The Gold Swan by James Thayer

Author:James Thayer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

12

The gangster Wen Quichin must have thought Anne and I were a couple, because his next invitation was again for both of us. Wen’s nephew had telephoned, saying Wen had information for me, and please bring the American woman. I informed the FBI.

The address was in Kwai Chung near the container terminal in Kowloon. Anne and I had gotten off at the Kwai Fong station and then had walked along Container Port Road. The streets were filled with semitractors that produced a constant diesel roar. Taxis can be found nearly everywhere in Hong Kong but not here in the factory district and the container port area. Buildings were one and two stories high, and most were electronics, plastics, and apparel factories employing hundreds of thousands of people. Shipping boxes were piled in every space not allotted to road or building. I had heard that wild monkeys still lived in the neighborhood, though I couldn’t see a tree anywhere.

We found the address, a block from the gate to the Sea-Land Services Terminal, and walked into a reception room of sorts. The only person there was a Sikh guard, wearing a turban and beard. I didn’t doubt he was armed. The guard’s scowl seemed set in stone, as if he had never smiled, not once in his life. The room had one chair and no desk or phone. Not many folks were received here, it looked like. The guard turned a key in a heavy metal door to a back room and pushed it open for us.

The old gangster was inside, his smile in place, and he shook Anne’s and my hands as if he hadn’t seen us in months, when it had only been a day. His nephew was standing at his left shoulder as always. The room was filled with the whine of small electrical drills.

“ ‘Mr. Williams, I have some news for you,’ ” Wen said through his nephew Zhu. “ ‘I would have telephoned, but I am not allowed to use the telephone.’ ”

“Who prevents you from using the phone?” Anne asked.

“ ‘The Hong Kong Police, Interpol, Scotland Yard, your FBI, the Ministry of State Security. Many people.’ ”

I said, “Mr. Wen means, he can use the phone, but he doesn’t dare to.”

After translation Wen nodded. “ ‘Yes. That’s it.’ ” He raised a hand to direct our attention around the room. “ ‘This is another of my businesses. I heard from an associate that you were interested in jade, so I wanted to show my operation here.’ ”

“What news do you have, Mr. Wen?”

He stepped toward a barrel that contained rough stones. Most of the rocks were dark green with white streaks across them. Zhu translated in a loud voice, above the whine of the drills and lathes, “ ‘These come from Burma. It is uncut jade. Nephrite. I produce pieces of art here.’ ”

More accurately, the fifteen gem-cutters sitting at small desks lining the room produced the art. Their desks were the size of old treadle sewing machines.

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