by James Dudley
Tommy looked at Ricardo, who nodded in support. “Alright, let’s do it.”
One of Walter’s men handed Tommy a list of the horses and their respective odds. “Choose carefully.”
Han looked over Tommy’s shoulder to read the list. “What do you think; should we pick the same horse for both bets?”
“Yeah, let’s stick together,” said Tommy.
They perused the list, weighing the risks and benefits of picking the favorite, or taking a chance on an underdog. “I found it! ‘Sultan of Swat’ sounds like a winner,” said Tommy.
Han took a closer look at the list. “Are you sure about that? It’s 12-1 odds.”
“You never bet against Babe Ruth,” Tommy insisted.
“Babe Ruth? Who’s that?”
“You’ve never heard of Babe Ruth? The Great Bambino? The Sultan of Swat? The Colossus of Clout?”
Han gave Tommy nothing but a blank stare.
“He was the greatest baseball player of all time,” Tommy explained.
“Good enough to risk everything that’s at stake here on a horse that you only suppose is named after him?”
Tommy reached in his pocket and felt the St. Thomas medal and Chuck Klein card. “Yes, I can’t explain it; I just have a good feeling about this.”
“Alright, I’ll trust your feeling then,” said Han.
“Is that your final bet?” Walter Wong asked.
“Yes, final bet,” said Tommy.
Hands were shaken all around to finalize the deal as the horses and jockeys made their way to the starting gates. Sultan of Swat looked a bit jumpy, stopping and starting a few times before his jockey finally guided him in. Once all the horses were in place, the starting gun sounded, and they burst out of the gates in a thundering cascade of hooves.
Jewell of India, the heavy favorite, pulled ahead for an early lead as the horses raced around the first turn. Middlesbrough Mike was close behind in second, and Sultan of Swat was in the middle of the very tight pack while a few stragglers already trailed behind.
“He needs to make a move soon,” Han said as he fidgeted nervously.
When the horses approached the third and final turn, Sultan of Swat began to make his move. He swung wide to the outside as he rounded the corner, pushing his way to the front of the chase pack and third place overall.
“Here he goes, watch this!” Tommy exclaimed, ready to leap out of his seat.
The horses entered the final stretch with Jewell of India in the lead, Middlesbrough Mike in second, and Sultan of Swat in third, followed closely behind by the rest of the pack. Middlesbrough Mike ran as close as he safely could to the guardrail, surging forward in attempt to pass on the inside. In response, Jewell of India moved closer to the inside, slamming shut the potential window to pass. Seizing the opportunity, Sultan of Swat charged ahead on the outside, pulling neck-and-neck with the leader. The stadium held its collective breath as the two horses raced down to the final wire, Jewell of India finally starting to fade while Sultan of Swat pulled ahead by half a length at the last possible moment to seal the win.
Tommy and Han jumped in the air, embracing in jubilation when the results were announced. When things calmed down, Walter Wong stepped forward to congratulate Tommy.
“Mr. Malloy, it appears you truly do have the Joss of the Irish. Now that I am bound to honor our arrangement, I must ask what exactly you had in mind.”
Tommy took a deep breath, looked around, and addressed the entire room. “Alright gentlemen, here’s the plan…”
Chapter 22
Yacht parties were another important staple of Hong Kong’s social scene, and as such, the daughter of a banking executive taking the family boat out for an afternoon on the water was something that would appear entirely ordinary. Blending in as part of the ordinary was exactly what Millie had in mind as she stood on the deck of the yacht Indefatigable, wearing a blue nautical dress with white trim. She sipped a mimosa while leaning against the rail and watching the ship pull away from the dock, helping to sell the appearance that her voyage was entirely one of leisure.
When the last lines were tossed and the yacht pulled away from the shore, Richard Boothwyn joined her on the deck. He was wearing a double-breasted blue blazer with brass buttons to go with white pants, a white shirt, and a Welsh Guards regimental tie. He had a cigarette in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other.
“What a fine day for a yacht party,” he said. “Do you get to do this often?”
“Living on the fringes of the Empire has its perks.” Millie directed him over to where a nautical chart was laid out on a table, pointing out their planned course of maneuvering and the vantage points it would offer to observe the island.
Richard studied the chart carefully. The mission was simple and straightforward, if not a bit unconventional in its setup. The yacht was the perfect cover for the task, as it would not look out of place making a slow, leisurely drift around the island. The yacht began to gently rock as it pulled further away from the dock, but the proximity to the harbor kept the waves to a manageable enough level that there were no real worries of anybody becoming sick.
“The reconnaissance is the easy part. Now comes the hard part, keeping up appearances,” Millie said.
“Please, send an extraction team now,” Richard said. He looked down the ladder well into the cabin, where a group of upper-crust society types ranging from the middle aged to the elderly were mingling about.
“Do it for England, Dickie,” she razzed him.
“And Wales, and even Scotland if they behave themselves,” he muttered to himself as they began to work their way through the crowd.
Millie edged her way into a conversation circle and addressed a prim and proper woman of around sixty. “Mrs. Norris, may I present Major Richard Boothwyn of the Foreign Office.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Norris,” Richard said with as much sincerity as he could muster.
Mrs. Norris looked Richard up and down. “Oh wow, our Millicent has done quite well for herself. I was going to introduce you to this new sales clerk at the company, but I can see you clearly don’t need my help.”
“Oh yes, my siren voice can bring all manner of young gentlemen crashing on the shore,” Millie said. When they peeled off to move to the next conversation circle, she exhaled and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry, if we were at the Officer’s Club, it would be the same conversations in reverse,” Richard assured her.
It was a similar story in each of the other conversation circles they entered, and by the time they had finished making their rounds of the room, the island was finally in sight, which was their cue to go topside with binoculars for some “bird watching.”
At first, they saw nothing really out of the ordinary. It was a small island, mostly consisting of rocky hills topped by green ferns and shrubbery, sloping down to the jagged coastline. After turning further around the island, the complex on top of one the hills became visible. It reminded Richard of some of his wartime missions, working with local partisans to scout and raid German positions in the rocky mountains of Italy and Greece. From a tactical perspective, this was an easily defensible position that would be very difficult to assail. From a political perspective, this type of presence by Chinese intelligence on British territory posed all manner of difficulties. They drifted and lingered a much as they could, observing every possible angle of the compound and taking meticulous notes.
“This could be something,” said Millie, pointing to a well-concealed out cove between the rocky slopes. The rocks seemed to form a natural hanger to conceal a spot just big enough for a boat to slip inside. The landward approaches around it were ringed with barbed wire for an extra layer of security, and two armed guards patrolled the perimeter.
“I say we should take a closer look at that,” Millie said.
“Agreed,” said Richard. “We’ll have to talk to the Maritime Police. Have them bring us back here after nightfall.”
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p; “I fear that might be too great a risk. Whatever they’re doing there, seeing a police boat would surely spook them out of it before we can learn anything. Even if they use an unmarked boat, these types of people know what to look for,” said Millie.
“What do you suggest then? We can’t bloody well sail into that cove with the yacht.”
Millie turned her eyes towards the small wooden dinghy hanging on the port side of the yacht. “Police can’t go in there without raising suspicions, but perhaps two lost tourists could.”
Richard mulled it over for a moment. “That’s so stupid, it might just work.”
Millie called the crew members over and informed them of her plans. She and Richard stepped over the side and into the dinghy, and the crew members released the appropriate lines to lower the dinghy to the water level. Once they were clear of the yacht, they picked up their oars and began to row at a leisurely pace, or rather; Richard did the rowing while Millie sat under a parasol, playing her character perfectly. A picnic basket sat on the deck in between them, helping to sell the illusion. Slowly but surely, they pulled further away from the yacht and closer to the concealed out cove.
“What do you see?” Richard asked, depending on Millie to look because it would be too obvious if they both did.
“There’s camouflage netting over the entrance, and they’re hiding a boat inside. It’s bigger than a motorboat but smaller than a yacht.”
“Can you see anybody on the boat? Is there anything happening?”
“No, I can’t see anyone. Just the guard, but he looks bored out of his mind. He’s just staring out into the waves and not looking in our direction.”
Richard processed her observations, trying to fit the pieces together. “Well the submarine already saw them offloading the weapons from the cargo ship, so maybe this boat is what they use to bring the weapons to the Triads? Or maybe it’s what they use for drug running? Or it could be both, of course.”
“How about we take a closer look?”
Richard shook his head. “The risk is too great. I’ll put a tactical team together and come back later tonight.”
“But if you come in with a tactical team, it could be regarded as an act of war if you get caught. If you and I get caught now, we can plausibly claim that we are just clueless expats out for a boat ride,” Millie objected.
“And what if they decide that two clueless expats could plausibly be lost at sea for good?”
Millie laughed. “You forget how important I am, or rather how important my family is here. They wouldn’t dare, I’m far too valuable, and the consequences would be far too great. If anything, they’d hold me for ransom.”
Richard shrugged. “Alright, but it was all your idea.”
At a slow and steady pace, Richard rowed until they were about a football pitch away from the out cove.
“Looks like we’re just in time for the party,” Millie said.
Richard snuck a glance, and saw the previously lazy guard suddenly snap to attention as a small party of men came walking down the hill. One was dressed like Chairman Mao, one or two were wearing lab coats, and the rest were dressed in nondescript working clothes. The guard cleared a path for them to reach the boat, and they all climbed onboard before disappearing below decks.
“Did you see what they were all wearing on their belts?” Millie asked.
“Radiation counters,” Richard confirmed. “It appears this situation is much graver than even our worst fears.”
“We need to return and inform Sir Alastair immediately.”
Agreeing completely, Richard began to row in the opposite direction. Millie dropped the parasol and started to help, seeing no need to continue the charade.
“That almost seemed too easy,” she said when they had pulled further away.
As if on que, the unobservant guard climbed back onto the deck of the concealed boat and finally became alerted to their presence. He shouted loud instructions in Cantonese and fired several warning rounds from his rifle.
“Don’t worry, he won’t hit us from this range,” Richard said.
“But what about them?” Millie asked as two motorboats came roaring around the bend.
The two boats sped up to reach their position, then circled around and drifted to a stop. An armed man on one of the decks shouted instructions in Cantonese, and then repeated them in English. “Halt! Go no further! Identify yourself and state your intentions!”
Millie ignored them and loudly addressed Richard. “Look where you’ve gone and got us now, darling. This is what I get for assuming you knew where you were going.”
Realizing what she was doing, Richard played along. “There you go again, blaming everything on me. This whole excursion was your idea. I wanted to go to the races, but you insisted we go out we out on the water. Well look how that ended up.”
Millie’s fists shook with rage. “Oh, this argument again? We decided together that we were going out on the water. That’s what we do; we listen to each other and make decisions together. I’m sorry you forgot how to listen.”
“I forgot how to listen? You were the one that didn’t listen when I told you that these were unfamiliar waters and I advise against exploring them.”
Millie turned to the men on the boats and threw up her hands. “You see what I have to put up with? I’m sure you all knew where you were going when you set sail today.”
The men on the boat looked at each other in confusion, not really sure what they were witnessing. They began to argue with each other in Cantonese, and it was starting to look like their confusion might just give Richard and Millie the moment of opportunity that their ruse was intended to create. They started to row, slowly at first, and put a little bit more distance between themselves and the boats. Just when it started to look like the plan might actually work, there was a series of loud bangs as somebody on the deck fired a series of warning shots across their bow. One of the motorboats drew alongside once more, this time with Erich Schumacher on the deck.
“Major Boothwyn, I’ve heard all about your exploits during the war and up until now. It’s a pity we never got to meet before. And look at you now; still toiling away for Queen, country and Saint George. How charming and quaint,” he greeted them.
“And look at you, doing anything for money, running guns for rogue Chinese generals. I guess that’s the best you can manage when your country’s on a two war losing streak,” Richard responded.
Schumacher let out a hearty laugh while the men behind him drew their weapons and ordered Richard and Millie to get up and climb onboard their boat. “Oh yes, the classic British wit. Well, you and Florence Nightingale over there are going to have plenty of time to think of clever retorts when you face our interrogations.”
The guards shoved Richard and Millie down onto the deck and patted them down for weapons. If they had any hope of escaping, they were going to have to think of something fast.
Chapter 23
Han carefully steered the helm of the Antelope, cutting a meandering path through the various islands until arriving alongside Tung Lung Chau. The boat bobbed and weaved along the waterline, its buoyancy challenged by the near-capacity load of passengers it was carrying. Tommy served as Han’s navigator for the journey, and they amused each other most of the way with a running back-and-forth series of banter and quips. The fun was made awkward by the fact that Walter Wong stood silently behind them the whole way, his mind deep in contemplation, and his eyes silently judging.
Ricardo Wang, Chao Hung, Henry Ho, and several of Walter’s subordinates, advisors, and underbosses sat nearby, discussing their plans over cigarettes and open briefcases. Around the perimeter of the deck, the men of Walter’s security detail stood facing outwards with their weapons at the ready. Tommy recalled how his acquaintances Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis were currently in Norway filming a movie about Vikings, and he imagined that this was something along the lines of what a Viking raiding party must have looked like.
With expert precisio
n, Han brought the boat as close as he safely could to the shore, where he proceeded to drop its anchor. When the boat came to a rest, he threw a rope ladder down to a small dinghy and made several trips to ferry the passengers ashore. The security men remained onboard the Antelope, ensuring that it was the most well-guarded fishing junk in Hong Kong by a considerable margin. After a lot of work by Han, the rest of the entourage assembled on the beach. They were dressed in suits that ranged in color from tropical white to boardroom black, and most of them wore sunglasses and carried briefcases. When they walked inland in a tight formation along the rocky beach, it made for quite a formidable sight.
Tommy looked back out at the water from his vantage point on the beach, and observed that there was a vast array of fishing junks spread out along the coast. To the casual observer, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the sight. It was a nice day to be outside, and it was perfectly logical that plenty of people would be out fishing. However, the disguised fishermen were actually the street-level muscle behind the power of the triad leaders on the shore, and it was all part of the plan.
As a direct assault on a fortified compound on the top of a rocky hill was not a winning proposition, some subterfuge was called for. The first part of the plan was to gain access to the compound. With all eyes on the visitors, Wong’s men would then have the cover they need to come ashore, find concealed positions among the rocks, and set up an ambush along one of the access paths leading to the high ground. Once the main players were inside, they would come up with a way to get General Sheng and his key players to come outside, whether through deception or, if that failed, an emergency evacuation. If no such opportunity presented itself, then the party would simply depart the island having seen enough of the compound and its surroundings to form a detailed map to be used at a later time.
Tommy, Han, and the rest of Walter’s crew didn’t make it very far inland from the beach before they were stopped by two guards who had eagerly scurried down from their roving patrol on the hill’s first level clearing.
