Samuel Edwards - Neptune

He heaved himself to his feet, grinned and extended his hand. ‘I never expected to see you again in this world,’ he said.

‘You’re getting fat, Tom. Too much easy living.’

The man in the gabardine suit was nervous. He’s armed, Mr Lee. You can see the bulge.’

‘What else is new?’ Lee waved his associates out of the room.

They hastened to obey.

Pulling his open-tailed sports shirt lower over his paunch, Lee went to a corner cabinet and filled two thimble-sized glasses with mao tai, a sorghum-based, 80%-proof liqueur made in mainland China. Handing one to his guest, he raised his own in a toast. ‘Here’s to crime.’

Porter hadn’t forgotten their old joke. ‘And corruption.’

Lee sipped his drink, then returned to his seat, ‘Still peddling cabbage?’

‘They have me managing some of the carts now. If I’m not careful they’ll give me a desk job, and that will be the end of me.’

‘Not with your will to survive, Porter.’

‘I try not to push my luck. Tom, I’m looking for a favour. Strictly personal, naturally.’

‘Of course.’

‘A girl I know has just arrived here from Hong Kong, and has passed the word that she wants to see me. It may not be healthy for her to stay in the clear, so she’s gone underground. And I can’t hang about for a week or so, just waiting for her.’

‘Particulars?’

‘Eurasian. Tall. Attractive. She’s been a starlet in a few films made in Hong Kong, and has done some others in Taipei. Earns pocket money on the side as an expensive call girl. There’s a photo of her in front of the movie house around the corner, so she must be playing a bit part in it. She’s the one with waist-length hair.’

Lee nodded and looked at his watch. ‘It’s now five o’clock. If she’s here we’ll deliver her to your hotel room in time for dinner. With my compliments.’

Mao tai was too strong for Porter’s taste, but it would have been rude to refuse, so he emptied his glass. There are complications. The world is full of baddies, and some of them may not want us to get together. I’d rather you take her to a safe spot and then send for me,’

‘Sure,’ Lee said, ‘but will she co-operate with me?’

Porter grinned. ‘Damned if I know, but I’ve heard it said you can be persuasive.’

The banalities and cliches of American television were too much for Porter, so he passed the time reading an inaccurate, romanticized history of the Corporation written by a former employee. Occasionally he glanced at the clock on the mantel over the imitation fireplace in his hotel room, and when the telephone rang he noted with satisfaction that it was 7.15 p.m. Tom Lee always kept his promises.

‘This is the hotel desk, Mr Porter. There’s a gentleman here to see you.’

‘Tell him I’ll be right down.’ Porter checked his Magnum, slipped his Lilliput into a jacket pocket and went down to the lobby.

The Chinese in the gabardine suit nodded curtly, then led him to a Jaguar limousine waiting at the main entrance,

‘Tell Lee I admire his taste in cars,’ Porter said as they settled in the back seat.

The man made no reply.

Porter was silent, too, and after noting that they were driving across the Bay to Oakland, he relaxed completely. It was a trick he had learned years earlier, when he had discovered that tension sapped a man’s strength, and at his age he had to conserve his energy.

When the car reached Oakland they drove to a new residential district on the outskirts of the city, where large houses were surrounded by several acres of lawn. Probably he was being taken to one of Tom Lee’s personal estates.

The driveway was long, and when the car pulled to a halt in front of a red brick Georgian house, the front door was opened by a Chinese houseboy. The effect of his traditional, pyjama-like uniform was spoiled by a pistol he wore in a shoulder holster.

The servant bowed, then conducted the visitor to a set of marble steps that led down to a sunken living-room.

The chamber resembled an indoor jungle, and Porter paused to appreciate it. There were several palm trees, a ten-foot high grapefruit tree bearing fruit, and ferns of many varieties in large, lacquered pots. A tiny waterfall fed a pond in which goldfish were swimming, and soft music was being piped into the room through hidden stereo speakers. The overall effect was far more pleasant than anything he had seen in Franklin Richards’ mansions.

A girl with blue-black hair hanging loosely to her waist was curled up in a chair, staring morosely into an adjoining porch that was also filled with plants. She wore a shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist, jeans and shoes with high platform soles, and she looked out of place in the elegant surroundings.

Porter descended the steps. ‘Waiting for someone?’

Nancy Wing jerked around at the sound of his voice, then leaped to her feet. ‘It’s really you!’

He embraced and kissed her, and when she pressed close he did what was expected of him by letting his hands roam. At last he released her.

‘They told me you’d join me, but I didn’t believe them. They came for me at a horrid little furnished flat I’d taken by the day, and they wouldn’t explain how they’d found me or knew me. I was frightened to death.’

It would take a great deal more than that to frighten her, Porter thought. ‘We’ll celebrate our reunion with a drink,’ he said, and went to a well-stocked bar, where he poured a Scotch for her and a bourbon for himself.

The Eurasian girl kept a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do these people work for you, and whose house—’

‘You ask too many questions,’ Porter said, ‘but I see no harm in telling you the truth. No, they don’t work for or with me, and this place belongs to an old friend of mine.’

She didn’t believe him, but that was unimportant, and settling close to him on a long divan, she took his tobacco pouch and papers from his pocket and rolled herself a cigarette.

She was damned clever, he thought. He had shown her how to make a cigarette at their last meeting, and she had picked up the knack with ease. ‘I heard you were looking for me.’

‘I called your office here from the airport as soon as I landed because I didn’t know any other way to get in touch with you. I came because I’ve missed you, darling.’ She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He was amused. ‘Liar.’

Nancy Wing sat upright, a hurt expression in her mascara-fringed eyes.

‘One reason you came here – and went straight into hiding -is because Hong Kong isn’t healthy for you, and neither is Taipei. Comrade Andropov has a long reach, and he’s inclined to become a bit upset when he thinks someone on his payroll intends to sell him out. And one of the reasons you came all the way across the Pacific to me is because I’m one of the few people you know who might be able to offer you protection.’

She sipped her drink, took a deep drag on her cigarette and stared at the plants on the porch. ‘I should have realized,’ she murmured. ‘You knew in Hong Kong that I was working for the KGB. But how you learned I was planning to leave them—’

‘Oh, I have my sources, but it doesn’t really matter.’

‘Quite right.’ She leaned against him, again placing her head on his shoulder, and stretched out on the divan.

He had to give her credit, she used her sex appeal with more artistry than any agent he had ever encountered. ‘Don’t tell me it was pure love that brought you half-way around the world.’

‘Love. And something else. I hope your people will be willing to pay for the information you wanted to pry out of me in Hong Kong.’

‘I’ll check on that, but I’m fairly confident we can make a deal you’ll accept.’