by Buzz Harcus
"That's okay. Have a good time. I'll see ya later." He turned the corner continuing his fast-paced stride. He felt smug. He had helped the lady, much against his better judgment, and now had dumped her. Let her find her own way around Shanghai. I've got better things to do and they don't include the iceberg, he told himself.
Osa stopped, bewildered by his bluntness. She watched after him as he disappeared into the crowd. A chilling fear of being alone in Shanghai suddenly overwhelmed her. She looked around at the sea of Oriental faces. Not one Swedish shipmate, not even a white face. The staring faces, the sing-song language she couldn't understand, the darkness of night closing in all frightened her. Suddenly, she wanted desperately to be in the company of someone she could communicate with, anyone, even Harry. She ran after him.
"Harry, don't leave me," she wailed plaintively hurrying through the crowd after him. "Harry, it is getting dark. I don't vant to be by myself, please, may I valk vis you?"
Harry stopped, looking back at the pale faced female hurrying toward him. "Sure. Why not," he shrugged. Besides, they'd probably be bumping into some of the crew before too long and he'd dump her on them. He was sure they'd enjoy her company; she was a barrel of fun.
Osa struggled along beside him taking two steps to his one, gasping for breath, clutching her purchase tightly in her hand. After a bit, she slipped her arm through his, holding on firmly. Harry slowed his pace and they walked along in silence. In spite of his bitter feelings toward her, it did feel good having such a beautiful woman beside him.
"Is dere someplace special you are going to?" she asked, still
trying to keep pace with him. The pumps were beginning to cut into her feet.
"Yeah. First a place to eat, then someplace to wind down, relax and have fun, a good time." It was a sarcastic reply.
"I am hungry, too," she gasped, the sarcasm having passed right over her head. "Maybe ve can find a spot to eat. I am famished."
"We'll see." He continued his pace, his eyes now desperately searching the streets and stores looking for other crewmembers. Dinner with her was out of the question; he had a different kind of meal, a different kind of companion in mind, not the bitch.
In spite of the increasing darkness and lateness of the hour, the streets were still solidly jammed with people. Vehicular traffic was held practically to a crawl. Horns blared, tempers rose, people walked in all directions oblivious of the screaming drivers.
The screeching of brakes startled Harry and Osa. A dark limousine had jerked to a halt at curbside just in front of them. An Oriental brandishing a machine pistol jumped out aiming a gun at Harry. He flung the door wide motioning for them to get in.
"Both of you," he commanded. "Inside. Hurry."
Osa started to protest but the Oriental cut her short with a sudden slap to the side of her face. Harry raised his fist to retaliate but the Oriental jammed the pistol in his face. "Get in!" he hissed.
They were shoved unceremoniously into the back seat and the door slammed shut. The Oriental jumped in the front seat, said something to his companion behind the wheel, and the car sped off.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked raising Osa's chin upwards, examining her face. A welt had already risen slightly on her cheek. "Yes," she replied. "Vat is happening?"
"I don't know -"
"Shut up! Sit still and be quiet!" the Oriental ordered. He had twisted around in his seat so that he could watch them. The machine pistol rested on the top of the seat, barrel aimed in their direction.
Harry glanced at the driver, also an Oriental. His eyes were glued to the road as he weaved in and out among the hordes of people, pounding on the horn, jerking forward, slamming on the brakes, and then forward again. Harry glanced at the speedometer. It registered twenty miles an hour. Great speed for a kidnapping, he thought. If it wasn't so serious, he would have laughed.
He turned his attention back to squint eyes. The kidnapper had a nervous habit of blinking his eyes. His face, however, had that stoic look Orientals are so noted for. The man's eyes never wavered as he watched the two of them, his finger curled around the trigger of the machine pistol. It wasn't the kind of weapon one challenged foolishly Harry knew from past experience.
"What's this all about?" Harry asked.
"Be quiet. You will see," the stoic-faced one replied, blinking.
"Stan send you?"
He didn't have to say anymore. Squint eyes looked like he'd been slapped, eyes momentarily widening, although the expression on his face never changed. "Shut up. You will learn soon enough!" squint eyes snapped. Just as quickly, his eyes continued their random blinking.
So Stan had sent a welcoming committee.
Harry caught a glimpse of a street sign: Zhongshan Road. Ahead was a large steel bridge over the Suzhou Creek. A bicycle suddenly swerved to its right in front of the car. Harry gasped. Osa screamed. The driver swerved. Pistol-packing squint eyes quickly glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening. That was all Harry needed.
As the man turned back, Harry's hand, steeled in a karate chop, was already in motion, catching squint eyes across the bridge of his nose. Even before the scream of pain escaped from his lips, Harry's hand had moved to its second position, smashing solidly up under the man's nose driving the cartilage sharply upwards into the man's brain.
The movement was quick, final, and accomplished just as his karate instructor had told him a hundred times. Smash the nose across the eyes, and then smash your opponent under the nose. The thrust will drive the cartilage into his brain killing the person. Remember, it's you or him!
As squint eyes slumped down in his seat, the pistol falling harmlessly from his hand, Harrys clenched fist smashed solidly against the right side of the driver's temple. The man's hands automatically jerked to his head. The car swerved off the road barely missing the errant bicyclist, but sending people flying out of the way as the car continued on mushing through several piles of snow before coming to rest, teetering precariously on the seawall.
Harry grabbed the startled, ashen-faced Osa's hand, jammed the car door handle down, threw the door wide and, in a fluid motion, jerked her out of the car just before it tottered over the edge into the oily, slick water.
"C'mon!" he snapped, steering her back up onto the sidewalk. He almost laughed when he looked at her, still clutching her purse and prized package.
"Vot about dem?" she asked.
"They're okay. Just gone for a swim."
Quickly he merged them in the crowd, walking at a brisk pace back toward the brighter lights of Shanghai.
"You okay" he asked not slowing.
"Yes. I tink so," She held tightly to him. "Vat vas dat all about?"
"I don't know," he lied. "I just knew we had to get out of there in a hurry. They were kidnappers. No telling what they might have done to us, especially you, a woman."
She clutched tighter to him, the thoughts of what they might have done chilling her. "But dose men ver still in der car. Von't dey drown," she protested.
"Yup. Better them than us. The guy with the machine pistol looked like he'd enjoy shooting us." He continued his fast pace. Stan had tipped his hand; he was here and Harry knew he had to be on guard every moment from now on.
Ahead they heard the chiming of the huge clock in the Custom Building. Six o'clock. The chimes struck loud and clear above the chaotic sounds of the street. The sound was pleasant.
Chapter 47
COOK'S NIGHT OUT
“Harry! Vait!" Osa called after him as he hurried along several steps ahead of her. "I must catch my breath."
He turned looking back at her. She had stopped in front of the Number One Department Store leaning back against the plate glass window. Her beauty was a sharp contrast to the several lifeless mannequins standing aloofly within the large windows.
Walking slowly back to her he kept an eye peeled for danger, catching reflections of people passing by, searching faces, alert to any sudden attack.
Her eyes wore a plead
ing look. "Must ve valk so fast?" she asked, still short of breath.
"Yes."
At his insistence, they continued. Turning the next corner Harry spotted an older, ornate hotel across the street at the end of the block. It was easily twenty stories high, overpowering, representative of the Victorian period of architecture still to be found in Shanghai. A large British flag waved in the breeze over the entrance.
Moving Osa along as quickly as possible, Harry angled across the street wending their way through the chattering throngs of people finally coming to a halt in front of the Monarch Hotel. A nattily dressed Chinese doorman opened one of the highly polished bronze doors for them. Inside, they found themselves standing in a cavernous lobby area, gawking at the ornate interior. It was as though they had stepped back in time to the turn of the century. The lobby was at least three stories high: the whole interior lavishly appointed in a rich Victorian style. Twelve huge crystal chandeliers hung down on large gold-plated chains. The floor was a highly polished Italian
marble.
"Dis is beautiful," Osa said in awe, looking around the lobby. Harry grunted in agreement but was already moving them forward toward the registration counter, itself a deeply polished fruitwood. A directory stand caught Harrys attention. He read it. "There's a restaurant located on the eighth floor," he said steering her toward a battery of elevators.
"I must look a mess," Osa exclaimed, trying to catch sight of herself in the small mirror located next to the button rack in the elevator, starting to fuss with her hair.
"You look okay," Harry said pushing the eighth floor button. He gave a smile of approval.
The elevator stopped at the eighth floor and they stepped out into a large hallway leading directly into an elegant dining room. Warm pecan paneling reached to the high ceiling on which was painted an ornate dragon resplendid in bright reds and golds. The colorful motif was overpowering, filling the entire ceiling, a masterful blending of Chinese art and Victorian architecture. Crystal chandeliers softly illuminated the room.
They crossed the hallway into the dining area where a hostess, a slender Oriental dressed in a beautiful, high-collared silk dress, greeted them. Harry asked for a table for two. They were ushered across the crowded room to a small table next to a large window that overlooked the city.
Using his best manners, Harry seated Osa, and then sat across from her. Through the window he found a commanding view of the Bund. Lights were on throughout the area.
"Isn't dat a magnificent view of der city," Osa said enthusiastically. "It reminds me of Stockholm on Friday night. Everybody is shopping." Harry nodded, but his focus narrowed on the far end of the Bund where he could see flashing red lights at about the spot where the car went into the river.
Yet, he had to agree. It was a beautiful sight, an ideal romantic setting if only you had the right girl. He glanced around the room. No crewmembers were visible. Probably too expensive for their wallets, he allowed, although he had an idea they were after something a little more exciting than food.
In looking around he saw an interesting mix of Caucasian and Oriental patrons. Many of the Caucasians appeared to be businessmen, perhaps opening new markets in China, or perhaps the first wave of monied world travelers. It was obvious from the way they continually glanced about that this was their first exposure to the orient. On closer scrutiny, he became aware that a number of the businessmen were accompanied by younger, very attractive Oriental women dressed provocatively in low-cut, form-fitting dresses. Obviously not their wives, he surmised.
"Dis is a beautiful place, Harry," Osa whispered across the table. "It must be very expensive. I don't tink I haf enough money vis me. Maybe I should go."
"Relax. My treat tonight, cook's night out on the town," he found himself saying. He chuckled. Did he hear himself right? He had actually offered to buy dinner for this female, the one who hated his guts, the female who said she'd never wanted to see or hear from him again - even if he was the last man on earth! He was going to spring for dinner for her! Goddam it, Martin, you're getting soft in the head in your old age!
"No. I vill pay my own way." She was upset with herself. Why him? Where were the rest of the crewmembers? He was the last person she wanted to be with. Anyone but him. What he had done, what he had tried to force her to do, still burned in her mind. Still, with no other crewmembers present, she would have to stay through dinner, and then she'd leave. Shanghai was not the place she wanted to share with him.
"No. I will pay," Harry insisted. "Call it a busman's holiday."
"Busman's holiday?"
Harry shrugged. "Trust me." It would take too long to explain. He waved it off. "Just consider yourself my guest for dinner." And he placed emphasis on the word dinner. "My pleasure. Okay?"
"Vell, okay," she responded hesitantly.
A waiter appeared with menus asking if they cared for a before dinner drink. Harry nodded yes and ordered a Miller's. He looked at Osa. She hesitated, then, smiling, ordered a scotch on the rocks. The waiter thanked them and departed.
Both perused their menus "oohing" and "aahing" over the variety of appetizing dishes. Harry's eyes automatically went to the prices. He whistled softly. This definitely isn't your run-of-the-mill beanery, he thought. It was high class and it had the prices to prove it. Oh well, he admitted, Osa is a good cook and this is a chance to repay her culinary kindness. Besides, he rationalized, as soon as she's through eating she'll be heading back for the ship and then I'm off for a good time.
"Isn't dis a romantic setting?" she said, then cringed, shocked at herself for uttering such a statement in front of him.
"Yeah. It is." If you're with the right girl it would be the ideal romantic spot to start out an evening of fun, he thought. Dammit! Do a good deed and you get stuck, and her of all people.
As he glanced about he noted several shapely young Oriental females who, by their glances and movements, had fun time written all over them. There had to be sporting houses left; the town couldn't have gotten that clean in thirty years.
The waiter returned with their drinks and, in a polished manner, deftly placed a glass with ice in front of Osa. Would she like him to pour? She nodded, and he poured the large shotglass of scotch over the ice. Nice, Harry thought at the waiter's finesse. The waiter moved behind Harry, placed a tall, tapered glass before him and, with his nod of approval, poured his beer. I bet that movement will cost a small bundle, Harry smiled.
"Would you care to order now?" the waiter asked, extracting a pencil and pad from his inside pocket.
"Order for me, please," Osa asked, leaning forward toward Harry, her hand coming to rest on his.
Harry glanced down. Her touch had sent a tingle through him. "Two complete Peking Duck dinners with a red wine," Harry said, turning his attention back to the waiter.
"An excellent choice, sir," the waiter beamed. "We are known internationally for our exquisite Peking Duck dinners. I'm sure you will both enjoy your selection."
Harry was relieved; a good choice. Osa smiled approvingly. He felt like a hero. He took a sip of beer. Another good choice.
The sound of music suddenly filled the air as a small band started playing across the room. Within seconds the small dance floor was filled with twosomes moving to the beat of an old familiar tune, one that Harry recognized from the 'forties: "I'll be seeing you."
"Care to dance?" Harry found himself saying. Osa looked at him. He pointed to the dance floor and smiled. Hesitantly, she nodded yes.
In moments she was in his arms moving lightly about the dance floor. To his surprise, she was an excellent dancer following his lead as though they had danced together all their lives.
When the music stopped, he started to escort her back to the table only to hear the strains of another old favorite: "If I loved you." He spun her around and she eased into his arms. As they moved, her body melted against his, moving to the slow, sensuous beat. Harry became aware of her hand warm against his neck, the aroma of her perfume tantal
izing.
No! he found himself thinking. No! He wasn't going to fall into that trap again. He stopped, breaking free of her. Surprised, bewildered, Osa found herself being escorted back to the table and quickly seated.
"Uh, you'll have to excuse me, men's room," he whispered. She gave a somewhat embarrassed nod and turned away gazing out the window. She had to leave. The dance had made her aware that this was not right, his strong arms about her, the touch of his body against hers, that salacious feeling building inside. No, it would end up as before with them screaming at each other. She had to leave. She had to go someplace, anyplace but here. Poking through her purse she pulled out a guide to Shanghai. There had to be something.
While standing at the urinal, Harry couldn't help but overhear two men boisterously talking about their plans for the evening. They were laughing, chortling like a couple of schoolboys. The accents were distinctly British.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Harry said, zipping up and stepping to the washbasin. "I couldn't help but overhear you. I'm new in town. Where's this action you're talking about?"
"You must be new," one chortled. "The hottest thing going right now, speaking in strict confidence you understand, is the new adult movie and lingerie show they have right here in the hotel. Very explicit films, beautiful models showing the latest hot lingerie -"
"The show starts in forty-five minutes," the second man said glancing at his watch. He giggled. "It's really great, old boy."
Harry grinned. "Is that why most of the businessmen I've seen with the sexy Oriental girls are here, for the show?"
"Right!" the first chimed in. "Business is business, whether it's yours or hers. Right, Alfie?" And not letting his friend answer, he continued, "Welcome to the underground. This hotel is off limits to the general public. It's maintained for those businessmen who are involved in opening trade with China. All hush hush. The powers that be turn their backs on the operation for a nice fee. I have no idea, but it must be good."
"Are you in Shanghai on business," Alfie asked.
