A couple of photographers were on hand to catch us as we walked in. For once, I was happy to see them.
Mr. Fortescue led us through the lobby of the hotel. It reminded me of The Palace in San Francisco. There were potted palms and large white columns everywhere. We came to a small door next to the front desk. Using a key, Mr. Fortescue opened it and ushered us into a plush office.
"Please, have a seat. This won't take a moment."
He picked up a couple of papers and an envelope. Placing one of the papers in front of me, he asked, "Could you register here?"
I took the fountain pen he offered and signed.
"Thank you. May I have your passports, please?"
We handed them over. He put them on the desk. "Thank you." He handed me a thick over-sized envelope. "I was informed by the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank this morning that they received your incoming wire transfer. They have opened an account in your name. They also sent over ten thousand dollars." He smiled briefly. "Hong Kong dollars, that is..." He looked down at a note on his desk. "That's approximately seventeen and a half hundred U.S. dollars. You may withdraw more, as needed, in the morning at their office across the harbor. You will also find a small book of checks you can draw on, should you wish. Our cashier will gladly cash them for you at any time."
I nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Fortescue."
"You're quite welcome. You are planning to depart on Saturday, the 25th, is that correct?"
I had no idea so I just nodded.
He said, "Very well. Your passports will be available to retrieve in the morning. One of the boys will show you up to your rooms. When your luggage arrives, it will be brought straight up."
We stood. I looked in the envelope and then at Mr. Fortescue. "What's a customary tip?"
"I should say a dollar per piece of luggage."
Carter laughed.
. . .
As we were walking through the hotel lobby, a blonde woman in a floral-print dress stopped us and asked Carter, "Are you Mr. Jones?"
He nodded, "Yes, ma'am."
She smiled. "My name is Dr. Elizabeth Rice-Harris. May I have a word with you?"
I pulled out one of the ten dollar notes and put it into the hands of the kid who was taking us up to our room. He bowed and walked off, smiling.
Dr. Rice-Harris said, "There's a small lounge over to the left. Won't take up too much of your time, I promise."
I looked at my watch. It was half past 8. I turned to Captain O'Reilly. "Can you meet us in our room at half past 9? We'll order dinner in." I winked at him.
He smiled and replied, "Of course, Mr. Williams." Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and made his way back to the front of the hotel.
Dr. Rice-Harris said, "Mr. Williams? Will you do me the honor of taking my other arm? I simply can't resist being escorted by two of the most handsome men in the colony."
I offered my left arm and the three of us made our way back to the small bar she'd pointed to.
Once we were settled in a booth in the back, with drinks on their way, the doctor got to the point.
"I wanted to speak with you first, Mr. Jones, and let you know what you're in for. I'm a doctor at the Queen Mary and your bequest, or whatever it's being called, has stirred up quite the hornet's nest."
"Why's that?" asked Carter.
Right then, the waiter brought our drinks and placed them on the table. Dr. Rice-Harris was having a rum punch, light on the rum. Carter and I were having the local beer. The waiter had simply referred to it as a lager. I had a sip. It was cold. I could give it that.
"Well, you see, your bequest is just about equal to two years' worth of the hospital budget. It couldn't have come at a better time. We've been growing by leaps and bounds. There is a massive building expansion underway. And it still won't be large enough once that's complete. The local population has simply exploded since the revolution and there's always more than we can care for. It's quite tragic to know that there's only so much one can do." She took a dainty sip of her drink.
Carter shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a bit thick, ma'am, but I don't see—"
"Oh, of course. I forgot the most important part. The governor, Sir Alexander, has been trying to keep the triads on the run."
I asked, "Triads?"
She nodded. "The local gangs, I think you would call them. What with the growing population, some bad elements made their way over the border along with the real refugees. Of course, the best thing is we have some fresh blood. There are thousands of new capitalists just bursting with enthusiasm about being unfettered once again." She took another sip. "I'm quite excited about what could happen here. The colony could easily become the most important spot in Asia. I know we British don't really belong, but I love this little peninsula and I think this is all for the good." She looked from Carter to me and back again.
That time I gave it a shot. "I don't quite follow."
"Dear me, I'm simply going on and on about all the wrong things. Let me offer it to you straight." She looked at me with her head to the side. "That is how you say it, is it not?"
"Let me set you straight?" I prompted.
She laughed. "That's it. Let me set you straight about this one thing. The triads are after you." She took another sip and smiled.
Carter took a long drink of his beer and then asked, "How do you know this?"
"The Queen Mary is a sort of no-mans-land between all the different factions. One hears things. The triads seem to believe that you've arrived to set up shop, as it were." She laughed. "Of course, they don't read the San Francisco papers, like I do and, well..."
I couldn't decide whether to be insulted or not. I looked at Carter who was grinning. He winked at me and said, "We could start our own gang, if we wanted, Dr. Rice-Harris."
She put her gloved hand on Carter's arm. "Oh, of course! I didn't mean that you're both not capable of becoming crime bosses." She laughed. "What I meant is that they don't know all the good works you two have been up to." She turned to me and added, "The work your foundation has down for helping those poor children recovering from polio has been nothing less than wonderful."
I nodded and smiled. As usual, I had no idea what our foundation was up to.
Carter asked, "Why did you want to tell us this, Dr. Rice-Harris?"
She sat up. "I simply thought you needed to be aware of it. Officially, you're going to be celebrated on Saturday afternoon, of course. I'll be there with my husband, Dr. Benjamin Harris. He's a wonderful surgeon. We're so lucky to work together."
"What's your specialty?" I asked.
"Pediatrics."
That explained her bubbly nature.
Carter asked, "You said, 'officially'."
She nodded. "Yes. Officially, you're to be celebrated. However, unofficially, no one wants to touch either of you with a ten-foot pole." She looked at me. "Ten-foot pole? Is that right?"
I nodded. "With us, it's usually a twenty-foot pole."
She laughed and shook her head. "Well, there are those whose ignorance is simply ridiculous. You're both more than welcome at our little home at any time. I do hope we shall become friends. I really do." And she looked quite sincere when she said it.
Carter looked at me. I wasn't sure what he was trying to telegraph to me, but one thing did cross my mind. "How long have you lived here?"
"Oh for ages. I was born in Sydney. I do hope you'll visit Sydney at some point if you haven't already. All of Australia is wonderful, but Sydney is my favorite."
I smiled. "Carter just learned how to surf last year and we're going there after we leave here. What's the name of that place?"
Carter replied, "Bondi Beach."
"I'm quite out of my league when it comes to surfing although I do remember visiting Bondi Beach when I was a small child." She took a last sip of her drink. "But, to answer your question, my parents moved here in the summer of 1919." She rolled her eyes. "And by summer, I mean winter. It was in January. My father was a doctor and the colony
needed help with the influenza outbreak. Somehow we made the crossing and survived everything without any of us getting sick, which was a real favor. There were five of us then. My youngest sister was born here. In 1922." She looked at me. "She's your age." She looked over at Carter. "My oldest brother is quite a handful and living a very gay life in Paris these days. You simply must look him up the next time you're there."
I smiled at Carter, who was blushing. I turned to the doctor and asked, "How familiar are you with Shumchun?"
"Across the border?"
I nodded.
Her face changed expression. She lowered her voice and asked, "Why?"
Carter leaned in and said, "We have a friend—"
Before he could finish, she looked at her watch and, with the bubbly voice she'd been using all along, said, "Oh my! Will you look at the time? Benny is going to be simply starving. I must get home."
Carter and I stood. Dr. Rice-Harris slid around, stood, and then pretended to fall against the table. "Oh my! That rum punch must have hit me harder than I thought. The room is practically spinning." She picked up her handbag and looked up at Carter. "Mr. Jones? Maybe you could walk me outside and put me in a taxi?"
He nodded. "Sure thing, ma'am."
She marched off without saying anything to me. Carter looked at me, shrugged, and then jogged to catch up.
. . .
I was just about done unpacking when there was a knock at the door. I opened it, expecting Carter, and found a Chinese man in a morning suit who bowed.
"I am Cheung. I am your butler for your stay." He presented a white embossed card with the hotel name, his name, and a three-digit number on it.
I took the card and said, "Thank you. Come in."
He took the door from me and closed it. "May I show you the suite?"
I nodded. "Sure."
. . .
Once that was over, he said, "I see you are in the middle of unpacking, may I finish for you?"
As much as we'd tried up to that point, Carter and I had never really learned how to let Gustav be a proper valet. He'd made several attempts to help us get dressed but we'd turned him down. That's when we'd started helping each other dress. And that had turned out to be much more fun than if Gustav had been involved.
I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'll take care of that. We have a butler at home. He mostly answers the door and serves our meals and runs little errands for us."
Cheung smiled. "That is my job, also. While you are here, in this suite, I am your butler."
"Well, we don't need a valet."
He nodded. "Very good. I am happy to assist in whatever way I can."
I thought about it for a moment. "Well, while I finish unpacking, could you arrange for dinner to be brought up here at half past 9?"
"Certainly. Are there special requests?"
"What kind of menu is available?"
"There is British menu and there is Cantonese menu. I suggest Cantonese unless you are not familiar and prefer British. There is no American."
I winced. "What about chop suey?"
Cheung smiled briefly. "There is a dish that is similar."
"Not spicy? No seafood?"
"Not spicy. No seafood. Only pork and vegetables."
"Fine. I don't how many of us there will be. It could be just three. Or it might be five."
"That is fine. Cantonese dishes best ordered fresh. So, one chop suey, then? For you?"
I nodded. "Yes, one chop suey, but not for me. For Mr. Jones."
"Yes, Mr. Jones." We were standing in the bedroom that was on the right side of the suite's living room. "His luggage is in other bedroom?"
I shook my head. "No."
Cheung nodded without skipping a beat. "Very good. One chop suey for Mr. Jones. For yourself?"
I tried to describe the pork dish that I usually ate at the Far East Cafe.
"Yes, I know this dish. I don't know English name but this is good dish." He smiled. "Maybe you like soups and some nice dumplings?"
I nodded. "Yes. As for the third dish..." I tried to remember what Captain O'Reilly liked in the way of Chinese food but drew a blank.
"Then we order that fresh. I will alert the kitchen. Do not worry. All will be piping hot and perfectly tasty."
I smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Cheung."
"Cheung. No mister. Not British."
I smiled. "Thank you, Cheung."
He bowed. "A pleasure, Mr. Williams."
. . .
About five minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I decided to let Cheung answer it.
I heard Carter ask, "Is Nick here?"
Cheung replied, "You are Mr. Jones?"
I heard Carter reply, "Yes."
"I am Cheung, your butler. Mr. Williams is in bedroom. Follow me, please."
As they walked in, Carter looked at me. I said, "Thank you, Cheung. Will you excuse us for a minute?"
"Certainly." He backed out of the room and closed the door.
"Cheung? Butler?"
"Sure."
"But Cheung? What are the odds?"
I shrugged. "I think it's like Smith."
Carter nodded. "Oh." He grinned. "Or Jones."
"So? What happened?"
"She had me go home with her in the taxi. And she wouldn't let me talk until we walked into the house. Which, by the way, is not a 'little home', it's a big mansion up in the hills across the harbor. Or 'The Peak,' as she called it. Great views. Anyway, I told her about Mai. She knows who Mai is."
I frowned. "Are you sure?"
"How many Chinese women doctors are named Mai O'Reilly?"
"O'Reilly?"
Carter nodded. "Remember? They never married."
"Sure." I thought about that for a moment. "Did you tell her why we're here?"
He nodded. "Sure did. She said not to try crossing the border directly. Just like Bobby said. She said the people she knows who cross back and forth do it at night and in boats. That's pretty much the safest way."
"How does she know Mai?"
"They met in the last year or so. Mai tried to cross the border as part of a refugee resettlement plan that the Chinese were doing. The British wouldn't let them come over because they suspected there were spies in the group. Dr. Rice-Harris had been part of a team of doctors and nurses that were sent over to inspect the refugees to find out whether they were all sick or not. That's when she met Mai. Apparently, the Chinese once tried to send a large group that all had pneumonia."
"Did you tell her about Bobby?"
"Briefly, yeah. I wanted to get back here. She said she wasn't surprised. She said the Chinese government is having a hard time providing basic medical services."
"Why all the secrecy?"
"She said she thought she saw a man who was a Chinese spy follow us into the bar."
"It was OK to talk about triads and her brother but not Mai?"
Carter nodded. "She said the place is crawling with Chinese agents. She wasn't sure what we were going to ask her but she didn't want anyone like that to hear about it."
"Sounds paranoid."
"Might be." He frowned for a moment. "But she did mention that the spy wasn't Chinese. Wait." He titled his head. "I wonder what she meant by that."
I shrugged. "Are you sure you understood what she was saying? Maybe she was drunk?
He shook his head. "No." He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked down at me. "She said, 'But that one looked Russian or maybe Italian. But that's Hong Kong.' Something like that."
I nodded. "That's interesting. Still sounds paranoid but Mike would probably agree with her. She's a lot smarter than she appears."
"I think most of that was an act. She's probably really brilliant."
I smiled. "And she is a pediatrician."
He grinned. "Her patients probably love her."
. . .
We ended up being ten for dinner, which wasn't a problem since the suite included a dining table that could seat twelve.<
br />
Cheung organized everything perfectly. Everyone ate what they wanted. Christine and Newland ate off the British menu. Everyone else had Cantonese.
At one point, Newland asked about our next steps. Murphy cut him off. "After dinner, boyo."
Once we were done and everything was cleared away, I told Cheung he could retire for the night. He bowed and quickly left the suite.
"A butler?" That was Tony.
I nodded. "Just like home. Except ours is Czechoslovakian and not that good."
"But he's getting better," added Carter.
I asked, "How're the accommodations at the Y?" Tony and Lee were sharing a room at the Y.M.C.A., which happened to be next door. O'Reilly and Murphy were sharing a room down the hall from us. Captain Obregon had his own room. As did Newland. Captain Morris and Christine were next door to us.
Lee grinned. "Not a bit like this, but fine. Plenty of action." Tony elbowed him and laughed.
I looked at Christine and shook my head.
She laughed. "It's not me you should worry about."
Captain Obregon coughed. "I've always heard—"
Carter changed the subject by asking Lee, "How'd you get off the plane?"
"Simple. Just walked out with the Chinese maintenance crew once they'd finished their work for Captain Morris. No one even noticed."
"I was with you," added Tony.
"Sure," said Lee. "You were the one who stuck out. He got asked for his papers when we walked into the maintenance hangar. I had to sweet-talk the guard who finally let us through."
Tony said, "And by sweet-talk, he really means that. He used his language skills, not his fists, which have been known to be deadly."
Everyone else laughed. Some more nervously than others.
I looked over at O'Reilly. "We had some good luck tonight." I told him about Dr. Rice-Harris and that she knew Mai.
His face went pale. "But, she's OK, right?"
Carter replied, "Sounds like it. Dr. Rice-Harris said she was a great doctor who's doing good work. She also said she saw your nephew. He was working right there with his mom."
O'Reilly burst into tears. He was sitting on one of the sofas next to Murphy, who leaned in and held him by the shoulders, whispering to him. Carter leaned over and handed the captain his handkerchief. O'Reilly wiped his eyes and handed it back. "Must seem silly a grown man cryin' like a baby."
The Sodden Sailor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 11) Page 16