by John Glasby
Almost as if his body had been made of rubber, the other bounced back, his head lowered. The top of his skull caught Carradine squarely in the pit of the stomach, knocking him backward off his feet. The edge of one of the desks hit him between the shoulder blades, knocking all of the air out of his lungs. Carradine’s only reaction was to drop his knees as the other dropped on top of him hoping to pin him down with his weight. The body of the second killer lay only a few inches away and it was evidently his enemy’s intention to lean over and pull the knife from the man’s back in order to use it on Carradine.
A red mist hovered in front of his vision as he attempted to defend himself. He felt a foot hammer into his stomach, then the other had an iron grip on his throat, was squeezing inexorably with all of his strength, that eyes glinting with a killing fever. For a second, panic threatened to take hold of Carradine’s mind, was on the point of directing his actions. Then, swiftly, his mind orientated himself, he felt as cold as ice inside. Panic was no good at a time like this. He had to act coolly and calmly and allow his rigid training to take over. He allowed the other to retain his grip on his throat, concentrating instead on tensing the muscles of his thighs and legs as he got them beneath the man’s body. His eyes were bulging and it seemed that the throbbing, hammering pressure inside his head must surely burst it asunder before very long.
Desperately, he heaved upward with all of his remaining strength. For a moment, he thought sickeningly, that it would not be enough. Then the claw-like hold on his throat was gone. He had a vague impression of the other hurtling backward, taken completely by surprise, caught off-balance. For a moment, the Chinaman hunger poised in front of the smoke-black and window which overlooked the street more than twenty feet below. His arms flailing futilely as he struggled ineffectually to keep his balance. Then, with a wild, high-pitched scream, he was gone.
Dazedly, Carradine pushed himself to his knees, stayed there for a long moment as he fought to rid his mind of the blackness of unconsciousness. Slowly, he got to his feet, stood swaying for a few seconds, then staggered towards the window, feeling the cool air flow against his face. Glancing down, he saw the sprawled figure on the pavement below, arms and legs outflung. A small crowd had already begun to gather.
It was time to leave, even here in Hong Kong where life was cheap, there could be awkward questions to answer. Already, he seemed to have attracted far too much unwelcome publicity. How the enemy knew of his whereabouts and his actions, he was not sure. As he made his way down towards the offices on the lower floors where the fire had not reached, he recalled the girl he had seen standing in the shadows opposite Kellaway’s house that morning. Was she the informer? It was just possible that, in spite of all the precautions he had taken against being followed, she had somehow managed to trail him here, had warned two of her confederates, resulting in this attempt on his life.
There were several people in the corridors as he made his way quickly towards the rear of the building. A few glanced curiously at him but no one made a move to stop him. As he reached the rear exit, there came the thin wheep of a whistle from the street at the front. The police had arrived on the scene of violence. There was a narrow alley at the back of the office block and he walked swiftly along it, thankful to see that it was deserted. From close by came various sounds and echoes. He could hear the roaring beat of the traffic which never seemed to stop.
At the end of the alley he found himself in a broader street lined with shops and a wide variety of traders. It was packed with a jostling sea of humanity. Shrill voices argued and bargained for food at the rickety stalls. Here and there were old men seated drinking tea, their faces staring vacantly at the stream of life which milled around them.
On an instinct, he felt the weapon in his belt. The metal was cold and hard and reassuring against his shirt. He shouldered his way through the crowd. Here, at least, he felt temporarily safe. In this seething mass of humanity, it was doubtful if he could be followed. There seemed scarcely any room in which to move. At first sight, it was as if the whole of Hong Kong’s Chinese population had decided to come to the market that morning and were agglomerated here in this short stretch of road. The shrill cries of the hawkers lifted on all sides. Here and there, he noticed the fortune tellers seated in front of their curtained recesses, broadcasting their abilities to all and sundry. There was also a sprinkling of Europeans and he deliberately gave them a wide berth in case he was recognised as one of them and someone tried to draw him into conversation.
He had almost reached the end of the line of stalls when his eyes caught a glimpse of someone standing in the doorway of one of the tall buildings. His breath rasped sharply between his teeth. He could not be absolutely certain, but he felt almost sure that it was the girl he had noticed a few hours before. There was something disturbingly familiar about the attitude of watchful waiting and even as he halted in his tracks, he saw that she was eyeing him with more than normal curiosity.
Very well, he thought grimly, it was time he had a showdown with her, whoever she was, even if it ended up with him having made a mistake about her identity and a fool of himself.
A knot of milling women interposed themselves between him and the doorway and he thrust his way half-angrily through them, muttering apologies under his breath. For a brief moment, he lost sight of the girl. When he lifted his head once more, the doorway was empty. Grunting an oath, he walked swiftly to the end of the street. There was no sign of her whatever.
He began walking slowly along the street, almost empty in comparison to that which he had just left, eyes roving along either side, alert for trouble. He no longer needed any further warning that since arriving here he had been a marked man. Too many people knew who he was and were interested in his demise. Twenty yards further on, he came to a narrow side street which opened out to his left. Perhaps the girl had gone down there, he decided. A quick glance about him reveal that no one appeared to be watching him. The stink in the alley was overpowering. He wrinkled his nostrils, then forced his attention to the ramshackle buildings which sprouted on either side. Most of them had been abandoned, were boarded up—and yet in spite of this outward appearance, he gained the impression that, at times, they were quite fully occupied. There were so many Chinese in Hong Kong that no house which offered even the most menial shelter was left empty for long.
The scent of danger was all about him. He had the unmistakable impression that his feet were leading him into a trap and he fingered the butt of the pistol instinctively.
A sudden sound broke in on his thoughts. It came from behind him. Whirling swiftly, his body balanced on his toes, he saw the big truck which had nosed its way into the alley. The bumpers scraped the walls on either side. The engine was suddenly revved up as the vehicle lurched forward, wheels spinning in the dust, throwing white clouds up on either side.
He could just see the face of the man crouched over the wheel as the truck came straight for him. There was no doubting the other’s intention. Turning, he began to run as the vehicle came after him, gaining with every second. So the enemy had not lost his trail. They had simply been biding their time, waiting until he was clear of the milling crowd, where they could take care of him with little or no trouble.
The end of the alley lay two hundred yards ahead of him, was blocked by a high wall. One glimpse of its smooth surface, the fact that it was at least twelve feet in height told him it would be out of the question to try to scale it. Even if he succeeded in getting a grip on the top by jumping for it, the front of that truck would ram him into it before he was able to clamber over it to safety, crushing him to death against the solid concrete. Wildly, he peered at the buildings on either side as he ran, his breath harsh in his throat, burning in his chest. The roar of the powerful engine was like a growing thunder in his ears.
Tugging the Luger from his belt, he threw a quick look over his shoulder, steadied himself and loosed off a couple of snap shots. The first shattered the windscreen into a thousand glitt
ering fragments, but went wide of the driver. The second broke the offside headlight. Still the truck came on relentlessly. There was not even the slightest check in its speed.
Carradine continued to run, knowing, however, that his unspeakable end would come inevitably. There was no way for him to escape. He stumbled, picked himself up, ran towards one side of the street, wondering vaguely if he might be able to squeeze himself against the wall. There was a narrow doorway just ahead of him, but the closed door seemed too solid for him to be able to break it in.
God, why had he been so insane to come down here when it had been so damnably obvious that it might be a trap? Why hadn’t he gone back to Kellaway’s place right away? He set his teeth in a vicious grin, drew level with the door. All right, damn you, he thought savagely, get it over and done with!
The truck, bouncing and swaying a little was less than twenty feet away. He turned, lifted the gun, knowing that even if he did succeed in killing the driver with his next shot, nothing on God’s earth would stop that juggernaut now.
Then, almost before he was aware that anything had happened, the door opened abruptly, an arm came out, grabbed him by the wrist and almost pulled him off his feet as he was pulled through the door. He heard it slam shut behind him, blinked his eyes against the dimness. Abruptly, he stiffened, felt his heart skip a beat as a girl’s voice said softly: “Those men seem determined to kill you, don’t they?”
Carradine had been in the act of thrusting the heavy Luger back into its holster. Now he tightened his grip on the weapon. He was looking into the face of the girl he had noticed in the market, the same girl, he felt sure, he had seen earlier that morning outside Kellaway’s residence.
“All right,” he said shortly. “There are some questions I want to ask you. I’ve been—”
“Later,” she said urgently, cutting him short. “First we must get away from here.” She pulled him away from the door. “Those men out there aren’t going to wait long before they surround this house and come in for us. Follow me. Quickly!”
In spite of his suspicions about her, Carradine recognised the logic of what she said. The squeal of brakes outside told him that the track had come to a halt. He fancied he heard the sound of raised voices in the alley. Keeping the gun in his right hand, he allowed the girl to lead him through the empty rooms of the house. There was a flight of stairs at the end of one of the rooms and without pausing, the girl ran lightly up them, motioning him to follow. When he hesitated for a second, she hissed: “We can’t go out of the back door. It’s boarded up tight and they’ll be expecting us to do that. We must do this my way.”
“All right. But the first wrong move you make and I won’t hesitate to hit you over the head with this.” He nodded menacingly at the gun in his hand. For a second, she smiled as though secretly amused, then nodded.
Less than three minutes later, they came out on the top floor. Carradine looked about him. Without saying a word, the girl went over to the grimy window, opened it and looked out, then motioned him forward. “This is the only way out without them seeing us,” she said softly. She looked at him appraisingly. “It isn’t going to be easy.”
Carradine looked over her shoulder. There was a narrow balcony just beyond the window, jutting out over the alley below but no way down that he could see.
“I presume we’re not going to jump,” he said, a faint note of sarcasm in his tone.
“We shall make our way across to the building opposite.” She pointed.
Looking up, he noticed the steel bar, which stretched across the alley to the roof of the opposite house.
In answer to the unspoken question on his face, she said: “We must swing ourselves over. It’s the only chance. Do you think you can do it?”
For a second he stared down at her upturned face in amazement. “Over that?” He thrust the gun into his belt. “I think I could probably manage it, but you—”
“Don’t worry on my account,” she murmured. “I’m used to heights. I work with an acrobatic troupe. Just do as I do and you’ll be all right.”
Carradine tried to keep the surprise from his face as she climbed easily onto the narrow balcony, paused for a moment, then jumped for the pole, hooked her fingers around it and began to swing herself, hand over hand, across the alley, thirty feet or so below. There was no doubt, he was forced to admit to himself, that she was as good as she had claimed. Reaching up, he grasped the pole, swung himself out into space. The ground below him seemed a very long way and he forced himself not to look down, but to concentrate on swinging himself over. Before he was three-quarters of the way across the strain on his arms was like fire in his shoulders and wrist muscles. The girl had crossed with an effortless ease which made it apparent that she was quite used to this sort of thing. Determined not to be shown up by a mere girl, he gritted his teeth and kept on going.
After what seemed an eternity, he reached the end of the pole, swung his legs over the top of the balcony and released his hold. His heart was pumping in his chest.
“You’re out of training,” said the girl laughing.
Carradine felt himself flushing. “Perhaps.” He forced the grin in return. “But at least we’re here. What now?”
“Those fools will search the other place for us, but by the time they realise we have slipped through their fingers, we will be a long way from here and they will never find us.”
Carradine waited until they were on the ground floor before catching the girl’s arm, halting her roughly. “Before we go any further,” he said grimly. “There are some questions I want answered. Just who are you? How do I know I can trust you?”
“If I had been working for the Red Dragon, would I have got you out of there?” she said contemptuously. “I would simply have left you in that alley where they would have crushed you to a pulp.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Ts’ai Luan. Chao Lin is my uncle.”
“I think I understand.”
“Do you? I wonder.” A pause, then she went on hurriedly: “I was working in Canton when I heard that he had been kidnapped. I came here as quickly as I could to try to discover what had happened and where they had taken him. I knew that it was the work of the Red Dragon.”
“Just a minute.” Carradine’s tone was shocked. “You say that you were in Canton? Then how on earth—?”
“Did I get to Hong Kong?” She smiled. For a moment there was an answering sparkle in the dark eyes beneath the long, black lashes. For the first time, he saw how beautiful she really was. Before, her face had been merely a half-glimpsed thing seen in the shadows. She went on: “That was easy. There are ways of getting in and out of China if you know them.”
“And how did you find out about me?”
“That was not so easy. I knew the sort of work my uncle did for British Intelligence. He told me little, of course. But he always used to say that there might come a time when the Communists would become suspicious of him, would discover what he was doing and then they would try to kill him. He said that if anything did happen to him, the British would send another agent here to try to find out what had happened, maybe to take his place.”
Carradine nodded slowly. This was an added complication he had not allowed for. Yet in a way he was grateful for it. Without the girl’s help, he would almost certainly not be alive now.
“I knew that when anyone did arrive from London, they would meet with Mr. Kellaway so I decided to keep a close watch on his house for any visitors.”
“Then it was you I noticed this morning.”
She nodded slowly. “The Red Dragon have many spies everywhere. I had to be very careful. It was why I followed you to my uncle’s offices. I guess that they might try to kill you.”
Carradine was forced to admit that her story was plausible. Yet could he believe it, even now? The enemy was devilishly clever. There was just possible they had decided to have a second string to their bow in the shape of
this beautiful girl.
“You make it all seem very logical,” he said at length. “There is only one thing I don’t understand. Someone in Hong Kong is feeding information back to the Red Dragon. It’s obvious that they know most of my moves beforehand.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It is something my uncle told me which may explain this. It concerns Mr. Kellaway.”
“The man who worked with your uncle?”
“He was suspicious of Kellaway. He had the feeling that he could not be trusted. That is why he did not take him into his confidence as he might normally have done. Perhaps he is the man who is giving this information to the Red Dragon.”
“That seems hardly likely.” Carradine did not add that the Chief, back in London, trusted Kellaway implicitly.
Ts’ai Luan shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. “All I know is what my uncle told me.” She eyed him shrewdly. “What are your plans now? I can take you somewhere where you will be safe until you want to get into China. I can also get you there without any trouble. I have friends in Canton. The other members of the troupe are all against the Communist regime there, but it is dangerous to even whisper against Mao Tse Tung while inside China. The Red Dragon have ears and eyes everywhere. No one can be trusted.” She looked at him calmly.
Carradine could see no guile in her face but that did not ease the uneasiness in his mind. True she had just saved his life at the risk of her own, but that was not conclusive proof of her genuine desire to help him further.
“Now listen.” He put nonchalance into his voice, placed one hand under her chin, tilting her head up. “I have a job to do. You seem to know far more about me than I do about you. In fact I know nothing at all about you. For all I know, you too could be a Red Dragon agent sent here to lure me into China where a dozen of your fellow countrymen would be waiting to pop up and finish me. We’ve got to stop fooling ourselves and be quite serious. You’ve made an accusation against Kellaway. Yet you have no proof to back it up.”
