Bill for the Use of a Body

by Dennis Wheatley

  Nagi had promptly crossed to Macao and made enquiries at the brothel. There he learned that Lo Kung had died at least ten years before and that after continuing to run the place for a while Mrs. Lo had sold it. Since then it had changed hands several times and all its old staff had been dispersed. But an advertisement in the local paper had brought forward an old crone who had worked there in Lo Kung’s time. To Nagi’s delight she produced a really valuable piece of information. After selling the brothel Mrs. Lo had bought herself a pretty little villa on the sea-shore, and she was able to give Nagi the address.

  Enquiries at the villa of an elderly couple who occupied the place as caretaker servants elicited the fact that Mrs. Lo came there very seldom. They were under the impression that she was very rich and spent most of her time travelling, but they had been in her employ only two months and had not even seen her. Their money was sent to them monthly through the post from a bank in Hong Kong.

  Another advertisement produced two couples who had earlier acted as caretakers at Mrs. Lo’s villa. The first couple had been there from May 1956 until August 1957, the second from January 1960 until the previous December. Both, for a handsome remuneration, had the same story to tell. They had seen Mrs. Lo only once and on each occasion she had brought a Japanese gentleman to the villa. They assumed that she intended to sleep with him, but did not wish them to know about that, as in both cases after they had served a good dinner she had given them money, telling them that she wished them to go to an hotel for the night and not return to the villa until the following evening. When they had returned neither she nor the Japanese was there, so they cleared up and thought no more about it. Then a few weeks later they had been given three months’ pay and told that their services were no longer required.

  It was in April 1956 that Dr. Kido had disappeared and Hayashi had done so the previous November. In consequence Nagi swiftly came to the conclusion that each time Mrs. Lo lured a victim to her villa, and either handed him over to be killed by her associates or killed him herself, she shortly afterwards engaged a new couple as caretakers, so that no enquiry at the villa would disclose that she had ever brought a Japanese there.

  Nagi then took strong action. Having mustered his thugs, he went to the villa at night, had the caretaker couple tied up and searched it. In a locked inner cellar he found the remains of five headless bodies in varying stages of disintegration from having been covered with quicklime. After relocking the cellar so that his captives should remain in ignorance of what he had found there, it occurred to him, as they had said that they had never seen Mrs. Lo, to question them about who had engaged them. Sweating with terror, they had described a tall middle-aged Chinese named Ti Cheng, who had aggressive features and a slight squint. To Nagi’s intense satisfaction the description fitted Mok Kwai of the Moon Garden.

  Returning to Hong Kong, he set his people to keep Mok Kwai under observation. He had feared that if Mrs. Lo did spend most of her time travelling he would either have to wait a long time for results or kidnap the brothel keeper one night and take him to pieces. But he did not wish to risk trouble with the exceedingly efficient Hong Kong police; so he decided to give Mok Kwai ten days, and on the eighth day Mok Kwai led his shadowers to the quarry.

  Now, with pardonable pride, Udo Nagi revealed to his master the final result of his investigation. They were seated cross-legged facing one another on mats in a room that was bare of furniture except for one long low table, and lacked all decoration except for one vase of carefully arranged flowers that stood in a corner.

  Having said his piece, Nagi remarked, ‘Since it is clear, Honourable Master, that the woman has sought to revenge herself on officers and men of the 230th Regiment for at least the past thirteen years I find it surprising that she has claimed only five victims.’

  Hayashi gave a sign of disagreement. ‘You must remember that, although the 230th Regiment numbered several thousand men, the great majority of them were either peasants or low-paid workers who, if they survived the war, would not have had the money to leave Japan again. But that is beside the point. We now know the name under which the woman who either murdered my son, or was responsible for his death, is living in Hong Kong. I mean to make her pay a price. Go now and arrange matters so that she should come here and grovel to me.’

  Nagi slowly shook his head. ‘Honourable Master, that will be far from easy, because this woman is very clever and will not readily fall into a trap. But it may be that I shall find means to persuade her to pay a visit to Japan.’

  Chapter V

  A Gentle Wooing

  At Six O’clock on the Wednesday morning Julian awoke in his bedroom in the west wing of the Repulse Bay Hotel. When he had been young he had slept his head off. During the war, if he had to go on early duty, in order to rouse him it was not enough for his soldier servant to wake him with a cup of tea; he had to be propped up and the hot tea poured into his mouth. But now, unless he went to bed well after midnight, he always woke between half past five and half past six.

  That did not worry him because, while dozing comfortably between six and eight, he had the opportunity to con over in advance any pleasures the coming day had to offer; and on this Wednesday he woke to the knowledge that for him this was the Day of Days. For the whole of it, and for as many days afterwards as he liked to pay for her services, he could explore the personality and bask in the smiles of Merri Sang—the loveliest human being he had ever set eyes on.

  At 7.30 he roused himself to take in again the splendid room of which he was the occupant. The Repulse Bay had been built long before actuaries had worked out for financiers the minimum number of cubic inches that rich tourists would accept as living space in London, New York or Hong Kong. Either side of the door there was a closet six feet by eight for hanging clothes and keeping baggage. The main part of the room was thirty feet long by twenty wide with a lofty ceiling. At the far end there was a spacious bathroom, and an alcove with table, armchairs and a writing desk, from which one could look out on the blue waters of the bay.

  He rang for the Chinese boy and ordered breakfast—pawpaw, mangoes, coffee and croissants. Then, in his dressing gown, he took his time to enjoy it at the table near the big window. By the time he had had a leisurely bath and dressed it was getting on for nine o’clock. Impatient now for this happy day to begin, he made his way to the entrance of the hotel and stood there for a while watching other people who were staying there boarding the little bus that took those who wished across the pass to the city or back every half-hour.

  Soon after half past nine Merri Sang arrived in her car. Today, as it was somewhat colder, she was wearing a coat and skirt of grey Thai silk; and Julian thought that, if anything, she looked more delectable than ever. She greeted him gaily and asked him where he would like her to take him. On his replying that he would leave it to her, she said, ‘Then we will spend our first day making a tour of the island.’

  Had Julian not known himself to be in the Orient, for much of the next few hours he might have supposed that he was in the South of France; for the roads strongly resembled the Corniche, winding round cliff after cliff to open new prospects of lovely bays down below. Heading south-east they drove down to Stanley where, long ago, the British population of the island had suffered from semi-starvation and great hardship as prisoners of the Japanese. After running out along the Tai Tam peninsula they turned north to Red Hill, came south again to Aguilar Peak, then down to the bathing resort of Sheko. From there they had to turn inland and run through the mountainous country to the town of Sau Ki Wan on the north-east point of the island. By midday they had completed over half the circuit and reached Victoria.

  When they came opposite Starr Ferry, Julian said, ‘It’s time to think about lunch before we go any further. You can park the car here and we’ll go over to the other side. I’m told Gaddi’s restaurant at the Peninsula is one of the best in the island, so I though we’d go there.’

  ‘Oh, I find my own lunch,’ she protested
. ‘But I’ll drop you here and pick you up again at any time you wish.’

  ‘You don’t find your own lunch when you are with me,’ he laughed. ‘It’s part of your job as a guide to accompany me to restaurants and advise me on the best things to eat.’

  The big ferry boats ran every few minutes to cope with the huge crowds constantly passing from shore to shore, and half an hour later they were at the Peninsula Hotel. But it was Julian who advised on the things they had to eat and he saw to it that the meal was an extremely good one.

  By half past three they were back on Hong Kong and heading through Victoria to the western end of the island. After circling the Peak and Mount Davis, they drove south-east to Aberdeen, the oldest settlement on Hong Kong, with its great floating town of junks and sampans in which for many generations tens of thousands of Chinese have been born and died. Circling Brick Hill, they passed the Golf Club on the shore of Deep Water Bay and were back at the Repulse at five o’clock.

  As Julian got out of the car he looked across the massed beds and pots of flowers below the hotel terrace to the line of bathing tents down on the beach and remarked, ‘What a pity that the water is not warm enough for us to bathe.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I should not find it too cold, and quite a number of people have started bathing at Sheko. But if you like swimming in warm water there is a fine indoor pool at the New Ritz Hotel.’

  ‘Let’s go there tomorrow, then.’

  ‘If you like. We could do the city first, then have a swim before lunch.’

  Having refused to come in for a drink, Merri waved him good-bye and drove off. He had not pressed her to stay, and during the day he had been careful not to rush his fences; for he was only too well aware that Merri Sang must regard him as of another generation. But she seemed to have a passion for knowledge of the world outside Hong Kong, so he had been able to entertain her with accounts of the many places he had visited during his wanderings. And he was quite content with the progress he had made, for she had proved a charming companion and, at his suggestion, now called him Julian instead of Mr. Day.

  Next morning in Victoria they parked the car and, having pointed out the great banks and office blocks in Des Voeux Road, she took him to see the famous ladder streets. They were steep narrow canyons, hung with brightly coloured banners, lined with shops and swarming with Chinese, that lack of space has led to extending the city up the slope of its dominating mountain. Then they visited the fascinating Thieves Market. By midday they were at the New Ritz, laughing together in the swimming pool. Merri had brought a pale blue bikini that concealed very little of her lovely lithe body and, as she swam for minutes at a time under water, she looked like a magnificent golden fish. At the sight of her Julian felt his heart turn over.

  After they had lunched on the sun terrace she suggested taking him to the Tiger Balm garden, but he shook his head. ‘No, thanks; I looked in there on my first day here and it’s more like a stonemason’s yard than a garden.’

  ‘I know,’ Merri agreed. ‘All real gardeners, like my mother, think it awful. She is a great gardener and, as she rarely goes out except to her office, she spends a lot of time looking after her flowers.’

  Seizing on this possible opening to meet her mother, Julian said, ‘Perhaps, then, you’d be kind enough some time to take me to see your mother’s garden.’

  Merri shrugged. ‘Perhaps. We’ll see. Unfortunately mother is something of a recluse, and does not encourage visitors. What would you like to do this afternoon?’

  ‘Sleep,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I usually do in the afternoon.’

  She nodded. ‘Lots of older people seem to find that necessary. Then you won’t be wanting me any more today.’

  Her reference to older people gave him a nasty jar; but he said at once, ‘Oh, yes, I shall. I thought we might go somewhere to dine and dance this evening.’

  ‘That’s not in my contract,’ she demurred. ‘Except when I’m on special trips, I’m supposed to finish at five o’clock.’

  ‘Then count this as a special trip. Please, I’ll willingly pay you overtime.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want that. It’s … well, I don’t often accept such invitations from men I scarcely know.’

  Leaning forward, he held her gaze and said, ‘But surely, Merri, you’ve seen enough of me now to know that I’m not the sort of chap who would try to pull a fast one on you on the way home. Be a darling and rescue me from another lonely evening.’

  ‘All right, then. But I must be home by half past eleven. Mother insists on that.’

  That night they dined at the Marco Polo and for the first time Julian saw Merri in a dress called by the Chinese a cheongsam. It is a one-piece dress, skin tight, buttoned up to the neck and slit up the side to well above the knee. Its bronze flowered satin formed a perfect mould for Merri’s sylph-like figure and it set off her dark beauty to perfection.

  In his youth Julian had been a good dancer, but it was a long time since he had danced except occasionally; so, to his annoyance, he found that he could do no more than move round the floor rather sedately. Merri, who danced beautifully, was disappointed in him but had the good manners not to show it; and, by and large, they both enjoyed their evening.

  On the Friday they went across in the car ferry to Kowloon and she drove him out along the beautiful Pearl River to see the New Territories. They visited the old walled village of Kam Tin—the last outpost of resistance when the British had had to enforce their rule on the inhabitants of the mainland—then went to the carpet factory at Tai Po. The factory had been in existence for only a few years but it had already made for the Queen one of the largest carpets at Windsor Castle, and now employed nearly a thousand hands. The industry was one of the many started by the Kadoorie brothers in their wonderful campaign to make the refugees from Red China self-supporting. They had devoted a great part of their fabulous wealth to buying land, stocking it with cattle, pigs and poultry, and giving it to the refugees free of rent, so that they could start small farms, many thousands of which were now flourishing; and they had initiated many other enterprises. Later Merri drove Julian to the Kadoorie Experimental Station, where they were growing pineapples, apricots, sweet potatoes, pawpaws and many other things on high barren ground that had previously been believed to be incapable of bearing crops.

  They lunched at Shatin Heights Hotel, and afterwards went out to sit out on the hillside and drink in the marvellous view. When they had been there a little while Merri remarked:

  ‘I had an airmail letter from Bill this morning.’

  ‘Bill?’ repeated Julian vaguely.

  ‘Yes; Bill Urata. The American who was with me the day we met.’

  ‘He’s not an American, he’s a Japanese,’ Julian corrected her.

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is really. But he talks and acts like an American.’

  ‘What had he to say for himself?’

  ‘Oh, that he finds Manila interesting and rather exciting. Apparently the hall porter at his hotel wears a loaded gun in case bandits raid the cash desk, and to take a taxi at night is to risk being run into a garage, knocked on the head and robbed. But he said he’d give anything to be back in Hong Kong, and lots of other nice things.’

  ‘I see.’ Julian frowned. ‘Then it seems that he must have fallen for you. I suspected as much. But I shouldn’t have thought a brash type like that would have interested a girl like you.’

  Quickly she sprang to Urata’s defence. ‘I don’t think he’s brash. One doesn’t expect the sort of polished manners you have in a young American who’s just left college. It’s natural with them to say what they think and be self-opinionated. I liked his vitality and he does the Twist divinely. Anyway, he was delightfully open about himself and his hopes and prospects. Not like you, a mystery man.’

  During their three days together Merri had told Julian quite a lot about herself, but he had kept off the subject of his own background. Giving a faint smile he said, ‘So you look on me as a mystery
man?’

  ‘What else would you expect, Julian? You are obviously of good family, well educated, have lots of money and seem to have travelled all over the world. When men like you come to Hong Kong they are nearly always entertained at Government House, or anyway have good introductions. Yet you don’t seem to know a soul here, and yesterday spoke of lonely evenings spent at your hotel. Perhaps I’m being too curious; but at least you might tell me about your family, and if you’re married.’

  So far he had not given the least hint that he had fallen in love with her, but if he wanted to persuade her to marry him he would have to tell her the truth about himself sometime; so he decided that it might as well be now. After a moment’s silence he replied:

  ‘The story of my past is not a very pretty one, Merri; and I’ve not spoken to anyone about it for years. But you are such a sweet and sympathetic person that I will tell it to you; although I’m afraid you won’t think very highly of me afterwards.’

  She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Are you … are you a crook, then?’

  ‘No, I’m not a crook. But Day is not my real name; it’s Fernhurst and I’m an outcast. When I was up at Oxford I met a man named O’Kieff. He was a good bit older than myself and an occultist. I was interested in that sort of thing then, so I became very friendly with him. On coming down I went into the Diplomatic Service and as I was quite a clever chap everyone predicted a great future for me. My first post was in Brussels and it happened that O’Kieff came to live there for a while. We renewed our friendship and under the seal of secrecy he gradually confided to me the source of his great wealth. He was the head of a syndicate of international crooks, run by himself and half a dozen other clever men all of whom were above suspicion. I won’t bother you with their names, but they were an English Lord whose mind was even more twisted than his body, a Polish Jew, a German Baron, a Japanese, an Egyptian and an Italian Count. All of them were top-line operators. Between them they controlled an underworld empire for white-slaving, dope running, bullion smuggling and selling military secrets.’