Midnight Never Comes

on the damp air, a strange, frightening sound, shattering the night with the force of a physical blow. The albino swung round and Yuan Tao walked out of the rain into the light.

He wore no coat and the jacket of the expensive gaberdine suit was soaked by the heavy rain and somehow, he seemed different. This was no ordinary man. Chavasse knew that in an instant. And that strange cry-he had heard it before somewhere or something very much like it. The fighting shout common to all Asian martial arts from karate to kendo.

McGuire laughed harshly. 'Put him out of his misery, Charlie, for Christ's sake.'

The man with the iron bar released Chavasse. He darted round the car and ran at Yuan Tao, the bar swinging down viciously. The Chinaman actually took the blow on his left forearm with no apparent ill-effect. In the same moment, his right fist moved in a short forward jab that was unlike any boxing stroke Chavasse had ever seen. It landed high on his assailant's cheek, the bone splintered and the man spun round and fell on his face.

McGuire gave a growl of rage. He went round the car on the run and kicked Yuan Tao squarely in the stomach with all his force. What happened then would have seemed unbelievable if Chavasse hadn't seen it with his own eyes. The Irishman seemed to rebound backwards and amazingly, Yuan Tao moved in after him. As McGuire straightened, the little Chinaman hit him twice and the Irishman catapulted over the bonnet of the car and sprawled on his back moaning.

Yuan Tao moved round the car slowly, the same calm expression on his face, and the man who still held Chavasse gave a sudden cry of fear, released his grip and took to his heels.

The albino giggled horribly and held out the razor in front of him. 'Come on, fatty, let's be having you,' he said.

'What about me then, Terry?' Chavasse said and as the albino swung round, he put every last ounce of strength he had into one beautiful back-handed chop with the edge of his hand that caught him across the side of the neck.

The albino writhed in agony on the pavement and Chavasse hung on to the railings to stop himself falling down. Beyond the car, a shooting brake had turned the corner and the two waiters and the cook from the restaurant were already walking towards the dock gates, bringing the fourth man with them.

'I'd tell them to leave him in one piece if I were you,' Chavasse said to Yuan Tao. 'You'll need him to drive this little lot away.'

'A good point,' the fat man said. 'Are you all right?'

'Only just,' Chavasse grinned. 'I don't know what it was you used just now, but I'm beginning to understand why your niece was annoyed with me at the restaurant. Presumably you were just waiting for McGuire and his boys to show up.'

Yuan Tao smiled. 'I have flown in specially from Hong Kong just for that pleasure, my friend. Su-yin cabled for my help the moment these pigs first introduced themselves. I do not think they will bother us again although I intend to stay for a month or two to make sure.'

'I should imagine they'll take the point.'

By this time the three Chinese had arrived with the fourth man. Yuan Tao spoke to them rapidly in a low voice and then returned to Chavasse. 'And now we can leave. They will deal with things here. Su-yin is waiting in her car.'

Chavasse was aware of a strange feeling of elation. It was as if he had come alive again for the first time in months. As they approached the shooting brake, Su-yin got out and came to meet them.

She ignored her uncle and looked searchingly at Chavasse. 'You are all right?'

'Nothing that a drink and a hot bath won't cure.'

She put a hand on his arm. 'I am sorry for what I said earlier.'

'Nothing to be sorry about.'

At that moment a scream echoed through the rain. She turned to Yuan Tao, a frown on her face. 'What was that?'

'The little worm, the one with white hair. I was not pleased with the way he insulted you. I told them to cut off his right ear.'

Su-yin's face didn't alter. 'I see.' She smiled at Chavasse. 'We will go now. Conversation can come later.'

'If you have studied judo or karate at all, you will have heard of kiai, the power that makes a man perform apparent miracles of strength and force. Only the greatest of masters may acquire this and only after many years of discipline, both mental and physical.'

Yuan Tao squatted against the wall of the tiled bathroom dressed in an old terry towelling robe and peered through the steam at Chavasse who half-floated, submerged to his neck in water so hot that sweat broke from his face in great drops.

He nodded. 'Once in Japan I was taken to meet a master of ninjutsu, an old man of eighty, a Zen priest as a matter of fact. He had arms like sticks and weighed perhaps eight stone. The man who took me was a judo black belt and in a demonstration, he repeatedly attacked the old man who remained seated.'

'What happened?'

'Incredible as it may seem, the old man threw him effortlessly. He told me later that the power sprang from the seat of reflex control, what they called the tanden or second brain. Apparently the development of this faculty had nothing to do with physical exercising, but had been the result of many years spent in fasting and meditation.'

'That is true. All this is but a Japanese development of the ancient Chinese art of Shaolin Temple Boxing. We are told that it first came from India with Zen Buddhism in the sixth century and was developed by the monks of Shaolin Temple in Honan Province.'

'A martial art for priests surely?'

'A necessary accomplishment in those wild times. We have a saying in my province. A prudent man avoids warfare only by being prepared for it. In my own family the art has been handed down from father to son for seven centuries. There are many schools, many methods, but without ch'i they are all nothing.'

Chavasse frowned. 'Ch'i?'

'Ch'i is the power which you in your Western world might term intrinsic energy. When it is accumulated in the tan t'ien, a point just below the navel, it has an elemental force, an energy which in application, is infinitely greater than physical strength alone.'

'Let me get this straight,' Chavasse said. 'Are you saying that when you strike, it isn't the weight of the blow which causes the damage, it's this inner energy.'

'Precisely. The fist is simply a focussing agent. There is no need for the tremendous punches used by your Western boxers. I strike, often from only a few inches away, punching against the internal organs, screwing my fist slightly on impact. This way one may rupture the liver or spleen with ease or break bones.'

Remembering the crunch of bone breaking back there on the wharf, Chavasse shuddered. 'Having seen it in action, I can believe you. But McGuire kicked you in the stomach with all his force and you were not affected. How do you explain that?'

Yuan Tao laughed gently. 'Practice, my friend. Forty years of practice.'

'I'm afraid I haven't got that long,' Chavasse said, getting to his feet.

Yuan Tao stood up and passed him a towel. 'One may accomplish a great deal in a month or two with discipline and application.'

Chavasse paused, the towel bunched in his hands. 'Are you saying you would be willing to teach me?'

Yuan Tao looked at him critically. 'You have been ill, my friend, your ribs show. The big scar-it was a knife, I am right?'

Chavasse nodded. 'It poisoned my whole system. I was in and out of hospital for months.'

'Forgive me, but I must ask this. The scars on your body, the gun you carried, speak of no ordinary man.'

'Until this evening I was employed by my country's intelligence service.'