Twelve Hours To Destiny

by John Glasby

  “That is perfectly true. You must, of course, make up your own mind which course you are going to take. Clearly nothing I can do or say is going to change your mind about Kellaway. I can’t even prove that Chao Lin is my uncle. Yet all I know is that, whatever you do, I intend to find him, wherever they have taken him. When I find him, I shall kill those responsible.” There was a note of fierce determination her voice which told Carradine that she was quite capable of doing exactly as she threatened. The sharp tingle of suspicion faded just a little. In spite of himself, he suddenly found that he wanted to believe her.

  “I intend to enter China tonight by—” He remembered security and went on quickly. “No matter how I get there. If you do go through with your crazy plan of trying to find Chao Lin yourself, perhaps we may meet again, somewhere.”

  She caught at his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh with a steely strength. “Just one thing. Whatever you do, don’t trust Kellaway too far. Whether you believe me or not it doesn’t matter. Just be very careful. And if you do change your mind, go down to the quayside at nine o’clock tonight. I have a small boat waiting there. It has a yellow dragon on the sail, the only one of its kind. I’ll wait until half-past nine. If you come, we’ll go together. If not, then I shall go without you.”

  “I’ll remember that.” He gently disengaged his arm. “Now I’d better get back to Kellaway or he’ll think something has happened.”

  It was not until he was approaching the other’s house on the side of Victoria Peak that the irony of that statement struck him.

  *

  Seated in front of the mirror, Carradine stared intently back at the face which peered out at him from the crystal glass. It was not the face he had known for more years than he cared to remember. He felt certain that none of his friends back in London would ever recognise the slant-eyed, Oriental features as those of Steve Carradine.

  The face surgeon had certainly known his job. Carradine only hoped that it would pass muster once he was inside Communist China. His whole life would depend on it. He checked the watch which he had taken from his wrist. It was a quarter to nine. Apart from the general background noise of the city, it was quiet. Kellaway had left half an hour earlier to check the preparations he had made for the boat to take him over to the Chinese mainland.

  In spite of the troubles in his mind, Carradine felt his thoughts turning more and more to the fascinating girl he had encountered that morning. Just how much truth was there in her story? Could Kellaway possibly be a double agent? One part of the girl’s story seemed to ring true. If she was a Chinese Red Dragon agent, then why had she gone to so much trouble to save his life when those killers in the truck had him at their mercy?

  He reached a sudden decision. There was one way of checking on Ts’ai Luan’s story. If Kellaway was working with the enemy, then he had to have some means of getting in touch with them. Even after he himself had arrived in Hong Kong, someone had been passing information about him to the Chinese. Sending word by means of a messenger was far too risky. Kellaway would never have dared to use a go-between. It would have been much too conspicuous. That meant only one thing. There had to be a radio transmitter somewhere in the house if what the girl had said was true.

  In the next ten minutes, he made a quick, but thorough survey of the rooms, but discovered nothing out of the ordinary. He had not expected a transmitter to be somewhere where it could be easily found and this failure did not deter him. The cellars too, were empty apart from several large packing cases which were also devoid of any contents. Thoughtfully, he made his way up to the topmost floor, glanced towards a skylight which appeared to have been recently built into the ceiling of the corridor between two of the bedrooms. Placing a chair beneath it, he managed to slide aside the glass cover. Hooking his fingers tightly around the edge of the opening, he hauled himself up, swinging his legs until they locked inside the opening, finally straightening up, hanging on to one side of the thick, wooden crossbeams to steady himself. Here too, there were several large cases, one in particular, over in the far corner, much larger than the rest, oblong in shape.

  Ignoring the others, he ripped off the lid. The wooden cover protected the gleaming grey metal of the modern transmitter which reposed inside. For a moment, he gazed at it thoughtfully, then picked up the small black notebook which lay beside the apparatus. The first page contained a series of names and addresses and Carradine’s eyes narrowed as he saw that some of them were of places in Canton. Several of the other pages were covered with a series of English letters and Chinese characters.

  Well, this appeared pretty definite. He sat back on his heels, turning over this fresh piece of evidence in his mind. One thing was certain. If he carried out the plan he had formulated with Kellaway, there would surely be a welcoming party waiting for him once he set foot on Chinese soil. He could visualise what his fate would be once he fell into their hands. So what to do now?

  Replacing the book inside the case, he put the lid back on the box and lowered himself through the square opening, sliding the glass back into place after dropping lightly on to the chair. In spite of this disturbing discovery, he experienced a sudden sense of relief. At the back of his mind, he knew he had been wanting the girl to be proved right, even if it meant finding out that Kellaway was working with the enemy. Again, he made an impulsive decision. If Kellaway had been passing information about his movements to the enemy on the mainland, then he could no longer go ahead with the original plan.

  He had to get out of there before Kellaway returned, had to get to the quayside and meet the girl. He checked the wristwatch which lay on the table—to have taken it with him would have been a direct giveaway—saw that it was now five minutes past nine. Outside, it was already dark. If he hurried, he might just be able to get there before she left.

  Pausing only to strap on the holster and the heavy Luger, it and pick up the papers with which Kellaway had so thoughtfully provided him, he let himself out of the rear door.

  The moon shone whitely on the streets as he made his way quickly in the direction of the harbour.

  He stopped at the bottom of a narrow alley, looked quickly about him with an all-embracing glance. The road to his left, leading down towards the quayside less than half a mile away, with the waters of the narrow channel gleaming palely in the moonlight and starshine, was deserted. He was on the point of moving out into it when he caught sight of the three dark figures moving in his direction. Swiftly, he pressed himself into the shadow of a doorway, held his breath until it hurt in his lungs as the men drew level with him. They were talking earnestly in low voices, speaking in Chinese. Carradine stiffened. Two of the men he did not recognise, the usual type of Chinese coolie one met in Hong Kong, with narrow faces and bright eyes that gleamed ferally in the dimness.

  It was easy to believe that they could be hatchet men for the Red Dragon operating inside Hong Kong. But he did not give them a second thought as they moved past his hiding place without even suspecting his presence there; for it was the third man who caught and held his attention. Evidently Chao Lin had known what he was about when he had suspected his Number Two of working in collaboration with the enemy. The third man was Kellaway!

  The trio continued up the street for a little way, then paused beneath one of the lights. Kellaway had a piece of paper in his hand, was holding it so that the other two could see clearly. They were too far away for Carradine to pick out any of their conversation, even if he had been able to understand the language fluently. But it was not so difficult to guess at the gist of it. These, he felt certain, were the men who would have been waiting on board the boat to ferry him across to the spot on the Chinese mainland, the men he would have accompanied unsuspectingly, going trustingly to his death.

  He waited for what seemed an eternity, but which could only have been three minutes at most. Then the men moved away into the stretch of anonymous darkness which lay beyond the solitary lamp. The sound of their footsteps died away into the echoing
distance. Stepping out of the doorway, he made his way rapidly to the harbour, scanning the multitude of junks for the one bearing the yellow dragon on its square-cut sail.

  CHAPTER 4

  NIGHT LANDING

  “So you now believe that I was telling you the truth this morning?” Ts’ai Luan pulled strongly on the rope, tightened it, then motioned to Carradine to draw up the anchor. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I found his secret transmitter less than an hour ago.” Carradine said simply. “I also passed him on the way back to his house with two hatchet men. No doubt they have been planning the best method of getting rid of me before I could start more trouble.”

  The girl seemed to sense the bitterness in his thoughts. “I have seen too much of this double-dealing inside China,” she murmured philosophically as the junk began to move slowly out of the harbour. “I have been forced to kill sometimes.”

  “You?” Surprise tinged Carradine’s voice. He stared at her face, in profile, against the pale darkness of the sky as she sat in the stern. It was a calm, beautiful face; one he would never have associated with violence and death. Then he recalled all that the people of China had been forced to endure since Japan had attacked them thirty years before. Then it had been the all-conquering soldiers of Nippon, and afterwards the bitter civil conflict between the companies and the Nationalists under Chiang-Kai-Chek.

  “The battle for freedom in China is far from won,” she said simply. “Because under the Communist, one either obeys blindly, or dies. It is as simple as that. Nobody is now allowed to think for himself.”

  “But surely you can’t hope to win. Your efforts must be mere pinpricks against the regime.”

  “Perhaps. But so long as the spirit of freedom is kept alive, they cannot afford to relax and someday there may be a new revolution.”

  “At the moment, my job is to try to prevent a world revolution. So far, Russia seems to have accepted the fact of peaceful co-existence. But whether the present leaders of your country will, is another problem. Personally, I doubt it. It seems to me that once they firmly believe they have a superior weapon to any possessed by the West—or by Russia—they will start on that plan for world conquest. If they do, then it will very likely be the bloodiest revolution this world has ever known.”

  By now, they were well out from Hong Kong Harbour, out on the gentle swell of the sea with a faint breeze blowing from the south-east and only the bright stars and the pale moon giving them any light. It was just possible, in their glimmering starshine, to make out the rising mountains ahead of them, marking their destination. The girl guided the boat with an uncanny instinct. It was possible, Carradine thought idly, that she was navigating by the stars, but somehow he doubted it. The soft swell almost sent him to sleep as he sat near the big sail, listening to the faint to slap of the water against the hull.

  Out here in the midst of all the quiet stillness, the danger and violence which he knew were to come, seemed so far away as to have faded into utter insignificance. Only the hard feel of the Luger automatic in his belt gave any indication of it.

  It must have been two hours later that the girl came forward and laid a hand on his arm. In a low voice, she whispered: “We must be very quiet and careful now. The Communists have men patrolling the coast. They look mostly for smugglers or people trying to get out of the country and across to Hong Kong but they also know that there are some Nationalist soldiers entering the country. They watch for these too.”

  “I can imagine they do,” Carradine murmured grimly. He rose to his knees, peered into the pale wash of moonlight directly ahead. He could just make out the stretch of coastline about three hundred yards away with the white lines of breakers which crashed on hidden reefs guarding any approach. He had to admit that Ts’ai Luan had chosen a particularly rugged part of land on which to attempt to beach the junk. As far as he was able to see in the dimness, there was no suitable landing place. Small as the junk was, it would require a narrow stretch of sand or shingle on which to ground.

  The girl busied herself with the sail and a moment later, it came rattling down at his feet. He glanced at her in surprise. “They sometimes have searchlights to help them pick up fishing vessel who come close to the shore,” she explained. “The sail would give us away at once if there are any men looking out on the top of the cliffs.”

  “How do you intend to get ashore?” Carradine narrowed his eyes, searching the area. As far as he was able to see there was nothing but bare rock rising sheer from the water.

  “We take the small boat. Then we shall have to climb.” She pointed. “I’ll lead the way. There is a route up the cliff which I’ve followed several times. The patrols will not be expecting anyone to climb at that point.”

  “All right. If you say so.” He felt a little dubious, but the die had now been cast and he had no alternative but to go through with this. Checking that the Luger was firmly fastened inside the holster, he made his way along the deck, helped the girl lower the small boat over other side. Twenty seconds later, they had cast off, the tide carrying the frail boat shoreward at an alarming rate. He heard the girl shout something over the crashing roar of the breakers, then they had slid miraculously between two gaping teeth of rock which trusts themselves out of the water on either side of them, either pinnacle capable of tearing the bottom out of the boat in a single instant. Moments later, they had entered an area of calm water and he let his breath sigh out in a long, heavy exhalation of relief—he had been quite unaware that he had stopped breathing—and hurriedly pulled hard on the oar, sending the boat towards the narrow inlet towards which the girl pointed.

  “Once we’re in there, I’ll go first” she called to him, her head close to his. “Then follow me up.”

  There was no time for any more. The boat was swinging almost broadside on against the rocky bastion of the cliff. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ts’ai Luan climb nimbly on to the edge of the boat, then jump for the stretch of smooth rock, scarcely three feet in width. Almost at once, she began to climb. Without waiting, he jumped, staggered a little, then caught his balance, felt for the surface of the narrow ledge immediately above him and pulled himself up onto it, beside the girl.

  Lifting his head, he stared above him, gauged the distance to the top, estimating it to be about a hundred feet, possibly a little more. In places, it appeared to be a sheer climb with neither handhold nor foothold in sight, yet the girl did not seem unduly disturbed by the prospect. She smiled up at him in the pale moonlight. “Once we reach the top, the going is much easier,” she said philosophically.

  “I certainly can’t imagine it being any worse,” he agreed.

  The first twenty feet were relatively easy. Out-thrusting boulders provided excellent handholds, but after that the going was much harder. He could understand how the girl had been so sure that the patrol would not be anticipating anyone to climb this way. How the girl was managing he did not know. As surely as a mountain goat, she found the almost invisible holds, waiting for him as he struggled up. There was a broader ledge some twenty feet from the top where they rested for a little while. From below, it had been completely invisible.

  Ts’ai Luan gestured towards a rock at their backs, then up to where the shadowy edge was lined in the blurred outline against the faint glimmer of the night sky. She leaned forward, mouth close to his ear, faint perfume of her dark hair in his nostrils. “There is another ledge, about five feet from the top, narrower than this. I will go up first. Keep close behind me.”

  He nodded to show that he had understood. Stretching up, she hooked her fingers around a narrow out-thrust of rock, climbing easily. Carradine waited until she had reached the ledge she had indicated, then began the final ascent. He felt like a fly on a window pane, hanging there suspended more than a hundred feet above the frothing water. Ts’ai Luan had made the ledge. Dimly, he made out the pale blur of her face looking down at him. She had grasped a thick root which grew out of the solid rock with her left hand
. Now she bent her knees, held her right hand down to him.

  “Give me your hand,” she said urgently.

  Feeling a trifle foolish, thinking incongruously that the positions should have been reversed, yet knowing that she had performed this climb many times before, he hung on with his right hand and lifted his left. She caught his wrist firmly as he wormed his way up. Then completely without warning, the two-inch wide ledge beneath his feet crumbled. Before he was aware of what was happening he was swinging helplessly in mid-air, his chest striking painfully against the razor-sharp rocks. Madly, he flailed with his toe and free hand to find a fresh hold. This was surely the end, he thought desperately. The girl would have to release her hold on his wrist or be pulled off the ledge by his weight.

  “Let go!” he shouted harshly. “Or you’ll be—

  “No!” Her voice came back to him from above. “Keep hold.”

  The grip on his wrist tightened a fraction and then, incredibly, with an effort of which he had never believed her to be capable, the girl slowly straightened her legs, lifting all of his thirteen stone ten with her. His protruding toes found a narrow crack in the rocks a few seconds later and he thrust his boots into them, catching hold. Then, with a heave he was over the edge of the ridge, lying on his chest, the breath gasping painfully in his lungs.

  “You are all right?”

  He found her looking down at him, concern on her face.

  Numbly, he nodded his head slowly. “I don’t know how you managed to do that,” he said hoarsely, “but thanks. You saved my life.”

  She smiled. “You forget that I worked with an acrobatic troupe inside China. I’m used to it.”

  “Sorry.” Carradine recalled the manner in which she had swung from one building to the next that morning. “I guess I forgot.”

  Noiselessly, and with an infinite caution, they climbed to the top of the cliff, peered out into the darkness that lay beyond. Carradine remained quite still, searching about with eyes and ears, alert for the faintest sound, the slightest movement, all of his senses concentrated on watching for danger. There was nothing. Tall, rugged boulders lay strewn just beyond the rim of rock and some distance away where the darkness was less absolute than close at hand, the ground was broken up by patches of scrub and he thought he could just make out a narrow road, like a pale grey scar running through the countryside.