109 Hong Kong Hit List by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

13

There were two men and a woman—a lined, middle-aged whipcord woman with a greyhound-lean body and hair piled high in the Japanese fashion. She was swathed in Paris-tailored black silk, frogged and braided like a musical-comedy hussar's uniform, the hem of the dress reaching almost to her ankles.

One of the men was short and fat, the other thin, stooped and beaky—a predatory figure given, despite the flat nose, something of a vulturish air by the deep creases etched into his face and the loose folds of flesh at his neck. Both men were wearing suits of shantung silk.

It was the predator who had spoken. Bolan guessed, from Mettner's description, that this was Han Che-Yin, the deposed Central Committee member. He spoke again, the unusual harshness of his voice emphasizing the Chinese

sibilants.

"It will be of assistance, too, Mr. Bolan, that you are a traveler, that you know—and are known in—many parts of the world."

Bolan said nothing. The gun muzzle was still touching the top of his spine. He could sense that the man holding the gun was very big, broad-shouldered and muscular, as well as tall. It was an even chance that he and the plump one in the cinnamon suit were the two sidekicks Mettner had mentioned—Hsiu Chan and Chi Ming. Bolan wondered which was which.

He figured he'd put his money on Chi as the fat one.

"Since you will not be there—except in the most basic corporeal way—to appreciate it," Han continued, "I will explain to you while you are with us why this is of especial assistance. The attack on the guests at the Chang-chou reactor, you see, will have been preceded by a clumsy attempt at sabotage and a palpable case of industrial espionage. Both the result of European, rather than American, planning."

The Executioner remained silent. No questions and no answers sometimes tempted animal man to boast...and give away more than he realized.

Han said, "Because of your... international reputation, you will serve very well as the lackey of Euro-capitalism as well as a member of the racist APAL outlaws in America. You will not know why, but APAL will certainly be blamed for the explosion. As far as the bungled work inside the reactor is concerned, stained hands will link you with the attempted sabotage—a puerile matter of acid eating through copper tubing, which will be revealed when noxious fumes escape."

Bolan remembered that the hit-list text had mentioned both sabotage and industrial spy work, keyed to Europe as well as the boat blast at the landing stage. He had puzzled over the connection. Now it was being explained. He still said nothing.

"Microphotographs of—shall we say sensitive?—parts of the atomic pile will be found on your body," Han told him. "Along with seditious APAL literature and letters linking you with fascist organizations and certain business interests in Germany and Italy."

"And this body?" Bolan spoke for the first time.

"Floating faith-down in the canal," the fat Chinese lisped. "Killed by the blatht."

"How can you tell there'll be enough of it left for the features to be recognizable and the documents undamaged?" the Executioner asked.

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