Brokenclaw

M’s face hardened and his voice took on the sharp tone of suspicion. ‘What do you know of Brokenclaw Lee, Captain Bond?’

‘Very little, sir. But I saw him and listened to him giving a speech yesterday in Victoria, just before I received your orders to come on down here.’

‘Gee whizz,’ said Rushia softly. ‘Gee whizz, is that right?’

‘Tell us about it,’ M said flatly, as though challenging Bond to perform some impossible feat.

5

TROJAN HORSE

As he recounted the facts of yesterday’s unexpected sighting and observation of Brokenclaw Lee, Bond was almost anxiously aware that both M and Commander Rushia listened to him with an intensity which he found disturbing. The two men were very still, never moving a muscle, their faces blank, like a pair of predators waiting for their target to come within range.

When Bond finished speaking there was a long silence. Involuntarily, images came clearly into his mind – smoke from an old steam train, drifting away in a long stream; the view from a powerful telescope, looking into space. Then M spoke.

‘Why did you become so interested in Lee?’ His tone was unusually hostile.

‘I read his lips; death seemed to enter into the conversation, but, above all, he appeared to be an immensely powerful man. There was an aura about him, something different, fascinating, even charismatic.’

‘And that’s the truth, Bond? The whole truth? You saw this man and he struck you as being, shall we say “different”, not quite as other men? His power and presence fascinated you?’

As he spoke, M raised his eyebrows, glanced at Rushia, who gave him a noncommittal look.

‘Exactly, sir. I’ve been a little in the doldrums in the past few weeks. Lee and the story he told about himself somehow jerked me from my torpor. He interested me! In fact I intended to do some kind of follow up, check the fellow out. But your message arrived before I could even begin.’

There was another pause. More pictures in Bond’s mind, this time of the man, Lee, his power and toughness tempered with charm.

‘Knowing the circumstances as I do,’ M started again, pausing, brow furrowed, ‘if it was anybody else but you, 007, I’d be very suspicious of your story.’

‘Mighty suspicious.’ Rushia looked at Bond with an almost vacant stare.

‘Let’s get it straight one more time,’ M continued. ‘You saw the man and his entourage outside your hotel; you did a little lip-reading and reckoned he was told something about a death connected with Lords though you didn’t understand the significance. You were told his name and, because he was such a striking individual, you followed him and listened to his speech of presentation at the museum.’

‘Correct.’ Bond looked straight into M’s cold grey eyes.

‘Do you think he would recognise you again?’

‘I’ve no idea. His speech was a bit of a performance. As though he were an actor. He used his eyes well, but whether he marked me I couldn’t say. I’d doubt it. Doubt it very much.’

‘And the bodyguards?’

‘If they’re very good – trained surveillance experts – one of them might make me if he saw me again. I just don’t know.’

‘And you believed all that stuff about his Chinese great-grandfather and the marriage to the Blackfoot woman and so on even unto the third and fourth generation?’ M spoke in a mock-parsonical manner.

‘It was very convincing. I suppose, apart from his very imposing physical appearance, it was the thing that made him unique.’

M grunted. ‘Yes. Yes, it is convincing, and you’ve been party to a quite extraordinary coincidence. Very few people actually get to see Mr Brokenclaw Lee. Usually only those he wants to see, apart from his regular retinue. I needn’t remind you, Captain Bond, that in our business, coincidence and luck don’t play a very big part.’

‘A strange coincidence, to use a phrase, by which some things are settled nowadays,’ Rushia quoted almost to himself. ‘Who the heck said that?’

‘I think it was Byron, actually.’ Bond was already irritated by what appeared to be a hostile interrogation. ‘But I really don’t understand what you’re getting at – either of you.’

‘Well, listen, Bond.’ M bent slightly forward, as though about to impart some choice classified information. ‘Brokenclaw Lee is powerful. He’s a gangster, a hoodlum, a one-man Mafia. He’s also a mystery. He comes and goes as he pleases, disappears like a will-o’-the-wisp, he is a known killer, owns a very large portion of San Francisco’s shady side. He controls practically every gambling den in Chinatown. Prostitution – and there’s plenty of that – only operates under his aegis, the drug dealers pay him a fancy percentage, almost every nightclub or restaurant in the Chinatown area either belongs to him, or pays him handsomely.’

‘What about law enforcement? Surely, if this is known . . . ?’ Bond began.

Ed Rushia stirred in his chair. ‘Gosh, James. Knowing it isn’t proving it.’

‘Well, how . . . ?’

‘How what?’ The commander thumped his knee with a big hand, fingers spread wide. ‘How he doesn’t get arrested? I’ll tell you how. Because he owns people, owns their souls. Know what that means? It means that, whatever the rumours, whatever the truth, nobody’ll talk and certainly nobody will stand up in court. The local cops and FBI have plenty of snitches who pass on bits of information, rumour, tales, tittle-tattle, even truth. But not one of them would even think of giving evidence about your pal Brokenclaw Lee. For all we know he has people inside the SFPD and the FBI. I doubt it, but who knows?’ For a second, Rushia had dropped his down-home image and manner of speech.

‘A one-man Mafia, you said.’ Bond looked from one to the other. ‘But even people mixed up with organised crime talk eventually. What about the special witness programmes? People who give evidence are protected, given new lives. I can’t believe that Lee hasn’t got enemies if . . .’

‘Oh yeah. Sure. Sure he’s got plenty of enemies,’ Rushia drawled. ‘But you try to get solid evidence from them. Ole Brokenclaw has two very powerful bits of ju-ju going for him. First off the stuff about his ancestry – Chinese and Blackfoot Indian. His forebears include at least one Medicine Man, or Woman I should say, and possibly more. May sound like superstition to you, Cap’n Bond, but a lot of very down-to-earth folk half believe the man has supernatural powers. He makes certain the stories about him are gilded and pretty juiced up. I’ve met an otherwise rational man who believes that Brokenclaw can turn himself into an eagle.’

Bond recalled the power of voodoo, which he had seen for himself at first hand. Thinking about it, he decided that a man with Brokenclaw Lee’s personality might well be able to engender a kind of hypnosis and superstition which made followers believe he had unusual powers.

‘Second, there is proof on the streets that nobody has ever managed to inform on Mr Brokenclaw Lee and survive,’ Rushia continued. ‘There’s the tale of one particular snitch, name of Tiger Balm Chan. Lee is supposed to have torn him apart with his bare hands. Don’t know if it’s true, but ole Tiger Balm was a mess when they found him – over an area of one square mile. Found him piecemeal, so to speak.’

‘If there’s so much information on him, why hasn’t anybody tried to prosecute?’ To Bond, the essential way of Brokenclaw Lee’s life sounded like something from a strip cartoon. He said just that, his eyes fixed on M.

M laughed. ‘Strip cartoon? Maybe. I told you, the man’s a will-o’-the-wisp. All his financial power is held by companies which are themselves dummy companies answerable to other dummy companies. In ten years the IRS has never been able to move against him because they cannot prove a thing – even the FBI, and I have a great deal of time for the FBI, cannot keep him in their sights. Over a dozen times they’ve mounted very complex, round-the- clock surveillance on him. Result? Those surveillance teams had him for twenty-four hours. Never longer. The man and his closest lieutenants just vanish for long periods. The agencies know of five large estates which might well belong to friend Brokenclaw, but he’s never been physically discovered on any of those properties, and nobody, I mean nobody, has ever come up with conclusive