China Marine: Tsingtao Treasure

by Buzz Harcus

  "Dammit! No! I'm serious. I don't want you to go. I don't want anything happening to you."

  "No! No! No!" She pushed him aside, storming past him to lift a lid on a pot. "I vill put der food out for der men, den I get dressed und ve go ashore."

  "Osa!" Harry implored, grabbing her, jerking her around. "Listen to me. I don't want your life endangered. You're not going ashore and that's final!"

  "Oh?" Just as quickly, her eyes softened and a kind of smirk crossed her face. With one eyebrow raised, she replied prissily, "Sigmund said ve vould go ashore togedder -"

  "Screw Sigmund! I don't want anything to happen to you!"

  "Vy don't you vant anyting to happen to me?" she asked, baiting him. "Am I dat important to you?"

  "Yes. You mean an awful lot to me,"

  "Really!" she squealed. "You really mean dat?"

  "Yes, dammit. Yes."

  She threw herself into his arms smothering him with kisses, her arms about his waist. Laughing, Harry tried valiantly to extricate himself from her grasp, but it was to no avail. She wrapped her arms around his waist holding tight, nestling her head to his chest.

  "Ever since Shanghai, all I do is tink of you," she whispered. "You are on my mind all der time. I haf all kinds of toughts about you about us. I find myself vanting you at der craziest times, find myself tinking of vays in vich to make love like in der movies. I blush ven I tink of how often I haf such pleasurable toughts about you. Ven you ver just rubbing my back I vanted you to continue, to make love to me."

  He wrapped his arms around her holding her close. "My little

  nymphomaniac," he whispered, chuckling.

  "It's true. I tink I am a nymphomaniac. I tink of you all der time."

  "You're just a beautiful woman whose found out sex is a beautiful thing when shared by two people in love."

  "You do love me den?" she shrieked, pulling back from him. "Oh, Harry, I luf you, too. I really do."

  There was a warmth and tenderness he'd not seen on her face before. He had to admit it, he was in love. In spite of their early tiffs, anger and skulking, their being thrown together time and again had turned into a deeper appreciation of one another. It made him realize he had deeper feelings for her, feelings he knew all too well as love.

  "I really do love you," he said. "I don't know why. You give me a hard time all the time, but yes, I do love you."

  And then they were kissing. The irritating buzzing of a timer interrupted them, a sound that registered in Osa's mind and, with a gasp, she broke free exclaiming, "Oh! Der food! I must get der food ready for dinner." Hastily, she dashed to the stove, shutting it off, and then scurried around getting the food set out for dinner. Harry watched after her, shook his head and poured another cup of coffee to replace the one now gone cold.

  In minutes, Osa was back standing before him. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it. "Vy do you love me?"

  Harry grinned. "Let me count the ways, eh?"

  "Be serious. I vant to know."

  He scratched his head for a moment before answering. "I guess it's because you're beautiful, 'cause you're warm and sexy, 'cause you're a darned good cook, 'cause you look good in a bikini bathing suit, 'cause even without anything on, as a matter of fact," he said, which caused her to blush, but her eyes remained transfixed on his. "I love you because you're intelligent, witty and charming, 'cause you like the kinds of things I like, 'cause you like to make love in bed, showers and other places, but mostly because you're you. And that's why I love you."

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she continued looking up at him. "I luf you, Harry Martin. I could shout it from der highest most point of dis ship: Harry Martin. I luf you!"

  Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, she continued. "You haf made me proud to be a voman. You haf helped me learn dat a voman can do much to please a man, and a man to please a voman. I luf you for all der same reasons you luf me, und ven ve get back to der ship tonight, I vill show you. I got a lot of ideas from dose movies dat I vant to try yet. You vill see." She grabbed a large knife and started carving the roast as she spoke.

  Harry laughed. He shook his head. His argument for her staying aboard was losing strength. He had to say something, do something drastic to keep her on board.

  "Hello," came Sigmund's voice as he poked his head into the kitchen. "Oh, Osa, Harry -"

  "It's okay, Sigmund," she replied sweetly. Ve ver just discussing vere ve vould eat dinner in town. Vot do you suggest?"

  "Only vun place. Der Tivoli," he retorted. "Right, Harry?" "Right."

  Of all the dumb times for him to enter the kitchen, Harry thought, and he sure as hell didn't need his suggestions for where to eat dinner.

  "You vill enjoy der Tivoli, Osa," Sigmund said. "Harry vill show you a good time in town. I hope it is as good as ven you ver in Shanghai."

  "Yes!" Osa beamed. "I certainly hope so."

  Harry caught the impish look on her face. He couldn't help but grin. Just how much did Osa tell the captain about their fun in Shanghai? Well, Qingdao would be different; this wasn't for fun and games. He had a job to do and he was determined to get it done.

  "Here's your passes," Sigmund said handing across two liberty passes which Osa quickly snatched. "Enjoy," Sigmund said retreating back behind the doors. "Is der food ready, yet?"

  "Yes. Please help yourself," Osa called. "Self-serve tonight." Turning to Harry, she grinned as she slipped the passes inside her blouse pocket. "Now ve go to town?"

  "Yes," he mimicked with an exasperated sigh. "Now ve go to town, my little nymphomaniac. Wear black and be ready by six o'clock, eighteen hundred hours. Got it?"

  "Yes, Harry," she grinned back. "Black und eighteen hundred hours." With that saucy response, she whipped off her apron, threw it on the counter and, happily humming to herself, slapped him hard across his buttocks as she left the galley. Harry jumped at the smack, and then laughed. Crazy female, he chuckled, and then dumped his cup of cold coffee for a fresh one.

  Unconsciously, he began nibbling on bits and pieces of food still sitting on the counter. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. Things weren't going exactly as he had planned, not one damned bit.

  Chapter 60

  LIBERTY AND THE SEARCH FOR HIDDEN TREASURE

  Harry waited impatiently on the cold deck for Osa. He stomped his feet several times to keep the circulation going. Where the hell was she? He shivered. Without the alpaca lining, his jacket was thin, too thin to stop the chill air cutting through him. Even having the folded seabag tucked under his jacket did little to ward off the cold. Most of the crew had long departed for the city and its many attractions. A cloud layer had moved in blanketing the city. Flurries of large snowflakes whirled about him. And still he waited.

  Osa stepped on deck striding leisurely toward him as though she had just stepped out of an exclusive women's apparel shop. Wearing tailored slacks, black boots, and a hooded ski jacket with a fur collar over a black turtleneck sweater, she was breathtakingly beautiful, and he had to admit, well worth the wait.

  "I am excited to go," she said joining him.

  "Yeah. Just follow my directions and everything will come off okay," he said sternly, which erased her warm smile.

  "Yah. You are der boss." She was miffed that he hadn't commented on her appearance. The fact that she had spent the past hour or so selecting just the right clothing, makeup and perfume upset her.

  "And you look absolutely gorgeous," he smiled grabbing her by the arm and steering her toward the gangway where Sigmund was standing.

  "Enjoy der Tivoli," Sigmund said waving them through. "Make sure he shows you a good time, Osa," he added for Harry's benefit. Harry gave him a dirty look as he passed. Osa flashed a quick smile. “He vill.”

  As they started down the gangway a break in the low-lying clouds revealed higher, blood-red tentacles of thinner clouds that to Harry, looked like long bloodied fingers. Was it an omen, he wondered?

  Just past the main gate guard shack, Harry saw what
looked like a long line of pedicabs. A boy immediately dashed forward calling out, "Trishaw! Trishaw! his three-wheeled unit bouncing along beside him. Carefully, the twosome climbed into the tight confines of the back seat, cuddling close together. "Cozy," Harry said slipping an arm around Osa's shoulder. "I never rode in vun before," she giggled, as Harry called to the boy to take them to the Tivoli restaurant.

  The boy started peddling, the trishaw swaying and bumping along the rough stone road. Harry held Osa close, enjoying the warmth of her body next to his, the fragrance of her perfume. It may have been cold but the lovers were unaware of it, only the jiggling, yawing sensation of the trishaw moving along. The labored breathing of the boy could be heard as he paced himself through the crowded streets, up several small hills and around toward the central part of town.

  Harry kept a jaundiced eye on the boy for any sudden, uncalled for movement. It took only a second to leap off the seat, dumping passengers out on to the street. Just as quickly, there'd be a dozen cutthroats falling on the helpless victims, beating them unconscious, robbing them, taking anything of value, even slashing or killing them. Allen, from Philadelphia, had his tongue slit, and "Ski", from Chicago, had an ear cut off when the rickshaws they were riding were dumped, and they were attacked. Harry was always alert. At least he left China back then with all parts intact.

  Within minutes the driver had topped the last hill and there, below, only a couple of blocks away was the brightly lit Tivoli restaurant. It was a fast, jolting ride down the hill. With trepidation, Harry wondered whether the boy could stop in time. But, with a sudden jerk, he stopped his rig exactly in front of the restaurant, then politely helped his passengers out. He wore a big grin as he extended his hand to Harry.

  "How much?" Harry asked, reaching into his pocket for change.

  "Two dollars, American," the grinning boy replied, his hand extending further.

  "Two dollars? Boy inflation has hit China, too," Harry said opening up his wallet. He extracted three singles and slapped them in the boy's hand. "Sesh-in-ee," he added, smiling, hoping he hadn't forgotten all his Chinese.

  "Ding hao," the boy replied, laughing, tucking the bills away.

  "Well, at least I remembered some of it," Harry chuckled.

  "Look!" gasped Osa pointing just beyond the Tivoli.

  Turning, Harry saw his engine room friend, Karl, walking along with the young cabin boy, Hans, both with their arms around the waists of slim Oriental girls.

  "Dat is disgusting," Osa snapped. "He is too young for -"

  "He'll be a man before the night is over," Harry countered steering her toward the entrance to the Tivoli. "Everyone has to learn about it, some sooner than others —"

  She started to reply, then stopped.

  They continued on into the restaurant and turned right into the bar. "We'll have a drink first," he said, helping her onto a barstool. "Tsingtao piju, that's a beer for me, and a scotch and water for the lady," he said to the bartender. "See Osa, I remembered; scotch and water." She smiled, but he wondered what kind of scotch it would be.

  Harry slapped a ten spot on the bar. While they waited for their drinks to arrive, he looked around the bar, and then into the dining room. No familiar faces of the crew, or others he knew. Only one white haired old man who was sitting far back in the corner.

  "Pay the man for the drinks out of this," Harry said to Osa, pushing the ten spot in front of her. "I'll be back before the beer gets warm. Order yourself another drink, if you want, but stay here. That's an order!"

  "But Harry," she started to object, but he grabbed her head between his hands and kissed her fiercely, crushing her warm lips to his. "You stay here," he said, parting. "Right here."

  "But you said I could go vis you."

  "Sorry. Change of plans."

  "Harry!" Her eyes snapped in sudden anger. "Dat is not nice."

  "Sorry, babe. I've got a feeling about tonight. I can't explain it. I just know you'll be safer right here. I'll be back in less than an hour, then it's dinner on me."

  "Yes. Dat I am sure of."

  "If I don't get back in an hour and a half, go back to the ship immediately -"

  "Harry! No I don't even vant to tink such toughts."

  Her attention was distracted at that moment by the bartender setting their drinks on the bar. Turning, she shoved the ten spot across to him, and then turned back only to find Harry was gone. She swore softly in Swedish, taking the scotch in her hands, resigning herself to the fact she would have to wait. One hour, and then what?

  On the street, Harry looked around searching passing faces, looking for one in particular, the bearded face of Stan Drezewski. But there were no bearded Caucasians or clean-shaven Caucasians, just slant-eyed Orientals, hundreds of them. Maybe luck was with him, he thought as he started off, quickening his pace as he moved through the dark streets ever angling upwards toward the university.

  He pulled his knit cap low across his forehead hoping it would be harder for anyone to recognize him. The streetlights were sparsely located and offered little in the way of bright lighting. People passing paid scant attention to him, just another face in the crowd, exactly what he wanted.

  The walk became more demanding, more grueling as he moved up the winding street. Automobile traffic was at a minimum, perhaps four or five cars passing by in either direction during the twenty minutes it took to reach the point just shy of the main gate where the fence paralleled the athletic field. Stopping for a moment, he checked the area. No one at hand. Slipping and sliding on the wet grass, he hurried down the embankment toward the fence then moved along the fence until he found the opening where the drainage ditch passed under the fence. The ditch smelled foul. Kneeling down, he crawled under the fence staying clear of the narrow stream.

  Once inside the fence, he ran along the edge of the stream in a crouched position, leaped the stream and found himself at the bottom of the embankment behind the old Third Marine barracks. Stopping, listening, assured no one was close at hand, he made his way up the embankment and moved to the shadow of a large tree. Again, he stood motionless for several minutes, cautiously observing the buildings and grounds, wondering what kind of security was employed, if any. Seeing no unusual movement except for the sound of branches clacking together, moved by a cold breeze, he quietly moved to the corner of the building where he could peek around the corner and observe the old 12th Service Battalion building.

  Straining his eyes in the darkness, alert to any unusual sounds, he stood silent, yet felt his ragged breathing, the trip hammer pounding of his heart, the adrenalin rushing through his tense body. His nerves were on edge, alert, honed for this moment. He half grunted, almost chuckled aloud; Novak would have laughed his ass off if he could see him now. How many times had the two sneaked back on base this way, snockered to the gills, and damned lucky they weren't caught or blown away by trigger-happy guards?

  Using the shadows to his advantage, he moved stealthy across the street to the end door of the old barracks. Grabbing the door handle, he twisted. Locked. Damn! Staying in the shadows, he moved along the building toward the front entrance, methodically checking each window along the way. All locked. Damn! Even the front entrance was locked. He didn't want to chance breaking a window and attracting attention, so he kept on moving, continuing along the front of the building, checking each window. Someone had to have goofed. It had been a warm day and there were several windows open. It was a natural thing for a student to leave at least one window unlocked.

  At the far end of the building, adjacent to the old administration building, he came to another door. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted. The door was unlocked; someone had goofed! He knew students, he smiled smugly. It was exactly what he was looking for, hoping for.

  Easing the door open, he slipped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Standing motionless, he peered into the darkness of the hallway, waiting, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the dark before moving on.

  "One false mov
e and I'll blow your damned head off!" came a guttural voice hissing from the darkness. At the same moment, Harry felt the coldness of steel pressed to his temple. He froze. Strong hands grasped his and a rope was quickly knotted about his wrists. Then, a gag was thrust into his mouth. "Now move," the voice commanded and, prodded by the gun, Harry moved forward into the darkness.

  Chapter -61

  STAN'S SURPRISE

  “Stop here," the voice commanded after awhile. Harry stopped, listening to the man's breathing, caught the foul smell of cigarettes on the man's breath and clothing as he reached past him. Too, he knew there was another person, the one who had tied his wrists, but the person was quiet save for his footsteps.

  A creaking door was swung wide, and then he was shoved forward, tripping, trying to regain his footing, running abruptly into a rough-textured wall before regaining his balance. The door creaked shut finalized by the clicking of the lock. Pretty rough handling for security, Harry thought. Too rough, in fact. Was it Stan?

  There was another click and the room was suddenly bathed in light from one bare bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. Harry blinked several times to adjust his eyes, then focused on two figures facing him. Stan and Mr. Ma, both armed.

  "Hello, Harry," Stan said. "Long time no see."

  "I told you we would meet again, Harry," grinned Mr. Ma.

  A movement to his left caught Harry's attention. Turning, he felt his heart leap into this throat. Osa was sitting back against the far wall, hands and ankles tied and a gag stuffed in her mouth. Her blue eyes were filled with terror. Harry winked at her trying to bolster her spirits, and then turned back to Stan and Mr. Ma. He wanted to swear, to tell them she had nothing to do with it, to let her go. But the gag stifled any comments.

  After what seemed an eternity, Stan stepped forward close to Harry. His beard was scraggly and unkempt. A smell of whiskey and tobacco fouled the air with his every breath. His deep-set, piercing black eyes never left Harrys as he pulled out his pistol, a long barreled .38 with a silencer attached. He jammed it hard under Harrys chin forcing his head sharply back against the wall.