Black Horn (A Creasy novel Book 4)

by A. J. Quinnell

  ‘It’s enough,’ he said. ‘Please ask Guido and Maxie to come and see me in about ten minutes.’

  As she reached the door, his voice stopped her.

  ‘Juliet, don’t worry too much about me. I’ve been persuaded to take a high-powered team along.’

  She turned and said, ‘Yes; I guessed that. And I’m glad. But in a way it spreads the worry wider.’

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Of course. You’ll be taking Guido and Maxie, Frank and Rene and Jens and The Owl . . . They’re all very close to me.’ She shrugged. ‘But then I guess that’s part of the culture.’

  Chapter 37

  They trooped into the bedroom, carrying chairs from the dining-room, and sat down in a semicircle round the bed. They were all there, including Lucy Kwok, except Juliet.

  Creasy said, ‘I know this is a bit of a farce. Of course I could have got up and we could have had this meeting around the dining-room table. The fact is that I promised my doctor to stay in bed for forty-eight hours, and that’s what I’m going to do.’ He looked at the Dane, ‘Jens. As usual, I want you to handle communications and the coordinating of information.’

  Jens pulled out a small notebook and a pen. Creasy’s eyes moved to Maxie.

  ‘Did you talk to Mrs Manners?’

  ‘She asked me to tell you thank you, and to confirm that she will in no way interfere. She just wants to be kept informed.’

  ‘Okay. That’s part of your job.’

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ Maxie said.

  ‘Well, you were the great persuader.’ Creasy gestured at the Chinese woman. ‘I tried to persuade Lucy to stay here until it’s all over, but she has refused. As it happens, she might be useful in Hong Kong with the language, but she’ll need protection and so might Mrs Manners. So, Lucy, you’ll have to stay in the same hotel suite with her.’ He looked at Callard. ‘Rene, you’ll provide that protection. Don’t take any bullshit from the old woman.’

  ‘I don’t take bullshit from anybody,’ Callard said.

  ‘OK. Then the three of you can move from here to Hong Kong on her jet in five or six days from now.’ He looked again at the Dane. ‘Jens, do you think you can arrange press accreditation, because I want your cover to be a journalist?’

  ‘It’s no problem. The head of the crime bureau on the top Danish newspaper is a good friend from my days in the police. He’ll fix it.’

  ‘Good. I want you and The Owl to fly to Hong Kong in the next two or three days and check into a different hotel to Mrs Manners. You are to pretend to be tourists, but since Jens is also a reporter and happens to be in Hong Kong and planning a series of articles on the Triads, it would be quite normal for him to take time off and request an interview with Inspector Lau Ming Lan. We received good, if reluctant, co-operation from the Zimbabwe police; but only because of pressure from the US government. We will not get cooperation from the Hong Kong police. The situation is totally different. They’ll probably get very pissed off if they find out that we’re operating on their patch. The other thing I want you to do, Jens, is rent a house or a large apartment somewhere in Kowloon for a minimum of one month, or up to six months, if you have to. A house would be better.’

  Guido remarked, ‘Six months for a house in Kowloon is going to be damned expensive.’

  ‘So be it,’ Creasy answered. He looked at the Australian. ‘Frank, I want you to fly up to Brussels tomorrow with Maxie, and have a meeting with Corkscrew Two to arrange weapons and their shipment to Hong Kong. I’ll give you a list in the morning. Then you wait in Brussels until you hear from Jens.’

  The Dane was busily making notes. Now he looked up and asked, ‘In whose name do I rent the house or apartment?’

  Creasy thought for a moment and then glanced at Miller and said, ‘Ask Corkscrew Two’s advice on that . . . he’s the expert. Tell him that the house or apartment must be rented and the weapons installed within ten days.’

  Lucy spoke up for the first time. ‘Who is this Corkscrew Two, and how can he get weapons into Hong Kong?’

  Creasy explained. ‘He’s the son of a man known in the business as The Corkscrew. He specialised in the smuggling of arms worldwide and was the very best. His contacts were legendary. He retired a few years ago and passed the business and contacts on to his son who, naturally, became known as Corkscrew Two. He’s as good as his father was, and he’ll have no trouble getting arms into Hong Kong.’ He closed his eyes for a few moments, then reached out to his bedside table, shook two pills out a bottle and swallowed them. Then he looked at Guido and said, ‘We’re going to need two or three more guys.’

  ‘I agree . . . but who?’

  ‘Let’s put our minds to it. They have to be top-line.’

  Maxie said, ‘Before I left Brussels I heard that Tom Sawyer’s available.’

  ‘He’d be perfect,’ Frank said. ‘Apart from anything else, he’s a bloody good mortar man.’

  ‘Yes, try to locate him when you get to Brussels. What was the last anyone heard of Do Huang?’

  Maxie said, ‘The last I heard, he was in Panama. He’d been doing a job for the CIA with some of the other guys in El Salvador. He’s probably still in Panama City and stone-broke. He always headed straight out from operations into the nearest casino. Incidentally, I also heard that Eric Laparte was in Panama, on the same job with Do. But the news is not so good. The rumour is that he’s been hitting the booze for the past few months.’

  ‘I hope it’s just a rumour,’ Creasy said. ‘Eric was one of the best.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Anyway, if Do Huang is stone-broke that’s a plus. We could certainly use him.’ He glanced at Lucy and explained. ‘Do Huang is half-Vietnamese, half-Cantonese. He speaks Cantonese fluently, so he could be useful in an undercover role.’

  Maxie said, ‘As soon as I get back to Brussels I’ll try to get a lead on them.’

  Creasy shook his head.

  ‘Let Frank do that. You’re taking your wife and her sister on a few days’ holiday, and apart from setting things up with Corkscrew Two, Frank will be twiddling his thumbs until he hears from Jens.’ He looked at the Australian. ‘If you locate them, give me a ring here, and in three or four days I’ll go over and check them out.’

  ‘I can go over if you like,’ Guido said.

  Creasy shook his head,

  ‘No. You know Do Huang well, and he trusts you, but you don’t know Eric Laparte. You won’t know what to look for. Besides, he hardly trusts a single soul on this earth. But he trusts me. Anyway, you ought to spend two or three days with Laura and Paul.’

  He closed his eyes again for a few seconds. When he opened them, he said, ‘That’s about it.’ They all stood up and started to file out. Creasy said, ‘Lucy, wait a moment, please.’ When the door was closed, he said, ‘Apart from Rene, they’ll all be out of here by tomorrow. If you like, you can move into the L’Imgarr Bay Hotel. You’ll be comfortable there.’

  ‘Who will cook for you?’

  ‘That’s no problem. Rene can rustle up some food, and I’m sure Laura will be sending over mountains of the stuff.’

  She thought about it and then shook her head.

  ‘Since I’m going to be cooped up with Mrs Manners in that hotel in Hong Kong for quite a time, I’d prefer to stay here until we leave . . . Is that all right?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Chapter 38

  Frank Miller walked in just after nine o’clock. Corkscrew Two was at one end of the long bar, drinking his usual Perrier water with a thick slice of lemon. Frank walked to the other end of the bar. It was a large utilitarian room with plain wooden tables and sawdust on the floor. It was a sort of brokerage house, where deals were made by mercenaries and for mercenaries. A stranger walking into this bar would receive a frosty reception. But Frank was no stranger. The bartender, Wensa, himself a retired mercenary, gave him a nod of welcome and a glass of the house wine.

  ‘Work?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. A good one.’

  ‘With the Man?’<
br />
  ‘Yes. But it’s behind the back teeth.’

  ‘How is he?’

  Frank thought about it and then said, ‘He’s had his personal ups and downs, but you know the Man, he’s come through it and he’s fine.’

  ‘So why is he working?’

  Frank shrugged.

  ‘He only has to work when he wants to and he only takes on jobs that attract him . . . I guess it’s in his blood, just like it’s in mine.’

  Wensa nodded.

  ‘I know what you mean. Every once in a while, I get the urge as well . . . but then for me it’s not possible. Tell the Man hello from me when you see him.’ With a stilted walk, he moved down the bar to serve another customer. In the last days of the Biafra war, he had stepped on an AP landmine.

  Frank leaned forward and glanced down the bar and Corkscrew Two nodded. They both moved to a corner table at the back. It was traditional in that bar that, when people sat at the two corner tables, nobody went near enough to hear even a whisper of conversation.

  There were no preliminaries. Frank reached into an inside pocket and passed over a folded sheet of paper. Corkscrew studied it through his thick horn-rimmed spectacles. He was in his mid-forties and his sparse hair had receded halfway across his head. Otherwise, his features were without distinction. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at Frank across the paper.

  ‘Where?’ he asked.

  ‘Hong Kong . . . and fast.’

  Corkscrew Two’s eyes dropped again to the paper. When he raised his eyes again he said, ‘You told me it was for the Man. What’s he going to do — take over China?’

  Frank spoke openly, knowing that the man opposite had discretion branded on his heart. ‘We’re going after a Triad gang. They’ve got about a zillion soldiers, so we need a little fire-power.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Not later than eight days. I’ll have an address for you and a contact phone number within forty-eight hours. Your contacts will be myself or Rene Callard.’

  Corkscrew Two’s eyebrows lifted.

  He murmured, ‘With you along as well, plus Rene, it’s going to be a high-class team.’ He tapped the paper with his right hand. ‘But looking at this list, I guess that you’re going to be seven or eight.’

  ‘About that . . . Tom Sawyer’s in town and I’m meeting him in fifteen minutes. Maxie’s in and so is Guido Arrellio.’

  ‘Very high-class,’ Corkscrew Two murmured again.

  Frank nodded and asked, ‘You don’t see any problems in finding those machines and getting them to Hong Kong?’

  The skeletal man shook his head.

  ‘Finding them is no problem, but I’m going to suggest an addition. You’ve asked for a dozen Uzi SMGs. I have those. But I also have a new SMG which is very interesting. It came out about three years ago and it’s made right here in Belgium by Fabrique Nationale. They call it the FNP90. It’s very light, because most of its components are made from a special plastic which also makes it difficult for airport securities to detect it. It has a velocity to pierce body armour at one hundred and fifty metres. If you have a decent budget, I suggest that I include half a dozen.’

  ‘Do that,’ Frank said. ‘The man has used that weapon and likes it . . . and our budget is open-ended.’ He said the last words knowing that Corkscrew Two, despite his business, was honest to the marrow of his bones. ‘Does moving those machines to Hong Kong within eight days present a problem?’

  He noticed the merest smile on the face of the man opposite.

  ‘None at all. I’ve been supplying arms to certain criminal gangs there and in southern China at an increasing rate for the last five years.’

  Frank stood up, realising that Corkscrew Two was probably the main arms supplier to the 14K.

  ‘Have you shipped any of those FNP90s in that direction lately?’

  ‘None at all,’ the Belgian said, also standing up. ‘And I give you my word that I won’t, until you let me know that your operation is over.’

  They shook hands and Frank headed back to the bar. Corkscrew Two went to the telephone.

  Tom Sawyer was punctual. He walked across the large room, glancing around, then moved up beside Frank and gave the bartender a nod. Again the bartender poured a glass of house wine. He passed it over and refilled Frank’s glass, Frank turned to look at the man. He was big and broad and as black as ebony. His real first name was Horatio, but from childhood he had been known as Tom. He had left his native Tennessee to join the Marines, but had quit after his first stint because he could not stomach the schoolboyish discipline. They carried their glasses over to the corner table and within a few minutes Frank had filled in the American on the events of the past few days. When he had finished, Tom Sawyer said, ‘It’s a pity about Michael. He was a good man. How’s Creasy taking it?’

  ‘He shows nothing. But I guess he’s hurting. One thing’s for sure — he wants that Tommy Mo’s ass. Are you in?’

  Tom Sawyer asked, ‘What’s the rest of the team so far?’

  Frank told him, and the American nodded, ‘Damn right, I’m in. I don’t have to ask you if the money’s good?’

  ‘It’s top of the range.’

  ‘You just started. We’ll be heading for Hong Kong in three or four days. Jens and The Owl are already there. In the meantime, you can help me here. I’m trying to track down Do Huang and Eric Laparte. The rumour is they’re in Panama City.’

  The big black man nodded.

  ‘The rumour’s correct. That old windbag Hansson passed through here last week. He came from Panama City, Apparently Do is working on a construction site, and Eric’s drinking himself to death.’

  ‘Can you get addresses for me?’

  ‘I can give you a contact in Panama City who can do that.’

  Chapter 39

  At about four o’clock in the morning, Lucy Kwok Ling Fong had a nightmare. In it, she was walking into her house in Hong Kong again and seeing her father, mother and brother hanging from their necks. She jerked awake in a cold sweat.

  It was a very hot sultry night and, although the windows were open and the ceiling fan turned above her, her whole body was wet. She got out of bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. She was about to slip under the shower, when she realised that she did not want to sleep again until the sun came up. It had always been like that, even as a child. Whenever she had a nightmare she had never been able to sleep until she had seen the sun. She decided to go to the kitchen, make herself a coffee and then have a swim.

  Five minutes later she was sitting by the pool, wrapped in a large towel, sipping at a mug of beautiful Italian coffee and waiting for sunrise. She glanced around the patio. There was a single light over the kitchen door. The pool lights had been switched off. She took off the towel and was naked. She walked down the steps into the pool and its cool water. She decided to swim ten lengths. The exercise soothed her mind. She swam in a breaststroke so as not to make much noise. After the ten lengths, she sat on the steps with water up to her waist. She could hear a dog barking in the village below, and then from the side of the pool, a voice said, ‘I have a beautiful Chinese mermaid in my pool.’

  Instinctively, her hands came up to cover her breasts. He was sitting in a canvas chair, with only a brightly-coloured sarong tied around his waist.

  ‘How long have you been sitting there?’ she asked.

  ‘About ten minutes,’ Creasy answered, I came out to have a swim and found a mermaid.’

  ‘You couldn’t sleep?’

  ‘No. And I guess you couldn’t, either.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I had a nightmare. And when that happens I have to wait for the sun to come up before I can sleep again.’

  His voice was soft but there was a harsh timbre to it.

  ‘What was your nightmare about?’

  ‘It was about my family.’

  ‘Are you all right now?’

  ‘Yes. I’m all right.’

  Suddenly Lucy realised that
during the conversation her hands had fallen away from her breasts. She noticed that his gaze was on them but she did not raise her hands again. She leaned back in the water, with her elbows on the upper step.

  She said, ‘When do you think we’ll be heading for Hong Kong?’

  ‘Frank called today. He managed to locate those two guys in Panama, so I’ll be going there tomorrow to check them over. Yourself, Mrs Manners and Rene will head to Hong Kong a couple of days later.’

  ‘So, take your swim.’

  He stood up, saying, ‘I’ve got to fetch my swimming trunks.’

  ‘Are you shy?’

  It was quite dark, but she saw the white of his teeth as he smiled.

  ‘I guess not.’

  Now she could see his body language. He dropped the sarong and she could see the body. He dived in.

  He stroked her, as though soothing a kitten which had been taken from its mother. Neither had consciously seduced the other. It had been as natural as a flower spreading its petals. They swam in the semi-darkness for several minutes and then sat on the steps and talked. She related, in detail, her nightmare and then abruptly broke down in tears. He put his arms around her shoulders, and held her close until her sobbing stopped.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, ‘I’ve tried to be strong, but some-times it’s difficult, especially at night. I wake up feeling like an orphan . . . which is what I am. You just happen to be here with a shoulder to cry on.’

  ‘No one is really an orphan if they have friends,’ Creasy answered.

  ‘I know. But even among friends I sometimes feel lonely.’

  ‘You won’t be lonely tonight,’ he said. ‘And you won’t wait for the sun to come up before you sleep. You’ll sleep in my bed, with your head against my shoulder. Nothing else needs to happen. If you have another nightmare, I’ll be there.’

  She suddenly realised that was exactly what she wanted: to be able to close her eyes and sleep and know there was somebody next to her. Somebody who could protect her against anything.