Jack Higgins - Sad Wind from the Sea

The Russian’s face broke into a radiant smile and he stood up and formally clicked his heels. ‘Ah, so we can do business? My name is Kossoff, Captain Hagen.’ He extended his hand formally and then went on, ‘My principals will pay you the agreed sum of money if you will lead them to the position of a certain boat which sank, I believe, somewhere in the vicinity of the Kwai Marshes.’

Hagen put back his head and laughed. ‘What do you take me for?’ he said.

Kossoff smiled thinly. ‘I take you for many things, Captain, for you have been many things to many people. British naval lieutenant, American naval commander. How do you like your new role as protector of innocence?’

It was with difficulty that Hagen held himself in check. He said calmly: ‘Your proposition stinks. Why should I tell you where the boat is for a paltry twenty thousand when I can get the gold myself?’

Kossoff squinted along his cane. ‘Ah, but can you, Captain? I think not. In the first place you must raise the money necessary to retrieve your boat. Have you had any success, by the way? Secondly, you must leave Macao and enter the Kwai Marshes without being observed. An impossibility, my dear sir.’ He smiled charmingly. ‘However, as I cannot do business with you I must of necessity pay a call on Miss Graham, Women, I find, are so much more co-operative.’

Hagen was on him before he reached the door. He grabbed him by the lapels and twisted the collar about his neck until the little black eyes protruded. ‘You dirty little rat,’ he cried. ‘If you lay a finger on that kid I’ll—’ Instinct made him jerk his head to one side as he sensed a presence behind him. A leather, shot-filled sap grazed his shoulder and he jerked Kossoff round and into his assailant.

They must have been waiting on the balcony, he thought, as he turned to meet them. There were two of them, flat-faced Mongolians, not as big as Lee but large enough. He ducked under the arm of the nearest one, dug his right fist into the man’s belly, and vaulted over the bed.

For a moment there was quiet, the lull before the storm. One of the men sat Kossoff in a chair and gave him a glass of water while the other faced Hagen across the bed, the leather sap twitching nervously in his hand. Finally Kossoff became articulate again. He fingered his throat gingerly with one hand and then pointed at Hagen and said softly in Cantonese: ‘Beat him. Beat him but do not kill him.’

Hagen decided he had waited long enough. From the look of them Kossoff’s apes would draw a very thin line between a beating and a killing. He gripped the edge of the blankets and, as he lifted them, sprang on to the bed. His hands spread and he threw the blankets as a fisherman casts his net, so that they enveloped Kossoff and the man who was standing beside him. Almost in the same motion he jumped feet foremost at the other man. The force of that terrific blow sent the Mongolian backwards, through the window and on to the balcony.

Hagen landed on his forearms in the classic Judo manner and twisted to face the other thug. In his effort to avoid the blankets the man had stepped back and fallen over Kossoff’s chair bringing them both to the floor. As he cast the blankets aside and started to get up, Hagen kicked him in the face as he would have kicked a football, beautifully judged and timed.

Hagen stood breathing heavily as Kossoff scrambled to his feet and backed to the door. He pushed past the Russian, wrenched open the door and dragged the unconscious Mongolian outside. At the same moment the other man appeared from the balcony. He was doubled over in agony and there was blood oozing from his mouth. Hagen gestured fiercely and the man passed him and staggered along the corridor. They all went downstairs in procession, Hagen bringing up the rear dragging the unconscious man by the collar. The clerk pretended to be extremely busy as they crossed the hall.

On the other side of the narrow street there was parked a large American limousine that somehow looked familiar. The one who was still able to walk opened the door and Hagen bundled the other inside. As he straightened up he suddenly felt a slight prick as something needle-sharp nudged into his back. ‘I underestimated you, Captain Hagen,’ Kossoff said. ‘A Judo expert. I must be more careful in the future. However, I win the trick, I think?’

‘By one point,’ Hagen said, bitterly.

The pressure was removed and he turned to find Kossoff replacing two feet of wicked-looking steel in the Malacca cane. Suddenly Hagen felt utterly weary and deflated. The little street was empty and quiet. Through the darkness he could see traffic passing at the far end but somehow it seemed unreal and very far away. Even the sounds were subdued and meaningless. Kossoff said: ‘You are surprised that I do not kill you? Allow me to explain. As I told you, I have not been to Moscow for ten years. The point is, Captain, that I do not intend to return to Russia at all if I can avoid it. I have what you would call a ‘plum’ job in China. I live very well indeed but my standard of living is threatened, Captain, and by you. The party is harsh with failures. If I do not get that gold I may very easily be recalled to explain my failure. However, I do not intend to fail.’ He adjusted his tie and the angle of his panama. ‘I give you two days in which to consider my proposition.’

Hagen decided that it would be pointless to tell him to go to hell. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Kossoff got behind the wheel and said: ‘My poor fellows. You were really extremely rough with them, Captain. Thank you for delivering them to the car. That’s what I call service.’

‘Go to hell,’ Hagen told him. ‘I only did it to keep the police out of this.’

‘In two days, my friend.’ The car slid away from the kerb and Hagen turned wearily and went back into the hotel.

He had a shower and changed and then came downstairs. He told the clerk to get someone to clean his room and that if anyone wanted him to say he had gone out for a drink. The clerk bobbed his head and Hagen went out of the front door. He stood outside for perhaps a full minute and then quickly went back into the hall. The clerk was speaking into the telephone. ‘He has just left for the evening. I think—’

Hagen lifted the flap and stepped behind the desk. As the man backed away from him he grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled out the automatic with his free hand. He slammed the barrel twice against the man’s face and the heavy metal opened a jagged groove down his right cheek. The man collapsed across the top of the desk, moaning bitterly, and Hagen said: ‘I don’t like snoopers. You’d better not be here when I get back.’ He turned and left the hotel.

He walked to Clara Boydell’s place, twisting and turning through back streets and stopping many times to see that he wasn’t followed. When he reached the house it was a blaze of lights and there were many cars parked outside—some with diplomatic plates. He let himself in by the front door. The gaming tables that Clara ran on the ground floor were doing a roaring trade, and he could see her standing in the lounge talking animatedly to a group of distinguished-looking gentlemen. He went upstairs and asked a passing maid to show him to Rose’s room.

The room was in darkness. A shaft of yellow light shone through the window from a lamp outside. The girl was lying under a mosquito net and he was unable to see her clearly, only to get a vague impression of rounded limbs and blue-black hair spread across the pillow. Faintly in the distance he heard a snatch of laughter and then the sad, sweet strains of a clarinet as the band started to play. Very quietly he tip-toed from the room.

He was tired when he reached his hotel. There was a smart-looking Chinese girl at the desk now. He asked her where the man was and she said that he’d left in a hurry. Her uncle, who was the proprietor, had been compelled to ask her to come at very short notice. It was really most inconvenient. Hagen agreed with her and went up to his room. Suddenly he was more tired than he had been in a long, long time. He flung himself down on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling and after a while it moved a little and then he was asleep.