Exploits Read online

  “The very same. How is it that you come to know his name, Dr. Jones?”

  “Oh, they bandy it around a lot down at the jail,” I said.

  “Have you any compunctions in helping me rid decent society of this man?”

  “Not a one,” I said. “Why, did you know that every single man he arrested swore that he was innocent? We certainly can't have a man like that riding roughshod over the people of this fair city.”

  He broke out into a great big smile. “I believe we understand each other perfectly, Doctor Jones. I knew I had selected the right man!”

  “How do we plan to deal with this menace to social stability and free enterprise?” I asked.

  “Willie Wong's reputation rests on the fact that he has never made a mistake, never arrested an innocent man, never let a guilty one get away,” said Cornwall, puffing on his cigar. “If we can publicly embarrass and humiliate him, I believe his honor will demand that he retire from public service.”

  “And just how do we aim to do that?”

  “I have it on good authority that the Empire Emerald, the largest gemstone in all of China, will be stolen from the Fung Ping Shan Museum tomorrow night,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “I will arrange that every clue points toward you, and knowing Wong, he will almost certainly bring you into custody within hours of the robbery. It will then be revealed that he has wrongly arrested a man of God, and that, furthermore, the emerald was stolen by one of his own sons.” He leaned back with a satisfied smile. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think I want five hundred pounds up front and the name of a good bondsman, just in case something goes wrong,” I said.

  “Certainly, my dear Doctor Jones.” He pulled out a wallet thick enough to choke a small elephant and peeled off five one-hundred-pound notes, which he then handed over to me. “I distrust a man who doesn't look out for his own interest.”

  “Okay,” I said, stuffing the money into my pocket. “What else do I have to know or do?”

  “Very little,” he said. “Spend an hour browsing at the museum late tomorrow afternoon, perhaps get into a slight altercation with one of the tourists so people will remember seeing you there, keep off the streets between midnight and two o'clock in the morning, and put this in a safe place.”

  With that, he handed me a small cloth bag that was closed with a drawstring.

  “What's in it?” I asked.

  “Take a look.”

  I opened it up, and found a lump of coal about the size of a golf ball.

  “That, Doctor Jones, will prove to be the undoing of Willie Wong. Hide it well, but not so well that a thorough search cannot turn it up. While you are spending the night in jail and his men are ransacking your room, my own operatives will plant the real emerald on one of his brats.”

  “An emerald this big is an awful high price to pay to get rid of one bothersome policeman,” I said.

  “He costs me more than that every week,” said Cornwall. “It will be money well spent.”

  “Well, considering that it ain't yours to begin with, I reckon I can see the logic in that,” I agreed.

  “And now, Doctor Jones, it is best that we part company. I don't want anyone to know that we've been in contact since my release from jail.” He stood up and walked me to the door. “Your remaining five hundred pounds will be delivered in an envelope to your hotel the morning after your arrest, and you will be contacted later in the week concerning our next venture.”

  “Sounds good to me, Brother Rupert,” I said, shaking his hand. “It's always nice to do business with a Christian gentleman like yourself.”

  “We've lots more business to do when this sordid little affair is over,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  I kind of doubted it, since he never asked me what hotel he was supposed to deliver my money to. But with five hundred pounds in my pocket and Willie Wong on my side, I decided that things were definitely looking up for the Tabernacle of Saint Luke.

  * * * *

  I had walked maybe half a mile from Cornwall's office when I saw two young Chinamen staring at me from a street corner, so I strolled over to them.

  “Nine?” I said to the bigger one.

  There was no response.

  “Twenty-Six?” I said.

  “Make it thirty and you've got yourself a date,” he said with a giggle.

  “Doctor Jones!” yelled a young man from across the street. “We're over here!”

  I turned and saw two more Chinamen and made a beeline toward them.

  “Are you Willie Wong's kids?” I asked.

  The older one nodded. “We've got orders to take you to Dad.”

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  I followed them a couple of blocks to a dimly-lit restaurant. They left me at the door, and as I entered it I saw Wong nod to me from a table in the back.

  “You visit with Mr. Rupert Cornwall, yes?” he said, gesturing me to sit down.

  “Yeah. He doesn't like you much.”

  “Stitch in time save nine.”

  “You ever consider writing a Chinese proverb book?” I asked him.

  “Please continue,” he said, slurping his soup.

  “Near as I can make out, he plans to steal the Empire Emerald around midnight tomorrow.”

  “Ah, so.”

  “Not only that,” I added. “But he plans to make it look like I stole it, and while you're busy arresting me he's going to plant it on one of your sons.”

  “Very interesting,” he said with no show of interest whatsoever.

  “Well, that's it. I'm done now, right?” I said. “I mean, you'll be waiting for him at the museum, and I can go off converting all you godless yellow heathen—no offense intended—and maybe build my tabernacle.”

  “Not that easy,” said Wong.

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “Cannot make omelet without breaking eggs.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “So sorry,” he said. “Wrong proverb.” He paused and tried again. “Beauty only skin deep.”

  “Well, that explains everything,” I said.

  “Cannot capture Mr. Rupert Cornwall at museum where emerald reside,” continued Wong as he finished his soup.

  “I already told you what time he's going to show up.”

  “He will not steal emerald. He will have underling do so. I do not want little fish while big fish lead horse to water but cannot make him drink.”

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “Mr. Rupert Cornwall expect me to arrest you. I will not disappoint him.”

  “That may not disappoint him,” I said, “but it'll disappoint the hell out of me.”

  He shook his head. “Just go through motions. Then catch him when he try to plant emerald on honorable son.”

  “What if he has a henchman do that, too?” I asked.

  “Almost certainly will. After all, home is where heart is.”

  “I don't think you understand me, Brother Wong,” I said. “What's the difference if you catch a henchman stealing the emerald or you catch one planting it on your kid?”

  “Much easier to trace emerald back to Mr. Rupert Cornwall after he has stolen it than before,” explained Wong.

  “And what happens to me?” I asked.

  “We arrest you with much fanfare in afternoon, release you when we apprehend henchman that night.”

  Then a particularly bothersome thought occurred to me.

  “What if he changes his mind and decides to keep the emerald?”

  “Then you have lied to me, I take full credit for capturing you, city give another medal to humble detective, and I apprehend Mr. Rupert Cornwall some other day.” He smiled. “You see, either way it all work out.”

  Well, I could see it all working out for Willie Wong and Rupert Cornwall a lot easier than it all working out for me, so me and the Lord decided that it was time to take matters into our own hands, and what we did was this: I went out shop
ping at a bunch of costume jewelry stores, and when I finally came to a fake emerald about the size of the lump of coal I was toting around in the little cloth bag, I bought it for twenty pounds and tucked it away in my pocket.

  Then I went over to Bonham Road and visited the Fung Ping Shan Museum a day early, found the Empire Emerald, and tried to figure out how to substitute my stone for the real one, but since I'm a God-fearing Christian missionary who ain't never had an illegal impulse in my life, I finally had to admit that while the trip wires and the lock on the front door wouldn't give me no problems, the alarm built into the case was a type I hadn't seen before and there was just no way I was going to be able to switch the emeralds without setting it off and waking up such dead as weren't otherwise occupied at the time.

  One thing I did notice, though, was that the guards were Brits and not Chinamen, so I waited until they locked up the museum and followed one of them home. I got his name off the mailbox, and early the next morning, right after he'd left for work, I called his wife and told her that my laundry shop had inadvertently ruined her husband's tuxedo, but that we would be happy to make amends. She explained that he didn't have a tuxedo, and I told her I was sure it was his but just to make doubly certain I needed to know the name of the establishment she did her business with, and as soon as she told me I popped over there and informed them I was a visiting relative who had been sent by to pick up any uniforms he might have left there. Sure enough, they had one, all bright and green and neatly pressed, with shining brass buttons. I tipped them a couple of pounds, took it to the men's room in the back of a nearby tavern, and slipped it on—and an hour later I was patrolling the corridors of the museum, nodding pleasantly to passersby and keeping a watchful eye on the emerald.

  Then, when the museum hit a slow period and the room containing the Empire Emerald had emptied out, I walked into it with a beer in my hand, set it down atop the glass case that covered the gemstone, and tipped the bottle over. I pulled the phony emerald out of my pocket, lifted up the glass cover, and as the alarm went off I quickly exchanged it for the real emerald, got down on my knees, pulled out a handkerchief, and set about trying to clean the beer off the glass.

  The room filled up to overflowing with guards about ten seconds later. A couple of them even covered me with their pistols until they saw the emerald where it ought to be, and then they helped me put the glass cover back on. I explained that I was new on the job, and that I was just trying to clean up after myself because I had spilled some beer, and after telling me what a clumsy fool I was, they told me to pack up my gear and go home, that my services were no longer needed. They managed to get the alarm turned off just about the time I was climbing down the museum steps to the sidewalk in front of the building.

  I went back to my room at the Luk Kwok Hotel, where I had a little chat with my Silent Partner, explaining to Him that while what I did may have seemed a criminal act on the surface of it, if He would examine the consequences carefully He would have to agree that it was for the best all the way around. Willie Wong was still going to capture Rupert Cornwall, so he would be happy; the museum would never know they weren't displaying the real Empire Emerald, so they would be happy; Cornwall was going to go to jail anyway, so at least he wouldn't be any less happy for not having the emerald in his possession for a couple of minutes. And me, I finally had sufficient capital to build the Tabernacle of Saint Luke, which I promised the Lord I would do just as soon as I spent a few years scouting out the territory for the very best location.

  Everything went pretty smoothly the next day. First thing I did was stop by the laundry and drop off the uniform, so no one would notice it was missing and maybe start thinking about why it was missing. Then I scouted up some lunch that didn't smell of fish, and wandered the streets a bit, and at about two in the afternoon I walked over to the museum, lingered there for an hour or two, had a very public misunderstanding with a blonde Frenchwoman, and then headed back toward the Luk Kwok.

  Along the way, I picked up some chewing gum and stuck a wad of it into my mouth. Then I stopped by a little gift shop, and while the proprietor was speaking to another customer, I stuck the Empire Emerald on the back of his radiator with the chewing gum. Since it was mid-summer, I knew he wasn't going to fiddle with the radiator for another few months, and I figured to be back for it within just a day or two. The very last thing I did was hide the cloth bag with the lump of coal inside the water tank behind the toilet once I returned to room in the Luk Kwok. Then I lay back on my bed, pulled out the Good Book, and whiled the night away reading about Solomon's more exotic dalliances.

  The police showed up right on schedule, at a quarter after two in the morning, and hustled me off to jail. I kept protesting my innocence, the way I figured both Willie Wong and Rupert Cornwall would expect of me, and then, just after daybreak, a guard came and unlocked my cell. As far as I was concerned he could have waited another couple of hours, since I hadn't yet got around to converting Mei Sung again, but given the circumstances I didn't think it proper to protest, so I let him escort me to freedom, which turned out to be Wong's little cubbyhole.

  “Good morning, Doctor Jones,” he said without getting up from his chair.

  “Good morning, Brother Wong,” I said. “How'd it go last night?”

  “Apprehend whole gang,” he said happily. “Rupert Cornwall in cell one flight up from yours.”

  “That's great news, Brother Wong,” I said. “And did you get the emerald back?”

  “Empire Emerald once again on display in Fung Ping Shan Museum.”

  “I guess that closes the case.”

  He nodded. “Cannot teach old dog new tricks.”

  “Well, I'll sure remember that the next time I run into an old dog, Brother Wong,” I said. “I assume I'm free to go.”

  “Farther you go, the better.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It best you leave Hong Kong,” said Wong. “Many friends and clients of Rupert Cornwall not very pleased with you.”

  “A telling point,” I agreed. “Gimme just a couple of hours to get my gear together and I'll be off.”

  “Thank you for help, Doctor Jones,” said Wong. “Knew you were right man for job.”

  “My pleasure, Brother Wong,” I said.

  Then I took my leave of him, went back to the Luk Kwok, and looked around to see if there was anything I wanted to take along with me. There were some old shirts and pants and socks and such, but since I was about to pick up the Empire Emerald on my way out of town, I decided that I really owed myself a new wardrobe, so I finally left empty-handed.

  I moseyed over to the area where the gift shop was, did maybe an hour of serious window-shopping up and down the street for the benefit of anyone who might have been watching me, and finally entered the little store after I was sure I wasn't being observed.

  “You are Lucifer Jones, are you not?” asked the proprietor the second I closed the door behind me.

  “How did you know?” I asked. “I don't recall talking to you last night.”

  “I was given your description by Inspector Wong,” he replied. “He left a note for you.”

  He handed me a folded-up piece of paper, which I opened and read:

  Dear Doctor Jones:

  Had feeling all along you were perfect man for job. Had honorable Number Ten, Fourteen, Seventeen, and Twenty-Two sons observe you constantly since you left custody. Not only is Rupert Cornwall under arrest, but we now know weakness in museum security system, all thanks to you. Is old Chinese custom to exchange gifts. You will know where to look for yours.

  Your humble servant,

  Willie Wong,

  Hong Kong Police

  P.S. Money is root of all evil.

  I threw the paper down on the counter and raced over to the radiator. I reached behind it, found my gum and the stone, and pulled it out: it was the same lump of coal Rupert Cornwall had given me two days ago.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Jones?” ask
ed the storekeeper.

  “Nothing I shouldn't have expected from trusting someone who ain't a decent, God-fearing Christian,” I said bitterly. “Give me a map, brother.”

  “A map?” he repeated.

  “This town's seen the last of me,” I said. “I'm heading to where a man of the cloth can convert souls in peace and quiet without being worried about getting flim-flammed by gangsters and detectives and the like.”

  He pulled a map out from behind the counter. I looked at it for a minute and then, with four hundred and fifty pounds of Rupert Cornwall's money still in my pocket, I lit out across the mouth of the Pearl River for Macao, where I hoped to find a better class of sinner to listen to my preaching.

  2. The Sin City Derby

  Macau didn't smell a lot better than Hong Kong, and it wasn't no cleaner, but it offered more opportunities to an enterprising Christian gentleman like myself. In fact, it offered more opportunities to just about everybody, since it was where all the young Hong Kong bucks went to do their gambling and find their short-term ladyfriends.

  I got off the ferry, trying to figure out what to do next, when a young blond guy pulling an empty rickshaw stopped in front of me.

  “Howdy, brother,” I said. “Take me to wherever it is that the white folks stay when they're in town.”

  “That'd be the Bela Vista Hotel,” he said in perfect American. “But you can do better at the Macau Inn, over on the Travesso de Padre Narciso.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, climbing into the seat. “Let ’er rip.”

  “I can also get you into half a dozen high-class gambling clubs,” he said as he began pulling the rickshaw down the street. “And if you've got an interest in the ladies...”

  “Well, mostly I'm here to raise money for my tabernacle,” I said. “But I gotta admit it makes more sense to go where the money is than where it ain't. And of course, part of my calling is to show wicked, painted Jezebels the power and the glory.”

  He turned and grinned at me. “It sounds like you've got yourself a mighty interesting religion, Preacher,” he said. “I wouldn't mind joining up myself.”

  “How'd a well-spoken young feller like you come to be in the rickshaw trade thousands of miles from church and home in the first place?” I asked him.