Читать книгу Bamboo Terror - William Ross - Страница 8

3

A Boring Trip

THE NEXT DAY Hazzard spent visiting the various embassies of the countries he would be traveling in. The letters Mr. Brown had supplied were like magic keys. Doors opened, people bowed, and visas were stamped in his passport. He bought a few clothes, a new suitcase, and spent the rest of the day in the office with Michiko arranging for the bills to be paid. There was still a lot of money left over and he gave her more than enough to take care of herself and keep the office open for another six months. By that time he would certainly be back.

Nothing was said of the night before, and Michiko tried hard not to show her feelings about his leaving, but little tears popped out anyway. Hazzard did not want an emotional scene at the airport, and insisted on saying good-by at the office. He kissed her quickly and then he sent the sniffling Michiko home early.

The following day, for lack of anything better to do, he went to Haneda in the morning, had lunch, and then checked in with Civil Air Transport (CAT). His plane left at two fifteen, and he was a little surprised to find that he was booked on a propellor-driven plane and not a jet, but his arrival in Formosa would give him more than enough time to make connections and board the coastal steamer.

Tokyo International Airport at Haneda is a very boring place for people waiting to board the various planes for world travel. Especially for a foreigner who is not accustomed to the Japanese habit of trying to bluff their way through by ineffectually copying what they think are Western ways. Souvenir counters with indifferent, lazy, and somewhat surly clerks, a dining room with bad food and worse service, and Japanese midget-size furniture sparsely scattered in the waiting room.

Hazzard took refuge in the small bar, that for some odd Oriental reason, was hidden off in a corner of the dining room. Here, amid the smoke and smell of stale beer, were two sport-shirted American tourists and their overdressed wives. Hazzard could not help but listen, and found himself agreeing with the opinion that prevailed in all foreign countries—America certainly was a country of loud mouths, women included.

Finishing his Scotch and water, he escaped to the observation deck that overlooked the runways and ramps. He walked along slowly, and when he came to the far end, he glanced at his watch. One forty-five, time to go. As he turned to walk back, a hand grabbed his arm, and a familiar voice called out.

"Mike-san!" and Michiko stood before him, radiant in a new dress and high heels. She thrust a small bouquet of flowers into his hand as she breathlessly-said, "I thought I would not see you."

Hazzard took a long look at this cute little thing that was his office girl. Then he reached out, grabbed her firmly, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Thanks for the flowers. I'll see you when I get back. Bye-bye now, my little Lotus Blossom," and he walked quickly away.

Michiko watched him leave. She was speechless, and highly embarrassed from being kissed in public, but she was also happy, lonely, and very much in love.

Later, as Hazzard boarded the plane, he looked up and there was Michiko jumping up and down on the observation deck waving a now wet handkerchief, and so afraid she would not be seen. Hazzard grinned, raised his arm and waved.

What Hazzard did not see was the dapper form of Mr. Brown, standing in the shade a few yards behind the waving crowd. As Hazzard's plane gained speed and left the runway, Chang walked up beside him.

"Well, he is on his way," said Mr. Brown.

Chang looked up into the sky and watched the disappearing plane. "Good," he said, "So far everything is right on schedule."

"Is everything else prepared?" asked Mr. Brown.

"Yes," replied Chang, "I leave by jet in two hours. I will arrive in Hong Kong three days before Mr. Hazzard. That will be ample time to complete all of the arrangements."

The flight to Formosa was routine, and the steady drone of the engines soon put Hazzard to sleep. He was gently wakened for supper by a shapely Chinese stewardess. He did not really want to eat, but the stewardess was pretty, and the food turned out to be better than he expected. The rest of the time he stayed awake and kept the girl running back and forth for Scotch and waters.

The plane landed on schedule, and Hazzard made arrangements to be taken to the port where the "Queen Wilhelmina III" was taking on cargo.

The ship was a tired relic of the once flourishing coastal trade, badly in need of paint, and rusting to an early grave.

The captain was an energetic, sea-dog type originally from Australia. He appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties, but the way he scurried about the ship giving orders to the Chinese crew made him seem much younger. He was big and tough, and the Chinese were frightened out of their wits by his booming voice. He was well aware of this, and despite the shabbiness of the ship's appearance, his Chinese crew jumped and ran about like sailors on a well-disciplined naval vessel.

The second day out Hazzard mentioned this, and the captain beamed. As always, the best way to reach a man is through his ego, and the captain was no exception.

There were only two other passengers. An Englishman named Redman, who came equipped with an over-done Oxford accent, and was constantly speaking of his military service in 'Injah' and the gentlemanly sport of polo.

The other was Reisenbaum, a rotund biermeister type from Germany.

They all ate together with the captain in the ship's lounge, and every night occupied themselves by playing poker. The captain usually winning the most, and Reisenbaum losing.

Occasionally Redman would engage Hazzard in conversation. It was strictly one sided, as Hazzard, even though he tried, found it almost impossible to understand what Redman was mumbling about, and limited himself to smiles and nods. Redman thought Hazzard to be the most intelligent one on board. No one else would listen to his ideas on Asia, and Hazzard seemed to agree with all of his views.

The German's conversation was limited to the ordering of drinks in the lounge and betting in the poker games. He seemed to have been born with a perpetual frown which gave him the appearance of distrusting everyone except himself.

When the "Queen Wilhelmina III" finally entered Hong Kong, she was only twenty hours late. This seemed to please the captain.

"Last time we were thirty-one hours behind schedule," he boasted.

The others went ashore, but Hazzard, having no business there, decided to remain on board. The ship would unload cotton waste and take on other cargo in the morning. The sailing time was not definitely set, and Hazzard could not afford to miss the ship.

The next day Hazzard busied himself watching the crew load packing cases in the hold of the ship. The cargo was brought up from lighters that surrounded the ship, and each one of the small boats was also the home of its crew. Children played on the small decks, garbage and latrine swill were tossed over the side, and washing fluttered between small masts.

In the evening, just before supper, Redman and Reisenbaum came back on board, loaded down with many boxes.

The captain grinned broadly when he saw them struggling up the rickety gangway that led down to the water's edge. "Look at 'em" he said to Hazzard, "Things are just so damned cheap, you can't afford not to buy 'em."

For a change there was no poker game, and everyone went to bed early after supper. Hazzard tried to sleep, but he was still awake when the ship began to move out of the harbor in the early morning.

By breakfast time there was no land in sight. The sea was calm and reflected the burning sun like a mirror. Even the breeze created by the motion of the ship was hot and dry. Each day the weather was becoming hotter than the last.

On the fourth day out of Hong Kong, just before dusk, they sighted land on the horizon. It was the coast of Indochina, and the captain told them that from now on they would be able to see land every day until the ship reached Saigon.

"If that's Indochina," ventured Hazzard, as he and the captain leaned on the ship's rail together and looked across the blue sea, "it must be Vietnam."

"Yes," replied the captain. "It's the old area called Tonkin. It's called Vietnam now. North Vietnam."

Hazzard gazed at the distant gray line of land and wondered about the people living there now under the rule of their communist masters. He was glad that it was not his destination. But the future is not ours to see.

After supper, they sat in the lounge playing poker. Hazzard was sitting with his back to the door that led out on deck, and did not see or hear the newcomer enter.

The captain was the first one to notice, and they all looked up as he said, "Oh, good evening Mr. Chang. Feeling better?"

"Yes," replied Chang. "Much better, thank you."

Hazzard tried not to show the searching interest on his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had the uneasy feeling that he had known this tall, lean Chinese before. Chang's face had the high cheek-boned look of northern China, but his eyes had a strange piercing look, that seemed to bore through your skull and calmly read your mind. It was the look of a man who could be either a deadly merciless enemy, or one who could be trusted beyond question with your life in time of danger. It was a face one would find difficult to forget, and Hazzard decided that he had never met the man before. Yet there was something familiar, and as the captain continued to speak, Hazzard filed the thoughts away for further reference.

"This is Mr. Chang," the captain explained. "He came aboard at Hong Kong. He hasn't been feeling too well and has been staying in his cabin." He looked at Chang and pointed to the cards on the table. "Care to join in? There's room for a fifth."

"I would be very happy to play," said Chang. He swung his gaze around the table and stopped for a second to study Hazzard. "If it is all right with everyone else," he added.

"Sure thing," said Hazzard. "Sit down. But I warn you, the captain is extremely lucky tonight. He's been winning all the big ones."

The captain beamed at this. He considered his knowledge of poker to be second only to his knowledge of the sea. Chang sat down, and the captain introduced the others, one by one. Reisenbaum was last, and the delay was almost too much for the robust German.

"Ja, ja, und deal da carts," he grumbled.

They resumed the game and the captain won steadily. It was very late when Hazzard, Redman, and Chang threw in their hands, and the captain looked at Reisenbaum, saying, "I'll see your bet Mr. Reisenbaum, and raise."

The color of Reisenbaum's face began to turn scarlet. He fumbled with his money for a moment, and then shoved all of it into the center of the table.

"Und I raise," he snapped.

The captain put his cards on the table, reached out and counted the money that Reisenbaum had pushed forward.

"All right, I'll just call this time," and he placed his money in front of him. "What do you have?"

Reisenbaum slowly turned over his cards. He had three queens.

"That's a very nice hand," grinned the captain. "But not quite good enough," and he turned over three cards. All of them kings.

Reisenbaum could not control his rage. He snorted, kicked his chair back as he stood up, and stomped out of the lounge.

"Well," said Hazzard. "That just about cleans me out for tonight."

"Yes," said Redman as he rose from his seat. "I think it is about time for me to get a good night's sleep. If you gentlemen will excuse me," and he strode stiff necked to the door.

The captain was busy counting his winnings as Hazzard got up and left the table without a word. He walked up to the small bar in the corner of the lounge and tapped the sleeping Chinese boy on the shoulder.

"How about a Scotch and water, okay?" he said.

"Okey, okey, Scotchy water, okey, okey," came the singsong reply as the boy jumped up and began rattling bottles about in his search for Scotch.

"Mind if I join you?" said the voice of Chang.

Hazzard turned around to face him. "No, not at all," he said.

Chang looked at the Chinese boy. "One more Scotch and water."

"Okey, okey, Scotchy water, okey, okey," grinned the boy.

There it was again, thought Hazzard, the same uneasy feeling. There was something familiar about Chang. Whatever it was, it was not pleasant. Chang had gotten on in Hong Kong. That was four days ago. Sick in his cabin, the captain had said. But how had Hazzard missed seeing Chang when he came on board.

You came aboard at Hong Kong, eh?" said Hazzard, trying to act friendly. "It's strange I haven't seen you before this."

"I came aboard early in the morning, just before the ship sailed, and I have stayed in my cabin until tonight," Chang explained. "I do not particularly like sea voyages myself, but find them necessary at times."

"If it was up to me, I'd fly," commented Hazzard. "This is too slow. Why do you find it necessary to travel on this crummy ship, Mr. Chang?"

The boy placed the drinks on the bar, and Chang raised his glass to Hazzard. The drink was warm without ice, and after a small sip Chang set it back on the bar.

"I am a merchant, and I find it convenient to travel with my merchandise," said Chang. "I have quite a sizeable cargo on board."

"Looks like you don't trust anyone," observed Hazzard. "If you have to ride around with all your stuff."

Chang smiled at this. "And you Mr. Hazzard, do you trust everyone? And since we are both being curious, what excuse do you have for traveling on this, as you say, crummy ship?"

Hazzard downed the last of his drink. "I like the sea air, and it's more exciting traveling by ship."

"Yes, Mr. Hazzard, I agree with you, and you never can tell just how exciting it will become," and Chang bowed slightly as he turned and walked away.

Hazzard watched as Chang left the lounge. The ship was full of weird characters, and he smiled as he thought that maybe the others were thinking the same about him. He had the boy make him another Scotch and water. Surprising how much a warm Scotch and water tasted like medicine. He gave up the idea of having a third drink and returned to his cabin.

It was another suffocating night. The small electric fan over his bunk breathed a steady stream of hot air over his body. He tried to he still and think of snow storms he had seen when he was a boy.