The H. Bedford-Jones Pulp Fiction Megapack Read online

  “Anybody can imitate lacquer,” he went on, “easiest thing on earth. But it can’t be duplicated. Lacquer is proof against water, time, everything except fire. And its beauty can’t be touched with any other sort of paint made, for it’s purely a vegetable substance. The whole secret lies in the way it is applied and made. Ever see anything like this?”

  From a drawer of his desk he took a small, round box of plain pine wood and handed it to me. Half that box was bare wood, the other half had been lacquered. And what a glorious lacquer that was! I had never seen anything like it. A soft and glowing combination of red and gold, thick as leather, tough as leather, yet blazing with a soft splendor impossible to put into words. The patina was even finer than that of the famous old Martin work.

  “A chap by the name of French was chief chemist for the Fuchow works,” said Kohler. “He developed tuberculosis. They sent him up into the mountains, with his sister. Not so long ago he sent ’em this sample. He didn’t know they had gone broke. Evidently he’s been at work up there. This is a novelty in lacquer, finer than anything known. I want you to go up there and buy the formula or the invention, whatever it is. Pay any price French asks, pay him any salary he asks to work for me.”

  “All right,” I said. Kohler looked at me and smiled.

  “George, watch your step! I’m sending you for two reasons. I can trust you; and you have an American’s initiative. Other people are after French, or will be after him. The Jap lacquer trust is in the ring; so is that big French mercantile concern in Yunnan and Shanghai—Dubonnet & Cie. They’ll stick at nothing.”

  “Neither will I,” was my response. Kohler grinned at this.

  “Good. Up to a certain point, I’ll be able to help you. There’s a China Navigation boat leaving tonight for Shanghai; catch it. A reservation is waiting for you. At Shanghai, it connects with a China Merchants boat for Fuchow. At Fuchow, go to the Brand House and one of my best men will call for you. He’ll tell you the rest.”

  “How’ll I know him?” I demanded. “You can’t expect me to trust every coolie—”

  Kohler smiled. “Read your Bible; read particularly the last verse of the third chapter of Second Chronicles, George; it’s interesting reading. And you’d better give the right answer when that man of mine turns up, or he may decline to trust you!”

  I comprehended the system, if not the details. Kohler was trusting nothing to writing. He had arranged some password, and by picking it from the Bible was playing pretty safe. This indicated that his man was a native Christian.

  “I don’t speak Chinese, you know.”

  “No matter. You won’t need to.”

  “Am I to travel as in your employ?”

  “No. Never mention my name. I’ll let it be known that you’re working for me, because I want suspicion kept off a couple of men in Fukien province who are getting some leases on lac-producing territory. The risk is yours; that’s what I’ll be paying for.”

  “Is French straight?”

  “Square as a die! Bring him to the coast, if he can come. If not, bring me the secret in your head. Write nothing down. French knows me, and I think he’ll sell readily to me.”

  “Shall I report here?”

  Kohler shrugged. “No. You’ll be informed where I am. Need anything more?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll get that boat tonight.”

  He shook hands with me, and so we parted.

  While I packed up and made ready that afternoon, I was doing a good deal of thinking. This job was apparently simple and open—but I knew James Sze Kohler! What was to hinder French coming to the coast? What was to hinder Kohler himself going to French? Politics aside, Kohler was the most influential man in China, could go anywhere, and did.

  “Something queer about the whole thing!” I reflected. “French has a sister, too! That’s bad. We’ll have to see what happens at Fuchow.”

  Before going aboard ship, I procured a Bible and looked up the section referred to.

  II

  I reached Shanghai and transferred to a small Merchants boat without incident. Later, I recalled with some wonder that it was very quick work; certainly no one could have come ahead of me. The coaster was waiting for us and we transferred directly to her. With me were a number of second-cabin natives.

  I made the acquaintance of O’Grady and Schneider in the smoking room, and being the only whites aboard, and liking one another, we devoted the voyage to bridge. O’Grady was an Irishman, a junior consular officer in the British service, and was on furlough from his duties in Japan. Being an amateur geologist, he was going wandering in the Chinese hills, hoping to get enough material for an article in the Asiatic Review. He was a tall, lean, powerful chap, with a hard mouth and a merry twinkle in his eye—extremely capable.

  Schneider was a French Jew, a commercial traveler, and smart as a whip. Highly educated, perfectly groomed, his dark oval features were handsome in the sleek French way. He, too, was bound for the interior; he was handling a line of typewriters which bore the newly adopted Chinese alphabet-system, and had sold dozens of them along the coast.

  I was, of course, a mere American tourist on vacation, trying to see the sights.

  It was morning when we entered the Min-kiang and bore up for Pagoda Anchorage, where we would be transferred into steam-launches and sent on to the city. I was standing up forward, alone, watching the river traffic, when Captain Sung Men came down from the bridge. He greeted me cheerfully, then approached.

  “Mr. Breck, will you pardon one word of advice?”

  I regarded him in some surprise, and smiled.

  “Advice, captain? Why, sure! Trouble with the customs ahead?”

  He shook his head. “No, you’ll be landed at the foreign settlement pier. This gentleman with whom you have been very friendly, this M. Schneider! Perhaps he did not inform you that he is one of the best agents of the Dubonnet company?”

  The words, and their import, startled me inexpressibly. While I knew there was practically no limit to the extent of Kohler’s underground activity, I was none the less astonished. So, then, Schneider was an enemy! Undoubtedly, he was also bound for my yet unknown destination in the hills. But this warning, from such a source, was amazing.

  “You think that he knows—”

  “That you are no tourist? Undoubtedly.” Captain Sung Men smiled slightly. Then he made a little gesture, as though in caution, and spoke more loudly. “Yes, a beautiful sight, Mr. Breck! The Anchorage is just ahead, and I would advise that you have your things packed. I believe the launches will be awaiting us.”

  He departed. I turned, to see O’Grady sauntering toward us, whistling cheerfully.

  “Packed up?” he asked. I nodded.

  “Yea. You’re going to the Brand House, I suppose?”

  “Only one here, they tell me.” He lighted a cigarette and proffered me one. “See here, Breck! What say we combine outfits? I’m going nowhere in particular, and neither are you. Two can live more cheaply than one, at least in China, what? We can strike up into the hills and have a bit of company, if you say the word.”

  I was not surprised at the proposal, for O’Grady had hinted at such a course during breakfast. And I was very glad of it. He was a splendid chap, good company and all that, and I was glad to have a white companion of his caliber. None the less, in justice to him, I could jump at nothing.

  “Fine,” I said cautiously, “but it’s only fair to tell you, O’Grady, that I have some enemies among the natives, and I’ve been tipped off that this trip might be risky.”

  He flicked the ash from his cigarette, and his eyes danced as they met mine.

  “Righto, Breck! Look out for this chap Schneider. He was soundin’ me out about you last night. Then it’s settled?”

  “Suppose we settle it tonight at the Brand House,” I said. “I’m expecting letters there, and there’s just a possibility that my plans may be changed.”

  He nodded. “Then we’ll let it drop until dinner, what? Hullo, he
re’s Schneider now! The top o’ the mornin’ to you, and many of the same!” Schneider joined us with his smoothly affable greeting, and we chatted until the hook was dropped and the launches came alongside.

  I had little to say on the nine-mile ride upriver. This steamer captain had known me for an agent of Kohler; therefore Kohler must have sent out word concerning me to his entire organization. Schneider, too, knew me for what I was; therefore I could expect trouble ahead. This polished, affable Frenchman was capable of much. It was decent of O’Grady to tip me off regarding his own suspicions, yet to ask no questions!

  We were landed at the Hwang-sung wharf. There were no ’rickshaws or carriages, nothing but filthy native chairs in sight, but as we glanced around, two chairs approached, sent by the hotel. We climbed into these and were carried to the next street and up to the hotel, while from across the river the great roar of the huge native city came to us like the hum of a beehive.

  The afternoon was free. Neither O’Grady nor I had ever been here before, so we took chairs from the hotel and saw the sights on this side the river. The strong hand of the Japanese was much in evidence, for their influence controlled a great share of all Fukien province; it had been felt, indeed, even before our ship anchored off the white houses and the pagoda.

  Upon returning to the hotel, I left O’Grady and went to my room. I had barely gotten ready to bathe and dress for dinner, when there came a knock at the door. I opened to see a coolie standing outside, and admitted him.

  “You’re looking for me?” I asked. He responded in excellent English, with hardly a trace of accent.

  “If you are Mr. George Breck.”

  “I am.”

  “Then,” and he peered up at me from under the rim of his wide hat, “you know the names of two pillars which were erected by a certain king of Israel?”

  As I thought—Kohler’s man!

  “One was Jachin,” I said. “The other, Boaz.”

  He promptly squatted down before me.

  “Good. You will trust yourself in my hands?”

  I nodded assent to this, as a matter of course. He was to all appearances an ordinary coolie, but his features were good, although blurred by a half sprouted mustache and the beginnings of a beard. He was quite dark in hue, muscular and energetic, evidently intelligent. A good type of mission-trained coolie, I thought.

  “In that case,” he responded, “you must leave here within an hour.”

  “What!” I gathered the bath-towel around me and protested. “Impossible!”

  “Then you will be sorry. The Japanese have already requested the American consul here to have you detained tonight, on a charge of smuggling opium. That is amusing, since the Japs themselves bring it in openly, but it is also dangerous.”

  I thought quickly. Kohler had warned me against the Japs; and I might have known that they would strike secretly and swiftly. It was folly to stand on my dignity.

  “Very well,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “Yu.”

  “I’ll go, Yu. Suppose you tell me how and where.”

  “In an hour I will have a chair at the door for you. Take it openly and you will be brought to the dock. There a launch belonging to my master will be waiting. We go straight upriver for a hundred miles. Then we leave the launch at a place where men and mules await us. We go thirty miles into the hills, to the town of Kiuling in the Mong-yu range. There may be danger all the way, for your friend Schneider has already gone on upriver, and the Japs may also be watching.”

  I regarded the fellow in some amazement.

  “Whew! You seem to know everything there is to know. Yu! Suppose you go to room twelve and ask Mr. O’Grady to step here at once. He may like to go with us.”

  Without the questions or protests that I half anticipated, Yu rose and departed. I made a quick tub, and was half dressed and shaving when O’Grady came into the room, with Yu at his heels.

  “Hello!” I said. “Sorry I wasn’t in shape to go to your room, O’Grady. See here, I’m off in an hour’s time, upriver. This chap Yu brought me warning that I was likely to get into trouble unless I beat it in a hurry. Want to go along?”

  “Of course,” drawled O’Grady, with a grin of delight. “I love trouble, old chap! Where do we go?”

  “A hundred miles up the river, then into the hills. A launch is waiting for us. Can you make it?”

  “Righto!” The Irishman made no inquiries as to the nature of my “trouble,” which I thought very white of him. “I’ll meet you downstairs, what? In forty minutes.”

  He departed. I turned to Yu.

  “What about dinner? What about—everything?”

  “Leave everything to me, master,” said this marvel of a servant. “Two chairs will come for you, in my charge. Dinner will be served aboard the launch. You have a pistol?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Here is one.” He handed me an automatic, with a heavy little packet in which were extra clips, loaded. “Say nothing to the hotel people about departing; that will be attended to later. I will bring a porter to take charge of your bags.”

  He was at the door, when I checked him.

  “See here, Yu! If this chap Schneider has gone ahead of us, why haven’t you taken some measures to detain him?”

  “I have,” he answered, and was gone.

  It seemed to me that Kohler had some admirable servants.

  The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Yu was more than an ordinary coolie. His intelligence and education afforded evidence of it. When I encountered O’Grady downstairs, the Irishman surveyed me with a humorous twinkle in his eye.

  “That number one boy of yours is an efficient beggar, eh?”

  I nodded. “He’s a loan from a friend. By the way, I should tell you that I’m not a fugitive from justice, as you might think me; my enemies are purely commercial ones.”

  He waved his hand and laughed.

  “Devil take it, have I asked ye any questions? I like the cut of your jib, Breck, and that’s enough for me. I’m out for a holiday, and damn regulations! I fancy you have business of your own upriver, eh? Good! I’m glad to go along, and the more heads to hit, the better! And, me lad, if our friend Schneider is one o’ them makin’ trouble for you, just you give me first crack at him, mind! I’ve an idea that he’s a sly puss.”

  His delight in the situation relieved me, although I was slightly puzzled by his indubitable fervency in speaking of Schneider as he did. I had feared that my talk of enemies might seem theatrical and absurd; but I had forgotten that I was dealing with an Irishman, who would delight in theatricals and to whom nothing could be absurd.

  Yu appeared with two chairs, and we got off without incident. Darkness was falling, and our bearers took us directly to the wharf from which we had come that noon. Seen thus, Fuchow was a magnificent sight—the two bridges dotted with lanterns, the huge out-strung city across the river glimmering and quivering with lights to the hills far beyond, and the Nangtai district all ablaze with electric lights up the hillsides.

  We found the wharves, at this hour, almost deserted. A few porters loafed about, but our launch was the only craft at the landing stage. The tide was in and she floated high, a long, narrow, steam-launch of light draft, but large and comfortable.

  As we got out of the chairs, Yu stepped forward to confer with one of his men at the head of the stairs. At this instant I caught a low cry from O’Grady.

  “Ware, Breck; ’ware the knife!”

  I turned, to find a man plunging at me, and the wharf lights glimmered on steel. I leaped aside and tripped him; O’Grady hurled himself forward, grappled with the man, and then the two figures suddenly parted. The fellow went flying through the air, and went into the water with a huge splash.

  “Over the hip!” panted O’Grady exultantly. “Well thrown, what? Want to land the chap, Breck?”

  “Let him go,” came the soft voice of Yu. “Let him go. There will be a commotion, and we cannot waste
time.”

  Indeed, yells and shouts were already going up from the loafers. I lost no time, but got aboard the launch, with O’Grady laughing behind me. Our bags were passed down, the engines purred into life, and a moment afterward we were heading upstream under the bridge.

  Who the assassin was, I did not know or care. The attempt proved, however, that somebody had been keeping an eye on our friend Yu.

  III

  Our launch had the air of a tiny yacht rather than a river boat, with its after awning, and gleaming brasses, and speedy power. There was a sleeping cabin with two bunks; the crew consisted of two men and a steward, who took their orders from Yu. As soon as we were away from the city, dinner was served to me and O’Grady on the after deck. We were going upriver at slow speed. The dinner was remarkable in its variety and excellence.

  “Faith, your friends do you well, old chap!” affirmed the Irishman. “This craft is a wonder; a lippin’ dinner, too! I had no idea China was like this. Haven’t tasted such Sauterne in ages.”

  His comments were excusable, and we did full justice to the dinner.

  Afterward, with cigars alight, we stretched out in the long Singapore chairs and watched the shores drift past. There was a glorious full moon, and we were alone on the river, for night travel is not popular; indeed, I wondered that our crew would consent to keep going, since the water-devils are greatly to be feared, and we had indulged in no firecrackers or gong-beatings. Our helmsman appeared to know the waters intimately.

  I had long since learned, however, that James Sze Kohler and the men who served him were in a class by themselves.

  Yu had vanished forward. O’Grady and I had the after-deck to ourselves, and we chatted freely. I gathered from what O’Grady said that he had been something of a rover; now and again there was a disquieting hint in his words or voice—a hint of ruthless efficiency, of reckless immorality. That was in keeping, of course; he was the sort of man who laughs at odds, who indulges in any perilous enterprise with a whole-hearted impulse, and who dies with a jest on his lips. One could not help liking O’Grady. He was the type that young men admire and imitate—vainly.