James Chase - A Coffin from Hong Kong

“What happens after the walk and the drive?” I asked.

He grinned at me.

“You’ll find out. Up on your feet, pal, and watch it.”

I stood up as he backed to the door. He opened it and stood aside.

“The night boy won’t help you. He works for me, so don t act foolish,” Enright said. “We’ll walk down the stairs. There’s another of my boys in the lobby. Just keep moving if you want to keep alive.”

We went out into the passage. Enright had put the gun in his pocket, his hand gripping the gun. The night boy grinned at me as we walked to the head of the stairs.

“Go on down,” Enright said. “I’m right behind you.”

I plodded down four flights of stairs and into the big lobby.

It was strangely deserted. Only two men sat in lounging chairs. One of them was Sergeant Hamish. The other had cop written all over him. I hadn’t seen him before. I took one look at them and then flung myself face down on the plush carpet a split second before a gun roared behind me. I lay there, my heart hammering as more gunfire crashed above me.

After a while, a shoe prodded me.

“You can get up,” Hamish said.

I rolled over and looked up at him, then I got slowly to my feet. Enright was lying on his back, blood running from a wound in his face His jacket was smoking. A second look at him told me he was dead.

“Did you have to kill him?” I asked.

“If I hadn’t he would have killed you,” Hamish said indifferently. “Maybe he would even have killed me.”

“There are others and the night boy on the fourth floor is one of them.”

The other cop started for the elevator as Hamish said, “We’ve bagged the others. Who was the woman who telephoned us?”

I looked blankly at him.

“Was there a woman?”

“How the hell should we be here if she hadn’t told us what was going on?” Hamish said irritably. “A woman telephoned. Who was she?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “Maybe one of my fans.”

Half a dozen Chinese policemen came into the lobby. Hamish spoke to them, then jerked his head at me.

“Come on,” he said. “You’ll have to talk to the Chief Inspector.”

As the Chinese policemen were gathering up what was left of Enright, Hamish and I went out to the waiting jeep.

I remained in a room at police headquarters for more than three hours. It had a couch in it and I slept. Around four o’clock in the morning, Hamish, looking bleak and tired, shook me awake.

“Come on,” he said.

I groaned, aware my head was still aching, and sat up.

“What’s cooking now?” I asked.

“The Chief Inspector is ready to talk to you. Why should you be the only one to sleep?”

MacCarthy was puffing away at his pipe, a cup of tea within reach. A police officer put a cup of tea by me as I eased myself stiffly onto the upright chair. Hamish, struggling with a yawn, lolled against the wall.

“The marine police picked up a man trying to get away in Enright’s speedboat,” MacCarthy said. “We had some trouble with him, but he’s finally let the cat out of the bag.”

“An American?”

“Chinese… he comes from Canton. As you’re working on the Jefferson case I thought I’d fill you in.”

“Thanks. Has Jefferson been found yet?”

“He was fished out of the bay about half an hour ago,” MacCarthy said and grimaced. “I bet he wished he had died the first time. They certainly roughed him up before they killed him. We now have the facts of the case clear. The way I see it is this: ever since Jefferson arrived here he has been living on the immoral earnings of this girl, Jo-An. I don’t know why he eventually married her unless it was to stop her mouth, but anyway, he married her a few weeks after he first met Frank Belling who, as I told you, was one of the chief operators in this drug smuggling racket. Belling had this villa at Repulse Bay, rented from Lin Fan. Whether Lin Fan had any idea how the villa was being used is something I don’t know, but I intend to find out if I can. The villa was convenient for landing consignments of drugs. There was a harbour, a speedboat, and it was isolated. But things began to get too hot for Belling. We were getting a warrant for his arrest. He was tipped off that we were closing in on him and he decided to skip to Canton until things cooled off. But someone had to be at the villa to take care of the delivery of drugs. He persuaded Jefferson to go there. Not that Jefferson would have needed much persuasion. By going there, he would be living in luxury. He walked out on Jo-An and moved into the villa. Belling went to Canton. An arrangement was made to bring in over two thousand ounces of heroin. Belling came to the villa by night to explain to Jefferson how the delivery was to be made. That amount of heroin is worth a fortune in the right hands. Jefferson began to wonder if he could steal it, but he didn’t know how to get rid of it once he had it, and he was also scared the organisation would catch him. However fate, if you like to call it that, played into his hands. The heroin arrived and was stored in the villa. Belling and Jefferson drove out to Lecky Pass which is a jumping-off place into Canton. On the way, there was an accident and Belling was killed. Jefferson saw his chance. He put his ring on Selling’s finger, planted his cigarette case in Selling’s pocket and then set fire to the car. The scene of the accident was a lonely spot and the time was four o’clock in the morning, so no one disturbed Jefferson. He got back to the villa by stealing a bicycle and he removed the heroin which he took possibly to the Celestial Empire Hotel. I’m talking more or less off the cuff now, but I am sure he persuaded his wife to identify Selling’s body as his. Then he went into hiding in the walled City of Kowloon.”

“Why did he do that?” I asked.

“This was a rushed job. The opportunity presented itself and he grabbed at it, but he found he was stuck with it. The organisation was quick off the mark. As soon as the accident was reported they sent one of their men to the villa to find the heroin had vanished. Naturally, they thought Belling had hijacked the consignment and they began searching for him. This was a piece of luck for Jefferson. So long as the organisation thought Belling was their man, Jefferson was in the clear. But he had to get out of Hong Kong. This he found impossible. He was supposed to be dead and he hadn’t the means of laying his hands on a false passport. So he was stuck.”

“And the heroin?” I asked.

MacCarthy frowned.

“I have an idea we’ll never find it. It’s my bet from the state of Jefferson’s body when we found him, they had persuaded him to tell them where he had hidden it.”

“What puzzles me is why Jo-An took the trouble to take Betting’s body back to Jefferson’s father,” I said.

“She had to get out of Hong Kong. She had no money. By bringing the body back, she got the fare from old man Jefferson,” MacCarthy said.

“Yeah… I guess that’s right. How about Wong?”

“He was one of them of course and he made the mistake of throwing in with Jefferson.”

“He was there to meet me at the airport. How did he know I was coming? He must have been tipped off by someone-but who? When I used him as an interpreter, he led me right up the garden path. His job was obviously to keep me away from Jefferson and he nearly succeeded. If it hadn’t been for Leila we would never have got onto Enright.”

“Will Jefferson want the body sent back?”

“I guess so. I’ll see Wilcox at the American Consulate and fix up the necessary papers. Has Wong’s body been found?”

“We’re still fishing for him. This Chinese we caught said both bodies were jumped in the same place.”