Free Assignment - Sulu Sea by Edward S. Aarons Page B

might have gone?“
    “No, I don’t. Perhaps I was too hasty. The bombing, and all—he
might he at the Hotel des Indes, looking for you.”
    “Or perhaps he's looking for Simon Smith’s kidnappers?”
    “Why should he do that?” she asked defensively.
    “I thought you might be able to answer that one.”
    “No, it’s nothing so tangible—nothing I can put my
finger on so easily, Mr. Durell. I’m sorry, I am afraid of you, I think.
You are not what I expected. Mr. Kiehle is rather kind and bumbling, and Dr.
McLeod is rather erratic, and not a diplomat, by any means.”
    “But I’m different?”
    Frightening, I should say."
    You have no reason to be afraid,” he said, “as long as “you
make an even swap—my help for yours."
    But I don’t want Tommy hurt, you see.”
    “If he’s in trouble, he’s already been hurt, and if you back
out now, Miss Hanamutra, it‘s possible he might be hurt worse than Simon Smith.”
He watched her with dark, hard eyes. A muscle twitched at the comer of her
mouth and she looked away. He said: “You’ve been in this office many times
before, right?”
    ‘Yes, but there was never any problem of security—"
    ‘Then tell me about Tommy and your plans to marry him and
Why you think he’s in trouble and what it has to do with Simon’s abduction from
the hospital where you work. While you talk, I'm going to look around, so don’t
mind my movements."
    “What will you look for?”
    “I'll know it.” he said, “if I find it."
    He put on more lamps, which shed a soft but efficient light
over the shining desk used by Thomas C. Lee. There Was a polished brass
name-plate on the desk, and Yoko Hanamutra offered the information that she had
given it to her fiancé   on his last
birthday. Durell nodded and went through the desk files. Several native
consulate employees came curiously to the door, and Durell went to the Indian clerk
outside and showed his I.D. card to dispel them and went on with his work.
    He could find nothing incriminating in the desk until
he came across a small slip of red tissue notepaper with Chinese ideographs on
it, tucked between the pages of a Day Book which itemized the comings and
goings of the absent Mr. Kiehle and the wandering Dr. Malachy McLeod, Durell held
the bit of red paper up between his fingers. “What is this, Yoko?”
      She considered it
with round eyes. “A gambling chit, I think.   But Tommy doesn’t gamble."
    “According to his initials here, he owes somebody some
money, doesn’t he? About eight hundred dollars, American?”
    She walked quickly toward the desk. She had a nice walk,
nice hips and nice legs, and very black, dangerous eyes.
    I asked you for help, Mr. Durell, and I aided you to escape embarrassing
questions by police, did I not? But you only suspect my Tommy, in exchange!”
She snatched the scrap of red paper from his fingers. “Yes, it is a
promissory note, a gambling chit, to Prince Ch’ing.”
    “I’ve heard of him,” Durell said drily.
    “He’s the boss—in Dendang, anyway. Maybe through all the
islands. The plebiscite will tell the truth, but he owns tin mines as well as
gambling dens and some say he owns the opium trade and palaces in Fishtown and
even some houses of women.” She paused and flushed. “I am not very well
advised of these things. All I know is that people say Prince Ch’ing is very
rich, very powerful, and a terrible man.”
    “You‘ve never met him yourself?”
    “Oh, no. Very few people have ever seen him.”
    “Has Tommy Lee?”
    “I don’t know. He never said so.”
    “But your Tommy owes him eight hundred dollars and is missing
tonight. Does that make sense to you?”
    She looked tearful. “No more sense than other things happening
in Pandakan lately. Tommy is changed—everyone has changed. It is a madness that
seized us all at once, and it is not just the plebiscite. Most of the people
don’t care about politics. They just want to be left alone. ”
    "If it isn't the