in separate beds, I could still hear her as she rolled over every now and then on the creaking wooden bed. The mattresses were as thin as a door mat and twice as hard. I must have finally fallen asleep because the quiet knocking woke me with difficulty.
“It is almost six a.m., Mr and Mrs Dunlop,” the voice said. It was Angelo, speaking softly from the other side of the door. “Jackson Lee’s man said that Lee would ring this morning. We must be ready to take the call.”
We both staggered out and made use of the frugal bathroom, and then followed the waiting Angelo down to an equally frugal breakfast of rice congee, which we both declined, boiled eggs and toast. There was tea, but no coffee.
“What are we going to do when we get this call from Lee?” Sue asked of Angelo.
“Well, we will have to see what he wants and then receive our instructions from the Bishop.”
The call came an hour later.
“He wishes to speak to Mrs Dunlop,” Angelo said.
“He’ll speak with me,” I replied, and Angelo reluctantly passed the handset across. For one brief instant I thought he might have said that he had to consult with the Bishop first.
“What do you want?” I snapped into the telephone.
“Ah, Mr Dunlop. You sound as if you did not sleep well.”
The voice was distorted, as though he had placed a cloth or some device over the mouthpiece. It sounded like the person who had called me at the hotel, Jackson Lee. I couldn’t be certain, although I was almost positive. It definitely wasn’t the man who had called the previous day. His English had been nowhere as good as this person’s was.
“I’d like to speak with Father Joseph,” I said.
“Father Joseph is fine.”
“I’d still like to speak to him!” I demanded.
“If we can reach an accord then perhaps I might be able to arrange for him to call you.”
“What sort of an accord?”
“Well, it would appear that you never had any intention of returning the rest of my property to me, even though I had offered a substantial reward. And, sadly, you have caused me to resort to seeking the co-operation of your friend, Father Joseph, in order to encourage you to be a little more, shall we say, accommodating.”
“Just tell me what the hell you want!”
“I want my property, that’s all. I am still prepared to pay you the sum promised. In fact, I am prepared to double my earlier reward for their return. If you return the two items to me, I will release your friend to you and will pay you the sum of $10,000, either in Australian or in United States currency. All I require are the two gold articles.”
“I’ll have to talk to Sue.”
“I will wait while you do so.”
“No, give me your number and I’ll call back.”
“Ah, Ben. I don’t think so. I will call back in five minutes.”
“Make that fifteen.”
“Very well. I will call back in fifteen minutes.”
“What did he say?” Sue asked as I was making certain that the handset was securely back on the cradle. I told them Jackson Lee’s side of the conversation.
“Do you have the two pieces here in Beijing?” Angelo asked.
“No, they’re both back in Australia, in a safe-deposit box. But it doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“He’s not going to be happy with just two of the pieces from the Buddhists’ cache,” I replied. “He knows there’s a lot more, and he’ll want the lot; and if there’s anything else belonging to the Church in the chest, he’ll want that as well. I’m certain now that Joseph would’ve told him there’s a chest somewhere, and that Sue and I are the only ones who know where it is.”
“No,” Angelo said.
“No what?” I replied.
“Father Joseph would not have given these people any information about the chest or its contents, or even that there is a chest. He would not have told them anything which might put the sacred relics in jeopardy.”
“But they may have forced him to tell them,” Sue said.
“No,” Angelo replied. “Even on pain of death, he would not have told them anything. The relics are sacred. They are more valuable than life itself.”
“Okay then,” I said. “If Joseph didn’t tell him, then how the hell does he know there’s other stuff? That’s question number one. And the second question is why isn’t he asking about the rest of that stuff? Why is he only asking for the gold pieces? Why does he only want those?”
“He doesn’t,” Sue said. “He’s just playing with us. He’s hoping we’ll still think that all he’s interested in is the gold. He’s hoping we’ll think he’s gone away, and that we’ll sneak out to get the rest of the goodies we’ve obviously come to Beijing to recover. But he’ll be waiting for us to come back here with the loot, and he’ll ambush us somewhere along the way.”
“I don’t know what he wants,” I said. “But I can’t see him handing over ten thousand dollars to get his hands on the two gold pieces. Let’s wait until he calls back, and play it by ear. I’ll tell him the truth about the pieces being in the bank, and see what happens.”
Ten minutes later the telephone rang again. I picked it up.
“Well, Ben. Have you decided to be sensible?”
I didn’t like his attitude, but I knew he was only trying to annoy me so that I might let something slip.
“It’s agreed,” I said. “Although we have to get the Bishop’s okay first.”
“But those pieces do not belong to the Society of Jesus. They belong to my family.”
“It doesn’t matter. Where Father Joseph is concerned, the Bishop has the last say.”
“Well, if the Bishop approves, and I am certain that he will, where will you meet my representative?”
And that little piece of advice told me that he was probably still in Hong Kong, keeping himself once removed from the action.
“How about somewhere in Tiananmen Square?” I replied. “How about near the ticket box at the main entrance to the Forbidden City?”
He didn’t answer for a few seconds and I was certain he had covered the mouthpiece and was talking to someone.
“Yes, that would be acceptable. How will my representative know you?”
“He’ll know me because the guy in Brisbane who collected the jade from us will have described us.”
“I’m afraid that my associate’s nephew is not very helpful when it comes to describing Caucasians, and there will be a few in attendance at the Forbidden City.”
“I’ll be wearing a red parka and carrying a tightly furled umbrella.”
“And what will Sue be wearing?”
“Sue! She won’t be wearing anything that concerns you. She won’t be there!”
“Ah, but she must. The only way that I can trust your bona fides is if you are both present when my associate hands the money to you and takes delivery of the gold pieces.”
“You don’t need Sue for that!”
“I insist, otherwise Father Joseph will suffer for it. I don’t think th
at the Bishop would be too pleased. What do you think, Ben?”
“Okay, Sue will be there. But I don’t have a clue what she’ll be wearing.”
“Good. My man will hand over the money to you, and you will hand the gold pieces to him. Once he has examined the pieces, he will telephone and your friend will be released.”
“I want Joseph to be at the meeting,” I snapped back. “The Bishop will insist on it.”
“Very well, agreed.”
“There’s just one small problem.”
“What is that?”
“I don’t have the gold ornaments here in Beijing. They’re in our bank back in Brisbane, in Australia, in a safe-deposit box. But I can hand over the key.”
“What!” There was a pause of perhaps two or three seconds. “Please wait.”
This time it was at least a full minute before he came back on the line.
“In that case, I will require you to sign a document giving me full rights to the golden ornaments and ownership of your rights to the safe-deposit box. It will be necessary for Mrs Dunlop to be at the handover as well, for her signature will also be required.”
“Okay. It’s agreed. Shall we say, at one o’clock this afternoon?”
“That will be acceptable.”
I hung the phone up and told the others what the arrangements were.
“He’s lying,” Sue said.
“Of course he’s lying,” I replied. “He’s got no intention of handing Joseph over to us.”
“What do you mean?” Angelo asked.
“He wants either me or Sue,” I replied. “And preferably both. We have to think like him. Joseph is no good to him except as a hostage. Joseph doesn’t know where the chest is. Lee needs to get hold of at least one of us, and that’s what he’s trying to do. He’ll wait until we leave here and then grab us, either on our way to the Forbidden City, or somewhere on our way back. And then he’ll hang on to both of us, as well as Father Joseph, until he’s got what he wants, the location of the rest of the stuff that was stolen by the Boxers. He’s probably already found out that Joseph won’t say a word, but if he had Sue or me there, or preferably both of us, with a knife to one of our throats, the other one would be certain to tell him everything he needs to know. And there’s no guarantee as to what he might do after that.”
“How do you know what he wants?” Angelo asked. “Perhaps he’s telling the truth. Perhaps all he wants are the two gold pieces. Perhaps he will be satisfied with that. Perhaps all he knows about are the objects which you found in the writing box.”
“No,” I replied. “He knows a great deal more than that. He either got it from John Jenkinson-Smythe, or maybe he’s checked with the Buddhist monks and been told their story about how they deposited their precious bits and pieces with the Jesuits, and the subsequent theft by the Boxers.”
“How would he have found out anything from John Jenkinson-Smythe?” Sue asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “We know he spoke to him when he made the offer to buy John’s piece of jade. Maybe they had a cosy little chat about the history of the writing box, and the jade, and Jenkinson-Smythe complained about the fortune that Captain Monty was supposed to have discovered, and then bitched because we wouldn’t share it with him. Maybe there was more in the letter the captain wrote to his brother than Jenkinson-Smythe let on to us.”
“No,” Sue said. “It wasn’t from John Jenkinson-Smythe. We know Lee’s got a copy of that book with the photographs of the jade pieces, so he would have known from the book that there were nine of them. It’s more likely that he checked with the Buddhist monks and found out they didn’t have the other six. I bet they let slip that they were stolen from the Jesuits during the Boxer rebellion and he’s guessed that a lot of other things were stolen at the same time.”
“Yes, maybe,” I said. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter how he knows. All I know is that he won’t be there with ten thousand dollars, and he won’t be there with Father Joseph.”
“How can you be sure?” Angelo asked.
“How can I be sure?” I replied. “Would you agree to the deal I just proposed if you were him? All I’ve got to do once we’ve handed over the bank authority is to telephone the bank and have them notify the police and they’ll grab anyone who tries to touch our safe-deposit box.”
“Yes,” he replied, after considering the matter for a few seconds. “I can see that you are right. What should we do?”
“We turn the tables on him,” I said. “We send in a couple of decoys, a Chinese couple; the man dressed in a red parka, and carrying a tightly furled umbrella. It doesn’t matter what the woman is wearing. It’ll be cold, so they can both have scarves covering their faces. We need someone who’ll trick them into making an approach, but without putting themselves in danger. I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t try to grab us either on the way to the Forbidden City, or on the way back. They’d be much more likely to approach us and say that they need somewhere a little more private to do the hand-over, that they don’t want a mob of inquisitive Chinese poking their noses in, and maybe even suggesting that we’d probably want somewhere private to count the money. Anyway, that’s what I’d do if I were them.”
Angelo sat quietly, nodding his head from time to time. What was happening was so far out of his normal pattern that I don’t think he grasped the full reality of the situation.
“If the two people dressed like us are Chinese,” I continued. “Then Jackson Lee’s men will believe they’ve simply made a mistake, and they’ll step back into the crowd and wait a bit longer for the real Ben and Sue to come along. If we could get a couple of westerners to take our place it’d be better, they’d be more likely to approach them, although it might make them suspicious. It’d be a bit too much of a coincidence.”
“But what if one of them gets up really close, takes a peek at our stooges, and backs away without us realising?” Sue asked. “Wouldn’t westerners be better?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “But I don’t think there’s too many available to us at the moment. We’ll just have to take the risk with a couple of Chinese. Who can you get, Angelo?”
“How close would these two have to resemble you?” he asked.
“The same size and body shape should do. They would’ve had a good look at us when we checked in to the hotel, and maybe taken a couple of pictures. Lee’s wanting to know how he would recognise us was just a bit of a snow job on his part. He was probably trying to convince me that he knew less than he actually does. But it’ll bounce back at him. With the hood of a parka pulled up, they’ll have to get really close to check. It’s lucky he didn’t insist on knowing what Sue would be wearing. When we don’t actually turn up he’ll think we decided not to take his deal, or that the Bishop wouldn’t let us do it.”
“Once we recognise them, do we call the police?” Angelo asked.
“No, we follow them. There’ll be a number of them, but only one will approach our decoys. We need to be able to pinpoint the other members of the group and then be able to follow them back to wherever they’re staying. Can you muster five or ten people to help follow these guys?”
“Not really. There’s just myself, Father Terrence and Father Christopher.”
“Are they Chinese?” I asked.
“No. Father Christopher is an American and Father Terrence is English, from London.”
“How tall are they?” Sue asked.
“I’m afraid that they are both taller than Ben.”
“Too tall and they’re westerners,” I replied. “That’s no good. We need ordinary Chinese men so they’ll blend in.” I turned back to Angelo. “What about a couple to pose as Sue and I? Do you have someone who would fit the bill?”
“Not really. There is Brother James. But he is one of our newer converts and is still in training. And he is somewhat shorter than you. He is part Chinese. He has been helping me with my research.”
“How much shorter is he?” I asked.
�
��Perhaps four inches, about ten centimetres.”
“You said that he’s only part Chinese,” I replied. “What’s the other part?”
“His mother was an American woman. She had a sexual liaison with a Chinese businessman. The woman’s American husband allowed her to remain in China until she had the baby, and then he sent her back to America in disgrace. The child was left in Beijing, with one of our orphanages. The Chinese father wanted nothing to do with the child. It was very sad.”
“Even if he is short,” I said. “He might be better at playing my part at Tiananmen Square than one of the full Chinese members of staff.”
“I think not. He is very quiet. He keeps to himself most of the time. He lacks confidence, and at times he needs considerable guidance. And besides, he is not here at the moment. The Bishop gave him permission to leave on some errand. He won’t return until later this evening, so even if he was suitable, he is not available.”
There was a quiet knock on the door.
“Ah,” Angelo said. “That will be Father Terrence and Father Christopher. The Bishop asked them to attend on us this morning to see if there was anything that they might be able to contribute.”
They were both definitely taller than me, both in their mid-thirties, too young and too broad in the shoulder to emulate a much shorter Australian in his early sixties. Angelo introduced them both, and the accents spoken in the room became even more diverse. Terrence spoke with the upper middle-class British accent he had been raised with, although his time in the priesthood had rounded out some of the tones. Christopher, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to rid himself of the southern twang acquired during his Alabama upbringing in the deep south of America.
They couldn’t have been more different from each other, apart from their heights and ages, although Christopher might have been a year or two younger than Terrence. Terrence was solid, a rugby player in his younger days perhaps, with that slightly twisted nose that most of them seemed to have. Christopher was lanky, blond and blue-eyed, and if he hadn’t been a priest he would have driven the girls wild. He probably still did, but from a distance. Terrence had the hands of a manual worker, which didn’t seem to fit in with his English upper middle-class background, and neither did the crinkly red hair, more Irish than anything.
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