Mrs Pollifax & the Hong Kong Buddha by Dorothy Gilman

Author:Dorothy Gilman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-28T18:30:00+00:00

9

WEDNESDAY

MRS. POLLIFAX DRIFTED IN AND OUT OF AN UNEASY dream, and —waking—opened her eyes, found it still night, and closed them again, wondering why there persisted a feeling of something wrong. With her eyes still closed she sent her mind's antenna out to probe: it wasn't Cyrus, who was on his way to Hong Kong now, nor was it—her thoughts froze as she heard the faintest whispering sound of motion nearby. What was wrong, she realized, was here and now, and in this room.

She was not alone.

Mrs. Pollifax opened her eyes and cautiously turned her head so that she could observe the room. The heavy drapes had not been completely drawn across the window, and a dim and eerie light from the street spilled across the floor. In the center of the room stood a man, his outline clearly discernible against the lighter patch of window. He was standing very still and Mrs. Pollifax at once recognized that stance, having experienced it herself: in her sleep she must have turned over restlessly, or called out, and he had frozen, waiting for her to settle back again into sleep.

Mrs. Pollifax had no intention of settling into sleep, however. Through half-closed eyes she waited too, very awake now, very alert, her muscles tensing. A sheet and a light blanket confined her; as her intruder began to move again she slid one leg out from under the covers at the side of the bed, and when her foot met the floor she slowly followed it until she was free of the covers and standing.

Her intruder had now arrived at the luggage rack on which rested her suitcase and suddenly a pencil-thin ray of light carved a circle of illumination out of the darkness, hung briefly on the wall and then dropped to her open suitcase. As he leaned over it, Mrs. Pollifax moved toward him, thinking this was going to be unfairly easy if his back remained turned, and no challenge at all. She had just reached him when he stiffened, hearing perhaps the whisper of fabric or catching a movement in the mirror to his left but it was too late for him: Mrs. Pollifax was already behind him, centering herself, assuming her stance and turning her hand into a coiled spring that abruptly shot out now to hit him at the base of his skull. He gasped, reeled and started to turn, at which Mrs. Pollifax followed through with a heavier karate slash to the center of his neck, the first blow confusing him, the second stunning him and sending him unconscious to the floor. Her burglar had been rendered harmless.

Turning on the light Mrs. Pollifax was astonished to find that it was the Man with the Attaché Case lying at her feet, and this gave her pause: not a hotel thief, she thought, her mind groping for the implications of this and not liking them at all when she found them. She knelt beside the man, felt his pulse, nodded and went to the phone and dialed Robin's suite.

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