The Island Where Time Stands Still (20 page)

‘Seems then I've no alternative but to go on, and fix this thing for you.'

‘That's about it. Joking apart, though, I'd be awfully grateful if you will.'

‘Sure I will. Come back around three o'clock and I'll have everything ready.'

As a result of this conversation, Gregory left the F.B.I. headquarters at a little before four o'clock dressed in the uniform of a Californian State policeman. His change of costume also changed his bearing as, habitually, he was inclined to walk with his head thrust forward, whereas now that he was again in a uniform he instinctively held himself erect. As a disguise it could hardly have been bettered; it had the additional advantage of enabling him to go to his meeting not only armed but actually displaying the fact that he had a gun, and yet further, would, he hoped, solve for him the problem of how to reach Quong-Yü without having made any appointment at all.

From the F.B.I. headquarters he took a taxi to the top end of Grant Avenue. On the way he acknowledged to himself that the precautions he had taken to prevent anyone recognising him, or knowing the time he meant to call on Quong-Yü, were probably quite unnecessary; but he was none the less glad that Mr. Grace had enabled him to take them, as he was far too old a bird to run risks when they were avoidable and, moreover, the very fact that he was disguised now gave him the initiative.

At the inland end of Grant Avenue he slipped a piece of chewing-gum into his mouth before paying off the taxi; then, with the brisk and purposeful step of an American cop, he made his way into Chinatown. Mr. Grace had given him particulars of Quong-Yü's abode, and advised him that the most suitable of its numerous entrances to use would be one through a tailor's shop in Mimosa Street.

Gregory found the shop without difficulty. A bell tinkled as he pushed open its glass-panelled door, and a Chinaman came forward to its streaked and pitted counter, one end of which was piled high with bales of cloth.

‘Good evening!' Gregory rolled the chewing gum round his tongue. ‘Go tell the Boss I want a word with him—an' make it snappy.'

The Chinaman gave a bland smile. ‘This one-man shop. Me boss, and pleased to make you very nice suit, very cheap too.'

‘Can that! It's old man Quong I'm here to see.'

‘You come wrong place then.'

‘You heard me. Get moving.'

‘You make big mistake. Mr. Quong-Yü, he …'

Gregory brought his fist down on the counter with a crash, leaned over it and thrust his face within a few inches of the unoffending tailor's. ‘Listen you! Either you get inside and tell Quong-Yü I want to see him, or I'm pulling you in for obstruction.'

With a shrug the Chinaman drew back, then turned and shuffled off through a doorway at the rear of the shop. He was away for about ten minutes and when he reappeared he was followed by an older man.

The newcomer displayed a much more challenging manner, and asked coldly, ‘What is your reason for wishing to see Mr. Quong-Yü?'

‘That's my business,' retorted Gregory. ‘An' unless you want trouble around here you'd best not keep me waiting.'

‘You will not make trouble for very long, and unless you answer you get no further. It is not the custom of Mr. Quong-Yü to speak with Patrolmen. Any business he has with police he transact with Captain of the quarter.'

There was no rudeness in the man's tone but it held the quiet assurance of a superior fully confident of his ground addressing an inferior. Gregory saw that he must change his tactics; so, by the symbolical gesture of removing the gum from his mouth and flicking it into the street, he abandoned his role of tough cop as seen on the movies, and said in his normal voice:

‘I'm sorry. Let's start again, shall we? My name is Sallust and I was coming here two evenings ago with Mr. Kâo
Hsüan. If you tell Mr. Quong-Yü that I think he will see me.'

The elder of the two celestials gave him a long unwinking stare; then, without a word, he turned and disappeared through the door at the back of the shop. After an absence of nearly a quarter of an hour he returned, bowed and said with cold politeness:

‘Mr. Quong-Yü consents to receive you. But first a small formality. Please to place your pistol on the counter. It will be given back to you when you leave.'

Gregory was not at all surprised by the request. In fact he had thought it highly probable that, should he fail to bluff his way straight to Quong-Yü, the Tong boss's guardians would insist on his giving up his weapon before allowing him to enter the presence of their chief. But now that he was inside the Tong headquarters he had much less fear of being attacked; so he surrendered his pistol to the tailor, and followed the other Chinaman out through the back of the premises.

Beyond the shop the place proved to be a positive rabbit warren of narrow twisting passages and short flights of stairs; which made it apparent that although the exterior of the block had been modernised the interior had not. Its tortuous ways only dimly lit by hanging lanterns, dragon-scrolled sliding panels, entrances screened by bead curtains, and faintly spicy smell, all combined to give it a truly Oriental atmosphere. This was just the sort of thing Gregory had expected to find on first entering San Francisco's Chinatown, and it intrigued him to think that on passing through the tailor's shop he had stepped back fifty years in time to the real Chinatown, which had simply gone underground.

After some minutes his guide brought him to a small room panelled in pink silk, on which there was a faint design of tortoises by a river. Its only furniture consisted of two lacquered arm-chairs and a low table. There, having told him to wait, the man left him.

Sitting down he looked about him, admiring the colouring of the Kang-he vase that had been converted to a table-lamp,
the pattern of the thick carpet and the effectiveness of the simple design of the tortoises on the silk panelling. It was only then that it struck him that the silk on one wall seemed to be a slightly different colour and consistency from that on the others. As he peered at it again, two of the large panels began to move noiselessly apart, leaving a wide gap between floor and ceiling.

Beyond the gap was another, much larger, room. At its far end on a low dais a man sat hunched up in a throne-like chair of elaborately carved ebony. At his feet a girl was crouching. She had the broad head and heart-shaped face of a Southern Chinese, and was very lovely, but probably not more than fifteen. Beside the big cushion on which she squatted cross-legged was a small lamp. In its flame, on a needle point, she was preparing a pellet of opium for her master, whom Gregory assumed to be Quong-Yü.

He was much older than Gregory had expected. His magnificent robe, gaily embroidered with dragons, peacocks and butterflies, hung in loose folds about his shrunken figure. His face was as wizened as a monkey's, and many of the grey hairs had evidently fallen out of his drooping moustache, as one side of it was longer than the other; but his blue silk cap was set at a jaunty angle on his bald head, his black eyes held a lively sparkle, and his voice betrayed no sign of senility as he called out in good English:

‘Come forward and tell me what you wish to see me about.'

As Gregory stepped through the aperture he caught just the whisper of a hiss, resulting from the release of hydraulic pressure as the panels slid to behind him. It caused him to glance over his shoulder and he was amused to see that the silk had been specially treated in some manner which rendered it transparent when seen from the larger room; thus enabling Quong-Yü to have a good look at any visitors who were waiting to see him in the ante-room before admitting them to his presence.

Feeling now how unsuitable his Patrolman's uniform was for such an interview, Gregory bowed and said:

‘Venerable one; no doubt you will be aware that when
the honourable Kâo Hsüan proposed to pay his respects to you two evenings ago he intended to bring three friends with him. I was one of those friends.'

Quong-Yü shook his head. ‘With Mr. Kâo Hsüan I have been acquainted for many years; but I know nothing of his recent activities.' Waving his ivory fan towards a low stool, he added, ‘Please be seated, and continue.'

Accepting the invitation, Gregory said, ‘Am I to understand that you are still unaware of the reason why Mr. Kâo Hsüan and his friends were anxious to have a talk with you?'

‘Entirely,' came the bland reply. ‘As they never arrived here why should you suppose me to be aware of it?'

‘I thought perhaps that Mr. Kâo Hsüan might have dropped some hint of it while speaking to you on the telephone.'

‘He said no more than that he wished to consult me about a matter in which only I could help him. Why did he fail to keep the appointment I gave him, and why does he now send you to me instead of coming himself?'

‘You must have heard about the accident which occurred only just round the corner from here,' Gregory replied. ‘A man was killed by the fall of some crates of bananas. The victim was one of our companions, and he was struck down when we were on our way to see you. Naturally we were too upset to keep the appointment; and it is through being still occupied with the mourning rites for his compatriot that prevented Mr. Kâo Hsüan from coming here this evening.'

Quong-Yü nodded gravely, but his small dark eyes remained quite expressionless as he said, ‘A most distressing occurrence; but I heard nothing of it. You see, at my age I find it wise to confine my thoughts to matters which interest me; so I have long forbidden my people to bother me with local gossip.'

Gregory felt certain that the old man was lying. It was just possible that he might not have heard about a genuine accident, but as a Tong boss it was his business to know of all the criminal activities which took place in his area; so it
seemed most improbable that he had remained ignorant of a violent death almost on his own door-step. Evidently it was just because he knew it had been murder that he had decided to deny all knowledge of the affair. So shrewd a man would be quick to realise that the victim's companions might have their suspicions that it had not been an accident, and, if so, even suspect that one of his ‘hatchet-men' had been the murderer; so to appear to know nothing whatever about the matter was clearly the best defence against possibly awkward questions.

As soon as Gregory had appeared the young girl had laid aside her opium pellet and turned her attention to making fresh tea. She now bent before Gregory, offering him a tiny egg-shell-thin cup of the new brew, thereby giving him time to develop his recent line of thought and wonder if Quong-Yü had actually given orders for the ambush at the request of Wu-ming. After all, if Wu-ming had paid anyone to do the job Quong was the most likely person to whom he would have gone. If so, Quong had lied again when implying that he knew nothing of Kâo Hsüan's companions, and he must be aware that he was now facing the man he had been paid to have killed. With a view to checking any idea that this might be a favourable opportunity for Quong to make good his part of such a bargain, Gregory said:

‘I must apologise, Venerable one, for presenting myself to you in these clothes; but friends of mine at Police headquarters insisted on lending them to me.'

‘It is an honourable uniform, if lowly,' remarked Quong-Yü, ‘and it had certainly appeared strange to me that Mr. Kâo Hsüan should select an ordinary Patrolman as his ambassador. However, if your observation was intended to disclose your reason for adopting this form of dress, I fear my dull mind has failed to grasp it.'

‘Forgive me!' Gregory hastened to answer the question he had incited. ‘I should have told you that I had some reason to fear being killed in mistake for another on my way here, and it seemed much less likely that would happen if I wore this uniform.'

Far from appearing the least disconcerted at this thrust, the old man's face wrinkled into a wintry smile, and he murmured, ‘I trust you will soon be free of this annoyance. In any case I cannot allow even an acquaintance to be killed on leaving my abode; so as an additional precaution you must permit me to provide you with an escort when you leave.'

Gregory smiled back. ‘You are most kind; but I shall be quite safe without it. In half an hour's time, my friend at Police Headquarters will be waiting in his car just round the corner from the tailor's shop to collect me.'

Having made it clear that he was under police protection, Gregory accepted a second cup of tea from the flower-faced hand-maiden. In recent months he had become accustomed to discriminating between the finer varieties of Chinese tea; so, as he sipped the fragrant straw-coloured liquid, it was easy for him to frame a suitable compliment on its excellence.

Quong-Yü bowed. ‘It is rare to find such delicate appreciation of our national beverage in a Caucasian, and I am much flattered; although I feel sure you have enjoyed many better infusions with our mutual friend Mr. Kâo Hsüan.'

This apparently pointless dragging in of Kâo's name Gregory took to be a sign that he might now go ahead with the real business that had brought him there; so he said, ‘None of them was superior to this; but the last time we drank tea together we were discussing the disappearance of Miss Josephine Août. It was about that we wished to consult you.'

The dark little eyes peeping out from between creased layers of flesh, like those of a tortoise, never wavered, and the reply came with unhurried promptness. ‘The name you mention is vaguely familiar, but in what connection I cannot recall. I fear there is nothing I can tell you about this lady.'

Gregory knew well that he would never get anywhere unless he provided Quong-Yü with the means to save face; so he said diplomatically, ‘It is not at all surprising that anyone with your Excellency's innumerable interests and responsibilities should have temporarily forgotten the details of a transaction which occurred some months ago. Permit
me to recall the circumstances in which you took Miss Août, er—under your protection.'