by Sewell, Ron
The man bent, lifted a small box on top of the counter and removed what appeared to be a camcorder. “It is simple. Remove lens cover and press button. Automatic everything. Takes better picture in dark. You no like, press this button, gone. Made in China, good. You try.”
For a few moments, Petros studied the action before taking a picture of Bear. “Your turn.”
Bear examined it and raised the viewfinder to his eye. “There was a time you needed arms of steel to carry these things. The Japanese made them better and now the Chinese have created smaller. Pay the man.”
Petros counted out four thousand, five hundred Yuan, and passed them across the counter.
The man checked it. “You good customer. Come back, I give you deposit.”
Petros sat in the back seat of the taxi, its motor was running while they waited for Bear. He appeared two minutes later carrying a tripod.
“Thought this might help. Charlie Chan let me borrow it.”
“He let you have it for nothing?”
“Unbelievably, yes.”
Petros leaned, tapped the driver on the shoulder and handed him the other piece of the note.
The driver tossed his cigarette out the window. A diesel fog belched from the rear of the car as the he thumped the accelerator. Smiling, he lit another cigarette, failed to indicate, and with a roar manoeuvred his car into a fast-moving stream of assorted vehicles.
From the hotel roof Petros set the camera to automatic, operating every fifteen minutes for the next twelve hours. Satisfied, he returned to his room, picked up the phone and dialled Chinese George’s mobile number.
“Yeah, who is it?”
“Tell George - Petros Kyriades. I need to speak to him.” He listened as George swore at his minder.
“Don’t tell me you want more money. Well, the …”
“George, shut up. We’re onto something but a police commander is taking more than a passing interest in our little enterprise. I want you to get your arse in gear, arrive like yesterday, and distract him. Grab a taxi from the airport to the Simatai Guest House.”
“Petros, China is not a good place. My mother escaped and floated across to Hong Kong on a tyre inner tube with me tied to her back. I don’t want to return.”
“It’s your decision if you want to end our little treasure hunt.”
“Petros, can I get back to you?”
“Yes or no, George?”
“I might not be able to get a flight.”
“George, last time: yes or no?”
“So far, all I have to show for my money is a gaping hole in my bank balance. Yes.”
“Cheers, George. If you’re late, don’t wake us.” Not waiting for an answer, he replaced the handset.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lost in his own thoughts, Petros stared out of the window at the Great Wall. Where was the treasure?
Bear entered the room, walked over and stood beside him. “Find anything interesting from the photos?”
Petros turned. “Not sure. I need to get much closer. The vicinity of tower thirty-four shows anomalies other sections don’t.” He strolled to the table. “Check these out. The heat radiating from the side of the hills is, for the most part during the day, red or yellow. At night, the heat signature changes from bright red to yellow. The area under tower thirty-four is dark long before anywhere else.”
Bear placed his hand on Petros’ shoulder. “Time for a stroll and become a happy snapper. I assume we’re entering the restricted section.”
“Not at first. What I’d like to do is start snapping at two hundred metres and keep on as we move closer.”
“You’re convinced we’re in the right place. Why?”
“I’m sure we’re walking down the right road. The next move is to find the right house and open the door. If not, like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, you get your wish and we go home.”
“You’re in no doubt we haven’t taken a wrong turn?”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow and shrugged. “Grab your coat.”
* * *
Petros came to a halt and let his eyes scan the wall in both directions. “There’s tower thirty-four.”
For the next six hours they took it in turns to photograph every aspect to the left and right of the tower. Dusk descended as they finished taking their final shots of the hillside.
“If you’re right and we’re at a dead end, we fly back to Kunming tomorrow.”
Bear shrugged, his face expressionless.
* * *
Within five minutes of returning to the room, Petros and Bear studied the pictures on the camera screen. Together they dissected the base of the tower.
Petros forced himself to contain his elation when, at a distance of one hundred metres, his hopes were confirmed. At fifty metres, the almost black area beneath the tower showed a marked difference.
“Tomorrow we get half a dozen of these developed and plan the next move.”
“I suppose you want to dangle on the end of a bit of string and take a look,” said Bear.
“Got a better idea?”
“You’d better believe it, smart-arse. We do a recon of the tower and surroundings in daylight. Empress what’s-her-face may have robbed the empire blind but she wasn’t stupid. Engineers and builders constructed tower thirty-four. A hundred years and a few earthquakes later, no damage. Why?”
Petros shrugged. “I don’t give a rat’s arse. Perhaps they were better builders.”
“I don't know either, but the possibility exists there’s another entrance. One thing for sure, we need George to deal with Ding bloody Dong.”
Petros walked to the window and stared at the Great Wall before turning. “You’re right. What will George say if we find the treasure?”
“At the moment I don’t give a toss. My stomach tells me I’m hungry. Time for a shower and dinner.”
* * *
Sheng Su smiled at a tired George as he entered reception. “You had a pleasant flight?”
“No, I didn’t. Where’s Kyriades?”
Sheng Su remained cheerful despite George’s manner. “Mr Kyriades and his friend are eating dinner. I will inform them that you are here.”
George pulled out his lighter and a packet of cigarettes lit one, inhaling as he did so. “Which way?”
“The dining room is non-smoking, sir.”
George ignored the comment and stormed in, his entrance attracting bemused smiles from the other diners. His darting eyes settled on Petros, and with complete confidence he strolled to the table, pulled out a chair and sat, flicking his cigarette ash on the floor. “What happened to your arm?”
“An argument with a lorry in the rain.”
“Not interfering with your search, I hope. You have news of the treasure?”
Petros stared at George. “Good evening to you, too. Would you like to order? A glass of wine perhaps?”
“Mr Kyriades, you ask me to travel halfway across the world and all you can do is offer me food and wine. My time is valuable. Tell me something I need to hear or I’ll leave on the first flight available.”
Petros’ eyes narrowed. “Your funeral, George.”
Agitated, George measured Petros’ remark. He shrugged, shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “My apologies, but travelling does nothing for my mood.”
Mindful of his tone, Petros handed George the menu. “To begin with, a certain police commander has become a right pain in the arse. I want you to get him off our backs. I don’t care how, just do it.”
George’s eyes widened as he understood the meaning of Petros’ words. “I’ll do my best.”
“George, Bear and I need to investigate without interference. With the police tied to our heels, it’s a tad difficult. Now, be a good man and order something.”
George shook his head in frustration. “Okay.” He waved to the waitress and on her arrival ordered. “You must be able to tell me something.”
“George, put your mouth in neutral for half an hour. In the p
rivacy of my room I’ll tell you everything.” Petros ate the rest of his dinner in silence. What he had in mind was dangerous.
* * *
A sharp rap on the door caused Petros to raise his head, shuffle dozens of infrared pictures into a pile and place them on the table.
“I’ll go,” said Bear.
George, exhausted, entered and thudded his overweight body into the nearest chair. “I’m waiting.”
Bear leaned against the wall and stared out of the far window at the gathering darkness.
Petros sat back in his chair. “I’ll start at the beginning. Any questions will wait until I’ve finished.”
George glowered. “I’m listening.”
Petros explained the markings on the cube. He selected three photographs and pointed out the temperature differences below tower thirty-four. “The signals are strong that a cave exists under the tower. The bad news is a communist opportunist may have removed the horde a hundred years ago.”
George stroked his chin as questions zipped through his brain. The element of danger for him was small when compared to the rewards. The truth is, when you have men killed, it costs nothing to be polite. “Petros, are you aware of the law of unforeseen consequences?”
“You mean Sod’s Law. If it can happen, it will. The unpredictable makes it exciting.”
All the while Bear had been no more than a silent spectator. “George, if you don’t get one fucking copper off our backs, we go home. I’ve no intention of waiting around to be clobbered by a shit storm.”
“Not exactly eloquent but I get your point,” said George. “Find the treasure and you will get your reward.” He glanced at his gold Rolex. “Time I slept. Tomorrow I strike a devil’s bargain.”
He stood and walked to the door. “Good night.”
In his room, George pondered the situation. For the moment, Petros made the decisions, and that was never part of the agreement. This must change.
Chapter Twenty-Three
George arose early and breakfasted alone, after which he left the hotel. Relaxed in the back of a taxi, he saw Beijing awaken. The vehicle stopped. He gave the driver fifty Yuan and told him to wait. The man shrugged and pushed it into his shirt pocket.
George stared through the windshield at the Forbidden City a hundred metres ahead. A grey haze from pollution shrouded the majestic buildings. Five street-cleaning vehicles crossed the vast open space, manoeuvring as ships on the high seas. His mobile rang. He answered in English. “George.”
His contact chuckled for a few seconds before speaking. “Get out and walk to the Meridian Gate and you’ll be met by a policeman in uniform. Do as he tells you.” The line went dead.
Out of the car, he found the air chilly but refreshing. George strolled towards the gate, his leather shoes echoing in the quiet of the morning.
The man half-turned. “Follow.”
George followed as they marched in the direction of the Forbidden City. The officer stopped. “You go through entrance – do not stop until at Golden Water River.” He walked away.
From out of the shadows, a tall, thin man joined George as he strolled towards the bridge. “Forgive the theatricals, George, but we must be careful. Notice the bridges spanning the river. They represent the five virtues as preached by Confucius: benevolence, righteousness, rites, intelligence and fidelity. You flew from London to Beijing and made contact with one of the brothers. I am here to honour your demand. Please tell me what you want.”
Versed in the code of behaviour as regards his presence in the city, George studied this man’s slicked-back hair and sensitive face. The hand-tailored dark suit and polished shoes gave him the air of a business executive. “I need Police Commander Ding Lang to back off and leave my friends alone.”
The man shrugged. “Consider it done.” He flipped open his mobile and pressed a memory button. “Police Commander Ding Lang.” In a few minutes, he returned it to his pocket. “I’m told the commander is at present resident of Kunming, works for us and we let him manage his high-class brothels in Beijing. Tell me what your friends are doing to interest this man. I promise the necessary orders will be given this morning”
George raised both eyebrows. “You are a Dragon Head, a leader. For all my faults, I am Chinese first and forever. By virtue of our ancient laws, I must tell you what I am doing in Beijing. With no power, my hands could leave my arms in the blink of an eye.”
“Good,” said the man. “No questions today. I will allow you the honour of two weeks without cost or hindrance. Do not hesitate to ask if you need help. I will charge a small fee so as not to lose face. I’ll go now. I have important work as a member of the National People’s Congress.”
George’s eyes stayed with the man as he strolled over the spotless expanse until he disappeared. He returned to his waiting taxi. “Hotel.”
* * *
Petros glanced at Bear across the table. “The man returns in time for breakfast. You were out early, George.”
George pulled out a chair and beckoned to the waitress. “A pot of black coffee.”
“Been sightseeing?” asked Petros.
George locked eyes with Petros. “Getting the police off your backs.”
“How?” said Bear, his voice low.
“In this life, what you experience might make a difference to your survival. I want you to know who you are dealing with. The day Hong Kong returned to China, a pact between the criminal societies and the Communist Party existed. This mutual union results in China ignoring many awkward facts or activities. Today the Triads own offices in Beijing, Shanghai and countless other cities. They gave us two weeks without interference to find the treasure.”
“Mr Kyliades.”
Petros’ frown deepened as he recognised the voice.
Ding Lang struggled to hide his anger as he approached the table. “You have a powerful Chinese associate.” He smiled thinly. “I value my limbs remaining attached to my body. I will, with reluctance, obey my orders. Be warned, you have no idea who you are dealing with.” He turned and strutted away.
With two slices of toast overflowing with crispy bacon, Bear paused before taking a bite. “From the frying pan into the fiery furnace. Well, at least the condemned men ate a hearty breakfast.”
“Why are you always so theatrical?” said Petros, irritated. “I’m sure George has it worked out.”
George laughed. “You two are as safe as the Bank of England.”
“Before or after the world’s financial meltdown?” muttered Bear through a mouthful of food.
“Ignore him, George, he’s in one of his funny moods. Time of the month.”
Bear finished his coffee. “You can joke, but don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bear stood staring out of the window. “Was my act convincing?”
Petros smiled. “George will assume we’re worried. The trouble is he’s right.”
An ambulance rushed past, its siren destroying conversation.
“Get ready, Bear. Time to buy our climbing equipment. Abseiling with one good arm will be fun.”
Bear raised a cynical eyebrow. “Cross my heart and hope to die in bed, or maybe I just don’t care anymore.”
“What else can we do?”
“Go home.”
“Do you believe the Triads are going to let us leave?”
A hint of amusement spread across Bear’s face. “Not in a month of Sundays. We need a Plan B. Any ideas?”
Petros’ expression sobered. “Not one. Come on, let’s get our gear.”
* * *
The traffic into Beijing flowed like a raging torrent along the motorway. Vehicles of every shape, colour and size filled each lane. With his hand hard down on the horn, the taxi driver charged directly into the ever-shifting stream.
“These guys must have nerves of steel or they’re stark raving mad,” said Bear as he peered out the side window straight into another car inches away.
“With a f
amily to feed, being crazy helps,” said Petros.
More or less an hour later, they entered a labyrinth of streets. The driver shouted at pedestrians and other drivers. The vehicle slid to a halt.
Petros studied the sign in bold red letters above the door. ‘Extreme and Beyond’. “This is the place Sheng Su recommended. Pay the man, Bear.”
He gave a patronising look. What’s wrong? Short arms and deep pockets?”
“No money.”
On the other side of the road, two men sat in the front seats of a black Lexus IS250. One took pictures while the other made notes.
Behind the red door, a mixed bag of equipment lay in wait: Ropes hung from overhead beams, jackets, many kinds of footwear, ice picks, tents, rock climbing and abseiling paraphernalia.
Petros and Bear entered and a large fat man stood and stared from the other side of a thick wooden counter.
In a shrill voice he said,” You friends of Sheng Su, yes?”
Bear nodded. “We are.”
“Me Wang Da Fa.” He grinned, displaying a mouth with few teeth. “Sheng Su recommend me and I give you good price. What you want?”
Petros let his eyes roam around the store. “Shall we start with rock boots, harness with belay device, karabiners, prussic loops, helmets, waterproof jackets and trousers, rucksacks, head torches with spare rechargeable batteries - for two. Wang, can I examine your knives and long leash ice axes.”
“New or second hand?”
“New.”
“In back, you come. “ He pointed to Bear. “You stay. Take care of shop.”
Petros followed Wang into a room full of what at first glance appeared to be junk. Wang unlocked a door concealed behind several packing cases and beckoned. “Stairs.”
At the bottom of stone steps, Wang pressed a switch and multiple fluorescent lights lit up an empty space.”
