A Coffin From Hong Kong (19 page)

"I wasn't ... I thought he was dead."

"We thought he was too. He nearly had us fooled. We were hunting for Belling. Then you come along and you led us right to Jefferson."

"So you found him," I said, wondering what Stella was doing, shut in the bathroom.

"Yes, we found him." His smile was vicious. "We found Wong too." "Who is Wong?"

"He was one of our group, but he made the mistake of throwing in with Jefferson. Right at this moment they are getting the treatment, then what's left of them will be dumped in the sea."

"What did they do to you then?"

"That's the wav we treat hijackers," Enright said. "It's the only way. What did you tell the cops?"

"Nothing they didn't know already," I said mildly.

He stared at me for a long moment, then he stood up. "You and me are going for a little walk and then a little drive. There are four of my men outside. You make one move out of turn and it'll be your last move. My boys carry knives. They can kill a guy from forty feet. By the time anyone knows you're dead, they'll be miles away: so watch it. Come on, let's go."

"What happens after the walk and the drive?" I asked. 

He grinned at me. "You'll find out. Up on your feet, pal, and watch it."

I stood up as he backed to the door. He opened it and stood aside.

"The night boy won't help you. He works for me, so don t act foolish," Enright said. "We'll walk down the stairs. There's another of my boys in the lobby. Just keep moving if you want to keep alive."

We went out into the passage. Enright had put the gun in his pocket, his hand gripping the gun. The night boy grinned at me as we walked to the head of the stairs.

"Go on down," Enright said. "I'm right behind you." I plodded down four flights of stairs and into the big lobby.

It was strangely deserted. Only two men sat in lounging chairs. One of them was Sergeant Hamish. The other had cop written all over him. I hadn't seen him before. I took one look at them and then flung myself face down on the plush carpet a split second before a gun roared behind me. I lay there, my heart hammering as more gunfire crashed above me. After a while, a shoe prodded me. "You can get up," Hamish said.

I rolled over and looked up at him, then I got slowly to my feet. Enright was lying on his back, blood running from a wound in his face His jacket was smoking. A second look at him told me he was dead.

"Did you have to kill him?" I asked.

"If I hadn't he would have killed you," Hamish said indifferently. "Maybe he would even have killed me."

"There are others and the night boy on the fourth floor is one of them."

The other cop started for the elevator as Hamish said, "We've bagged the others. Who was the woman who telephoned us?"

I looked blankly at him."Was there a woman?"

"How the hell should we be here if she hadn't told us what was going on?" Hamish said irritably. "A woman telephoned. Who was she?"

"I wouldn't know," I said. "Maybe one of my fans."

Half a dozen Chinese policemen came into the lobby. Hamish spoke to them, then jerked his head at me.

"Come on," he said. "You'll have to talk to the Chief Inspector."

As the Chinese policemen were gathering up what was left of Enright, Hamish and I went out to the waiting jeep.

I remained in a room at police headquarters for more than three hours. It had a couch in it and I slept. Around four o'clock in the morning, Hamish, looking bleak and tired, shook me awake. "Come on," he said.

I groaned, aware my head was still aching, and sat up. "What's cooking now?" I asked.

"The Chief Inspector is ready to talk to you. Why should you be the only one to sleep?"

MacCarthy was puffing away at his pipe, a cup of tea within reach. A police officer put a cup of tea by me as I eased myself stiffly onto the upright chair. Hamish, struggling with a yawn, lolled against the wall.

"The marine police picked up a man trying to get away in Enright's speedboat," MacCarthy said. "We had some trouble with him, but he's finally let the cat out of the bag." "An American?"

"Chinese ... he comes from Canton. As you're working on the Jefferson case I thought I'd fill you in."

"Thanks. Has Jefferson been found yet?"

"He was fished out of the bay about half an hour ago," MacCarthy said and grimaced. "I bet he wished he had died the first time. They certainly roughed him up before they killed him. We now have the facts of the case clear. The way I see it is this: ever since Jefferson arrived here he has been living on the immoral earnings of this girl, Jo-An. I don't know why he eventually married her unless it was to stop her mouth, but anyway, he married her a few weeks after he first met Frank Belling who, as I told you, was one of the chief operators in this drug smuggling racket. Belling had this villa at Repulse Bay, rented from Lin Fan. Whether Lin Fan had any idea how the villa was being used is something I don't know, but I intend to find out if I can. The villa was convenient for landing consignments of drugs. There was a harbour, a speedboat, and it was isolated. But things began to get too hot for Belling. We were getting a warrant for his arrest. He was tipped off that we were closing in on him and he decided to skip to Canton until things cooled off. But someone had to be at the villa to take care of the delivery of drugs. He persuaded Jefferson to go there. Not that Jefferson would have needed much persuasion. By going there, he would be living in luxury. He walked out on Jo-An and moved into the villa. Belling went to Canton. An arrangement was made to bring in over two thousand ounces of heroin. Belling came to the villa by night to explain to Jefferson how the delivery was to be made. That amount of heroin is worth a fortune in the right hands. Jefferson began to wonder if he could steal it, but he didn't know how to get rid of it once he had it, and he was also scared the organisation would catch him. However fate, if you like to call it that, played into his hands. The heroin arrived and was stored in the villa. Belling and Jefferson drove out to Lecky Pass which is a jumping-off place into Canton. On the way, there was an accident and Belling was killed. Jefferson saw his chance. He put his ring on Selling's finger, planted his cigarette case in Selling's pocket and then set fire to the car. The scene of the accident was a lonely spot and the time was four o'clock in the morning, so no one disturbed Jefferson. He got back to the villa by stealing a bicycle and he removed the heroin which he took possibly to the Celestial Empire Hotel. I'm talking more or less off the cuff now, but I am sure he persuaded his wife to identify Selling's body as his. Then he went into hiding in the walled City of Kowloon." "Why did he do that?" I asked.

"This was a rushed job. The opportunity presented itself and he grabbed at it, but he found he was stuck with it. The organisation was quick off the mark. As soon as the accident was reported they sent one of their men to the villa to find the heroin had vanished. Naturally, they thought Belling had hijacked the consignment and they began searching for him. This was a piece of luck for Jefferson. So long as the organisation thought Belling was their man, Jefferson was in the clear. But he had to get out of Hong Kong. This he found impossible. He was supposed to be dead and he hadn't the means of laying his hands on a false passport. So he was stuck." "And the heroin?" I asked. MacCarthy frowned.

"I have an idea we'll never find it. It's my bet from the state of Jefferson's body when we found him, they had persuaded him to tell them where he had hidden it."

"What puzzles me is why Jo-An took the trouble to take Betting's body back to Jefferson's father," I said.

"She had to get out of Hong Kong. She had no money. By bringing the body back, she got the fare from old man Jefferson," MacCarthy said.

"Yeah ... I guess that's right. How about Wong?"

"He was one of them of course and he made the mistake of throwing in with Jefferson."

"He was there to meet me at the airport. How did he know I was coming? He must have been tipped off by someone—but who? When I used him as an interpreter, he led me right up the garden path. His job was obviously to keep me away from Jefferson and he nearly

succeeded. If it hadn't been for Leila we would never have got onto Enright." "Will Jefferson want the body sent back?"

"I guess so. I'll see Wilcox at the American Consulate and fix up the necessary papers. Has Wong's body been found?"

"We're still fishing for him. This Chinese we caught said both bodies were jumped in the same place."

I looked admiringly at him.

"You must have been very persuasive. This guy seems to have sung like a skylark."

MacCarthy rubbed the side of his nose with the bowl of his pipe.

"The Chinese aren't kind to each other," he said. "The marine police had him for half an hour before they turned him over to me. He tried to stick one of them with a knife. They got a little rough with him." "That's pretty fast work to have softened him to that extent."

"Yes, they work fast." He seemed bored with this topic. Casually, he asked, "By the way, you wouldn't know about a Chinese found shot out at Silver Mine Bay, would you? He was shot through the head with a Lee-Enfield rifle."

"He was? I haven't handled a Lee-Enfield since I left the infantry."

"I wasn't suggesting you shot him. You were out there this afternoon?" 

"Come to think of it, I was. I had a look at the waterfall."

"That's where the body was found."

"Isn't that extraordinary?"

"You heard no shooting?"

"Not a thing."

MacCarthy stared at me, then shrugged his shoulders.

"I was pretty sure you would have reported a shooting if you had known about it."

"You're absolutely right."

There was a long pause while Hamish took out his pipe and began to fill it.

"Enright had a sister," MacCarthy said. "Rather a glamorous piece. Would you know where she is?"

"At the villa I suppose, in bed where I'd like to be."

"She's not there . . . we've looked. When did you last see her?"

"On the ferry-boat going to Silver Mine Bay. She was taking groceries to an old ex-servant.

We travelled together."

"You haven't seen her since?"

"Can't say I have."

"I had the idea she was the woman who tipped us that Enright was in your room."

"She could have done. She has a nice nature."

MacCarthy suddenly smiled. "Come off it, Ryan. We've checked on her. Her name is Stella May Tyson. She is a stripper who worked at a night club in Singapore. She and Enright joined up. She came here with a forged passport."

"And so?" I asked, looking steadily at him.

"When she telephoned we traced the call to the hotel. They told us she called from the bathroom in your suite. She was seen going up the stairs towards your suite at ten o'clock. I think she's still in your suite."

"She probably is ... I hope so," I said. "She saved my life. What do you expect me to do . . . hand her over to you?"

"It's not a wise thing to tell lies to police officers," MacCarthy said as he began to clean his pipe with a gull's feather, "but as she saved your life and as she has given us the opportunity of breaking up this drug organisation, I think we can forget about her. Tell her if she gets out by tomorrow night and stays out, we won't make trouble for her. She has twenty-four hours to get out. If she is still here after that time, then we'll have to do something about her." "Thanks," I said. "I'll tell her. I'm getting out myself. There's nothing more here I can do. I've still to find out who murdered Jefferson's wife. Whoever did it is in Pasadena City. With what I have found out here, I should be able to find the killer. Okay for me to leave now?" "It's all right with me," MacCarthy said.

"I guess I'll go back to the hotel now and get me some sleep."

"If that girl is still in your room, I don't imagine you'll get much sleep," MacCarthy said with a sly grin.

"What a mind you've got," I said, getting to my feet. "How about sending me back by car?"

MacCarthy turned to Hamish. "Send him back by car. He's in a hurry," he said, and pulling a file towards him, he settled down to work.

I got back to the Repulse Bay Hotel as the sun was beginning to creep up behind the mountains. I went up to my room, took the key from a grinning Chinese I hadn't seen before and unlocked my do

The light was on. Stella was dozing in an armchair. She started up as I came in, her eyes scared.

"Relax," I said, shutting and locking the door. "There's nothing now for you to be scared about."

"What happened? I heard shooting. I thought they had killed you." 

I flopped into an armchair.

"You did me a good turn . . . thanks."

"I had to do something. I was terrified he would hear me telephoning."

"Well, you've got your wish . . . you can leave for home within the next twenty-four hours.

I'll pay the fare. The police won't worry you. You'd better use your own passport. Have you still got it?"

She drew in a long deep breath.

"Yes, I've got it. And Harry?"

"He was unlucky. The police were better shots. It's the best way out for him. He wouldn't have taken to jail life."

She shuddered.

"He's dead?"

"Yes, he's dead. I want some sleep. I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to sleep. You have the bed. I'll take the settee."

I shut myself in the bathroom and took a shower. I was feeling pretty old and pretty worn out. I put on my pyjamas and came out of the bathroom.

She was waiting for me. She had stripped off her clothes and was lying on the bed. We looked at each other, then she held out her arms. She was still holding me in her arms, sometime later, when I fell asleep.