Bill for the Use of a Body

by Dennis Wheatley

  Julian paused, flicked the ash off his cigarette and went on, ‘I was young and so incredibly conceited that I thought I was cleverer than O’Kieff. While pretending to be fascinated by his stories of tremendous coups they had brought off I planned to trap this crew of supremely evil men and get them long prison sentences. But I had to have help; so I confided in our First Secretary, a charming man named Carruthers. Diplomats, of course, are not supposed to involve themselves in that sort of thing, so he told me off; but to get those men behind locks and bars seemed so important that I persuaded him to play.

  ‘The Seven were shortly to have one of their periodical conferences in Brussels, and on a pretext that I won’t go into now I got O’Kieff to invite Carruthers, as well as myself, to dinner with them. That was just what O’Kieff wanted. He had simply been stringing me along in the hope of catching a much bigger fish. I don’t remember much about the dinner, but I was picked up drugged and unconscious from a back-street gutter next morning.’

  Merri gave a gasp. ‘Oh, Julian, how awful!’

  ‘That wasn’t the worst. When I got my senses back I was told how the previous night that unholy crew had accompanied Carruthers back to the Embassy. He had given them drinks, then taken them down to the Chancellery and unlocked the safe with all our secret documents in it. They had taken nothing, but gone through the lot. Carruthers had politely seen them off the premises, then gone cheerfully up to bed. I guessed at once what must have happened. O’Kieff possessed extraordinary hypnotic powers and he must have hypnotised poor Carruthers. He had no memory whatever of what had occurred, but the night porter had been an uneasy witness to the whole affair. When Carruthers realised what he had done he committed suicide.’

  ‘What an appalling story.’

  Julian nodded. ‘You can imagine how I felt. I had drawn him into it, so was directly responsible for his death. And naturally, although I was found drugged afterwards and there was no actual evidence against me, in view of my friendship with O’Kieff plenty of people came to the conclusion that I had been in with the crooks and had deliberately sold my country’s secrets.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Merri exclaimed impulsively. ‘You’re not the sort of man who would.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Julian smiled wanly. ‘All the same, I was kicked out of the diplomatic and have been a wanderer, avoiding my own kind, ever since.’

  ‘Did you ever come across any of those awful men again?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. For several years I was so bitter about the wrecking of my life that I carried on a vendetta against them. I happened to run into O’Kieff in a shipping office in London. He was booking a passage to Egypt, so having plenty of money I booked one too.1 I didn’t get him, but I was able to settle accounts with Zakri Bey in the Libyan desert and a year or two later I shot Count Mondragora during the war in Greece.2 Lord Gavin Fortescue was already an elderly man and he died very unpleasantly soon after the war. Mazinsky, the Polish Jew, fell a victim to the Nazis. Baron von Hentzen was a pal of Hitler’s and, like a lot of the other Nazis, when Germany collapsed succeeded in disappearing. What has happened to him, the Jap or O’Kieff I’ve no idea. After a time I gave up trying to trace them; but God help any of them should they cross my path again.’

  ‘I can understand how you feel,’ Merri murmured. ‘And I’m terribly sorry for you. But after all these years you really ought to try to forget this horrid business. You’re not too old to start a new life, perhaps in America, where it’s very unlikely that you would run across anyone who remembers your connection with this shocking scandal.’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t live permanently in the United States for all the tea in China. And I don’t fancy Latin America either, or any of the Arab countries. But I’ve often toyed with the idea of marrying and settling down in some place outside Europe where one could be reasonably secure and life is pleasant; such, for example, as the West Indies or Hong Kong.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’ she asked, her big grey eyes wide and innocent.

  ‘First I’d have to find the right girl and find out if she would have me,’ he replied with a nervous little laugh. But, greatly as he was tempted to do so, he had the wisdom to refrain for the moment from pursuing the subject further.

  They stayed on to dine at the Shatin Heights, watched a marvellous sunset over the bay to the north of Castle Peak, then drove back to Hong Kong.

  Saturday was race day, and a Mrs. Heng, who was a friend of Merri’s, had several horses running. Merri had secured for Julian an invitation to Mrs. Heng’s box; so, a little before twelve, in order to be in time for the first race, they drove down through the pass to Happy Valley and Julian was duly presented to his portly hostess.

  The box was on the upper tier with a perfect view of the course and the milling crowds in the enclosures below; for the Chinese are inveterate gamblers and therefore enthusiastic racegoers. Dozens of Mrs. Heng’s friends were constantly coming in and out of the box to exchange tips while being served by the Chinese boys with drinks, and the box was so commodious that in its rear section lunch had been laid for sixteen. With a few exceptions Mrs. Heng’s guests were Chinese or Eurasians: charming, friendly people who made Julian feel more than ever that he would like to make his home in Hong Kong and become one of their circle. Owing to the tips he was given he backed two winners and got three horses for a place; so he ended well up on this most enjoyable day.

  That evening he took Merri across to Kowloon to dine in the Mandarin Room at the Miramar. On their way home he asked her to pull the car up just before they entered the pass, so that they could look down on the illuminated warships in the harbour and the myriad lights of Victoria and Kowloon. After they had smoked cigarettes he put his arm gently round her slim shoulders. As she made no movement to draw away, with his heart hammering in his chest he asked:

  ‘Merri, have you ever been kissed by a man old enough to be your father?’

  ‘No,’ she replied in a whisper. ‘But, somehow, you don’t seem as old as all that.’

  Next moment his mouth was pressed gently to hers. Her lips were satin soft and sweetly yielding. She put an arm up round his neck and as their bodies met in an embrace he felt a shudder of passion run through her. When their long kiss ended she gave a little laugh and murmured, ‘I’ve rarely known a younger man who could kiss better.’

  The multi-coloured lights forgotten, they spent a wonderful half-hour and, now silent from the aftermath of their emotions, drove on to the Repulse Bay.

  Before getting out Julian said, ‘Tomorrow of course, my sweet, you’ll be off duty. But I’ll go mad if I don’t at least see you. Can’t I call on the excuse of wanting to see your mother’s garden?’

  She considered for a moment. ‘All right, then. I’m afraid I can’t ask you to a meal. But I’ll tell Mother that you are coming in for a drink about twelve o’clock.’

  On that they parted, with Julian feeling on top of the world.

  Sunday was again a heavenly day, and in the golden sunshine Julian walked the three-quarters of a mile past the Lido to Merri’s home. From its situation, which she had described to him, he could not doubt that this was it, but it was a far finer property than he had expected; for, as Mrs. Sang worked in an office, he had not thought of her as a wealthy woman.

  The house stood on a cliff a hundred feet above the shore. Below the drive to it lay three narrow terraces lined with flowering shrubs, rockeries and plants in pots. From the lowest there was a drop of twenty feet to flattish rocks out of which had been hewn an open swimming pool. Beside the front door there was a high trellis covered with creeper from which hung big bells of Golden Trumpet.

  An elderly Chinese ‘boy’ bowed Julian into an airy hall. In an alcove at its end stood a life-size gilded bronze figure of the goddess Kuan-yin. He had never seen a finer, and realised at a glance that it was a real collector’s piece. Next moment Merri ran out to welcome him, then led him into a spacious drawing room to introduce him to her mother.

&nb
sp; The room held many other beautiful things of porcelain, jade and lacquer; but Julian’s gaze was fixed on Mrs. Sang. She was a much bigger woman than her daughter and almost as beautiful, but in quite a different way, for she was blonde and blue-eyed. As Merri was nineteen, Julian knew that her mother must at least be close on forty, but he would have put her down as in her middle thirties. Vaguely her face seemed familiar and, as they shook hands, he said:

  ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’

  She smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes. ‘Perhaps; but not unless it was in Australia or Singapore. Merri tells me that you have not been to Hong Kong since the war, and I did not come here to live until 1949.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve never been to Australia and never stayed in Singapore for any length of time except as a soldier in 1941.’

  Mrs. Sang shrugged her fine shoulders. ‘You are mistaken, then. I was born in Australia and met my husband there in 1944. He was then a refugee from Singapore. After the war we went to live there, but he died two years later. In ‘48 I came to Hong Kong on a holiday and I liked the island so much that I decided to make my home here.’

  The Chinese ‘boy’ wheeled in a tray of drinks and Julian chose a gin sling. As it was handed to him he said, ‘Merri tells me that you work for the Narcotics Advisory Committee. That must be an interesting job.’

  ‘It is,’ she nodded. ‘Drugs are a most terrible evil and it has become far worse since the introduction of heroin. People could smoke opium in moderation for years without ill effects; but two or three pipes of heroin are enough for the victim to become an addict. Once he has acquired the vice he will sell anything to get it: his dearest possessions, his wife, his home, until he has beggared himself. In a few months he can reduce himself to a moron and a skeleton.’

  ‘So I have heard. But I gather a lot is now being done to reclaim addicts.’

  ‘Yes, if they will accept treatment or are sent to prison for at least six months. And when they are reclaimed they rarely relapse. But our worst problem is trying to prevent the drug from being smuggled in. Over six thousand oceangoing vessels come into Hong Kong every year and it is next to impossible to search them all thoroughly.’

  ‘I suppose you have agents, though, in other ports who tip you off about suspected vessels?’

  Her pale smile came again. ‘Oh, yes. Unesco and Interpol are a great help to us. My work consists mainly in collating their reports and we are able to seise many packages of the drug directly the ships put in here. But the smugglers are extraordinarily ingenious and often Customs men trained as engineers have to spend days in engine rooms taking the ships’ machinery to pieces.’

  For a while they continued to talk of smugglers and their ruses, then Mrs. Sang said, ‘But you have come to see my flowers’ and, standing up, led the way out through the wide window on to a balcony overhanging the beach. From there they descended a flight of steps to the terraces with their multitude of blossoms. As at the Repulse Bay there were great pots of massed carnations and dahlias in flower at the same time; there were also many species that Julian had seen in other countries but not in Hong Kong, and as a background great masses of jasmine, bougainvillaea and Chinese cracker.

  For half an hour Julian exerted all his charm while admiring Mrs. Sang’s treasures. He had hoped that she might ask him to stay on for lunch, but she remained cold and distant, and when she had shown him her orchid house did not even invite him in for another drink; so he had no option but to thank her and take his leave, consoling himself with the thought that Merri would be coming to pick him up again the following morning.

  On Monday they went over to Kowloon and spent the morning admiring the goods in the hundreds of shops along the splendid highway of Nathan Road and its adjacent streets. They were stocked with every type of tempting merchandise—embroidered satins, pearls, leather goods, cameras, antiques—and as Hong Kong is a Free Port they were on sale at incredibly cheap prices. Radios could be bought cheaper than in Japan, whence they came, and rich silks for a fifth of the price charged in London. Julian did his best to persuade Merri to let him buy her a crocodile-skin bag, but she would not allow him to.

  ‘It’s not that I wouldn’t love to have it,’ she said; ‘but I couldn’t prevent Mother from seeing it, and she won’t allow me to accept presents from men.’

  He made a little grimace. ‘That’s a pity, and I’m afraid your mother didn’t take a very good view of me.’

  She nodded. ‘I felt that too. But it wasn’t your fault. She is inclined to be moody and difficult at times, and yesterday was one of her off days.’

  For lunch Merri took him to Ng Fong Chari’s, a little restaurant in a side street, to eat a Beggar’s Chicken that she had ordered by telephone before starting out that morning. A lump of baked clay, nearly as large as a football, was brought to their table by a grinning Chinese waiter, then put on the floor and broken open with a hammer. Inside was the bird, cooked to a turn in its own fat.

  In the afternoon they returned to Hong Kong for Julian to have his sleep. Then in the evening they met again and went over to the Princess Garden night club to dine and dance. But they left early and drew in to the side of the road on the way home for another delightful session of embracing and kissing.

  As Merri restarted the car, Julian asked, ‘What shall we do tomorrow?’

  For a moment she was silent, then she said, ‘I’m sorry, Julian. I know you’ll be terribly disappointed, and I didn’t want to spoil your day by telling you before. But actually you only booked me till the end of last week, and from tomorrow I’ll have to keep a previous engagement made before I met you. Bill Urata will have got back tonight from Manila.’

  Chapter VI

  Oh! To Be Young Again

  Tuesday was a black day for Julian. When Merri had spoken of receiving an airmail letter from Bill Urata she had not mentioned that in a few days’ time he would be returning to Hong Kong. And she had spoken with considerable warmth about the young Japanese. That did not necessarily mean that she was attracted by him, but it did mean that she saw him with different eyes from Julian’s.

  Although Urata was a Japanese by blood, in all other respects he could be looked on as an American. Experience had taught Julian that, while travelled Americans can be as cultured and charming as any people in the world, since fewer than one in every hundred have ever been to Europe the average Englishman has much more in common with his Continental neighbours than he has with the average American. They are brought up with an entirely different background, intensely proud of their country’s great achievements and inclined to regard everything to do with the Old World as effete; whereas the European finds little to admire in a polyglot people one-third of who have periodically to go into homes for treatment as alcoholics, drug addicts or for other mental disorders, yet who dictate the policy of smaller countries through the power of money, often with no long-term knowledge of the issues at stake, and have not yet even learnt to care for the welfare of their own underprivileged classes.

  It was, therefore, not unnatural that he should regard the crew-cut, camera-draped, loudly dressed young Urata with faint distaste and think of him as a modern barbarian. But he had youth: splendid carefree youth; he danced the Twist and, no doubt, would be only too ready to swim with Merri however cold the water. That, Julian acknowledged grimly, was ample to account for her liking for him.

  Somehow, Julian got through the day. But the evening was far worse. He felt certain that Urata would persuade Merri to dine with him. Probably he liked his food made unrecognisable with lashings of vinegar, mustard and onions and his favourite dish was nearly-raw meat; so he would order two huge steaks. But perhaps Merri liked steaks too. Then they would dance. Not gracefully, but with a wild abandon, and they would be laughing and thoroughly enjoying it.

  By eleven o’clock still more tormenting visions seethed in Julian’s mind. Merri would have her car and Urata could be counted on to get her to take him for a short drive be
fore dropping him at his hotel. She enjoyed being kissed and was passionate by nature. In Julian’s arms she had given ample evidence of her hot Asiatic blood. Excited by the dancing and with a man of her own age, she would be even more disposed to let herself go than she had with him. At half past eleven he finished his last brandy-and-soda and went to bed, now blessing Mrs. Sang for her ruling that Merri must be home by that hour.

  Wednesday followed much the same pattern. Such doubts as he had had about marrying a girl so much younger than himself were now utterly dispersed. Attacked by a more violent jealousy than he had experienced for many years, he felt that, come what may, he had to win her. Again he spent a miserable day, and late that evening his vivid imagination conjured up pictures that were almost unbearable; for he had persuaded himself that if she proved unwilling the husky young Japanese might take her by force.

  Then on Thursday reason and plausibility got the upper hand in Julian’s mind. Merri had told him that most of the people for whom she had acted as guide were rich, generally elderly, American couples; but she had mentioned several men that she had taken round the Colony, some of whom she had liked and dined with. As she was so ravishingly beautiful it was certain that some of them would have made a pass at her; so she would have had ample experience in dealing with such situations. And there was no reason at all to suppose that she liked Urata more than she had several other men. She must regard them all as only birds of passage, and even those who did attract her could mean no more than chaps to have a little fun with. All the odds were that young Urata fell into that category. Anyhow, he was combining a holiday with his business trip; so he must soon return to Japan. That, Julian now realised, gave him the ace. He had no ties. His time was limitless. He had telephoned the office of the Hong Kong Tourist Association first thing on Tuesday morning to say that he wished to engage Miss Sang’s services indefinitely as soon as she was again free. He had only to possess his soul in patience until Urata departed and sweet laughing Merri would again become his companion for long happy days.