Wave of Death

by Charlie Vogel

  He frantically shook his head. I didn’t know if he couldn’t understand or if he didn’t wish to see me. I pounded my fist on the door then shaded the sun with my hands and pressed my nose against the glass. The waiter had moved to the register and was talking on the phone. The thought of cops sent me back to the Kaiser. As the car moved onto the empty street, I heard my name. The waiter trotted alongside, both hands on the passenger’s door.

  “Mr. Pencils, stop, please!”

  Not wanting to hurt the guy, I eased to a stop. “What do you want?”

  “You must wait. Someone wish talk to you on phone.”

  “Who?”

  He looked uncertain a moment then said, “Lihua.”

  Returning the car to the curb, I followed him into the coffee shop. He handed the phone to me.

  “This is Pencils.”

  I didn’t recognize the male’s lightly accented voice. “Pencils, I finally have a chance to talk to you. Can you meet me at my office in about thirty minutes?”

  I looked around. The waiter had disappeared. “Who is this?”

  “You don’t know me . . . yet. I choose not to waste time explaining myself. Let’s just say I’m Lihua’s father.”

  And I’m her uncle I wanted to say. “Where’s your office?”

  “Lo’s Restaurant. Enter by the door to the right of the main entrance. My office is at the top of the stairs.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Replacing the receiver, I knew the man was Wong, but wondered why he identified himself as Lihua’s father. Why would he think that was important to me . . . unless he had talked to her? Something told me she would not readily share confidences with the man.

  I recovered the Colt from under the Kaiser’s seat and pushed it down into the front of my trousers. I pulled out my shirt to conceal the butt. My heart began to pound a bit harder. Thankfully, the trip to the restaurant was short and I found an empty meter near the front entrance.

  Despite the fact I hadn’t eaten, my stomach didn’t respond to the greasy smell of vegetables, fish, rice and soy sauce that filled the stairwell. At the top of the steps, I pushed open a solid wood door and faced an empty room containing only a desk and a chair. At the far end, another door held a sign reading, “Private—Do not enter” in English with Oriental characters below.

  I knocked loud then pushed it open without an invitation. Near the far window sat a small man with black hair, parted in the center, greased down, and combed straight back. In front of him an oak desk filled half the room. He casually peered at me over glasses set towards the tip of his small nose. He removed a long, slender cigar from the corner of his mouth, letting smoke leisurely drift from his nose.

  “May I help you?”

  “Are you Wong?”

  “Yes, and you must be Pencils? Have a seat. I didn’t know it was this easy to ask you for a visit.”

  Sitting on the edge of a soft cushion sofa against the opposite wall, I brushed my hand over the butt of my Colt as I folded both arms across my waist band. “If you had asked me to visit instead of sending your two goons, I could’ve been here sooner.”

  “Ah, my vigilant employees. What happened to them?”

  “I think they needed to go to a body shop.”

  He stared at me then took another drag from his cigar. Smoke circled around his head. Tapping the ashes into a large ceramic bowl, he asked, “Are you saying they aren’t coming back?”

  “I wouldn’t wait up for them. If they’re Buddhist, you might see them in their next life.”

  The expressionless eyes hardened. “Pencils, I don’t like anyone messing with my people. You will pay for this.”

  I cocked my head. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No threat, a promise. I know you have a gun on you. That doesn’t scare me. I have three men outside the door with fully automatic weapons. You seem like an intelligent man, even if you are a sailor. I suggest you do not try anything. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t scare you? I could have your head filled with six shots before your goons could flick a finger. I might even make it out the window before they could pull a trigger.”

  “A gambling man. Interesting. Go ahead and shoot me. Once I’m dead, I have a successor ready to take over. Death doesn’t frighten me. I’ve suffered with cancer for two years. Whether I die now or next month does not matter.”

  I didn’t break eye contact. From the window, the setting sun cast light onto the left side of his face. He looked to be in his fifties, but I always had problems guessing the ages of Orientals. A sweaty sheen covered his high forehead above the plastic framed, thick-lens glasses, but I could tell it was not put there by fear.

  I crossed my legs and asked, “So, what do you want with me?”

  “I want you to hand over the Operation Market Time documents.”

  Just like that. I laughed. Wiping my eyes with one hand, I responded, “You seriously think I would do that, even if I had them? Why would you want them?”

  His thin hand waved in the air. “I have business associates in Peking who are paying a large sum of money for them.”

  “Why would you think I have them?”

  “I also have a few employees who have kept an eye on you since you left Subic. They have informed me of your movements.”

  “Really. You have spies aboard the STEVENS?”

  “Spies seems a harsh label. I like mine better.”

  “You’re wasting your time. I don’t have the documents.”

  “Perhaps, but, I’m sure you can get me copies. I believe your job in the Navy involves a lot of paperwork.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. “I’m willing to pay you a lot of money.”

  “Mr. Wong, I’ve been sitting here thinking during this little time-wasting chat. You were the one responsible for blowing up my staff car, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. It was because of a . . . let’s say, a lack of communication. I was informed that the documents were in safe hands. I decided to do away with you because it seemed you were becoming too devoted to your investigation. I didn’t want you finding out too much. It was a hasty decision. I admit now, it may have been a mistake.”

  “You do like to sugar-coat your mistakes, don’t you? When did you find out you didn’t have the documents?”

  He smiled, once again taking up his cigar. “Shortly after my people dumped you in the alley.”

  I laughed without humor. “You enjoy being a cruel son-of-a-bitch, don’t you? Is it because you are pissed because you are dying anyway?”

  The half-assed smugness left his face. “I don’t have many friends in my business. I have no need to pleasure anyone but myself.”

  “You actually do have some friend though? So who are your bought-and-paid-for friends aboard the STEVENS?”

  “You will never know, Pencils.”

  “You are really boring me with your petty-assed talk. Let me make this plain and simple enough that even your cancer-riddled mind can understand. You won’t be getting any documents from me, because . . . they were all turned over to Admiral Collins. I didn’t read them, so I can’t even give you any information about what they contained.”

  He laughed. “Pencils, we all know what they are about. It’s plans to invade an innocent country that happens to be a friend of China. Do you know anything of Vietnam?”

  “No, and I don’t really want to unless I get involved. Now, you will excuse me, Mr. Wong. I have other things to do. Nice threatening one another.”

  “Quit acting the fool you are not. Sit down, Pencils. You are involved, because you will get me a copy of the documents.”

  “How will that be possible? They are out of my hands.”

  “You met Lihua, my adopted daughter?”

  I stiffened just enough for him to notice. “You mean your slave? Didn’t you buy her in Peking?”

  “Ah, so she told you?”

  “Yeah. It must really take a real man to have sex with a twelve-year-old.”

/>   His hand flicked in the air. “It seems you know a lot about her, but there’s so much more you don’t know. Her father was a leader in the Chinese Communist Party. I took Lihua as a token in remembrance of him.”

  “What a generous man and then you turned her into a whore.”

  “She has been invaluable. Her job was to obtain important information from the military when the opportunity arose. She performed well and has helped us.”

  “So, Mr. Wong, tell me why Lihua so important right now.”

  He leaned back in his high back leather chair watching me like a cat with a mouse. He blew smoke out the side of his mouth as he bite down on the cigar. “Pencils, I’m holding Lihua until you bring me the documents.”

  “So? Why should I worry about what you do to her? You own her. Do what you want.”

  The door to the office opened. Three large oriental men carrying rifles walked in. They stood in front of me, staring down into my face.

  “Pencils, these associates of mine will escort you to Lihua. I’m sure you’ll return in a few minutes with your final decision.”

  As I reluctantly stood, the man to my right grabbed and held me while the other one took away my Colt. He dropped the cartridge from the handle then ejected the round from the chamber, before handing the empty gun back.

  My mouth dropped open and I shook my head at him. “The gun’s not good enough for you? You don’t want to keep it?” He shoved the Colt in my waistband.

  I followed the lead man out the door and down two flights of stairs into the basement. We entered the first of two rooms, stopping in front of a locked door. One of the goons keyed the padlock and opened it. When I stepped, I stared at Lihua stretched out on her back, in the middle of the room, naked, her wrists and ankles chained to bolts driven into the floor.

  One of the men pushed me and I fell forward. The door closed and I heard the padlock snapping shut. I crawled forward.

  Lihua’s face was covered with blood. She had obviously been beaten. From her neck down, several cuts had scabbed over. The abuse had gone on for some time. Her eyes followed me as I moved to examine the locks securing her chains. I couldn’t break them.

  I sat back on my heels. “Oh, God, Lihua, what have they done to you?”

  Her cracked and bleeding lips moved. Fresh blood smeared her teeth. “Each and every hour, they send someone to have sex with me. When each gets done, he is allowed to . . . beat me. Each time . . . someone different. Are you next, Pencils?”

  I rubbed my face. “Shit no! I’m not part of their games. I want to get you out of here.”

  “No. I don’t want to go anyplace. I want you to kill me. I want you to do it now . . . please.”

  “Lihua! No I can’t. Believe me, I’ll get you out.”

  “If you have any feeling for me, you will kill me now. I’m begging you, Pencils, please kill me.”

  Chapter 13

  As a child I would watch my father load his gun in the mornings before he left for work. He always hid a live round under the elastic of his right sock, explaining that someday it may save his life. After I took the police officer’s oath, I cultivated some of my father’s habits, but that extra bullet went in my back left pocket instead of my sock. I placed the shell into the Colt’s chamber, then called through the door, “Let me out. I’ll talk to Wong!”

  Lihua’s weak voice cried out, “No, Pencils, don’t do it.”

  The door opened. Stepping out, I immediately swung around the biggest man and shot the round in the back of his skull. As he dropped, I jerked the rifle from his hand and blindly fired at the other two until I couldn’t see anyone standing.

  Digging through blood-soaked pockets, I finally found keys. Moments later I freed Lihua. She didn’t speak or move. I pulled her feather-light body into my arms. The movement must have been too much for her. She went limp, her eyes closing. From the looks of her body and the floor I guess she had lost a lot of blood over the hours of torture. I had to get her to a doctor.

  Trudging up the steps with the unconscious girl slowed me. And I didn’t know what I would do if I encountered more of Wong’s armed men. Thankful I hadn’t, I emerged into the sunlight. Pedestrians turned to stare as I ran onto the sidewalk. Although a lot of strange things were seen on Hotel Street, I must have been the first to carry a bloody, naked woman out the back door of a restaurant in the middle of the day.

  Placing her on the Kaiser’s seat, I wrapped my shirt around her shoulders, fastening the top two buttons to hold it together. I then eased her head to the side until it rested on the door.

  The usual late afternoon rush would not yield to the Kaiser, but with mid-western know-how, I created a quick solution to an impossible situation. Amidst the squealing of tires and brakes, I forced a hole in the traffic.

  After a gasp then gurgle from the passenger seat, Lihua’s light brown skin turned ashen. Her chest didn’t look like it was moving. Passing one car, I played chicken with an oncoming Plymouth, which decided to park on a sidewalk atop a newspaper vending machine. Turning into an alley and exiting onto another street, I located the medical clinic.

  Above the glass front, oriental letters called the sick and injured penniless street people to the wood framed, one-time shoe store. Although I couldn’t read any of the hand-written signs, I had always known about the Spring Wind Clinic. Over the years, Rex and I had made numerous trips there with extra medical supplies the Navy no longer “needed.” It seemed Rex could never order the exact amount for ship-board purposes and just didn’t have enough storage space for the excess.

  Carrying Lihua inside, I confronted Tanya at her desk. She jumped to her feet to assist me positioning Lihua on a bed in one of the back rooms. Tanya had worked as a nurse during the Pearl Harbor attack. At the war’s end, she had helped her physician husband open the clinic. When he died, she continued the work.

  The middle-aged nurse wrapped a pressure cuff around Lihua’s upper right arm, her critical eye watching the barely visible rise and fall of the small, blood-encrusted breasts. Pumping the bulb to the blood pressure gauge a second time, she asked me without looking up, “What in hell happened to her?”

  I assessed her cold, oriental facial features as she scrambled about, getting Lihua as comfortable as possible, placing wet saline dressings on her visible wounds to ease the clean-up and assessment, covering her with light blankets, seeming to do everything at once, while I stood there like a bump on a log. Tanya placed the diaphragm of the stethoscope against Lihua chest, listened, then looked up at me, silently repeating her question.

  I felt totally helpless. “She was tortured.”

  “By who?”

  “Wong’s men.”

  Tanya looked at her watch, her lips moving as she counted against the second hand. Gently moving the diaphragm to several spots on the opposite side of the girl’s chest, she said, “We’ll have to get her to a hospital.”

  “How serious is it?”

  “She could die sometime today if Wong had his way . . . which he still might. But,” She looked at me as she gently felt Lihua’s skull through the blood matting her lovely hair. “if you were lucky enough to kill off Wong and his men first, she has a good chance of making it.”

  “I didn’t get everybody.”

  She nodded and began washing Lihua’s face.

  “Is she well enough for me to drive her to the hospital?”

  “No, she’s in shock. She has to be taken by ambulance. Once she’s there,” She pointedly stared at me, “Wong will have her.”

  “What do you mean? Who in the hell is this bastard?”

  As Tanya placed an oxygen mask over Lihua’s face, she calmly stated, “He’s in charge of all the opium coming in from China. Most people say he’s a Communist.”

  “Who says so?”

  “Pencils, you know the type of people I get in here. The street people talk of Wong as if he’s a god. He has people working for him on the entire island, even at the hospital. If Wong tortured this girl
, he had a reason. The condition she’s in . . . he obviously wanted her dead.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Would she be safe here?”

  “No. Too many people in and out. Word would get around. The only safe place for her would be two hundred miles out at sea in a rubber raft.” She picked up a new stack of washcloths and brought a fresh basin of water, then talked as she worked. “Pencils, I owe you and Rex a lot. I’ll take a chance of not having this clinic burnt to the ground by keeping her here, but only for six hours. I can close off this room and slip in and out to give her basic care for that long, clean her up, stitch what I can, get some fluids into her. But after that you will have to find a place for her to rest. I hope to God, they don’t find her in the meantime.”

  “I’ll start looking. Tanya, what if this all-powerful Wong suddenly dies. Does anybody know who would take his place?”

  “Of course. Everyone knows it would be Huey Lo, the owner of Lo’s Restaurant.”

  Returning to my Kaiser, I circled the block three times before deciding no one had followed me to the clinic. I stopped at the fish market and found a pay phone. I had memorized Jenny’s home phone number from her service jacket. On the fifth ring, a man’s voice answered. Stunned, my lips moved without sound. He repeated, “Hello?”

  “Yeah, eh . . . this is Petty Officer Coleman. Is Jen . . . or ah Allison there?”

  A moment later, she was on the line. “Yes, Pencils. How did you find my home number?”

  “Your service jacket was open on the Lieutenant’s desk. I didn’t think you would be busy. I can call later.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not, so what do you need?”

  “You have company, so I won’t tie you up too long.”

  Her voice turned sharp, “That was my roommate, as if it’s any of your business.”

  “Your-your what? I-I thought your roommate would be a girl.”

  “Quit prying into my personal affairs. Is this a Navy business call?”

  “Lihua’s been hurt. She’s being treated now in a public clinic. Can she stay at your place for a few days?”

  “I don’t really have the room, but why can’t she stay at her own place?”