Free A Coffin From Hong Kong by James Hadley Chase Page B

punch. The whites of his eyes showed and he reeled back, sagging at the knees. The knife slipped out of his thick fingers. I kicked it across the room, then as I set myself, he began to fall forward. I hung a punch on his jaw again that ripped the skin off my knuckles. He went down with a thud, scraping his chin on the carpet.
    I leaned against the wall, panting. I felt like hell. I had taken some of the heaviest punches I've ever taken and they had done something bad to me. It was as if some of my life had been drained out of me. The door burst open and two cops stormed in, guns in hand.
    You can't stage this kind of fight in my kind of apartment without alerting the whole block. As they came in, the punk rolled over on his side. He had fallen on his gun and now it was in his hand. He was still trying to earn his money. He took a snap shot at me and I felt the slug fan my face before it made a hole in the wall, bringing down a shower of plaster.
    One of the cops fired. I yelled at him, but it was too late. The punk died, still trying for a second shot at me. He was conscientious if nothing else.

CHAPTER TWO

1
    The fat man, sweat beads on his balding head, leaned forward to look out of the window as the 'No Smoking' sign flashed up.
    "Well, here we are—Hong Kong," he said over his shoulder. "Looks pretty good. They say there's no place quite like it on earth. Could be they are right."
    As his big head was cutting off my view, I busied myself with my safety-belt. Finally when he leaned back to fix his own belt, I managed to catch a glimpse of green mountains, the sparkling blue sea and a couple of junks before we were bumping gently along the runway.
    The fat man who had been my companion from Honolulu, reached up to collect a cameraand a Pan-Am overnight bag.
    "Are you staying at the Peninsula?" he asked me,"I'm on the other side."
    His sweating face showed disapproval. "Kowloon's better: better shops: better hotels, but maybe you're here on business?"
    "That's right," I said.
    The explanation seemed to satisfy him.
    The other passengers in the aircraft began to collect their hand luggage. The usual polite pushing and shoving went on for a while before I could squeeze myself out into the hot sunshine.
    It had been a good trip, slightly over-long, but I had enjoyed it
    Ten minutes later, I was through the Customs and out into the noisy, bustling approach to the airport. I saw my fat companion being whisked away in a tiny hotel bus. He waved to me and I waved back. Half a dozen or so rickshaw boys converged on me, shouting and waving anxiously. Their old, yellow, dried up faces were imploring. As I stood hesitating, a broad, squat Chinese, neatly dressed in a city suit, came over to me and gave me a little bow. "Excuse me, please," he said. "Perhaps I can help you? You would like a taxi?"
    "I want to get to the Celestial Empire Hotel at Wanchai," I said.
    "That will be on the island, sir." He looked slightly surprised in a polite way. "It would be best to take a taxi to the ferry and cross to Wanchai. The hotel is close to the ferry station on the other side." "Thanks a lot," I said. "Will the driver speak English?"
    "Most of them can understand a little English." He signalled to a taxi at the head of the rank. "If you will permit me ..."
    He went on ahead. I picked up my bag and went after him. He spoke to the driver in what was probably Cantonese. The driver, a lean dirty-looking Chinese, grunted, glanced at me, then away.
    "He will take you to the ferry, sir," the squat man said. "The fare will be one dollar: not an American dollar, you understand, but a Hong Kong dollar. As you will probably know mere are approximately six Hong Kong dollars to the American dollar." He beamed at me. Every tooth in his head seemed to be capped with gold. "You will have no trouble in finding the hotel on the other side. It is opposite the ferry station." He hesitated, then added apologetically, "You know this particular hotel is scarcely