by Sewell, Ron
Mike balanced it in his right hand. “This’ll buy a few tinnies and keep me pissed for a month.”
Another contained gold, and the next silver; the fourth, precious stones.
“We haven’t the time to check every box and record everything. Keep filming but without my ugly face, or edit it out. Take a box. I want the stones. I know a doctor, a woman and her son who can use them.”
“We’re stealing the crown jewels,” said Mike.
“That rule applies if we’re caught. We’ve earned our slice of pie. Tomorrow, get here in plenty of time, set up your gear and hide. The shit storm will be severe when the fan starts turning.”
Mike continued filming “Bloody hell, over here. There’s one more room full of boxes.”
“Yehenara certainly had her fingers in the till. Finished?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, let’s go.” Petros removed one box filled with gold and another full of precious stones.
“Gold’s easy to shift in China, and if ya have no objection, I’ll take two,” said Mike.
“Just keep your mouth shut but two’s enough.”
“I can live with that. You get through the hole and I’ll pass everything to ya.”
They made a chain and shifted their finds up to the top of the steps.
“On our way out,” Petros shouted to Bear.
“You took your time. What did you find?”
“Yehenara’s treasure.”
A smile slowly formed on his lips. “You’re joking.”
Petros’ expression did not change.
“Why do I wish you hadn’t”, said Bear.
“It’s in the boxes. Two are for Mike as payment. One for Nathan and his hospital. Last, but most important, one for Ling and her son Fei.”
“Minor detail, where’s ours?”
“George should pay us.”
“And if he winds up dead?”
“You have a point. Wait here, I’ll get two more.”
“I’ll come with ya. It’ll be easier and quicker,” said Mike.
Minutes later, Petros, Mike and two more boxes rested on the ledge.
“Bear, as you’ve been examining the back of your eyelids for the last hour or so, swing out and grab those small bushes and conceal this entrance.”
Bear stood, slackened his line, and leaned back. “No peace for the wicked. What did I do wrong to deserve you?” One step at a time he used the larger shrubs to move across the cliff face, stopping every now and then to wrench free a smaller bush.
“Enough,” said Petros. “Make your way to the top. Give me a signal when you’re ready to haul up these boxes.”
Back on the crest of the wall, Mike disappeared, stating he wanted to check out the watchtower. Ten minutes later he returned. “Great view from the top and there’s a good place to hide me gear. Tomorrow I’ll bring me magic blanket and a spare set of batteries.”
“What’s with the magic blanket?” said Petros.
“You know, a camouflage sheet. Providing I stay still, they’re difficult to detect in daylight. At night I’ll be invisible.”
In less than half an hour, the three men made their way to the railcar and descended.
“Mike, I hope we don’t meet you tomorrow but remember, whatever happens to us, keep recording, but don’t move.”
“Petros, I’ve a scoop that’ll pay the rent for a year. I’ve me pension in two wooden boxes and the opportunity of yet another revelation.” He held up a disc. “I’ll get this over to me Sydney memory bank.”
“Could it be corrupted in transit?”
“No. This will be flashed and copied in an instant. No doubt I’ll get me arse kicked by a petty media official.”
“Thanks,” said Petros as he shook Mike’s hand. “Tomorrow we’ll poke a pointed stick into the snakes’ nest.”
“You can be sure it’ll be on the world news faster than Usain Bolt completing a hundred metres.”
Petros remained silent as he watched Mike walked away.
Elated at discovering the treasure, he knew any chance of escape was gone. He put the thought out of his mind as they strolled to the hotel.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elated but concerned, Bear and Petros, with heavy loads on their backs, marched to the hotel. Sheng opened the main door as they approached.
“I stay up for you. Your friend sleep.”
“Sheng, you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” said Bear.
Sheng gave him a quizzical gaze. “I understand I am bread. This is good?”
“It’s good,” said Petros. “Sheng, these four boxes - I need you to send two of them as ordinary parcels to an associate of mine in Kunming. I’ll give you the address at breakfast. Can you hide the other two?”
“Ah, in office. You bring them.”
The two men waited as Sheng knelt on the floor in front of an old twentieth-century Chub Safe. In less than a minute the heavy steel door swung open. “This good safe. Boxes, please.”
“Thanks, Sheng, you’re a pal.” Petros glanced at the large round clock high on the wall. “Time for a shower and sleep.”
“Motion approved,” said Bear.
Petros, followed by Bear, entered the lift and pressed the button for their floor.
“Today I’m going to carry my pistol with me,” said Bear.
“Agreed,” said Petros, “but why do I get the impression George will be trying to run the show.”
“Yeah, but who’ll be pulling his strings?”
“Thanks for reminding me,” said Petros, not knowing what to say, but aware they needed to find out. “Get some sleep.”
* * *
Petros rose and sat on the edge of his bed. Half-asleep, he wandered into the shower and turned the cold on full. Ten minutes later, wide awake and dressed, he strolled into the dining room and sat opposite Bear.
“At least food makes you punctual.”
“PK, apart from Jocelyn, good food is the first thing on my agenda. You never know when you’ll be able to eat again.”
“Getting cautious in your old age?”
“My instincts tell me you and I are digging a bloody great hole and the Triads are ready to cover us with earth.”
Petros raised his head. “I accept the out-of-the-blue because there’s nothing I can do until it happens. What we need is a plan.”
“Plan A, B, C - I’m open to suggestions,” said Bear.
Moments later, George strolled in and joined them. “Last night. Any progress?”
Petros shrugged. “We found Yehenara’s treasure,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Are you sure?”
“George, you’re not stupid,” said Petros, “or are you deaf?”
“I am not, just taken aback.” He kept his thoughts focused, aware the discovery would affect his future and that of the two men in front of him.
“Far too much for you to carry, George. I was thinking: You should get in touch with the Chinese antiquities department.”
A perplexed Bear started coughing as he shoved a piece of toast covered in jam into his mouth.
“No, no, no.” said George. “I will inform my contact and follow his instructions.”
“One of your Triad friends, by any chance?” asked Bear.
“No Triads live in Beijing. In my ignorance, I misinformed you. For your information, powerful people exist not far from here who hold much sway over specific organisations.”
“George,” said Petros, “I may act the fool, but please don’t treat me as one. I accept the Triads have little influence in this part of China, but their money does. If I invest millions of whatever currency you care to choose into a company, with a fifty-one percent stake, I control the board. The clever man allows the business to flourish and washes his dirty cash until cleaned and untraceable.”
“I chose you because you don’t follow orders and give up at the first setback. Both of you became committed players in the game. I have a contract with you and ot
hers. Who they are is unimportant. You will receive a sizeable bonus, dependant on what you have found. I may be, as you say, a villain and make money by insincere means, but I am a man of my word.”
Petros tried to concentrate as he placed his cup on its saucer. “We are in your hands, George, but I promise you one thing, one wrong move and you’ll be the first to discover my temper.”
“You assume too much, young man. In a few days you will be back home with a sizeable bank balance.”
“George, go and make the arrangements and get back here. Of course, you understand what a shadow is, don’t you?”
“I’m not an imbecile.”
“I’m never happy when decisions are made in our absence and I don’t like bullshit. Well, tonight you will boast two shadows.”
“When I get back, I’ll inform you as to what’s happening. Do not follow me if you value your hands.”
Beads of sweat covered Petros’ brow and his heart pounded, yet Bear, sitting next to him, continued to eat his breakfast as if today was the same as any other. “Aren’t you bothered?”
Bear turned his head, his eyes travelling over his partner’s face. “Worry will not get us out of this mess. At the moment I don’t know what will, but when the time comes maybe we’ll have the answer. Me, I’m going back to bed. You should do the same. I reckon tonight will be a tad long and I want to be on my toes.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mike Newman pressed a memory button on his phone and waited. “Hi, Sam. I need a sound assistant for one day who won’t ask questions.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“A couple of hundred, maybe more.”
“Is it kosher?”
“As a pork chop in a Jewish temple.”
“Illegal, dangerous or both?”
“Interesting is the word I’d use.”
“When do we start?”
“The moment you arrive with your gear on your mean machine.”
“Give me an hour. Oh, by the way, money up front. I don’t do freebies. Well, not for you.”
“Thanks a bunch. Don’t be late.” The line went dead.
He checked his camera equipment twice, filled two thermos flasks with coffee, made a dozen sandwiches and strapped his camouflage sheet to his rucksack.
Sam arrived. Red leathers covered her short, thin, athletic figure. She removed her head protector and pointed to her smiling lips. “Kiss for favours past and present.”
A black crash helmet held in front of her prevented their bodies from meeting.
“I thought we were good together,” said Mike. “Any likelihood of a reunion?”
“Fat chance. I got my wings burnt and you became a busted flush when you started dipping your wick elsewhere. Your idea of a long term relationship is a dirty weekend in a fifth-rate hotel.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “No harm in asking.”
“The answer is still no. Mike you’re not a bad guy, just a philanderer.” Her teeth glistened as she smiled. “What’s the job and where’s my money?”
“You barter with the charm of a whore standing on a street corner with the devil for company.”
“Cash in hand and no questions, or I go home.”
Mike counted out the notes and pressed them into her right palm. “Ready?”
A sombre note crept into her voice. “Destination?”
“Simatai Great Wall. You’ll need to hide ya bike.”
“Why are we still here? Put on your crash hat. Be careful where you put your wandering hands. Any higher or lower than my waist and you’re walking.”
“Sam, I enjoy living and breathing. Paws off tits, I get the message.”
Sam swung her leg over her Kawasaki Ninja ZX 10, brushed her short red hair back with her hand while she fitted her helmet. She pressed the ignition and a roar erupted from the twin exhausts.
Mike tapped her on the shoulder. “New?”
She nodded for him to get on, throttled up, engaged first, and accelerated away. With a flick of her thumb the interconnecting helmet speech system operated. “The most powerful machine in the world.”
“I believe ya. I lost my arse ten blocks back.”
“It’s the quickest and best way to travel in Beijing. Beats a car every time.”
He held on, moulding his body to hers as she swerved left, right and charged through the gridlock. Thank God I tightened my rucksack.
Mike clung to Sam for one hundred and twenty-five kilometres, his pulse racing as she overtook the slow-moving traffic.
She throttled back, stopped, and cut the engine. “Samatai. Where now?”
“The tower with the bit missing from the left hand top corner. Close as ya can but ya need a place to hide ya bike.”
Before he’d finished, Sam resumed the journey at a hair-raising pace.
“Can’t you drive this thing slower?”
She chuckled before speaking. “I achieve an orgasm in two ways. You’ve discovered my other way.”
“I tell ya, it does nothing for me.”
She drove off the road into an uncultivated field, and for ten minutes negotiated the reconstruction site before selecting a spot to hide her bike. From the two panniers she removed her specialised equipment. “Ok. What’s next?”
“Can ya plant a couple of remote mikes near those mesh gates and inside the compound?”
Professionalism ignited in her eyes as she scanned the zone. “I’ll use my satellite mikes and link them into my iPad and iPhone to record and display.”
“Will they work?”
“You’d better believe it. The CIA couldn’t work without them.”
“How come ya have them?”
She shrugged. “Friends in low places.”
Mike sat on the ground next to his rucksack and observed as she scurried around as a hungry rat exploring for food.
“I’ve set up four,” she said. “Go into the compound and talk to yourself, and I bet you can’t find them.”
Mike thought for a moment. He walked, his eyes searching. “Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack. Butting through the channel in the mad March days. With a cargo of Tyne coal. Road rails, pig lead. Firewood, iron-ware and cheap tin trays.”
“Cargoes, John Masefield,” said Sam.
“Why do particular words stick in ya memory forever? Great poem. Loved it from the first moment I heard it.”
“Good sound at ten metres.”
“Great.” He pointed to the tower. “Up there next.”
“What? You didn’t mention mountain climbing.”
“We travel in style. The problem’s what’s going to happen, and if and when it does.”
“So how long do we stay up there?”
“These things take as long as they take, but if nothing’s happened by midnight we go home and come back tomorrow. Before ya ask, I’ll pay the overtime. Ready?” said Mike as they strolled towards the compound.
They rode the rail car and walked the short distance to tower thirty-four. He stopped at the base and checked the time. This was going to be a long day. He examined the padlock on the door leading to the stairs and the top. From his pocket he removed a set of lock picks. In seconds the padlock opened.
“And where did you learn to do that?”
“Let’s say I had a colourful life as a young man. By the way, if ya want a pee in private, go now.”
“From our intimate and past experience, you’re as blind as the proverbial.”
Mike lifted his rucksack and carried it up to the top. She followed. “I need to close and secure the door.”
“I noticed a few short scaffold poles near the railcar. Jam one between the door and the steps. I’ll nip down and get a couple.”
“Cheers, Sam. I’ll set up camp.”
Mike sat on the ancient stone roof and poured hot coffee from a thermos into a plastic cup. He sipped and removed two cameras, two mini tripods, and four night-recording cassettes. He stood, wandered to the edge and stared at the ground
. This was the main shot but not from here. Still carrying his cup, he descended the stairs and continued along the wall away from the tower until he found the position he needed. He finished his coffee and placed the empty cup by the edge of the wall.
In less than ten minutes he had one camera positioned and hidden by rubble. He checked the remote, picked up his cup and returned to the tower. A short steel pole lay propped against the wall. He shut the door and jammed it shut.
“There’s coffee and sandwiches if ya want, Sam.”
“My throat’s as dry as sandpaper. Must be dust.” She sat with her back to the parapet, poured the hot black fluid into Mike’s used cup, and drank.
He checked the time; it was approaching four.
“What are we filming?”
“The lost treasures of the boy emperor. They’re in a cave beneath this tower…” His mobile bleeped, interrupting his flow. The text message read. ‘Will be on site at ten – Petros.’
“We’ll witness and film the theft of the treasure and stay hidden. Me contacts are, so they tell me, in deep shit. With luck our evidence will help keep them out of jail.”
The light faded as dusk darkened the sky. “Rest, Sam.”
With his rucksack as a pillow, he lay on the ancient slabs and dozed.
* * *
Dull moonlight from an overcast sky cast dark shadows. Mike switched on a tiny torch and checked the time - nine forty-five. “Sam, Sam, time to slide under the blanket.”
She stretched her arms and stood. “There must be better ways of earning a living. I need a pee. You - face towards Beijing and no peeking at my knickers.” She wandered into the darkest corner.
“Hurry.”
“I’ve finished. Any coffee in that flask?”
“Mike poured her a cup. “Drink up and whisper. Sounds carry a long way at night.”
They lay in the shadows of the parapet. His gaze traversed the locale at the base of the cliff. From left to right the players gathered, ready to play their part. Petros, Bear and another shorter man arrived and waited. The time edged towards ten o’clock. “What are they saying?”
