Mr. Moto Omnibus

by John P. Marquand

  “That’s my business,” Calvin answered.

  Captain Hamby chuckled softly; he did not appear to be offended.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Don’t be so touchy, Gates. You’re talking the way I like a man to talk. Right in my own language. You tell me what Moto wants, and I’ll know if it’s the truth or not, no fear. And if it is the truth—” Captain Hamby grinned and held out his hand. “I’ll do what you want, word of honor, Gates. You’ll see Gilbreth, and Miss Dillaway will be put in Gilbreth’s care, and you’ll come up along with me, and everything is fine. I know how to keep a promise, Gates, no fear. Now what does Moto want? Shake hands.”

  Their hands met and Captain Hamby’s grasp was firm and hard.

  “No fear, Gates,” Captain Hamby said.

  “All right,” said Calvin Gates, “I’m going to trust you, Hamby. Mr. Moto’s after you.”

  Captain Hamby rubbed the palms of his hands carefully on the sides of his coat.

  “Is that a fact?” he said.

  “He wants to get you to the China Hotel,” Calvin said. “He wanted me to make it clear to you that he’s alone there, but I don’t believe it. He’s after something, Hamby. He’s able to run the whole Japanese army if he wants. I’ve seen him give orders to a general.”

  Captain Hamby swung back and forth on his heels. “Smile,” he hummed, “smile, smile.” And Calvin felt his eyes move over him, examining his clothes and his hands and feet.

  “I don’t want to be a party to a murder,” Calvin said. “Moto’s strong on liquidation, Hamby.”

  Captain Hamby teetered from his toes to his heels and back.

  “Damned considerate of you,” Captain Hamby said. “My word, I’d never thought of that. Are you telling me he’s out from Tokyo and that he’s giving orders to the army? My word, I’ve seen him do that once before. Has he got papers on him? Tell me what you saw, Gates.”

  Calvin told him while Captain Hamby teetered on his heels and listened.

  “My word,” said Captain Hamby, “he’s got full powers, has he?” He stopped and began humming his favorite tune. “What’s the use of worrying,” Captain Hamby hummed, “it never was worthwhile . . . My word, you’re selling out too cheap. You’re either a fool or a damned liar, Gates.”

  “You can take your choice,” Calvin answered.

  “I will,” said Captain Hamby. “You’ll get what you want if it’s true. Just step along with me now. Just keep smiling.” Captain Hamby linked his arm through Calvin’s. “Don’t get jumpy, Gates.”

  “Well,” said Calvin, “where are we going?”

  “My word,” said Captain Hamby, “no need to be so curious. You’ve been so deuced interesting that I want you to meet more company. Mr. Holtz and the Prince are over yonder. What you have said may change things quite a bit. Now don’t get jumpy, Gates.”

  “What Prince?” asked Calvin Gates.

  They were walking toward a brightly lighted building not far from the one they had left and Captain Hamby’s hand tightened on Calvin’s arm.

  “No end obliged to you,” he said, “for telling me all this. Puts a fascinating new complexion on matters. What Prince? My dear esteemed patron, Prince Wu of Ghuru Nor. He just came in last night to meet me. You saw some of his laddies by the gate eating mutton. Jolly sort of fellow, the Prince, the sharpest trader I ever knew. Steady’s the word for it. Take things as they come and smile.”

  “Where’s Miss Dillaway?” asked Calvin Gates.

  “She’s all right,” said Captain Hamby, “right as rain. Don’t get jumpy, Gates.”

  17

  SOMEONE IN front of the doorway called out sharply, and when the Captain answered a Mongol carrying a rifle stepped out from the shadows.

  “The Prince’s guard,” said Captain Hamby, “one of my boys. Never seen better soldiers. Well, here’s Holtzy’s house. Does himself rather well. No need of knocking, not a bit of need.”

  The house was one of those uncompromising, English bungalows, the architectural qualities of which do not vary much, no matter in what part of the world one finds them. Captain Hamby led him into a broad living room furnished with a number of comfortable chairs. He had a glimpse of a table covered with magazines, and of a wall covered with photographs. The room and its furnishings, all so familiar and commonplace, made the people in it the more remarkable. Seated in an oak mission chair, beside a table with a lamp upon it, was a middle-aged man whose whole appearance marked him as an exalted person. His hair was done up tight in a grayish black queue. His cheekbones were high and his dark brown eyes were so narrow that they seemed to be creased in a smile when he was not smiling. His cheeks were gaunt and sunken and a long thin, grayish moustache curled delicately past the corners of a proud, thin mouth. There was no doubt that Calvin was looking at the prince of Ghuru Nor. He was in a gown of turquoise blue, and the pointed toes of his high boots curved upward. He sat erect with a hand resting on each knee, like an ancestral portrait from the Manchu dynasty. Behind his chair were two Mongols, each leaning on a rifle, and a third, a thin pockmarked young man, crouched on his heels at the Prince’s right. Mr. Holtz, still in his shirt sleeves, was seated nearby drinking a glass of beer, and at the other end of the room four or five more of the Prince’s retinue were standing: shiny-faced, glossy-haired young men, leaning on their rifles; but these were not all.

  A man in white, seated in a chair near the Prince, had turned to look when the door had opened, and Calvin Gates remembered his face. It was Major Ahara with the saber scars upon his cheek. Major Ahara’s heavy mouth had fallen open, and he was starting to rise from his chair.

  “Sit down, Major,” Captain Hamby said. “Surprised to see this gentleman, aren’t you? Your Excellency—this is the American of whom I told you.”

  The Prince’s eyes moved toward Calvin Gates and he nodded.

  “I speak English,” he said very slowly. “It is all we here can speak together. You go to join Dr. Gilbreth—he did not speak of you.”

  The slow voice stopped, but not long enough to allow Calvin to answer.

  “What is it you want?” the Prince said to Captain Hamby. “We have been waiting.”

  “Your Highness.” The Captain spoke both respectfully and familiarly, like a trusted advisor. “The matter of the cigarette case, Your Highness—it is my advice not to sell it yet.”

  Major Ahara was leaning forward in his chair listening.

  “This Japanese officer has made us a generous offer for it,” the Captain went on, “but a situation has arisen. This American has come from Mr. Moto. We must be careful, Your Highness. Mr. Moto is above the army.”

  The blank expression of the Prince showed plainly that his command of English was not good. He did not understand, but the Japanese major understood, and something in the careful speech caused him to jump to his feet.

  “That is not so,” the Major cried. “Moto has nothing to do with this, nothing to do with the army!”

  Captain Hamby turned on him quickly and spoke in his loud, unmusical voice.

  “Sit down,” he said. “You Japanese are all alike, always so damn clever. You came here to buy that cigarette case. You flew here from Peiping. We didn’t ask you here. Sit down and keep still.”

  Captain Hamby turned towards Mr. Holtz, who had set his glass of beer upon the floor, and jerked his thumb toward Calvin Gates.

  “Holtz, you’ve got sense,” Captain Hamby said. “This man, Gates, Moto sent him. Moto—the one who was here before—and he’s in the China Hotel. Well, I’m going out to find him. Moto’s been sent direct from Tokyo to give the order to the army. My word he has—and we can’t let this go.”

  Mr. Holtz pursed his lips.

  “These Japanese,” he said. “My dear friend, it is a trap—perhaps.”

  Captain Hamby grinned.

  “It won’t be a trap,” he said, “if I bring a handful of my boys.”

  Mr. Holtz rubbed his hand across his mouth.

  “You don’t ev
er stop, my friend,” he said, “when there’s money.”

  “Righto,” said Captain Hamby. “Too right.” He whirled around to Calvin Gates. “He was alone, last you saw of him, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes,” said Calvin Gates, “he was alone.”

  “My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “I should be careful. Why should our dear friend Mr. Gates be here with such a story?”

  Captain Hamby grinned.

  “Because Moto couldn’t come here himself,” he answered. “Bloodthirsty devils, the Japanese. Like as not Moto knows he’d be assassinated if he showed his nose in the street. It’s their army and their conservatives fighting. Subtle little beggars, the Japanese, always doing things hind end before. He doesn’t want Ahara to get that cigarette case. My word, Moto’s got some scheme.”

  Major Ahara pulled himself out of his chair a second time.

  “It has nothing to do with the present situation,” Major Ahara said. “Mr. Moto is a very bad man, very dangerous. Remember, if you please, the Japanese army will control this country in a very little while. The Prince will do well to respect the Japanese army. It will be better for everyone. I am offering a price for that cigarette case—ten thousand dollars gold—and a further sum for immediate occupation of Ghuru Nor—”

  Captain Hamby’s grin grew broader. He was evidently enjoying the situation, and the blank expression of the Prince, the sly watchfulness of Mr. Holtz. He was reading something between the lines and Calvin was more sure than ever that Hamby was no fool.

  “You’re offering money because you couldn’t get it any other way,” Captain Hamby said. “My word, you tried.”

  The Major’s face twisted with a sudden spasm of temper. Although he controlled his facial muscles, his eyes were glowing.

  “It will be better for you to take my offer,” he said. “There are other things that I may do.”

  “Is that a threat?” Captain Hamby asked.

  “Yes,” the Major said in his guttural English, “that is a threat.”

  Captain Hamby laughed.

  “My word,” he said, “you Japanese johnnies are getting insolent. You’re talking to a white man, Major—to an army officer, and a damned sight better one than you’ll ever be. I don’t give sixpence halfpenny for your army. Maybe we’ll sell you that cigarette case and maybe we won’t. Sit down, Major. We haven’t talked to Russia yet.”

  Major Ahara did not sit down.

  “I shall leave here at once,” he said.

  “Oh no you won’t,” said Captain Hamby. “You’ll sit down and take it easy, Major.”

  The Major glanced about the room, shrugged his shoulders and sat down, but his eyes never left Captain Hamby’s face.

  “You are making a very great mistake,” he said. “You insult the Japanese army.”

  Captain Hamby did not appear impressed; neither did the Prince, who still sat with his clawlike hands resting on his turquoise knees, nor Mr. Holtz who had folded his hands across his stomach.

  “To hell with the Japanese army,” Captain Hamby said. “Two Russian army corps would whip you.”

  Mr. Holtz raised a hand and dropped it limply on his knee.

  “My dear friend,” he said, “there is no reason to be insulting. Major Ahara is a nice gentleman. He has offered as a sum of money, not much, but he may offer more, and you are keeping us all waiting. What is it that you wish to do?”

  Captain Hamby stepped up to Mr. Holtz and leaned over his chair.

  “We don’t go ahead,” said Captain Hamby slowly, “until I see Moto.”

  “My friend!” expostulated Mr. Holtz.

  “Wait a minute,” said Captain Hamby. “Listen to me.” And he leaned forward and whispered.

  The whisper made the heavy body of Mr. Holtz grow taut and his eyes move forward through the wrinkles in his face like a crab’s.

  “My friend,” said Mr. Holtz, “I never thought of that. No, you never stop where there is money. You had better tell the Prince.”

  “I’ll tell him,” said Captain Hamby. “His Highness is a sporting gentleman.”

  Then Captain Hamby spoke to the Prince in a tongue which was neither Chinese nor Japanese and the Prince answered in sharp interrogation. Captain Hamby looked back at Mr. Holtz.

  “I told you,” he said, “His Highness was a sporting gentleman.”

  Mr. Holtz moved restlessly and the chair creaked beneath his weight.

  “I do not like it, Captain Hamby. Why do you trust our dear friend, Mr. Gates? Why do you think he tells the truth?”

  Until his name was mentioned, Calvin had not realized how absorbed he had been. He had been trying hard to piece together what was behind the words.

  “I’ll take a chance on his telling the truth,” Captain Hamby said. “Moto’s alone at the China Hotel, isn’t that right, Gates?”

  “I told you he was,” said Calvin Gates, “and I told you it’s a trap.”

  “That’s fine,” said Captain Hamby, “that’s just fine. You wouldn’t be fooling me, would you, Gates? I’m depending a lot on your word. I’m going up to the China Hotel, and if I’m not back here in an hour, you’re going to be shot.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Calvin Gates.

  Captain Hamby looked at him hard.

  “If I’m not back here in an hour it will mean you haven’t told the truth, and you’re going to be shot. We haven’t time to be gentle tonight.”

  Calvin Gates glanced across the room and met the Prince’s smiling eyes.

  “Are you trying to frighten me?” Calvin asked.

  “My word no,” said Captain Hamby, “I’m just giving you the facts. You’re in the middle of a serious business conference. The Prince is trying to decide whether to sell out to Russia or Japan. If I don’t come back you won’t be alive to know it. Anything you want to say? It’s a fair proposition, isn’t it?”

  “And suppose you do come back?” said Calvin Gates.

  Captain Hamby laughed.

  “That’s the way to talk,” he said. “I’ve always liked you, Gates. My word, if I come back, you won’t lose. The Prince will give you a cut-in, and I’ll let you out to see the fun and I’ll keep my promise. You only have to wait an hour.” The Prince had pushed himself out of his chair and was standing, a gaunt, oldish man in a silk gown, leaning an arm on the shoulder of the attendant who had crouched beside him.

  “Easy,” said Captain Hamby, “don’t get jumpy, Gates. I don’t want to see Mr. Moto. I want to bring him here alive, and I’ll get him if you’ve been accurate. Anything you want to say?”

  Calvin Gates did not answer. Major Ahara shouted something and two of the Prince’s guard seized him by the shoulders and pushed him back into his chair. The Prince called out an order and two more of the oily-faced men walked toward Calvin Gates.

  “Take it easy, Gates,” said Captain Hamby. “They’re only going to lock you up. Take it easy, Gates.”

  Hands were on his arms and he was being pushed towards the door.

  “While you’ve a lucifer to light your fag,” Captain Hamby was humming, “smile, smile, smile.”

  Captain Hamby’s humming stopped and his voice made the two guards who were escorting Calvin pause curiously.

  “Just one thing while I’m gone, Holtz,” Captain Hamby said. “You’d better get General Shirov and test the wireless. Tell Shirov we’ve got two Japanese. We’ll have to settle this tonight.”

  A hoarse cry from Major Ahara interrupted him.

  “You will not dare to do this,” the Major shouted. “I will not stay here to face a Russian. You gave your word that this would be confidential.”

  “Well, well,” said Captain Hamby and he looked both surprised and hurt. “Haven’t you Japanese ever broken your words? You’re talking to Captain Sam Hamby, who is negotiating for Prince Wu of Ghuru Nor. The Prince knows that he has to sell out to the wrong party and have his land overrun by the other party’s army. We’re going to get this matter settled once for all, right her
e tonight. We don’t want any mistakes.”

  “There will be no mistake,” said Major Ahara earnestly. “When I leave here I can assure you that orders will be given to occupy Ghuru Nor.”

  “That’s fine,” said Captain Hamby, “fine—when you leave here.”

  If Major Ahara made any response, Calvin Gates did not hear it, because his guards led him out of doors. Both of his arms were gripped tight, but the guards were not rough. He walked silently between them across a corner of the compound toward one of the warehouses which were built against the wall.

  He was thinking of what Captain Hamby had said—that anything could happen in China; and now he was sure of it. If he had not seen it he would not have believed it possible that Captain Hamby or anyone else would dare to make such an attempt. It had the effrontery of banditry and the skill of diplomacy. Captain Hamby and the Prince of Ghuru Nor had made the camel compound into a small armed camp with Mr. Holtz to help them, and now in that temporary security they were estimating with whom it might be safer to deal, with Russia or Japan. A feeble Mongol chieftain was balancing two great powers, one against the other, a dangerous enough game and Calvin admired the Captain’s skill. Undoubtedly he had been negotiating with both those powers, and now he was holding that cigarette case before them, watching as they both reached towards it. Calvin would have enjoyed that game of wits if he were not involved in it, but the guards walking beside him and the aura of grease and smoke which came from them reminded him that he was not a spectator, but a hostage for Captain Hamby’s safety. Although it would do no good to kill him, there was a primitive sort of justice about the idea which would appeal to the Prince of Ghuru Nor.

  They were leading him toward the closed door of a warehouse where a sentry stood with a rifle. One of his guards spoke a word of explanation. Then the door was shoved open a crack and Calvin Gates was pushed into an empty barnlike room, lighted with a single horn lantern which hung from the rafters. As the door slammed shut behind him he had an impression of a dry, strong smell of wool and of half-cured hides. He blinked for a moment at the feeble yellow light before he realized that he was not alone, and then he saw that he had nearly reached the end of his journey. He blinked again and cleared his throat. “Hello, Dillaway,” he said.