Exploits Page 7

  “Looks like General Ling Sen don't take kindly to visitors,” I opined as I looked both right and left and couldn't see the end of the wall nowhere in sight.

  “With a wall like this around his barracks, one might say that he seems absolutely hostile to them,” agreed Merriweather.

  “Still,” I said, “a man who can build a wall this big probably ain't exactly destitute.”

  “True,” added Merriweather. “In fact, he's probably more in need of an accountant than most.”

  “And if this here wall is half as long as it looks to be, I got a feeling General Ling Sen ought to be happy to pay for a little heavenly insurance to make sure it don't get wiped out by earthquakes or floods or other such disasters as God is inclined to bring to them who don't toss a few coins into the poorbox every now and then.”

  “I do believe we're in business, Reverend Jones,” said Merriweather.

  Just then I heard some feet shuffling, which one hardly ever tends to hear when standing on grass like we was, so I looked up and, sure enough, there were three Chinese soldiers looking down on us from atop the wall.

  “What are you doing here?” asked one of them in Chinese.

  “Just looking for General Ling Sen's headquarters,” I answered.

  “Why?”

  “We've come all the way from across the sea to bring him spiritual and fiduciary comfort,” I said. “If you guys work for him, why don't you run off and tell him his lucky day has arrived?”

  The three of them conferred for a long minute, and then one ran off along the top of the wall and the other two trained their rifles on us.

  “Do not move,” said one of them. “We must decide what to do with you.”

  A minute later a door opened about fifty feet away, and the soldier who had run off stepped out of the wall and motioned us to come to him. When we got there, we found ourselves facing half a dozen armed soldiers, who escorted us up this winding staircase, and after we climbed up maybe fifty feet or so, we stepped out through another door onto the top of the wall, which was a lot broader than it looked from the ground.

  I heard a motor off to my left, and when I turned I saw a brand-new Bentley sedan driving right toward us. I was still wondering how they managed to get it onto the wall in the first place when it came to a stop and a big fat Chinaman stepped out, his chest and most of his belly all covered with medals.

  “I have been told that you wish to speak with me,” he said in English.

  “We do if you're General Ling Sen,” I said.

  “General Ling Sen is no longer in charge here,” he said. “I am General Chang.”

  “Well,” I said with a shrug, “it ain't like General Ling Sen was a close personal friend or nothing. This here is Corporal Marmaduke Merriweather of His Majesty's armed forces, and I'm the Honorable Doctor Jones, internationally-known man of the cloth.” Which was probably true, since there were still warrants out for my arrest in Illinois and Egypt and Morocco and Kenya and the Congo and South Africa, and I didn't suppose they could all have forgotten me so soon.

  “Doctor Lucifer Jones?” he said.

  “Now how'd you come to know that?” I asked, surprised.

  He smiled. “Your reputation precedes you, Doctor Jones,” he answered. “Already you have become something of a legend in Hong Kong and Macau.”

  “You don't say.”

  “I very much do say,” replied General Chang. He turned to Merriweather. “And what have we here—a deserter from the British army?”

  “They deserted me!” replied Merriweather. “I'm still here at my post.”

  “Why have you sought me out, Doctor Jones?” asked General Chang.

  “I hear tell you run a territory of considerable size and complexity,” I said, “so I just naturally figured that such a big bunch of ignorant yellow heathen—meaning no offense—would probably be in dire need of spiritual uplifting and maybe a nightly bingo tournament, the profits of which the Tabernacle of Saint Luke would be more than happy to split with the employer of these poor lost souls.”

  “And you?” asked General Chang, turning back to Merriweather.

  “I should like to enlist in your army,” said Merriweather.

  “Good. We can always use more men. I trust that you're accomplished at garroting and gouging out eyes?”

  “Well, actually, my specialty is accountancy,” said Merriweather.

  “Our specialty is conquest, pillage and rape,” said General Chang. “You'll just have to adjust.” He turned to two of his men. “Take him away and see that he's properly equipped.”

  “But—” began Merriweather.

  “No, please don't thank me,” said General Chang, as they began ushering Merriweather away. “All I ask is total, unquestioning loyalty and obedience. You can keep your gratitude for another occasion.”

  “So, General,” I said, when Merriweather was out of earshot, “have we got a deal?”

  “I think not, Doctor Jones,” said General Chang. “Christianity is such a sterile, repressed religion.”

  “Not the way I practice it,” I assured him.

  “The answer is no,” he said firmly. “Which is not to say that I might not have some other use for you.”

  “Long as the pay is good and it don't involve no heavy lifting, I suppose the Good Lord could spare me for a couple of weeks,” I answered.

  “Come with me back to my quarters,” he said, signaling his car to turn around. “We'll talk as we drive.”

  “Suits me,” I said, climbing into the Bentley. “By the way, just where is this kingdom of yours?”

  “You're on it.”

  “I mean, how far does it extend?” I asked, looking off at the hills that rose up in the distance.

  “Hundreds of miles,” he replied.

  “Really?” I said. “You must own half of China.”

  “Even better,” he said with a smile. “I own a six-hundred-mile section of the Great Wall. Any traffic from one side to the other must pay me a healthy tribute.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “And it just so happens that our most fertile poppy fields are on the west side of the wall, while our best markets for them are on the east side.” He paused. “In truth, I cannot take credit for it. It was General Ling Sen who first saw the potential of taking control of the Wall, and of course the Wall itself was built to be easily defended.” He lit up a cigar. “Yes, there's no question of it: General Ling Sen was a visionary of the highest order.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “Ah, poor General Ling Sen!” said General Chang with feeling. “Surrounded by selfish, disloyal officers, he was betrayed by the most vicious of them.”

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Me,” said General Chang. “It was a dreadful, villainous, despicable thing to do, and if I had the slightest vestige of a conscience, I am quite certain I would be thoroughly ashamed of myself.” He smiled at me. “However, to be perfectly candid with you, I must confess that I am enjoying the consequences of my unspeakable actions beyond my wildest expectations.”

  “Well, they say confession is good for the soul,” I replied. “It strikes me that you're doing your poor blackened soul a heap of good just by telling me all this.”

  “You are a man after my own heart, Doctor Jones,” said General Chang. “It is so rare that I meet anyone with whom I see eye to eye—and then, when I do, I am usually forced to kill him before he can do the same to me.”

  It seemed like a good time to change the subject, so I asked him exactly what kind of work he had in mind for me.

  “As you know, Doctor Jones, my kingdom is some six hundred miles long.”

  “So you said.”

  “On the other hand, it is only sixty-five feet wide. That means that"—he pulled a pencil and paper out of a pocket and did some quick calculating—"the full extent of my kingdom is less than seven square miles.”

  “But as real estate goes, they're prime miles,” I pointed ou
t.

  “Nevertheless, I have decided to expand my empire.”

  “Gonna take over more of the wall?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No matter how much of the wall we own, we remain at the mercy of anyone who wishes to lay siege to us. I have decided that it is time to take over General How Kung's territory.”

  “Where is this General How Kung located?” I asked.

  He pointed out the window to the west. “He owns everything your eye can see, and beyond. If I had his territory, not only could I be assured of feeding my men, but I would never have to worry about fighting a two-front war.” He smiled at me. “That's where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Doctor Jones. For reasons I cannot fathom, General How Kung distrusts me; probably he is still carrying a childish grudge simply because I burned his village and stole his wife. At any rate, you shall be my emissary.” He paused. “You will seek him out, guarantee his safety, agree to any conditions he sets, and get him to come and meet with me.” Suddenly he smiled. “Then, after I murder him, I shall pay you the sum of one thousand British pounds.”

  “I don't want to throw no spanner in the works,” I said cautiously, “but ain't this General How Kung likely to have some friends and relations that might consider such treatment unnecessarily harsh?”

  “We live in a Darwinian world, Reverend Jones,” replied General Chang. “To the victor belongs the spoils. How do you think How Kung got to be a general in the first place?” The Bentley came to a stop in front of a guardhouse that had been built into the wall. “Ah! Here we are. Would you care to join me in a drink?”

  Plotting to kill Chinese warlords can be pretty thirsty work, so I got out of the car with him and followed him into his house, where he pulled out a bottle of whiskey while I was admiring all the treasures he had picked up during his travels. He poured us each a large glass, and we got to talking about this and that, and pretty soon he was asking me all about my adventures on the Dark Continent and I was asking him all about his wars of conquest, and suddenly it was getting on to midnight and we were on our third bottle.

  “I'm feeling dizzy,” said General Chang, getting kind of unsteadily to his feet. “I think I need a breath of fresh air.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, getting up and following him out onto the wall.

  “Lovely night,” said General Chang, staggering just a bit. “It was on a night just like this that I killed General Ling Sen, poor fellow.”

  “How did you do it?” I asked.

  He walked to the eastern edge of the wall. “I called him over to this very spot, told him I thought I saw someone prowling around on the ground, and then when he leaned over to look, I pushed him off.”

  I moseyed over to where he was standing and looked down. “That must be a good fifty feet or so,” I said.

  “It was a relatively painless death,” said General Chang, starting to slur his words. “I don't believe he felt a thing for the first forty-nine feet.”

  “Maybe we ought to plant a cross or something to commemorate the unhappy event,” I said.

  “I like that,” said General Chang. “Someday, hundreds of years from now, historians can come to the wall and see the very spot where I became a General. I like the way you think, Doctor Jones. Perhaps I shall permit you to become my biographer.” He balanced himself precariously on the very edge of the wall and pointed down. “He hit the ground right there.”

  “By them little white flowers?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, peering into the darkness and swaying precariously. “It was right next to the bush.”

  “I can't see no bush,” I said. “Maybe it's further down the wall.”

  “Nonsense,” said General Chang. “I know where I pushed him off.”

  “Well, maybe the bush died, then,” I said. “But all I can see is grass and some flowers.”

  “You must be even drunker than I am, Doctor Jones,” he said irritably. “It's right down there.”

  He leaned over the wall and pointed, and suddenly he wasn't there any more, and a second later I heard a yell of "Oh, shit!" and then a loud thud, and I looked down and there was General Chang lying flat on his back fifty feet below me.

  “We were both right,” he mumbled just before he died. “The bush is in blossom.”

  Well, this turn of events caused me no little consternation, as you might imagine, especially since I wasn't the only one who had heard him fall. Suddenly soldiers began approaching me from every direction, and I suggested to my Silent Partner that if He had stockpiled any miracles in my heavenly account, this might be a pretty good time for me to cash a couple of them in.

  The soldiers came to a stop a few feet away from me, and a couple of them walked over to the edge of the wall and looked down.

  “You have killed General Chang!” said one of them in a shocked whisper.

  “I can explain everything,” I said. “It ain't my fault.”

  “Do not be so modest, General Jones,” said another.

  “General Jones?” I repeated.

  “To the victor belongs the spoils,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You defeated General Chang in personal combat. That makes you our leader—at least, until someone defeats you.”

  I looked around and saw at least half a dozen oversized Chinamen who looked like they were chomping at the bit to do just that.

  “What would have happened if he'd just gotten drunk and fell off the wall?” I asked.

  “Since he was in your company, we'd probably put you to death for not protecting him.”

  “Well, as long as we're being open and aboveboard,” I said, “I got to admit that he put up one hell of a fight. Not that the outcome was ever in doubt,” I added for the benefit of those who were thinking of moving up in the ranks.

  “He was our greatest warrior,” said the soldier. “Many of our strongest men have challenged him, but none was ever victorious.”

  “All in a day's work,” I said with becoming modesty.

  The soldier turned to his companions. “General Chang is dead!” he yelled. “Long live General Jones!”

  “Long live General Jones!” they all shouted back.

  “Well, now, that's a right touching sentiment,” I said. “And me and the Lord will certainly do our best to lead you to victory after victory.” When the cheering had stopped, I explained to them that I was going to set up housekeeping in General Chang's quarters while I plotted out our future conquests. That set off a whole new round of cheering, except for the five or six biggest of them, who had such lean and hungry looks whenever they stared at me that I decided it was time to leave the celebration and go to General Chang's guardhouse to consider my situation. A couple of minutes after I got there I heard a knock at the door, and then Marmaduke Merriweather let himself in.

  “I heard the news,” he said when he had closed the door behind him. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

  “Thanks, Brother Merriweather,” I said.

  “If I may be so bold as to say so, I think a hasty retreat might be in even better order,” he continued. “Somehow you don't seem to frighten them the way General Chang did.”

  “A couple of ’em are considering challenging me?” I asked.

  “It's more like a couple of them aren't,” he replied. “The rest are practically drawing straws to see who will be first.”

  “I was kind of afraid they might take that attitude,” I said.

  “It doesn't seem fair somehow,” said Merriweather sympathetically. “I always thought that being a warlord was a lifetime position.”

  “Oh, it is, Brother Merriweather,” I assured him. “The problem is that ‘lifetime’ seems to be a very elastic term in these here parts.”

  “What do you plan to do about it?” he asked.

  “I'm still mulling on it,” I said. “After all, I've only been the warlord for about twenty minutes. I ain't got all the nuances of the job nailed down yet.�
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  “Well, as I see it,” he said, “you've got two choices: you can flee to the east, or you can flee to the west.”

  “Running away is against my principles,” I said. “Especially when there's a fortune in jade knick-knacks in the next room.”

  “But the only alternative is to fight every challenger,” he pointed out.

  “Well, I suppose that's what I'll have to do,” I said, “me being the honorable Christian gentleman that I am.”

  “Meaning no disrespect,” he said, “but if I were making book on the event, you'd be a fifty-to-one underdog against each and every opponent.”

  “That's what they said about old Jonah,” I replied, “and he wound up harpooning the whale.”

  “I hate to correct you, Reverend Jones, but he wound up inside the whale,” said Merriweather.

  “Only in the British translation,” I said. “Now, I appreciate your concern, Brother Merriweather, but my mind's made up. Get some of them soldiers in here so I can announce my intentions.”

  He shrugged and walked out onto the wall, then returned a minute later with a couple of soldiers in tow.

  “You sent for us, General Jones?” asked one of them, snapping off a nifty salute.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It's come to my attention that some of the men think they can advance in rank pretty much the same way I did. Is that right?”

  “I believe so, General Jones.”

  “I think we're gonna have to nip this in the bud,” I said. “I want you to pass the word up and down the wall that I plan to take ’em all on, one at a time, comes morning.”

  “Our army extends for three hundred miles in each direction, General Jones,” he replied. “It will take at least two days for word to pass up and down the ranks.”

  “All right,” I said. “What's tomorrow?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “Fine. You tell ’em that I'm going into training, and that on Thursday morning I plan to drive to the Bentley to south end of the army and work my way north, taking on all challengers one at a time.”

  “What about the ones who are outside right now?”

  “They'll just have to wait their turn,” I said. “After all, fair is fair. Tell ’em I should be able to get to them by Friday afternoon.”