The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  Ogden had hardly departed the presence of John Wong when he turned to a young constable riding beside him. ‘That bloody Chink has interests in shipping around here,’ he said. ‘I want you and the others to go to every ship that is about to leave and do a thorough search for the prisoner. He won’t be hard to find – just look for the stitches in his head. Return to me when you either have the prisoner in custody or have news of him.’

  The troop of three constables under Ogden’s command spurred their mounts to the docks area, while Billy remained with Ogden, who wheeled his mount to take up a position in the shadows of the surrounding bushland to keep watch on the depot. Billy remained by his side. He was still seething about the way the Chinese man had sprung on him with a speed he could not have anticipated, and somehow struck him in the side of the head, immediately bringing the darkness that obliterated much of the memory of what had actually occurred. Should he get the chance, he would kill the Chinese man – that is, if he had the opportunity before his boss took that liberty. Either way, the Chinese man would die for escaping police custody.

  Within the hour a constable quietly rode back to the depot and sidled up to Ogden. ‘We missed him,’ he sighed. ‘We got a good report that he was seen boarding the Nancy Smith heading south to Brisbane. First stop being Townsville. It seems that he had money on him to purchase his passage.’

  ‘He sure as hell had nothing when I searched him,’ Ogden growled. ‘Those bloody Celestials stick together. That bastard Wong must have given him the money when Tung laid out Billy.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ the constable asked, shifting in his saddle.

  ‘You and the others can return to your patrols,’ Ogden said. ‘Me and Billy are going to send a telegram to the station at Townsville to have a couple of the boys at the wharf with instructions to pick up Tung.’

  The constable nodded and wheeled away to carry out his instructions. No matter what eventuated Tung would not escape the law.

  Ogden’s grim smile was not seen in the darkness of the tropical night. Well, Mr bloody Wong, he thought. You’re not as smart as you think.

  ‘C’mon Billy,’ Ogden said, spurring his mount. ‘We have a job to do.’

  From his improvised bed in a corner of the depot Andrew heard the pounding of the horses galloping away.

  ‘Looks like they have given up,’ his father said softly from his own stretcher a few feet away. ‘Your friend should be well out to sea by now.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Andrew replied, staring at the dark patches on the high ceiling. ‘He is not a criminal but a man fighting for his country.’

  ‘That’s one interpretation,’ John yawned.

  ‘Father, why did you help Tung?’ Andrew suddenly blurted. ‘You could have got yourself into a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Better me than you,’ John replied, rolling over on his stretcher. ‘You have a lot more at risk than I have.’

  Andrew did not ask any other questions and dozed off with a fleeting thought for the small fortune at his feet in the leather satchel.

  Andrew did not know how long he had been asleep but was awoken by an instinct for something sharing the space around him.

  ‘Don’t make a move,’ he heard his father’s voice growl. Andrew obeyed as the immediate area flared with a dull, yellow light as a kerosene lantern was lit. Startled, Andrew sat upright to find himself staring at a figure crouched by his bed and within an arm’s length. He focused on Tung Chi, whose expression reflected something between annoyance and frustration.

  ‘What in the blazes!’ Andrew gasped, propped on his elbows and blinking at Tung.

  ‘Your friend crept in about five minutes ago,’ John said calmly. Andrew could see at the edge of the light his father holding a deadly Colt Dragoon cap and powder revolver which he had levelled on Tung.

  ‘Your father is a dangerous man,’ Tung said matter of factly to Andrew. ‘I thought my training was enough to get past him to you but your father fooled me. He was never asleep, but on his guard. It is as if he and not I were a student of the arts that I learned in the temple.’

  Andrew glanced at his father and back to Tung. ‘I thought that you were on your way south,’ he said.

  ‘I paid the fare and boarded the steamer as your father suggested,’ Tung said, sitting down to rest. ‘But when it began to leave the shore I slipped over the side and swam ashore to make my way back to you. I had to wait until the police left here and waited some more in case they returned. But when I saw that they had not, I chose to enter and wake you. I had no intention of doing either of you any harm as you have already saved my life once and hopefully know by now that my story is true. I see that the satchel is here at your feet.’

  ‘You can put down the pistol, Father,’ Andrew said, acknowledging his father’s rusty grasp of the Chinese language. ‘Tung means us no harm.’

  John lowered the gun to his lap. ‘I could follow most of what Tung said to you,’ he said. ‘He is either the dumbest man alive or the smartest – depending on what you see as the priority.’

  ‘I had to return,’ Tung said, addressing John in good English and without much of an accent. ‘I have yet to find the other half of the money to satisfy my oath to protect the son of heaven’s trust in me and that meant remaining in this part of your country. Besides, if the police hunting me have learned that I took passage south it will distract their attention away from here.’

  ‘I have a feeling that First Class Constable Ogden might have worked that out and is not going to be a happy man when he finds that you were not on the boat,’ John said with a grin. ‘At least you have bought yourself some time to finish what you came for.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wong,’ Tung said. ‘It is of no surprise that the son is as honourable as the father. Your service to our cause will not be forgotten.’

  ‘Do not mistake my help for service to China,’ John warned. ‘I am only assisting you to protect my son.’

  ‘For whatever reason you are helping me you are also helping us fight for freedom,’ Tung replied. ‘Even now there is an uprising in China that will finally explode and sweep the barbarians from our land and lead us on the righteous path to becoming a nation once again. The money that I have been entrusted to safekeep will help us in our cause. The mission is more important than my humble life is worth.’

  ‘Actually,’ John said with a grim smile, ‘I wasn’t expecting you. I thought that Ogden might try something out of spite for me helping you. But now that you are here you may as well get a good night’s rest and make your way out before first light. I will put some things together to help you finish what you set out to do.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Tung replied, bowing his head. ‘Your kindness will never be forgotten. I owe you a great debt. I promise that I will be gone by first light.’

  John shrugged off the grateful man’s heartfelt thanks. He really wanted Tung away from his store and particularly away from his son. John smelled trouble in the two being together. In the fleeting time Andrew had known the former Shaolin priest he seemed to have changed in subtle ways that John found disturbing. The talk of China and its independence had struck a chord with Andrew. To John the scent of eucalyptus – and not lotus – was the very stuff that ran through his veins. The far north of the colony of Queensland was his true home, not the land of his father’s ancestors.

  True to his word Tung was gone by the time John and Andrew awoke. The small package of supplies John had put together and the leather satchel were also gone. Wherever Tung was by now John knew that he would have only one purpose and that would most probably result in a death. John had known men like Tung in his own past. He only hoped that his son would never know the danger and death John had seen at his age.

  But for now John had his own mission. He would make arrangements for the business to be managed by a trusted friend in the Cairns Chinese community in his absence. Had not Tung mentioned that China was on the verge of exploding in rebellion? John prayed that he would be in tim
e to spirit Naomi home to the land of her birth.

  With the rising sun on his right, Tung walked swiftly north from Cairns. The information that he had picked up in the tropical town owed much of its existence to the influx of Chinese twenty years earlier. Tung’s informant had placed the traitor as staying with a Chinese family that grew bananas along the banks of the picturesque Barron River. In China Tung had been briefed that the men he hunted were most likely in the Cairns district of north Queensland because the town had a strong Chinese quarter. He had been impressed by the fact that a sugar mill he had passed was owned and operated by Chinese. Even one of the roads he had walked was named Hop Wah Road.

  Sweat trickled down his face and Tung sought shade under a tree, He rifled through the supplies John had given him. The bank papers he had transferred to the canvas bag containing his supplies and then quickly buried the tell-tale leather satchel. To all he appeared as just another itinerant Chinese man wandering the tracks of the north looking for work. Tung found a slab of dried meat and bit into the tough, salty beef. It made him thirsty so he sought a supply of water in a pond not far from where he had stopped to eat.

  His hunger and thirst slaked, Tung continued his trek north, praying to the spirits of his ancestors that he would find the man and the money together. At the back of his mind was a fear that the relentless policeman might soon discover Tung’s deception and even now be using the black man to hunt him. Tung had been told that the family he sought were a good two days’ walk from Cairns. He calculated that it would take at least that long for the police to discover that he was not aboard the ship. He would be able to reach the Barron but after that he knew he would once again be a hunted man.

  Tung also recognised the Aboriginal tracker as a formidable foe. Never before had the Chinese warrior met such skills in hunting a man as those belonging to the black man whose roots were in the earth of this strange land.

  Enraged after discovering that he had been tricked by a mere Chinee, Ogden rode to Cairns. Never before had the tough police officer been made to look so foolish, and he ached with a burning desire to set things right. He suspected that the constables working with him were laughing behind his back about how the Celestial made him look so stupid. But Ogden also had informants in the large Chinese community of Cairns and it was time to call in favours.

  Before noon he had his answer; a strange Chinese man from the Shantung province had asked about a fellow Shantung man and as a result had left Cairns to travel north on foot to the Barron River two days earlier. Maybe he was the man that the policeman sought?

  Ogden used the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The frightened Chinese trader had cringed away from the burly barbarian. He knew that the uniformed man represented the power and authority of his adopted land and it paid to keep in with the authorities.

  ‘Billy,’ Ogden said to the Aboriginal tracker patiently standing by the policeman’s stirrup. ‘You think that you could pick up any tracks north of here?’

  Billy squinted against the sun. ‘No trouble, boss,’ he replied. He too was desperate to find the man who had brought shame to him in his role of prisoner guardian.

  Within an hour Billy proved true to his word. Squatting by the track out of Cairns he located the faint, two-day-old trail. Now all they had to do was follow and it would finally lead them to the elusive Chinee prisoner. At least the use of horses to hunt the man gave them an advantage in time. They were in a position to easily close the time gap in their pursuit of the elusive killer.

  The information that Tung received in Cairns was accurate and he soon found himself concealed in a copse of trees on a small ridge overlooking a bark hut. Beside the hut was a small plantation of broad-leafed banana trees where a Chinese couple worked with hoes clearing between the trees. Running in and out of the trees were two small children.

  Tung’s eyesight was excellent and he focused in on the man. He was not the man that Tung hunted but the former Shaolin priest understood the value of patience.

  As evening approached the family finished their chores in the small plantation and put away their gardening implements to return to the hut. Tung sighed. Had the man he hunted moved on?

  The sun was setting across the jungle-covered mountains to the west and the air grew cooler by the minute. The sky was filled with giant bats winging their way in the late rays of sunshine in search of trees laden with fruit. Some of the fruit bats peeled off from the seemingly neverending stream and settled among the banana trees, where they screeched and squabbled with each other over the ripening fruit. A light flooded the area outside the doorway to the bark hut and two men appeared shouting Chinese curses on the bats.

  Tung peered through the dim light and felt his heart skip a beat. There was the man he hunted! He had been in the hut all day and was now helping the Chinese farmer scare away the pests.

  Tung felt for the short-bladed knife that John Wong had slipped into the bag of supplies. It slid into his hand and Tung waited. When the two men were satisfied that the bats had all gone one of the two returned to the hut. Tung was pleased to see that the man he hunted remained outside and had lit a cigarette. Obviously he was enjoying the coolness of the early evening after spending all day inside.

  Tung left his hide and made his way down the ridge, careful not to make any sound as he stalked his unsuspecting prey. So far it had been easy and Tung was able to use the shadows to hide his movements. With the ease that came from his years of martial training, Tung was on the man with the knife at his throat. The man’s cigarette spun into the air.

  ‘Do not make a sound, traitor, or I will slit your throat,’ Tung hissed into his ear. ‘Walk to the trees.’

  Feeling the knife biting against his throat, the terrified Chinese man obeyed without a sound, until they were away from the hut and in the trees at the bottom of the ridge.

  ‘It is you, Tung Chi,’ he finally gasped. ‘I did not mean to keep the money.’

  ‘Then you will return it to me so that it reaches the rightful hands,’ Tung replied.

  ‘I do not have the money,’ the man said.

  ‘Then I have no reason to keep you alive,’ Tung retorted.

  ‘Wait!’ the man gasped. ‘I can fetch it for you.’

  ‘Then you will live, unlike your companion.’

  ‘The money is in a satchel buried not far from here,’ the man said. ‘But you will have to let me go.’

  ‘You know who I am, traitor,’ Tung hissed. ‘So you know that it would be foolish to attempt anything stupid.’

  The man did know who Tung was. Although he himself was a thief, he was not a highly trained assassin like Tung.

  Tung followed the man in the growing darkness back towards the hut until he stopped by a lone tree. He bent and began to dig with his hands until he hit the surface of a leather satchel. Tung stood warily over the man and was careful when he was handed the satchel.

  ‘Li, the meal is ready,’ a male voice called from the doorway of the hut.

  Tung glanced away from the man bending by the small hole he had dug. Suddenly, Tung felt a sharp pain in his leg below the knee. A knife blade! Tung attempted to step away and swing back to confront the traitor, whom he could see rising up from the ground and wielding a long-bladed knife that must have been hidden nearby.

  Recovering quickly, Tung swung his attention back to his attacker. For a thief the man had proven to be cunning. Tung balanced himself, ignoring the pain in the calf of his leg. No doubt giving up the fortune had unbalanced the stupid man’s mind. Tung easily parried the next thrust at his chest and buried his own knife in the desperate man’s throat. Hot blood immediately gushed forth, drenching Tung.

  ‘Fool,’ Tung hissed as the dying man’s body went limp and fell to the warm earth. ‘You might have lived if not for your greed.’

  ‘Li!’ the voice called again. The assault had happened so fast and almost in silence that the man calling from the bark hut was unaware of the drama unfolding only ya
rds from where he stood.

  Tung ran his hand down his throbbing leg and felt the blood running from the wound. He knew that he would live and scooped up the satchel, satisfied without looking inside that the money was intact. Why else would a man risk his life? As silently as he had slipped down the ridge, he clambered back. His mission was half complete. Now, all he had to do was return the money to the coffers of the Son of Heaven.

  ‘No bloody doubt the Celestial did this,’ Ogden said the following day.

  He and Billy stood over Li’s crumpled body. Ogden had ridden hard in pursuit of the man who had made him look like a fool, barely stopping for the overnight camp. His hard riding had paid off, swiftly closing the gap between hunter and hunted.

  ‘Chinee man did this,’ Billy said, bending to examine the earth disturbed by the short, sharp struggle. ‘He go back up the hill.’

  The Chinese husband and wife stood together with their children clinging to them, observing through wide eyes the scene of violent death. The man they knew as Li had paid generously for a place to stay and they had not questioned why he would want to be with them in such an isolated place on the banks of the Barron River. Whatever reason Li had for staying with them proved to be fatal and a thought of evil spirits living in the surrounding rainforest had crossed their minds.

  Squatting, Billy peered hard at the story unfolding before him. ‘Chinee man bin wounded,’ he said, his eyes following a path to the ridge. ‘Bin stabbed in leg last night.’

  Ogden’s face reflected a faint smile. ‘Then he will be slowed down a bit.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Billy frowned. ‘He bin a tough bastard.’

  ‘No matter,’ Ogden said, reining his horse around. ‘We will follow him. I suspect that our man is attempting to get back to Cairns and hide among his fellow Celestials there.’

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