The Island Where Time Stands Still

Home > Other > The Island Where Time Stands Still > Page 15
The Island Where Time Stands Still Page 15

by Dennis Wheatley


  Kâo bowed gravely. ‘I should be grateful for your help; but permit me to point out that as our Export Manager there must be many other matters requiring your attention.’

  ‘There is nothing that cannot wait,’ replied Wu-ming with a shrug. ‘At banks in a dozen cities we have large credit balances, and many other considerable sums are due to us. If we made no further sales for a year the Council would still be in no danger of running short of funds. In fact, as a long-term policy, it would prove to our advantage to stop selling altogether for a while, as that would create a shortage of our products in the world’s markets and later enable us to raise our prices. In any case my sense of guilt led me to take this oath to my uncle’s spirit, so I must now abide by it.’

  As Wu-ming ceased speaking, Gregory thought to himself, ‘This oath that he has taken clinches matters. He would never have committed himself so deeply simply because he failed to give his uncle all the help he could. The sense of guilt he talks about is really fear that unless he does his utmost to atone for Tsai-Ping’s murder the old boy’s spirit will revenge itself upon him.’

  Meanwhile A-lu-te was declaring with an earnestness that equalled Wu-ming’s, ‘I too, have reason to reproach myself. The novel delights of this American city led me to forget how much hangs upon the success of our mission. Instead of frittering away my time in vain amusements I should have been keeping a record of the inquiry and writing many of the letters in connection with it.’

  ‘Oh come!’ Gregory protested. ‘You are being much too hard on yourself. Right up till the day before yesterday, when I received the F.B.I. report, you believed Josephine to be living happily with her boy-friend. No one could possibly blame you for feeling that there was no great urgency about tracing her, and in the meantime taking the opportunity to enjoy life here while you had the chance.’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘What I believed is no excuse. We know now that the Princess was kidnapped. All this time that poor dumb girl may have been suffering acutely both in mind and body; yet I—the person who was sent here specially to act as her friend and companion—have not lifted a finger to help her. Still worse, for my selfish ends I have monopolised your time and a great deal of Mr. Wu-ming Loo’s, when both of you should have been concentrating on the search.’

  ‘If we had, we wouldn’t have got anywhere. Before I went to Washington the inquiry had already reached a dead-end.’

  ‘If we had all helped it might not have been necessary for you to go to Washington. One of us might have hit on a trail leading to Quong-Yü weeks ago. Had we done so the honourable Tsai-Ping would not have been on the spot where he lost his life yesterday.’ She paused a moment, then added sharply, ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘Forgive me. I was impious enough to find amusement in the fact that the Gods should have elected to strike down the worker of the party rather than one of us drones.’ As Gregory told his bland lie he was careful to include Kâo as well as Wu-ming in his glance.

  ‘I see nothing at all funny about that,’ A-lu-te replied coldly. ‘On the contrary, the Gods could have chosen no more serious way of reminding us of our duty. For myself, I applaud the oath that our companion Wu-ming has taken, and I now pledge my word that I will not concern myself with any other interest until we have freed the Princess and invited her to return with us.’

  Greatly as Gregory was intrigued by the reactions of these Orientals to a crisis that one of them, unknown to the others, had brought about, he found the high sentiments that were being aired somewhat theatrical. But he could see that A-lu-te had been deeply moved and was very much in earnest so without a hint of mockery, he said:

  ‘I am the lady A-lu-te’s obedient servant, and whenever she desires the inquiry to be resumed she has only to tell me so.’

  ‘In a case like this I think we ought to ignore the fact that we are in mourning, and resume it at once,’ she replied with a rather dubious glance at her uncle.

  He shook his head. ‘For us to take up any worldly activity before we have received the honourable remains of Tsai-Ping on board would be most unfitting.’

  ‘Now that Quong-Yü is expecting a visit from us I cannot help feeling that the sooner he is interviewed the better,’ Wu-ming said with an uneasy frown. ‘But if you feel, Sir, that my uncle’s spirit would take offence should we fail to adhere strictly to the formalities, I must be ruled by your greater experience.’

  ‘This seems to me a case in which you can eat your cake and have it too,’ Gregory remarked. ‘Since convention requires you to remain temporarily inactive why not observe it, and leave Quong to me. I am quite willing to tackle him on my own, and I see no reason why I should not get as much out of him as would any of you.’

  ‘That is an excellent idea!’ exclaimed A-lu-te; but the two Chinamen considered the suggestion in silence for a moment, until Wu-ming said:

  ‘I see nothing against it; although I would have liked to hear for myself what Quong has to say.’

  Kâo nodded. ‘So would I.’ But with a shrug of his broad shoulders, he went on, ‘No matter. Let us accept it. I shall have to go ashore tomorrow morning to purchase funeral furnishings for the mortuary chapel. I will then ring up Quong-Yü and make an appointment with him for Mr. Sallust.’

  ‘You are most kind; but I too shall be going ashore, so I can save you that trouble. The mention of your name when I ring up should be quite sufficient to ensure Quong-Yü’s granting me an interview.’

  Gregory’s polite little speech displayed no trace of guile; or hint of the importance he attached to it; but, in view of his narrow escape the previous day, he had made up his mind that no one should know in advance the hour at which he meant to call on Quong, and so be given the opportunity to lay a second ambush for him.

  He felt that if he was correct in his belief that Wu-ming had laid the first, the shock he had sustained from murdering his uncle by mistake was so severe that it would be a long time before he screwed up his courage again to hire an assassin. But one could not be certain of that, or even that Wu-ming was definitely the villain of the piece. It was just possible that Quong-Yü, having the full resources of the most powerful Tong in Chinatown at his command, might have laid three or four ambushes—one to cover each approach to his dwelling.

  With this in mind Gregory gave very considerable thought to measures for his own protection, and when the yacht’s launch put him ashore the following day he went straight to the office of the F.B.I. After a short wait he was shown in to Mr. Edgar C. Grace, who listened attentively to all he had to say. Feeling that no useful purpose could be served by reporting Tsai-Ping’s murder, Gregory refrained from mentioning it; but he told Mr. Grace that he intended to visit Quong-Yü, and that he had reason to suppose that on entering Chinatown his life might be in danger. He then suggested a means by which the risk he had to run could be minimised, providing Mr. Grace was willing to give him a little unorthodox co-operation.

  The American cocked an eyebrow and asked with a friendly grin, ‘Would you say doing as you wish would come under the phrase “render any reasonable assistance”?’

  ‘I certainly would,’ Gregory grinned back.

  ‘Then if I refused I’d be going contrary to the terms of reference I received about you from Washington. And if I did that I might get my top taken off, mightn’t I?’

  ‘I’m afraid you might,’ Gregory agreed solemnly. ‘And that would be very hard, seeing how much you’ve helped me already.’

  ‘Seems then I’ve no alternative but to go on, and fix this thing for you.’

  ‘That’s about it. Joking apart, though, I’d be awfully grateful if you will.’

  ‘Sure I will. Come back around three o’clock and I’ll have everything ready.’

  As a result of this conversation, Gregory left the F.B.I. headquarters at a little before four o’clock dressed in the uniform of a Californian State policeman. His change of costume also changed his bearing as, habitually, he was inclined to walk with his head thrust forwar
d, whereas now that he was again in a uniform he instinctively held himself erect. As a disguise it could hardly have been bettered; it had the additional advantage of enabling him to go to his meeting not only armed but actually displaying the fact that he had a gun, and yet further, would, he hoped, solve for him the problem of how to reach Quong-Yü without having made any appointment at all.

  From the F.B.I. headquarters he took a taxi to the top end of Grant Avenue. On the way he acknowledged to himself that the precautions he had taken to prevent anyone recognising him, or knowing the time he meant to call on Quong-Yü, were probably quite unnecessary; but he was none the less glad that Mr. Grace had enabled him to take them, as he was far too old a bird to run risks when they were avoidable and, moreover, the very fact that he was disguised now gave him the initiative.

  At the inland end of Grant Avenue he slipped a piece of chewing-gum into his mouth before paying off the taxi; then, with the brisk and purposeful step of an American cop, he made his way into Chinatown. Mr. Grace had given him particulars of Quong-Yü’s abode, and advised him that the most suitable of its numerous entrances to use would be one through a tailor’s shop in Mimosa Street.

  Gregory found the shop without difficulty. A bell tinkled as he pushed open its glass-panelled door, and a Chinaman came forward to its streaked and pitted counter, one end of which was piled high with bales of cloth.

  ‘Good evening!’ Gregory rolled the chewing gum round his tongue. ‘Go tell the Boss I want a word with him—an’ make it snappy.’

  The Chinaman gave a bland smile. ‘This one-man shop. Me boss, and pleased to make you very nice suit, very cheap too.’

  ‘Can that! It’s old man Quong I’m here to see.’

  ‘You come wrong place then.’

  ‘You heard me. Get moving.’

  ‘You make big mistake. Mr. Quong-Yü, he …’

  Gregory brought his fist down on the counter with a crash, leaned over it and thrust his face within a few inches of the unoffending tailor’s. ‘Listen you! Either you get inside and tell Quong-Yü I want to see him, or I’m pulling you in for obstruction.’

  With a shrug the Chinaman drew back, then turned and shuffled off through a doorway at the rear of the shop. He was away for about ten minutes and when he reappeared he was followed by an older man.

  The newcomer displayed a much more challenging manner, and asked coldly, ‘What is your reason for wishing to see Mr. Quong-Yü?’

  ‘That’s my business,’ retorted Gregory. ‘An’ unless you want trouble around here you’d best not keep me waiting.’

  ‘You will not make trouble for very long, and unless you answer you get no further. It is not the custom of Mr. Quong-Yü to speak with Patrolmen. Any business he has with police he transact with Captain of the quarter.’

  There was no rudeness in the man’s tone but it held the quiet assurance of a superior fully confident of his ground addressing an inferior. Gregory saw that he must change his tactics; so, by the symbolical gesture of removing the gum from his mouth and flicking it into the street, he abandoned his role of tough cop as seen on the movies, and said in his normal voice:

  ‘I’m sorry. Let’s start again, shall we? My name is Sallust and I was coming here two evenings ago with Mr. Kâo Hsüan. If you tell Mr. Quong-Yü that I think he will see me.’

  The elder of the two celestials gave him a long unwinking stare; then, without a word, he turned and disappeared through the door at the back of the shop. After an absence of nearly a quarter of an hour he returned, bowed and said with cold politeness:

  ‘Mr. Quong-Yü consents to receive you. But first a small formality. Please to place your pistol on the counter. It will be given back to you when you leave.’

  Gregory was not at all surprised by the request. In fact he had thought it highly probable that, should he fail to bluff his way straight to Quong-Yü, the Tong boss’s guardians would insist on his giving up his weapon before allowing him to enter the presence of their chief. But now that he was inside the Tong headquarters he had much less fear of being attacked; so he surrendered his pistol to the tailor, and followed the other Chinaman out through the back of the premises.

  Beyond the shop the place proved to be a positive rabbit warren of narrow twisting passages and short flights of stairs; which made it apparent that although the exterior of the block had been modernised the interior had not. Its tortuous ways only dimly lit by hanging lanterns, dragon-scrolled sliding panels, entrances screened by bead curtains, and faintly spicy smell, all combined to give it a truly Oriental atmosphere. This was just the sort of thing Gregory had expected to find on first entering San Francisco’s Chinatown, and it intrigued him to think that on passing through the tailor’s shop he had stepped back fifty years in time to the real Chinatown, which had simply gone underground.

  After some minutes his guide brought him to a small room panelled in pink silk, on which there was a faint design of tortoises by a river. Its only furniture consisted of two lacquered arm-chairs and a low table. There, having told him to wait, the man left him.

  Sitting down he looked about him, admiring the colouring of the Kang-he vase that had been converted to a table-lamp, the pattern of the thick carpet and the effectiveness of the simple design of the tortoises on the silk panelling. It was only then that it struck him that the silk on one wall seemed to be a slightly different colour and consistency from that on the others. As he peered at it again, two of the large panels began to move noiselessly apart, leaving a wide gap between floor and ceiling.

  Beyond the gap was another, much larger, room. At its far end on a low dais a man sat hunched up in a throne-like chair of elaborately carved ebony. At his feet a girl was crouching. She had the broad head and heart-shaped face of a Southern Chinese, and was very lovely, but probably not more than fifteen. Beside the big cushion on which she squatted cross-legged was a small lamp. In its flame, on a needle point, she was preparing a pellet of opium for her master, whom Gregory assumed to be Quong-Yü.

  He was much older than Gregory had expected. His magnificent robe, gaily embroidered with dragons, peacocks and butterflies, hung in loose folds about his shrunken figure. His face was as wizened as a monkey’s, and many of the grey hairs had evidently fallen out of his drooping moustache, as one side of it was longer than the other; but his blue silk cap was set at a jaunty angle on his bald head, his black eyes held a lively sparkle, and his voice betrayed no sign of senility as he called out in good English:

  ‘Come forward and tell me what you wish to see me about.’

  As Gregory stepped through the aperture he caught just the whisper of a hiss, resulting from the release of hydraulic pressure as the panels slid to behind him. It caused him to glance over his shoulder and he was amused to see that the silk had been specially treated in some manner which rendered it transparent when seen from the larger room; thus enabling Quong-Yü to have a good look at any visitors who were waiting to see him in the ante-room before admitting them to his presence.

  Feeling now how unsuitable his Patrolman’s uniform was for such an interview, Gregory bowed and said:

  ‘Venerable one; no doubt you will be aware that when the honourable Kâo Hsüan proposed to pay his respects to you two evenings ago he intended to bring three friends with him. I was one of those friends.’

  Quong-Yü shook his head. ‘With Mr. Kâo Hsüan I have been acquainted for many years; but I know nothing of his recent activities.’ Waving his ivory fan towards a low stool, he added, ‘Please be seated, and continue.’

  Accepting the invitation, Gregory said, ‘Am I to understand that you are still unaware of the reason why Mr. Kâo Hsüan and his friends were anxious to have a talk with you?’

  ‘Entirely,’ came the bland reply. ‘As they never arrived here why should you suppose me to be aware of it?’

  ‘I thought perhaps that Mr. Kâo Hsüan might have dropped some hint of it while speaking to you on the telephone.’

  ‘He said no more than
that he wished to consult me about a matter in which only I could help him. Why did he fail to keep the appointment I gave him, and why does he now send you to me instead of coming himself?’

  ‘You must have heard about the accident which occurred only just round the corner from here,’ Gregory replied. ‘A man was killed by the fall of some crates of bananas. The victim was one of our companions, and he was struck down when we were on our way to see you. Naturally we were too upset to keep the appointment; and it is through being still occupied with the mourning rites for his compatriot that prevented Mr. Kâo Hsüan from coming here this evening.’

  Quong-Yü nodded gravely, but his small dark eyes remained quite expressionless as he said, ‘A most distressing occurrence; but I heard nothing of it. You see, at my age I find it wise to confine my thoughts to matters which interest me; so I have long forbidden my people to bother me with local gossip.’

  Gregory felt certain that the old man was lying. It was just possible that he might not have heard about a genuine accident, but as a Tong boss it was his business to know of all the criminal activities which took place in his area; so it seemed most improbable that he had remained ignorant of a violent death almost on his own door-step. Evidently it was just because he knew it had been murder that he had decided to deny all knowledge of the affair. So shrewd a man would be quick to realise that the victim’s companions might have their suspicions that it had not been an accident, and, if so, even suspect that one of his ‘hatchet-men’ had been the murderer; so to appear to know nothing whatever about the matter was clearly the best defence against possibly awkward questions.

  As soon as Gregory had appeared the young girl had laid aside her opium pellet and turned her attention to making fresh tea. She now bent before Gregory, offering him a tiny egg-shell-thin cup of the new brew, thereby giving him time to develop his recent line of thought and wonder if Quong-Yü had actually given orders for the ambush at the request of Wu-ming. After all, if Wu-ming had paid anyone to do the job Quong was the most likely person to whom he would have gone. If so, Quong had lied again when implying that he knew nothing of Kâo Hsüan’s companions, and he must be aware that he was now facing the man he had been paid to have killed. With a view to checking any idea that this might be a favourable opportunity for Quong to make good his part of such a bargain, Gregory said:

 

‹ Prev