CHAPTER V
Hong Kong
The four-engine transport had been letting down from its cruisingaltitude for what seemed like an hour. Rick was watching through thecircular window for the first sign of land, and he was gettingimpatient.
The trip had been a long one. It seemed to Rick that he had been sittingin a plane for most of his life, even though they had been gone fromSpindrift for less than four days. That was because they were making nostop-overs. At San Francisco, Honolulu, Guam, and Manila they hadstopped only long enough to refuel, or to change planes.
Scotty, in the seat next to Rick, was sound asleep. Zircon, across theaisle, was engrossed in a book.
Rick looked up as the stewardess walked past him. She smiled and pointedthrough the window on the opposite side. He caught a glimpse ofmountainous country below. Then, in a few seconds, a small island passedunderneath on his own side. They were getting close to the ground now.He estimated their altitude at less than two thousand feet. He pokedScotty in the ribs.
"Rise and shine, mighty hunter. We're getting ready to land."
Scotty was wide awake instantly. "About time," he muttered. "Show methis famous Hong Kong."
"Can't yet," Rick replied. "But we've passed a couple of islands. Look,there's another."
They were dropping rapidly now. The big plane suddenly banked, leveled,then banked again. As they rocked up, Rick looked down into a cove,crowded with Chinese junks. The brief glimpse sent a thrill through him,as new scenes always did. They were the first junks he had seen outsideof pictures.
The plane banked again, the other way. Rick realized with a suddenfeeling of discomfort that they were actually weaving their way throughmountain peaks! He had heard that the approach to Hong Kong was crookedas a corkscrew; now he knew the reports didn't exaggerate.
Zircon was leaning across the aisle. He pointed to a strip of curvedbeach. "Repulse Bay," he boomed. "We're almost in." The scientist hadbeen to the Far East before, and he knew Hong Kong.
They were close to the top of abrupt hills. Rick saw a road curvingthrough the hills and valleys, then they were over water again, and thewater was dotted with modern ships as well as junks. The plane rockedfar over in a tight bank, and there was a howl as the flaps werelowered. Rick and Scotty buckled safety belts and sat back as the planeleveled off.
In a few moments they were collecting their luggage and walking across aconcrete apron to the customs building. Inside, a Chinese clerk, underthe supervision of a British officer, gave their effects a cursoryglance, stamped their passports, and handed them police forms to fillout. They did so as rapidly as possible, turned them in, and left thecustoms room. Outside, they picked up the bags they had checked, gavethem to a Chinese coolie, who appeared from nowhere, and followed him toa taxi.
It was a small car of English make. Zircon looked at it withdisapproval. "Am I supposed to fit into that thing?" he demanded.
Rick hid a grin. The car wasn't much bigger than the scientist. Zirconsqueezed in gingerly, Scotty behind him. Rick got into the front seatwith the driver.
"Peninsular Hotel," Zircon directed.
"Funny," Scotty said. "I never expected to find an airport on Hong Kong.All the pictures I've seen of it show mountains. It doesn't look asthough there were room for an airport."
"There isn't," Zircon said. "We're not on Hong Kong. This is Kowloon.It's a peninsula jutting out from the mainland of China. However, it's apart of the British Crown Colony of Hong Kong. We'll get to the islanditself, and to Victoria, which is the main city, by ferry-boat orwalla-walla."
"What's that?" Rick asked curiously.
"Local name for a water taxi," Zircon explained.
The taxi was leaving the airport now, but there was nothing in sight atthe moment to show that this was the Orient. The modern buildings wereof stone, brick, and concrete, and the streets were wide and clean. Asthey got closer to downtown Kowloon, however, Chinese predominated, withonly a sprinkling of what were evidently Englishmen. In a short timethey pulled up in front of the Peninsular, one of the world's famoushotels. It was an imposing structure, the lobby as vast as an auditoriumbut broken up by numerous pillars, potted plants, and dusty-lookingfurniture. They registered and were shown to a very large andcomfortable room with a window that opened on a fire escape.
As Zircon tipped the Chinese bearers, Rick asked them, "What time isit?"
The chief "boy" answered, "Maybe thlee time, sor," and closed the door.
"About three?" Rick looked at Zircon and Scotty. "It's early. Let's getstarted right away. I'd like to find out where and what the Golden Mouseis."
"Good idea," Zircon agreed. He tossed a suitcase on one of the threebeds in the big room. "Let's clean up and change quickly. We'll havetime to see the consul this afternoon, too. I doubt that the consulatecloses before five o'clock."
In less than a half-hour the three of them were walking from the hoteltoward the water front. Zircon led the way. "We'll take the ferry," hesaid. "It's very fast."
The ferry slip was less than a three-minute walk from the hotel, butwhen they started to get tickets, they remembered that changing moneyhad completely slipped their minds. A scholarly looking Chinesegentleman saw their plight and spoke to Zircon in faultless English witha distinct Oxford accent.
"Perhaps I can be of service, sir? If you have an American dollar bill,I can change it for you. You will need only a little money for tickets,and there is a bank close by the ferry slip on the other side."
"You're very kind," Zircon said. "We'll accept your offer, sir. I dohave a dollar bill, I believe."
He found it and handed it to the Chinese, who counted out six Hong Kongdollars and a few tiny paper bills that represented change. "The ratetoday is six and a fraction to one," he explained.
Rick and Scotty added their thanks to Zircon's. The Chinese bowed. "Apleasure to have been of even such small service." He smiled andcontinued on his way.
"The Chinese are without a doubt the most polite of all the Easternpeoples," Zircon said. He pushed a Hong Kong dollar through the ticketwindow, got three tickets and some change in return. They pushed throughthe gate and walked across the dock to the ferry.
As they did so, Rick got his first look at Hong Kong. He stared, amazed,his mental image of an oriental city vanishing like a burst bubble.
Across the bay, a green mountain stretched like a jagged knife-edgeagainst the sky line. Here and there, far above the bay, were whiteblocks, like granite chips, marking houses. Lower down, the city ofVictoria began. It was like marble slabs piled in an orderly array,thinning out toward the upper side of the mountain. Down at sea level,the buildings were thickly clustered. But they were modern buildings,not a trace of the oriental in them.
Between the ferry and Hong Kong, the bay was crowded with water traffic.Junks with gay sails sped noiselessly between puffing little tugs. Greatdeep-water freighters were anchored, lighters at their sides taking offcargo. Slightly to one side, the sleek line of a British cruiser wasvisible, and beyond it a trio of lean, wolfish destroyers.
The ferry moved away from the pier and picked up speed. Rick and Scottywatched the colorful panorama of vessels. Hong Kong was beautiful, Rickthought. And it was clean, though cities of the Orient weretraditionally dirty.
Nor was his first impression changed when they reached the oppositeshore. The ferry landed them before tall, concrete buildings that shadedclean streets. A block away they stopped to watch a three-story trolleypass by.
"Good gosh, a skyscraper on wheels," Scotty exclaimed.
And that was just the impression it gave.
Zircon stopped to ask directions of a passing Englishman, then told theboys, "The American Consulate is only a block away. Suppose we changesome money, then pay the consul a visit."
Rick thought quickly. "We'll need money, but why do all of us have to gosee the consul? We could split up. Scotty and I could start locating theGolden Mouse while you're talking to him."
"He probably knows all ab
out it," Zircon pointed out. "It must be aprominent landmark, although I've never heard of it. Otherwise, Chahdawouldn't have known about it."
"Unless it was a place Bradley had told him about," Scotty said.
"That's possible. At any rate, we've nothing to lose by separating for awhile. I'll go see the consul and find out what he knows. You two startasking questions and I'll meet you in an hour right here ... no, betterstill, since we'll want to eat here, I'll meet you in front ofWhiteaway-Laidlaw's Department Store. It's only a few blocks from hereand there's a good restaurant close by."
Rick's memory rang a bell. "Isn't Whiteaway-Laidlaw in Bombay?"
"Yes. But it's also here, and in most major English cities in the FarEast." The big scientist smiled. "I picked it because I was sure you'dremember the name. I wasn't so sure you'd remember Huan Yuan See'sRestaurant."
"You were right," Scotty replied with a grin. "Well, let's get going. Isee a bank across the street. We can get our money changed there."
It took only a few moments to exchange some of their American currencyfor Hong Kong dollars. The boys folded the bills, which like all Englishpaper money were bigger than American bills, and tucked them into theirwallets. Zircon started for the consulate with a wave of the hand and areminder that they would get together in an hour.
"Now what?" Scotty asked.
"Now we start asking questions," Rick told him. They had paused at theentrance to the bank and the guard was standing near by. His turban andneatly curled beard proclaimed him to be a Sikh, a member of the warriorIndian caste that is scattered throughout the Far East.
"We're looking for something called the Golden Mouse," Rick said. "Canyou tell us where it is?"
The Sikh considered. Then he shook his head. "Not know of that one, sir.Not hear."
"Maybe one of the bank officers would know," Scotty suggested. Theystepped back inside the bank and approached a thin young Britisher whowore tweeds in spite of the heat of the day.
Rick put the question to him. The Englishman looked blank. "GoldenMouse, you say? Dashed if I ever heard of it. Is it supposed to be atourist place do you know?"
"We don't know," Rick answered. "We've no idea."
The young man's face expanded in a pleased smile. "Don't suppose you'dconsider substituting a pink rabbit? We have a restaurant of that name.Haw!"
Rick hid a grin. "Very kind of you," he said. "I'm afraid my friend andI are allergic to rabbit fur."
With a perfectly straight face, Scotty added, "Haw!"
The young Englishman shook with laughter. "You know, that's really verygood," he said. "Allergic to rabbit fur! Very good! I'm sorry, fellows,but I'm afraid I can't help locate your Golden Mouse. Why not try abobby?"
"Bobby sox or bobby pin?" Scotty asked.
The bank officer's eyebrows went up, then he smiled. "Oh, I see what youmean. No, it's not a joke this time. Bobby is what we call policemen.You know?"
"Thank you very much," Rick said.
"Not a bit. By the way, I can make a few inquiries of the chaps who havebeen here for some time. They may know. If you have no luck, drop back."He offered his hand. "My name is Keaton-Yeats. Ronald Keaton-Yeats."
Rick and Scotty offered their names in exchange. "We'll come back if wecan't locate it," Rick assured him.
Outside, Scotty laughed. "Haw!" he said.
Rick grinned. "That's the famous English sense of humor, I guess. He's agood scout."
Scotty nodded his agreement. "Funny thing about these English. They dothings that seem silly to us, like wearing tweeds in bathing-suitweather and cracking bad jokes. But when the chips are down, they canfight like wildcats." Suddenly he pointed. "There's a policeman."
"Let's tackle him," Rick said, and led the way across the street.
The officer was evidently a lieutenant or something of the sort, becausehe had impressive-looking shoulder tabs on his uniform. As they came up,he was inspecting the papers of a small, hard-bitten character who woregreasy dungarees and a cap black with grease and grime. Evidently thepapers were in order, for he handed them back and said curtly, "Allright, my man. But remember we'll have no doings from you or your likein Hong Kong. If you're smart, you'll stick close to your ship."
The man muttered, "Aye aye, Orficer. That I will." He moved away.
The officer was a tall, erect man with a cropped, gray militarymustache. He saw the two boys and nodded. "Can I help you, lads?"
"Perhaps you can, sir," Rick said. "We're looking for something calledthe Golden Mouse."
The officer's eyes narrowed. "Are you now?" he inquired. "And what wouldyou want with the Golden Mouse, if I may inquire?"
"We're to meet a friend there," Scotty said.
The tone of the officer's voice told Rick that something was wrong. Heasked, "Is something wrong with the Golden Mouse? We don't even knowwhat it is."
"A good thing for you not to know," the officer retorted. "You'reAmericans?"
"Yes, sir," Scotty said.
"Then the Hong Kong force is responsible for seeing that you have apleasant and safe visit. I warn you. Keep away from the Golden Mouse."
He turned on his heel and walked off. Rick and Scotty stared after hisretreating figure, and then at each other.
"How about that?" Scotty wanted to know.
Rick frowned. "There must be something fishy about this Golden Mouse.From the way he talks, it's a place. I wonder what kind?"
A cockney voice spoke from behind them. "Now, that's a thing I couldtell you lads, always providin' you was willin' to part with 'arf a quidor so."
It was the man the officer had warned to stick close to his ship. Hewinked at them. "Come over 'ere where that blinkin' peeler cawn't seeus." He motioned to the shadow of a hallway.
Inside, he grinned at them. "I 'eard the line o' garbage the copper was'andin' you and I says, 'ere's a chance to do a bit o' fyvor fer acouple o' rich Yanks. And, I says, likely they'll part with a few bob tobuy ol' Bert a bit o' tea."
Rick pulled out a couple of Hong Kong dollars. "We'll pay you. Now tellus what the Golden Mouse is, and where it is."
Bert pocketed the notes. "As to what it is, it's a kind o' restaurant,you might say. It 'as entertainment and food and drink, and you'll finda few o' the lads there for company most any night. Aye, it's a fairpopular place, is the Golden Mouse." He grinned, and there was a gapwhere his two front teeth should have been. "As to where it is, that'snot so easy to tell a pair what don't know 'ow to get around. But youjust get a couple rickshaws, and you say to the coolies to take you toCanton Charlie's place. They know it, right enough."
He spat expertly at a cockroach that scuttled past. "But take a tip fromol' Bert and don't go. Stay clear o' Canton Charlie's."
"Why?" Rick demanded.
"Never you mind why. Just stay clear. Bert's warnin' you."
"We want to know why," Scotty insisted.
Bert grinned evilly. "Right-o. The lads wants to know, and Bert's anobligin' gent. You go to Canton Charlie's and I'll make a bet, I will.I'll bet you'll be outside again in 'arf an hour, or maybe less."
His grin widened. "But will you know yer outside? Not you. And why? Onaccount of you'll be layin' in a ditch somewheres with yer throats cut.That's why."
He pushed past and left them standing in the doorway, staring at eachother.
The Caves of Fear: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 5
