jamesclavell.noblehouse-第143章

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ant　drink？〃　he　said　instead；　hiding　that　he　could　speak　Cantonese。
　〃Scottish；　Scottish；〃　the　child　called　out　imperiously。
　〃Why　not　get　tea　and　I'll　give　you　the　money　anyway；〃　he　said　sourly。
　〃Fornicate　all　gods　and　the　mothers　of　gods　I　not　a　cheater！〃　Haughtily　the　child　offered　the　grimy　glass　the　waiter　had　slapped　down。　It　did　contain　cheap　but　real　whiskey。　She　drained　it　without　a　grimace。　〃Waiter！　Another　Scottish　and　another　beer！　You　drink；　I　drink；　then　we　jig…jig。〃
　Armstrong　looked　at　her。　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃Lily。　Lily　Chop。　Twenty…five　dollars　short　time。〃
　〃How　old　are　you？〃
　〃Old。　How　old　you？〃
　〃Nineteen。〃
　〃Huh；　coppers　always　lie！〃
　〃How'd　you　know　I'm　a　copper？〃
　〃Boss　tell　me。　Only　twenty　dollar；　heya？〃
　〃Who's　the　boss？　Which　one's　he？〃
　〃She。　Behind　the　bar。　She　mama…san。〃
　Armstrong　peered　through　the　smoke。　The　woman　was　lean　and　scrawny　and　in　her　fifties；　sweating　and　working　hard；　keeping　up　a　running　vulgar　banter　with　the　sailors　as　she　filled　the　orders。　〃How'd　she　know　I　was　a　copper？〃
　Again　Lily　shrugged。　〃Listen；　she　tell　me　keep　you　happy　or　I　out　in　street。　We　go　upstairs　now；　heya？　On　house；　no　twenty　dollar。〃　The　child　got　up。　He　could　see　her　fear　now。
　〃Sit　down；〃　he　ordered。
　She　sat；　even　more　afraid。　〃If　I　not　pleeze　she　throw　m…　〃
　〃You　please　me。〃　Armstrong　sighed。　It　was　an　old　ploy。　If　you　went；　you　paid；　if　you　didn't　go；　you　paid　and　the　boss　always　sent　a　young　one。　He　passed　over　fifty　dollars。　〃Here。　Go　and　give　it　to　the　mama…san　with　my　thanks。　Tell　her　I　can't　jig…jig　now　because　I've　got　my　monthly！　Honorable　Red's　with　me。〃
　Lily　gawked　at　him　then　cackled　like　an　old　woman。　〃Eeeee；　fornicate　all　gods　that's　a　good　one！〃　She　went　off；　hard　put　to　walk　on　her　high　heels；　her　brassy　chong…sam　slit　very　high；　showing　her　thin；　very　thin　legs　and　buttocks。
　Armstrong　finished　his　beer；　paid　his　bill　and　got　to　his　feet。　At　once　his　table　was　claimed　and　he　pushed　through　the　sweating；　shouting　sailors　for　the　door。
　〃You　wele　anytime；〃　the　mama…san　called　out　as　he　passed　her。
　〃Sure；〃　he　called　back　without　malice。
　The　rain　was　just　a　thin　drizzle　now　and　the　day　growing　dark。　On　the　street　were　many　more　raucous　sailors；　all　of　them　American　…　British　sailors　had　been　ordered　out　of　this　area　for　the　first　few　days　by　their　captains。　His　skin　felt　wet　and　hot　under　his　raincoat。　In　a　moment　he　left　Gloucester　Road　and　the　waterfront　and　strolled　through　the　crowds　up　O'Brien　Road；　splashing　through　the　puddles；　the　city　smelling　good　and　clean　and　washed。　At　the　corner　he　turned　into　Lochart　Road　and　at　length　found　the　alley　he　sought。　It　was　busy；　as　usual；　with　street　stalls　and　shops　and　scrawny　dogs；　chickens　packed　into　cages；　dried　fried　ducks　and　meats　hanging　from　hooks；　vegetables　and　fruits。　Just　inside　the　mouth　of　the　alley　was　a　small　stall　with　stools　under　a　canvas　overhang　to　keep　off　the　drizzle。　He　nodded　at　the　owner；　chose　a　shadowed　corner；　ordered　a　bowl　of　Singapore　noodles　…　fine；　lightly　fried　vermicelli…like　noodles；　dry；　with　chili　and　spices　and　chopped　shrimps　and　fresh　vegetables　…　and　began　to　wait。
　Brian　Kwok。
　Always　back　to　Brian　Kwok。
　And　always　back　to　the　40；000　in　used　notes　that　he　had　found　in　his　desk　drawer；　the　one　he　always　kept　locked。
　Concentrate；　he　told　himself；　or　you'll　slip。　You'll　make　a　mistake。　You　can't　afford　a　mistake！
　He　was　weary　and　felt　an　overpowering　dirtiness　that　soap　and　hot　water　would　not　cleanse　away。　With　an　effort　he　forced　his　eyes　to　seek　his　prey；　his　ears　to　hear　the　street　sounds；　and　his　nose　to　enjoy　the　food。
　He　had　just　finished　the　bowl　when　he　saw　the　American　sailor。　The　man　was　thin　and　wore　glasses　and　he　towered　over　the　Chinese　pedestrians　even　though　he　walked　with　a　slight　stoop。　His　arm　was　around　a　street　girl。　She　held　an　umbrella　over　them　and　was　tugging　at　him。
　〃No；　not　this　way；　baby；〃　she　pleaded。　〃My　room　other　way　。。。　unnerstan'？〃
　〃Sure；　honey；　but　first　we　go　this　way　then　we'll　go　your　way。　Huh？　e　on；　darlin'。〃
　Armstrong　hunched　deeper　into　the　shadows。　He　watched　them　approach；　wondering　if　this　was　the　one。　The　man's　accent　was　Southern　and　sweet…sounding　and　he　was　in　his　late　twenties。　As　he　strolled　along　the　busy　street　he　looked　this　way　and　that；　seeking　his　bearings。　Then　Armstrong　saw　him　spot　the　tailor's　shop　on　one　corner　of　the　alley　that　was　called　Pop…ting's　Handmade　Suits；　and；　opposite　it；　a　small；　open…faced　restaurant　lit　with　bare　bulbs　and　with　a　crudely　written　sign　nailed　to　a　post：　WELE　TO　AMERICAN　SAILORS。　The　bold　column　of　Chinese　characters　over　the　door　read：　〃A　Thousand　Years'　Health　to　Mao　Tse…tung　Restaurant。〃
　〃C'mon；　honey；〃　the　sailor　said；　brightening。　〃Let's　have　a　beer　here。〃
　〃No　good　place；　baby；　better　e　my　bar；　heya？　Bett…　〃
　〃Goddamnit　we're　having　a　beer　here。〃　He　went　into　the　open　shop　and　sat　at　one　of　the　plastic　tables；　bulky　in　his　raincoat。　Sullenly　she　followed。　〃Beer。　Two　beers！　San　Miguel；　huh？　You　savvy　huh？〃
　From　where　he　sat；　Armstrong　could　see　them　both　clearly。　One　of　the　tables　was　filled　with　four　coolies　who　noisily　sucked　noodles　and　soup　into　their　mouths。　They　glanced　at　the　sailor　and　the　girl　briefly。　One　made　an　obscene　remark　and　the　others　laughed。　The　girl　blushed；　turning　her　back　to　them。　The　sailor　hummed　as　he　looked　around　carefully；　sipping　his　beer；　then　stood　up。　〃I　gotta　use　the　can。〃　Unerringly　he　went　to　the　back　through　the　flyblown　string　curtain；　the　counterman　watching　him　sourly；　Armstrong　sighed　and　relaxed。　The　trap　was　sprung。
　In　a　moment　the　sailor　returned。　〃C'mon；〃　he　said；　〃let's　get　outta　here。〃　He　drained　his　glass；　paid；　and　they　went　off　arm　in　arm　again　the　way　they　had　e。
　〃You　want　more　S'pore　noodles？〃　the　stall　keeper　asked　Armstrong　rudely；　his　hostile　eyes　just　slits　in　his　high…boned　face。
　〃No　thanks。　Just　another　beer。〃
　〃No　beer。〃
　〃Fornicate　you　and　all　your　line；〃　Armstrong　hissed　in　perfect　gutter　Cantonese。　〃Am　I　a　fool　from　the　Golden　Mountain？　No；　I'm　a　guest　in　your　fornicating　restaurant。　Get　me　a　fornicating　beer　or　I'll　have　my　men　slit　your　Secret　Sack　and　feed　those　peanuts　you　call　your　treasure　to　the　nearest　dog！〃
　The　man　said　nothing。　Sullenly　he　went　to　the　next　street　stall　and　got　a　San　Miguel　and　brought　it　back　and　set　it　on　the　counter；　opening　it。　The　other　diners　were　still　gaping　at　Armstrong。　Abruptly　he　hawked　loudly　and　spat　and　put　his　cold　blue　eyes　on　the　man　nearest　him。　He　saw　him　shiver　and　look　away。　Uneasily　the　others　went　back　to　their　bowls　too；　unfortable　to　be　in　the　presence　of　a　barbarian　policeman　who　had　the　bad　manners　to　swear　so　colloquially　in　their　tongue。
　Armstrong　eased　more　fortably　on　the　stool；　then　let　his　eyes　range　the　road　and　the　alley；　waiting　patiently。
　He　did　not　have　long　to　wait　before　he　saw　the　small；　squat　chunky　European　ing　up　the　alley；　keeping　to　the　side；　stopping　and　peering　into　the　storefront　of　a　cheap　shoe　shop　behind　the　street　stalls　that　crowded　the　narrow　roadway。　Ah；　he's　a　professional；　Armstrong　thought；　very　pleased；　knowing　the　man　was　using　the　glass　as　a　mirror　to　case　the　restaurant。　The　man　took　his　time。　He　wore　a　shapeless　plastic　raincoat　and　hat　and　appeared　nondescript。　His　body　was　hidden　for　a　moment　as　a　coolie　swayed　past　him　with　huge　bundles　on　either　end　of　the　bamboo　pole　on　his　shoulders。　Armstrong　noticed　his　knotted　calves；　varicose…veined；　as　he　watched　the　feet　of　the　other　man。　They　moved　and　he　walked　out　of　the　alley；　covered　by　the　coolie；　and　did　not　stop；　just　continued　up　the　road。
　He's　very　good；　the　policeman　thought　admiringly；　still　having　him　in　sight。　This　bugger's　done　this　before。　Must　be　KGB　to　be　this　smart。　Well；　it　won't　be　long　now；　my　fine　fellow；　before　you're　hooked；　he　told　himself　without　rancor；　as　a　fisherman　would　seeing　a　fat　trout　teasing　the　bait。
　The　man　was　shop…watching　again。　e　along；　little　fish。
　The　man　was　acting　just　like　a　trout。　He　made　several　passes　and　went　away　and　came　back　but　always　very　carefully　and　without　attracting　attention。　At　last　he　went　into　the　open…faced　restaurant　and　sat　down　and　ordered　a　beer。　Armstrong　sighed　again；　happy　now。
　It　seemed　to　take　the　man　an　interminable　time　before　he；　too；　got　up；　asked　where　the　toilet　was；　walked　through　the　few　diners　and　went　under　the　bead　curtain。　In　time　he　reappeared　and　went　for　his　table。　At　once　the　four　coolie　diners　fell　on　him　from　behind；　pinioning　his　arms　and　holding　him　helpless；　while　another　strapped　a　stiff　high　collar　around　his　neck。　Other　diners；　real　customers；　and　not　undercover　SI　police；　gaped；　one　dropped　his　chopsticks；　a　couple　fled　and　the　others　froze。
　Armstrong　got　up　from　his　stool　leisurely　and　walked　over。　He　saw　the　tough…looking　Chinese　behind　the　counter　take　off　his　apron。　〃Shut　up；　you　bastard；〃　the　fellow　said　in　Russian　to　the　man　who　cursed　and　struggled　impotently。　〃Evening；　Superintendent；〃　he　added　to　Armstrong　with　a　sly　grin。　His　name　was　Malcolm　Sun；　he　was　a　senior　agent；　SI；　and　ranking　Chinese　on　this　16/2。　It　was　he　who　had　organized　the　intercept　and　had　paid　off　the　cook　who　usually　worked　this　shift　and　had　taken　his　place。
　〃Evening；　Malcolm。　You　did　very　well。〃　Armstrong　turned　his　attention　to　the　enemy　agent。　〃What's　your　name？〃　he　asked　pleasantly。
　〃Who　you？　Let　me　go　。。。　let　go！〃　the　man　said　in　heavily　accented　English。
　〃All　yours；　Malcolm；〃　Armstrong　said。
　At　once；　Sun　said　in　Russian；　〃Listen　you　mother…eater；　we　know　you're　off　the　Ivanov；　we　know　you're　a　courier　and　you've　just　picked　up　a　drop　from　the　American　off　the　nuclear　carrier。　We've　already　got　the　bastard　in　custody　and　you'd　bet…　〃
　〃Lies！　You've　made　a　mistake；〃　the　man　blustered　in　Russian。　〃I　know　nothing　of　any　American。　Let　me　go！〃
　〃What's　your　name？〃
　〃You've　made　a　mistake。　Let　me　go！〃　A　crowd　of　gaping；　gawking　onlookers　was　now　surrounding　the　store。
　Malcolm　Sun　turned　to　Armstrong。　〃He's　a　ripe　one；　sir。　Doesn't　understand　very　good　Russian。　I'm　afraid　we'll　have　to　take　him　in；〃　he　said　with　a　twisted　smile。
　〃Sergeant；　get　the　Black　Maria。〃
　〃Yes　sir。〃　Another　agent　went　off　quickly　as　Armstrong　went　closer。　The　Russian　was　gray…haired；　a　squat　man　with　small；　angry　eyes。　He　was　held　perfectly　with　no　chance　of　escape　and　no　chance　to　put　a　hand　into　a　pocket　or　into　his　mouth　to　destroy　evidence；　or　himself。
　Armstrong　searched　him　expertly。　No　manual　or　roll　of　film。　〃Where　did　you　put　it？〃　he　asked。
　〃I　no　understand！〃
　The　man's　hatred　did　not　bother　Armstrong。　He　bore　him　no　malice；　the　man　was　just　a　target　who　had　been　trapped。　I　wonder　who　shopped　this　poor　bugger　who's　frightened　to　death；　rightly；　who's　now　ruined　with　the　KGB　and　with　his　own　people　forever　and　might　as　well　be　a　dead　man。　I　wonder　why　it's　our　coup　and　not　old　Rosemont's　and　his　CIA　boys？　How　is　it　we're　the　ones　who　knew　about　the　drop　and　not　the　Yanks？　How　is　it　Crosse　got　to　know　about　this？　All　Crosse　had　told　him　was　the　where　and　the　how　and　that　the　drop　was　going　to　be　made　by　a　sailor　from　the　carrier　and　intercepted　by　someone　off　the　Ivanov。
　〃You're　in　charge；　Robert；　and　please；　don't　make　a