Bill for the Use of a Body (9 page)

Read Bill for the Use of a Body Online

Authors: Dennis Wheatley

BOOK: Bill for the Use of a Body
11.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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.

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.'

Other books

Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult
Grave Surprise by Charlaine Harris
With Violets by Elizabeth Robards
Another Snowbound Christmas by Veronica Tower
His to Take by Kallista Dane
Maxed Out by Daphne Greer
Bitch by Deja King