The Shadow Of Weng-Chiang Part 9

She paused a few moments. 'The bank is open,' she said quietly. 'Come in for the withdrawal.'

Almost immediately, Kwok stepped from the air, his athletic frame carrying him with catlike grace. He looked around suspiciously as nine other men followed.

'You know what we came for,' said HsienKo. 'Form a chain and load directly onto the trucks at Utsonomiya, then we'll drive the lot back through the main Dragon Path.'

'And the mobile generators?' Kwok asked.

'They should be able to drive directly through.'

'Right.' Kwok quickly organized the men, who paired off to carry crates into their individual splashes of distorted air. It looked like it was going well, HsienKo noted. If so, they would repeat this strategy later. Right now, she had to return to Shanghai to prepare to receive these goods. Besides, she didn't really feel comfortable in j.a.pan.

Giving the operation a last look, HsienKo stepped into nothingness.

The first light of dawn crept across crisp smooth sheets, rose over soft pillows and banished the shadows from around Romana's eyes. With a groan, she sat up, gently exploring the dressed cut on her forehead. She closed her eyes again momentarily, then opened them wide. She wasn't lying in the ruined car. Instead, she was in a wide bed in a plush room with a desk, armchairs, a thick carpet and a mahogany dresser.

A Chinese girl in a uniform-like dress was just straightening the curtains she had opened, and bowed slightly to Romana as she left the room. She looked as if she were trying to repress an embarra.s.sed giggle. Romana couldn't think why; humans were so unfathomable.

She went slightly woozily to the dresser and examined the dressing on her forehead. It looked more like a military field dressing than anything else. A simple but elegant cheongsam, a gleaming silver dragon curling around its rich purple background silk, was neatly draped over one chair in front of the dressing-table. Pressing it against herself in the front of the mirror, Romana confirmed that it was exactly her size.

The arched windows through which the light had entered attracted her attention once she had donned the cheongsam.

They opened onto a high view of the hazy waters of the Huangpu, the faint misty haze tinted gold by the sun. Sampans commuted between moored ships and overloaded junks.

By craning her neck, she could make out the busy tree-lined road that ran alongside the river and a few of the marble and sandstone-faced buildings that ran along this side of the road.

Unlike the other streets she had seen, these buildings didn't have the festooned banners that were the norm in the rest of the city, though light glinted from the occasional plaque.

Once she had seen enough to work out that she was somewhere on the Bund, the high-cla.s.s area the Doctor had told her about, she went to the door and gently tried the handle. She was quite surprised that it actually opened.

Mr Woo was in his office, listening to a conversation emanating from a speaker. At the moment, the switchboard indicator for table number six was lit up, where Du Yue Sheng was having an informal meeting with one of his subordinates.

It was fascinating listening. 'Ying,' Du's voice was saying, 'there are two reasons why I am unhappy with this news.

Firstly, if Chiang Kai-Shek discovers that his Minister of Opium Suppression has failed to prevent the resurgence of the Black Scorpion's opium traffic, he will probably have me shot.'

'Wishful thinking,' Woo muttered. Rondo flexed his ma.s.sive fists in agreement.

'Secondly, they are cutting into our profits. The French government get an annual cut of twenty million dollars as it is, just for us to have an unmolested base of operations in their Concession. I don't care whether you arrest them or dump them in the Huangpu, but I will not tolerate opium smuggling by others on the Great Circle's territory. Now what has happened to Sung-Chi Li?'

'I don't know,' another voice replied. 'He was pursuing a suspect last evening and may have been caught in the air raid.'

'I don't care about air raids. I want him found, then this case closed. What else can I do right now?'

Rondo shook his head glumly and mimed firing two guns.

'Sorry,' Woo said. 'What do you think would happen to us if I killed the Chief of the Bureau for Opium Suppression?' Rondo shrugged, ma.s.sive brows furrowing, and moved around the desk.

Woo looked up at the sound of stumbling footsteps. The woman he had rescued from the air-raid wreckage was backing away from Rondo while at the same time hefting a handy table-lamp in a threatening manner. He had forgotten how independent westerners liked to be or he might have expected her to enter without being told. 'It's all right, Rondo; go and check last evening's takings, will you?'

Rondo nodded and turned away, while the woman looked towards Woo. Her sculpted features wore a mask of suspicion.

Woo wondered what it would take to crack that mask. Perhaps on Wei Pei's day off, he might find out... 'You must excuse Rondo; he sometimes doesn't realize how intimidating he can be.' Woo laid the paper aside, and stood with a slight bow. He waved towards the seats. 'Please sit; you must still be quite weak after having a building fall on top of you.' He went to a bookcase and slid it aside to reveal a small personal bar. 'I have a few bottles of particularly fine Solero imported for personal use.'

The woman didn't answer, but he noticed her eyes briefly flick suspiciously down towards the cheongsam she was wearing. He should have antic.i.p.ated that and had Wei Pei remain with her when she awoke. 'Oh, Wei Pei the maid put you to bed; your blushes are spared.' He didn't know whether she would believe him, and didn't care; it was the truth, and that was that.

'I suppose I ought to thank you for rescuing me, then, Mr...?'

'Mr Woo. I happened to be pa.s.sing at the time, Miss...?'

'Romana, no Miss. I have to wonder about the generosity of someone who plots to kill his government's law and order minister.'

Woo didn't mind what she had overheard. What could she do? 'There's a saying a patriot is someone willing to defend his country against its government. You're new to Shanghai?'

'You could put it that way.'

'Anyone who has been here long knows that Du Yue Sheng is also Tenth Uncle of the Great Circle Tong; he's the biggest opium dealer in the Yellow Sea.'

'Then he's in the wrong job, surely?'

'Hardly!' Her naivety was quite refreshing. 'He's legally ent.i.tled to kill his rivals and is hardly likely to arrest himself.

A benefit of being willing to crusade against the Communists on behalf of Chiang Kai-Shek.'

'That seems a terribly impractical way to run a government.'

'It gets worse: Chiang's wife's family are Communist sympathizers.' He smiled wistfully. 'I'd give a lot to be able to listen in to their mealtime discussions.'

'So what is he to you?'

'A blot on society's face. I've spent half my life building up this place so that people can enjoy themselves here. Before too long, the likes of Du made it their favourite location for socializing, which in turn means that the heavy Tong presence as well as irritatingly frequent police raids to trap them tend to scare off the ordinary people who I hoped would spend their money here.' He held a gla.s.s out towards her. 'If you don't trust me, there's a gun in the plant-pot beside you that you could use to defend yourself.'

She reached down and lifted the b.u.t.t of a pistol from the loam under a potted palm. Then she let it fall back and took the gla.s.s. 'Why did you bring me here?'

'I could hardly leave you in the rubble and Rondo knows how to patch up minor wounds quite efficiently. He used to wrestle alligators in a circus show, so you can see that first aid is quite a handy skill for him.' Woo sat. 'I like to help people when I can.'

Romana took a sip of her drink. 'Where you found me...didn't you see anyone else there?'

'Lots of people the houses were occupied, after all. Some survived, some didn't. Your friend with the scarf was being dragged out by some people, but I didn't see where they took him.'

Romana rounded on him. 'I didn't describe the Doctor's clothes...Of course, you're the man from the docks; the one the police call Yan Cheh. That's the only way you could know what the Doctor looks like.'

Woo had expected this; it was inevitable that she would make the connection to his motorcycling ident.i.ty at some point after being brought back to the club. All good things must end; even secrecy. 'It's not a name I'd have picked, but it's quite flattering.'

'So why do you do it?'

Woo put on a mock-thoughtful look. 'To repay two debts.'

Romana looked sceptical. 'Oh, not the financial kind. I have my reasons, just as you undoubtedly have your reasons for interfering at the docks.' It had occurred to him that she might not approve, but they did share a common goal.

'A debt to the Tong of the Black Scorpion or Weng-Chiang?'

'One debt to my club; I've told you how the Tongs and police scare all my other customers. The other is to the Sakura Kai, the Cherry Society. My methods are roundabout, but I know what I'm doing. I think you do, too.'

Romana sat on the opposite side of the desk. 'How do you mean?'

'Your visits to Nang Tao and the docks in pursuit of HsienKo. I know you and your doctor friend are operating from a British police box on the Waibaidu bridge, but your arrest would suggest that you're not working in true cooperation between the Settlement Police and the locals. I presume, therefore, that you're friends of the Fallen Angel.'

'That's an interesting deduction,' Romana said guardedly.

Woo took that as a sign that he was right. 'I think we've been working on the same problem from opposite ends and it might be wise to pool our resources. I know the Black Scorpion have found some way to avoid detection while travelling '

'Avoid detection? Then you haven't seen what happens.

We really have to find the Doctor; he knows more about the Black Scorpion than I do, but if they've found a way of exploiting the fourth segment...'

'Segment of what?'

'Of a key the Doctor and I have been searching for. Can you take me back to where you found me?'

'Of course, but as I said, your friend has gone.'

'I have some equipment in the car that could help find him.

It also detects what I suspect to be the Black Scorpion's mode of transportation.'

'Why didn't you say so before?' Woo stood, eager to get on with the search. He paused; Romana wasn't exactly equipped to go tracking down the Black Scorpion. 'Come over here.'

The shelves on the far part of the dog-leg that was Woo's office were filled with rather less civil equipment. A polished hardwood rack at waist level held a set of samurai swords with inlaid decorations on the scabbards. Above that, there were two rows of pistols. The lower shelf held revolvers: a Webley.38, a rare eight-round version of the Webley-Fosbery.455 automatic revolver, a Smith & Wesson.45, a Colt Single Action Army ironically known as the Peacemaker and an Enfield.38. On the uppermost shelf were several automatics: the ubiquitous Luger, a Walther PP, a pair of Browning Hi-Powers and a pair of Colt.45s.

Romana raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. 'Do you really need all these to run a restaurant and nightclub?'

'You wouldn't believe the viciousness of some of those Michelin critics.' Woo unlocked the cabinet and lifted out the Walther PP since it was slightly smaller and lighter than the others and so should be better suited for Romana. 'I'd suggest a.25 Beretta for you it's got no stopping power, but it's easy to operate and I've heard it described as fancy-looking to appeal to the ladies. As it happens, though, I haven't got one, so this'll have to do.'

'You seem to know a lot about guns.'

'Oh? Maybe about women. Do you know how to use one of these?'

'I took the Academy marksmanship trophy for my year.'

She took the gun from him and examined it. 'It's very primitive...Where's the energy regulator?'

Woo took the question in his stride and smiled wryly. He took the gun back and lifted a magazine from a drawer below the shelf. 'Watch closely. You have eight rounds to a magazine, which goes here.' He slapped it into the b.u.t.t and it clicked into place. 'Pulling the slide back and releasing it like this forces the first round into the chamber. Then press this lever down with your thumb to make it safe. When you want to shoot, flick the safety catch back up with your thumb, aim and squeeze the trigger. When you've used all eight shots, the slide will jam back until you either release the locking catch or insert a new magazine.' Another thought struck him. 'Have you ever fired in anger?'

'Just once, a few weeks ago on Zanak. I'd rather avoid doing it again.'

Woo had never heard of Zanak, though he prided himself on a grasp of general knowledge. It was probably some little African colony out by the Belgian Congo. 'Wouldn't we all?'

He handed back the Walther, and lifted down the pair of Colt.45 automatics. He went back to the telephone and lifted the receiver. 'Rondo, prepare a car for myself and Romana.'

Most Chinese temples were colourful affairs, painted in the colours of red for joy, green for harmony and gold for glory.

The one in which HsienKo stood was very different. Sited almost inaccessibly at the heart of a long-dead volcanic crater far from Shanghai, it was a jagged mausoleum of black, grey and white: the colours of disaster and death. Obsidian dragons guarded the approaches to the temple, a task usually performed by sculpted lions. It could almost have been taken for a natural feature if nature built scalloped-roofed halls with guardian dragon statues.

In addition to corroding bra.s.s gongs and trumpets, and instruments carved from the horns of unidentifiable beasts, there was an offering bowl before the main hall and altar.

Behind the altar was a huge basalt dragon with long fangs and five claws on each foot. In imperial times only the emperor was allowed to possess images of five-clawed dragons.

Anyone else found with one was put to death. The Black Scorpion had never settled for second best, and so adopted the five-clawed dragon. Volcanic steam oozed continuously from its mouth while candles burned in eye-sockets lined with beaten silver.

A couple of Black Scorpion officers were renewing their loyalty to Weng-Chiang: cutting open their palms and allowing the blood to drip into the pitted offering bowl, where it sizzled, heated by steam from far below.

HsienKo despised this place but occasionally came anyway, because it would disturb her followers if she did not.

It was a small price to pay for her position, but one of so many small prices. When counted together, they totalled far too much.

The officers left her in peace, deferring to her rank, and she knelt in front of the dragon. She didn't feel particularly subservient, but anything else would look odd to anyone who came by. She looked up at the snarling beast, envisioning how the image must have terrified the peasants of Szechuan two millennia ago.

'The Black Scorpion prospers, doesn't it?' she asked the dragon softly. Naturally, it didn't answer. 'Most of them don't remember you, of course, but they long for the old days when Weng-Chiang came among men. They work eagerly, you know, to help facilitate your return.' She didn't really believe that her G.o.d could hear her, of course, but saying the words somehow made her feel better.

She had longed for this all her life: to tell Weng-Chiang how his unique knowledge had shaped the Tong's activities, not to mention her life. She wondered what he would think of his resurrection, and the fact that he had died already.

If the reports handed down by the survivors of the Black Scorpion's stronghold in London were to be believed, he would rage. The Tong had a long memory and the tales of Weng-Chiang's moods had been pa.s.sed down in whispered tones for years. Such anger was just what she would have expected of him, but it wasn't something she had any desire to see for herself.

The concept never failed to amaze her, yet it amused her too. She had long since decided to tell Weng-Chiang the story when she met him; of how he, the magician Li H'sen Chang and his mechanical killer, Mister Sin, had searched the world for his Time Cabinet, until he found it in London. All the while, he had been forced to reduce girls like herself to proteins in order to keep himself alive. At the last, though, he had come up against a mysterious stranger calling himself the Doctor, and a girl named Leela. They had thwarted Chang and finally faced Weng-Chiang in the House of the Dragon, which subsequently burnt to the ground.

There had been witnesses, though, who reported back to China. They couched their report in terms of Weng-Chiang's having returned to the spirit world, but HsienKo didn't believe that for a moment. Weng-Chiang had perished in his own organic distillation cabinet. She found it comforting that this suggested there was some sort of justice after all. Some, but not enough. For that, only human ingenuity could deliver the necessary goods.

She straightened in front of the basalt dragon, thinking about the efforts the Tong were applying to bring Weng-Chiang back from oblivion. 'And I...I work hardest of all. I know that sounds prideful, but it happens to be true. It won't be long now, before we meet face to...whatever. There's so much I want to tell you, but it can wait. You will know it all soon enough.' She stood. 'But I must go now; to arrange for the defence of the place where we shall meet.' She nodded to herself. 'We will speak again.'

Nine.