The Gracious Lily Affair by Van Wyck Mason

Author:Van Wyck Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: spy, espionage, mystery, secret service, MI5
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2016-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

BOOK TWO: CROWN COLONY WEST

CHAPTER 1

Oporto Club

Lynn Petersen, Vice-President in Charge of Operations for Chinoco Oil’s South China Division, leaned closer to his sister. “Look yonder, Susie, and take a quick glance at that table for three by the window.”

Susan Stanhope’s softly symmetrical lips compressed themselves above equally scarlet lilies gracing the table. “You mean the one where the Chinese and that Latin type in the tan tropicals are sitting? What about them?” she queried over a background of high-pitched and singsong conversation. Members and guests were largely talking in Chinese and Portuguese but occasional English and French words penetrated the babble.

“The ‘Latin type’ you mentioned, aside from other considerations, is a typical Macaiste.”

“What’s that?”

“Native of Macao—like our genial host and most of the Oporto Club’s members. That correct, Tomás?”

“About those two your brother mentioned, Mrs. Stanhope—” Senhor T. C. de Sousa’s pale ivory-hued features altered their expression not a whit while with his palms he smoothed heavy blue-black hair. “The European is one Alfredo Basto, a Portuguese and certainly one of the richest taipans in the vicinity of Hong Kong. In other countries he would be called a banker, but here,” he lowered his voice, “Alfredo Basto is termed an exchange expert—one of the most successful—and most unscrupulous.”

“And who is the Chinese with him?” Peterson demanded, carefully settling his large frame back on a dangerously delicate chair and pretending to find something very interesting in the bottom of his Screwdriver. “Must be new—haven’t seen him around Hong Kong.”

A shadow crossed the commission merchant’s long and sensitive features. “Sung Wing-kei is not new here; he has but recently returned to the Colony. I am astonished that, even now, he whose English name is Henry King dares to show his face in Hong Kong.”

Lynn Petersen fingered a squarish jaw and obviously delved into his memory. “Sung Wing-kei collaborated when the Japs were here—and how!”

In the compradore’s black eyes suddenly shone little bright splinters of hate but he merely inclined his head. “He is now associated with Senhor Basto, or so it is rumored.” De Sousa beckoned a waiter and at the same time studied the big, white-clad oilman’s rugged countenance and became filled with admiration for the beautiful Mrs. Stanhope’s brother. Mr. Petersen must have done much service in the Orient; a Chinese could have displayed no less expression.

It was fine to be in the Orient once more, Susan was deciding. How exhilarating was the never-ending turmoil in Hong Kong’s overcrowded narrow streets; the raucous background of taxi horns; the sea of cackling human voices; the diapason groaning of a great liner’s whistle; the staccato series of explosions made by firecrackers touched off in some celebration, however, afforded an uncomfortable suggestion of distant machine-gun fire.

Slowly Susan surveyed this modern but hot and smoky lounge and found it astonishing that in the Oporto Club so few unquestionably European faces should be in evidence. Members and their ladies, almost without exception, were expensively if not well dressed; especially pale and delicate-appearing Eurasians.

“Please tell me more about Sung Wing-kei,” Susan invited slowly.

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