12 Chinamen and a Woman

by 12 Chinamen

  Nightingale gave a peculiar smile. “You given up packing a rod?” he said to Fenner. “They tell me you're dynamite with a trigger.”

  Fenner balanced the automatic thoughtfully in his hand. “I get by,” was all he said.

  Miller looked at the small watch that seemed out of place on his thick wrist. “Let's go,” he said. He wrapped the machine-gun in his dust-coat and picked up his hat.

  Reiger moved to the door. Nightingale said softly to Fenner: “Watch those two birds.”

  There was a big sedan parked outside the Funeral Parlor. Reiger got under the driving-wheel, and Fenner and Miller got in behind. Fenner waved his hand to Nightingale as the car slid away. He caught a glimpse of Curly watching behind Nightingale. He could just make out the blurred outline of her face.

  He said to Miller: “Carlos never comes on these runs, does he?”

  “Why should he?” Miller said shortly.

  Reiger swung the car south. “You're always askin' questions, ain't you?” he said.

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got down to the waterfront they left the car parked and walked rapidly down to the line of small shipping. A tall Negro and Bugsey were waiting alongside a forty-foot boat. As soon as the Negro saw them coming he climbed aboard and disappeared into the engine-room. Bugsey stood ready to cast off.

  Reiger said, while Miller climbed aboard, “You don't do anythin' until they come alongside. Then you gotta watch them as they come aboard. Not one of these Chinks must have guns. The safest way to deal with them is to make them strip as they come on board. It takes time, but it's safe. If you think one of them's got a rod, take it off him. If he looks like startin' anything, give it to him. Miller will take them from you and put them in the forward cabin.”

  Fenner said, “Sure,” and followed Reiger on board. Bugsey cast off and tossed the bowline to Reiger. He waved his hand to Fenner. “Nice trip,” he said.

  The Negro started the engines and the boat began to shudder a little. Miller was already down in the cockpit, his hand on the wheel.

  Reiger said, “All right—let her go,” and the boat began to show her heels.

  Reiger went over to the small but powerful searchlight on the foredeck. He squatted down behind it and lit a cigarette. His back was intent and unfriendly, and Fenner didn't bother to follow him. He climbed down into the cockpit with Miller and made himself comfortable.

  “What time will you pick these guys up?” he asked Miller.

  “Around about ten, I guess.”

  As the boat headed for the open sea, it grew suddenly chilly, and a drizzling rain began to fall. There was no moon and the visibility was bad.

  Fenner shivered a little and lit a cigarette. Miller said, “You get used to these trips. If you feel cold go into the engine-room. It'll be warmer there.”

  Fenner stayed with Miller a little longer, then he went off to the engine-room. He noticed Reiger still sitting behind the searchlight, immovable.

  The boat bounced a good bit in the rough, and Fenner suddenly lost interest in smoking. The Negro didn't say a word. Now and then he rolled his eyes at Fenner, but he didn't say anything.

  After some time, Miller yelled and Fenner joined him. Miller pointed. An intermittent flash of light came from a long way off. Miller had altered the course and the boat was running directly toward the light. “I guess that must be our man,” he said.

  Reiger suddenly switched on his searchlight, and almost immediately he snapped it off again.

  Very faintly Fenner heard the drone of an aeroplane. He smiled in the darkness. Miller heard it too. He bawled to Reiger, “There's a plane coming.”

  Reiger stood up and looked up into the blackness overhead. Then he hurriedly put out the running lights. The boat went on through the curtain of blackness.

  Miller said savagely, “These goddam coast guards give me a pain.”

  The aeroplane droned on, then, after a few minutes, faded away. Reiger flashed on the searchlight again, let the beam cut the darkness and then turned it off. The other light kept on flickering. It was drawing nearer and nearer.

  Miller handed Fenner a torch. “Go forward,” he said; “we're nearly there.”

  Fenner took the torch and climbed out of the cockpit. He felt the boat roll as Miller cut speed.

  Reiger, who was standing well forward, shouted, “Kill it,” and with a flurry the engines stopped. Reiger came over to Fenner, walking carefully as the boat rolled and heaved. “Get your rod out,” he snapped, “and watch these guys.” He was holding the sub-machine-gun. “I'll pass them to you. Make sure they ain't got guns, then pass them to Miller.'

  They both stared into the inky blackness. Reiger flashed on a small torch suddenly. He had heard the creak of oarlocks.

  A small rowboat came bobbing towards them. Fenner could see four men huddled in it and two men at the oars, then Reiger put his lamp out.

  “Keep your ears back for that aeroplane,” Reiger muttered to Fenner.. Then, as the rowboat bumped gently alongside, he put his lamp on again.

  A thin scraggy Chinaman came aboard. “I got four here,” he said to Reiger. “I'll bring the others in four lots.”

  “What about the special?”

  “Sure, sure, I'll bring the special last.”

  Reiger said to Fenner. “Okay, let's start.”

  Fenner stepped back and waited. The Chinamen came on board one by one. Reiger counted them, letting only one come at a time, waiting for Fenner to pass them to Miller, who directed them to the forward cabin. Each Chinaman wore the same clothes, tight shirts and knee-length trousers. They stood sheeplike before Fenner, who patted them down and shoved them over to Miller.

  Two more boatloads came out and it all took some time. The scraggy Chinaman, who had stood on the right-hand side of Reiger while this was going on, said, “Okay, that's the lot. I'll go back for the special now.”

  Reiger said to Miller, “You locked those Chinks in?” His voice sounded uneasy to Fenner.

  “Bolts on,” Miller assured him.

  Fenner wondered what the 'special' was. He sensed a sudden tension between Miller and Reiger. They all waited in the darkness, their ears straining for the long-boat to return. At last they heard the faint splash of oars. Reiger snapped on his torch and, reaching out with a boat-hook, held the long-boat steady.

  The scraggy Chinaman climbed on board. He reached down and the oarsman handed a small figure over to him. A quick pull, and the special was aboard.

  “Don't you worry about this,” Reiger said to Fenner.

  Fenner flashed his torch on the special. He gave a soft grunt. It was a girl. He'd guessed as much. She was about thirteen or fourteen years old, Chinese, and pretty. She looked very scared and cold. She wore the same tight shirt and knee-length trousers.

  With an oath, Reiger struck the torch from his hand. “Keep out of this,” he said between his teeth. “Miller, get her under cover.”

  Reiger turned to the Chinaman, who gave him a package wrapped in oilskin, and then climbed into the long-boat, which disappeared into the night.

  Fenner said between his teeth: “There's a nice rap hanging to this sort of racket.”

  Reiger said, “Yeah? You gettin' milky?”

  “I guess I was entitled to know you were runnin' women. That ain't a thing that gets passed over easily.”

  “What do you think? A twist is worth ten Chinks, if you can get them. So shut up, will you?”

  Fenner didn't say anything, he let Reiger go to the cockpit. He stood there brooding. Was this the answer to the riddle? They'd picked up twelve Chinks and a woman. Was that what this sister of Marian's was trying to hint at? Or was it just a coincidence? He didn't know.

  Miller shouted. “Take her back, Reiger, I've had enough of it.”

  Reiger said, “Sure, tell the Nigger to start her up.”

  The boat quivered as the engines sprang into life. Fenner sat down with his back to the cockpit roof and searched the darkness. His
ears strained, hoping to pick up the sound of a patrol boat. He neither heard nor saw anything.

  Reiger shouted suddenly. “Ross—where the hell are you? Hi, Ross!”

  Fenner dropped into the cockpit. “What's the matter?” he said. “Scared of the dark?”

  “Listen, bright boy, suppose you lay oft the funny angle? I want you to go into the Chinks' cabin and chain them together. There are the chains over there.”

  Fenner looked at the heap of handcuffs linked together with rusty chains that lay in the corner. “What for?” he said.

  “What you think? We gotta be careful, ain't we? If a patrol boat gets on our tail, we shove the rats over. Chained like that they go down quick.”

  Fenner said, “The things you think of!” He took the wheel out of Reiger's hand. “Do it yourself. That ain't up my street.”

  Reiger looked at him in the dim light of the navigation lamp. “Somehow I don't think you're goin' to be a lotta use with our mob,” he said, and picking up the chains, he climbed out of the cockpit and disappeared.

  Fenner made a little face. He couldn't see how much longer he was going to keep this up. He was nearly satisfied that he'd got as much information as he wanted. It depended on what this Glorie Leadler would have to say. If he got what he hoped from her, then he could strike and wash the whole business up.

  A muffled sound of a gun going off jerked his attention to the boat again. He listened, peering ahead but seeing nothing. There was silence, and after a little while Reiger came back into the cockpit again.

  Fenner glanced at him as Reiger took the wheel from him. Reiger's face was hard and cold. “Trouble?” Fenner said.

  Reiger grinned. “They don't like the chains. I had to, shoot one of the bastards in the leg before they'd quiet down.”

  Fenner ran his hand through his hair. It had stopped raining, but he felt cold and damp.

  “Go along an' tell Miller to watch that broad,” Reiger said suddenly. “She looked quiet, but if she starts a squeal, there'll be hell on this ship.”

  “I don't get it,” Fenner said.

  Reiger grinned. “Those twelve Chinks down there ain't touched a woman for six weeks. If they knew one was on board they'd run wild. Jeeze! I've seen it happen. Once I took a boat out with a crazy loon to help me handle the cargo. We got a load of Chinks on and a little mulatto girl. This guy let the Chinks see her, and that started something. I had to shoot two of them and club another two cold. I've never seen anythin' like it. The frill got so scared she tossed herself overboard.”

  Fenner grunted and climbed out of the cockpit. He went aft to the small cabin behind the galley.

  He walked into the cabin and stopped. Miller was holding the Chinese girl down on the floor and beating her about her face with his open hands. Her shirt was ripped to pieces and she was partly naked below the waist.

  She fought him silently, blood running from her nose and from her lips.

  Fenner took a step forward and grabbed Miller by his collar. He heaved, dragging Miller away from the girl. When he got him clear, he booted him hard, sending him sprawling to the other side of the small cabin.

  The girl lay on her side with her knees drawn up and her arms held over her head.

  Miller sat up slowly. His great white face glistened in the lamplight. He focused on Fenner by screwing up his eyes. “Get out of here, an' leave me alone,” he said thickly.

  Fenner didn't say anything. He just stood, his hands hanging loose at his side. Miller looked round the cabin, saw the girl and scrambled over to her.

  Fenner moved. His foot shot out and he kicked Miller in the middle of his chest very hard. Miller flopped over. His breath came out of his mouth in a rasping note, but he didn't take his eyes off the girl. With one hand pressing his chest, he began to crawl towards her again.

  Fenner pulled his gun. “Stop it!” he shouted. “Do you hear? Stop it!”

  Miller took no notice of him. His hand went out and grabbed the girl's ankle. Fenner stepped forward and stamped on Miller's wrist. Miller wouldn't let go.

  Fenner, white-faced and thin-lipped, slid his gun so that he held it by the short barrel. He began to club Miller across his shoulders very hard with the gun. He didn't want to put Miller right out. He might be wanted to handle the boat, but he had to stop this somehow.

  Miller paused, heaved his shoulders, kicked out with his foot. Fenner sucked in his breath and hit him on the top of his head. Miller stiffened, went limp and dropped forward on the girl. He twitched once, as if trying to command his muscles, then his forehead hit the floor with a little thud.

  Fenner shoved his gun away and pulled him off the girl. He took him by his arm and dragged him out of the cabin.

  Reiger shoved his head over the top of the cockpit. “What the hell's goin' on?” he shouted.

  Fenner took no notice. He dumped Miller in the scuppers and went back to the cabin. The girl had drawn up her knees to her chin again. Red-tinged bubbles kept breaking at her lips.

  Fenner knelt down and put his arm under her head. She stiffened, then reached up and hit him hard with her clenched fist across his face.

  Fenner let her go and stood back. He touched his face with his fingers, then pulled a blanket off the bunk and threw it over her. She lay looking at him with terrified eyes. He nodded and went out, shutting the door and turning the key. He pulled the key out and put it in his pocket.

  Miller was sitting up, holding his head. He mumbled a hoarse stream of obscenities. Fenner didn't look at him; he went over to the cockpit and climbed down.

  Reiger said, “What's goin' on?”

  Fenner had difficulty in keeping his voice steady. “That heel Miller was after the girl. I bounced him.”

  Reiger shrugged. “She'll get it sooner or later. Why not start now?”

  Fenner didn't answer. He was looking at a tiny moving light on their portside. He hastily looked away before Reiger noticed. He wondered if it was a patrol boat.

  Miller, who had staggered to his feet, saw it,- and yelled a warning. Reiger looked and span the wheel.

  “Coast guards,” he said; “maybe they won't spot us.”

  The boat was still running without lights, but the moon had climbed above the belt of clouds, and the big white wash showed up pretty well.

  Fenner watched the light, saw it swing round a little and head towards them. He said gently, “They've seen us all right.”

  Reiger yelled for Miller. He gave the boat all the gas she'd take. Miller came staggering down into the cockpit. He glared at Fenner murderously, but Reiger snarled, “Take the wheel. I'm gettin' the gun out. Maybe this guy's faster'n us.”

  Miller took the wheel and Reiger disappeared aft. Fenner climbed out of the cockpit and followed Reiger. The light was coming up now, and as the moonlight began to flood the sea, Fenner could make out the boat. It was fast all right. He could see the way the bows were lifted right out of the water.

  He said to Reiger, “This boat's goin' to catch us.”

  Reiger shouted down into the engine-room, and the Negro handed up a Thompson gun. Reiger gave it to Fenner, and took another from the Negro. .

  “You get on the portside,” Reiger said, lying down flat. “Keep firing at them.”

  Fenner lay down. He fired two bursts, taking care that the bullets would go well over the top of the boat. Almost immediately Reiger fired with his gun. Even from where he lay, Fenner could see a shower of white splinters spurt from the bows of the oncoming boat.

  Fenner ducked his head as the coast guards replied. He saw the long yellow flashes and heard the thud of bullets as they bit into the sides of the boat. The coast guards kept up such a heavy fire that it was impossible for either Reiger or Fenner to show themselves to fire back.

  Miller, watching from the cover of the cockpit, screamed out, “Do somethin'. They'll be up in a few seconds.”

  Reiger peered from behind his cover, saw the boat was within six feet or so and ducked back as the wood began to splinter agai
n.

  Fenner turned his head. He could see Reiger lying flat. Reiger shouted to him, “Stand by for a headache,” and leaning over on his side he tossed a small ball-like object right into the other boat.

  There was a blinding flash and a violent explosion and the coast guard boat immediately began to fall astern.

  “Keep her going,” Reiger shouted to Miller, and sat up to watch the coast guard boat burst into flames. He scrambled over to Fenner. “That's the first time we've tried that stunt. Carlos's some guy with his ideas. If we hadn't had that pineapple on board the Chinks would be feedin' the fishes by now, an' we'd have had a lost journey.”

  Fenner grunted. He couldn't take his eyes off the burning boat which was rapidly becoming a little red glow in the darkness. He got slowly to his feet. Reiger had already gone forward. He was pointing to a green light that flickered in the distance. Miller swung the wheel a little.

  “That's the guy who takes our load,” Reiger shouted to Fenner. “We've got through all right.”

  Fenner stood watching the green light come nearer. He knew now that he must start things moving. He'd played with Carlos long enough.

  It was just after two o'clock in the morning when Fenner got back to the Haworth. Before he switched on his room light he knew someone was there. He didn't hear anything, but he knew he wasn't alone. He stepped inside, feeling uncomfortably exposed in the dimly lighted doorway. There was something in the air, a scent. He reached inside his coat and pulled his gun, then he groped for the wall switch and flicked the light on.

  A woman's clothes on the floor at the foot of his he'd caught his eye. A black dress, a handful of lace and crepe de Chine, a pair of shoes.

  Glorie Leadler sat up in his bed. Two bare arms curved up over the sheet, holding the sheet firmly against her body. When she saw who it was, she lay back again, keeping her arms out and arranging her red-gold hair on Fenner's pillow.

  Fenner put his gun away. The only thing he could think of was that he was tired and that he'd have to strip his bed when she had gone. He didn't fancy sleeping on the same sheets.

  Glorie smiled at him sleepily.

  Fenner went over to the floor lamp, put it on, and turned off the ceiling lamp. The light was softer, but it lit up the floor brightly. He saw two little red marks on his carpet which hadn't been there before. He looked at the red marks and then he looked at Glorie's shoes. He moved further into the room. There were red marks on the shoes, as if Glorie had stepped in something. Without picking the shoes up, Fenner couldn't be sure. He knew pretty well the marks were bloodstains, but he didn't want her to know he'd seen them just yet.