Brokenclaw

‘The rest of my building is underground. The views from the windows are achieved with great technical skill. Within the box, that is part of the house, there is a cyclorama, and our somewhat large and expensive home underground is also surrounded by a similar cyclorama. You know what a cyclorama is, Peter?’

‘Yes. A device usually found in theatres.’

‘A curved screen. A large structure. In this case a very large, long curved screen made of cement and covered with the same material used for making wide screens in movie houses.’

‘So those incredible views are somehow projected on . . . ?’ Bond began.

‘In simple, laymen’s terms, yes.’ Now Brokenclaw was smiling like an indulgent parent. ‘But there’s a great deal more to it than that. The detail and movement are recorded by what is a further step in laser technology. You know of the laserdisk principle, I presume?’

They both nodded, Bond thinking that this set-up alone must have cost millions.

‘Well, what you see when you look from the windows and the system is running is really a super, three- dimensionalised laserdisk throwing the images, in great clarity, and in three dimensions on to the cyclorama. If you bothered to stand there for a long time, possibly with a stopwatch, you would see almost the same cycle repeated – car movements, cattle and horses grazing – about once every two hours. However, there are further enhancements. The projections at dusk and dawn can be changed to conform to fifty-nine different patterns, while we can pick random sequences which will alter the weather over a twenty-four hour period. The whole is, naturally, computer controlled.’

‘Naturally,’ Bond murmured.

‘It is all very effective, and I do have some specialised tricks – like the one you saw of seventeenth-century London, Peter.’

‘Oh, I’d like to see that.’ Chi-Chi was as fascinated as Bond by the idea of a house underground, below two areas that were virtually Chinese boxes within the main structure. Brokenclaw could, of course, come and go as he pleased if this place was his central headquarters.

‘Well, I’ll show it to you, Jenny.’ Brokenclaw rose, obviously enjoying the display. But, as he stood, there was a brisk knocking at the door.

‘Come,’ he called, as pleasantly as ever.

Bone Bender Ding stood in the doorway. ‘We have the spy bitch’s father here, sir.’ His face was wreathed in the most unpleasant gold-toothed grin that Bond had seen for a long time.

Brokenclaw turned to Bond and Chi-Chi, ‘Please excuse me, this will not take long. Just eat your breakfast and I’ll show you how we discourage people from turning against us. Bring him in,’ he ordered, his voice giving no sign of anger.

Tony Man Song Hing, for they knew immediately who this man must be, was almost hurled into the room, falling in front of Brokenclaw sprawling on his knees. He was out of breath and there was a fresh, bloody bruise on the right side of his cheek. He was a small man and next to Brokenclaw he seemed even smaller.

‘Tony, I am very disappointed with you.’ It could not have been a more pleasant tone.

‘What . . . ? I don’t understand . . . Why . . . ? What have I done . . . ?’ the words tumbled from the little man, his voice rising in panic.

‘What have you done? You’re trying to tell me you don’t know?’

‘Of course I don’t know. I don’t owe you money any more; we settled that ten days after . . .’

‘Ten days after you so kindly presented me with your beautiful daughter, yes. I thanked you then, Tony Man Song Hing. Now, it is time to curse you.’

‘If she has not pleased you . . .’

‘Oh, she pleased me for a time. Then we discovered that she had a small, short-wave transmitter hidden in this house. In my house, Tony. I knew she was a United States Naval officer. I did not know she was an intelligence officer and that she was spying. Your precious daughter was spying on me, Tony . . .’

‘I had no idea . . . What . . . ?’

‘Tony.’ He shook his great head and his voice took on the same soft and mellow tone he would doubtless use when making love. ‘Tony, how can I believe you?’

‘You must! You must believe me!’

‘I’m sorry, but I cannot take that risk. She is a spy. We will deal with her. You introduced her to me, so you must pay also.’ His eyes lifted to look at Ding standing in the doorway. Behind Ding, Bond could make out the figure of Frozen Stalk Pu.

Very softly, Brokenclaw Lee said, ‘Throw him to the wolves.’

Tony Man Song Hing began to blubber and scream as Ding, assisted by Pu, grabbed him, pulling him from the floor and dragging him from the room. The cries and screams echoed from outside for almost thirty seconds.

In the silence that followed, Bond felt he had to make some remark gauged to show his contempt for anyone like Man Song Hing. ‘That is a good description, sir. Throw him to the wolves. Your men are undoubtedly as ferocious as that poor dying breed of animals.’

‘My men?’ Lee looked at him with a blankness which was almost bone-chilling. ‘A description? That wasn’t a description, Peter Abelard. That was reality. I have a pack of seven wolves. As you say, they are a dying breed, a threatened species. I meant what I said. My wolves are hungry. My men will strip Mr Man Song Hing then cover his body with various animal fats which attract my little pack. After that, they will throw him to my wolves. You’d like to watch?’

‘No, I think not. Not this time anyway.’ Bond thought Chi-Chi was going to vomit.

‘Well, now. I suppose Ms Mo – Jenny – here should get dressed, so that we can start you off, looking through the intelligence I’ve gathered for you.’

There was a slight pause, then Chi-Chi took the cue, ‘Yes, if it’s as good as you say – and I don’t doubt that it is – I’ll have my time cut out getting it made into microdots for the transference back to Beijing Hsia. They will be pleased to see it there.’

‘Yes, I set great store by the analysts at Beijing Hsia. I meant to ask, how was old One-Eye H’ang when you last saw him?’

‘In excellent spirits,’ Bond filled in, as Chi-Chi left the table and began to make her excuses.

‘Yes, it will be good to see him again.’ Brokenclaw had gone to stand near the empty fireplace. ‘I presume that it will be you, Peter, who will be smuggling the microdots out of here; I mean, Jenny is so good with numbers and the computers that I imagine she will be the one who stays to assist with the real work, with what old One-Eye has so humorously called Operation Jericho.’

‘Yes. Yes,’ Bond said hurriedly, hoping that Chi-Chi would remain calm.

‘So, you will want to get away by late tonight I shouldn’t doubt?’

‘If we can complete the work.’

‘And if you can get the promised payment, which, of course, you will. What a pity, Peter. You’ll miss old One-Eye H’ang. He doesn’t arrive here until tomorrow night.’

James Bond felt that the earth was about to swallow him up. Chi-Chi just went chalk white, swaying slightly in the doorway.

Brokenclaw was not even looking at them. ‘Yes, it will be very good to talk again with One-Eye. It has been a long time.’

13

BLACK MAGIC

James Bond did not dare to follow Chi-Chi back to the guest suite. She was good, but the sudden knowledge of the imminence of Hung Chow H’ang’s arrival and of another operation on the boil might just throw her into speaking questions aloud. He simply hoped that he could give her some comfort as they went through the farce of examining the Lords and Lords Day intelligence. Neither Chi-Chi nor Bond were in any way qualified to judge the