The Viking 66 Sports Cruiser skipped along the water away from the Causeway Bay docks and into Victoria Harbour. T.Y. Woo introduced the captain as his elder brother, J.J. The elder Woo, when not assisting at the antiques store on Cat Street, was a yachting enthusiast. T.Y. often used his brother’s boat for official Secret Service business. Like T.Y., J.J. was very agreeable. He said little; when Bond addressed him, J.J. would just nod his head and smile. Bond assumed the man’s English wasn’t as good as his brother’s.
The boat was built in the UK primarily for the American market with US components, but J.J. managed to have a model shipped over to Hong Kong. Apparently the Woo family had been very wealthy, and J.J. and T.Y. had each inherited a private fortune. The 66 had a solid glass hull, twin 820-hp MANs, and the capability of topping out at 30 knots. The deep-V design gave the boat true offshore capabilities—and a smooth ride. T.Y. proudly told Bond that J.J. had bought the boat for a song—only 1.5 million Hong Kong dollars.
It was still broad daylight. The harbour was extremely busy and full of all types of vessels. T.Y. told Bond that they had nothing to fear from the Marine Police—his boat was registered with them and would not be stopped. Even so, it was apparently not at all difficult to slip away from Hong Kong and over to Macau without Immigration finding out. The only trick was finding a discreet place to dock in Macau.
After twenty minutes, the boat was speeding through the strait north of Lantau Island and below the New Territories. Soon, they were out in the open South China Sea. J.J. opened up the MANs, and the Viking reached maximum speed.
“We will be in Macau in another three-quarters hour, uh huh?” T.Y. said, grinning. The wind was blowing through his short dark hair, and Woo seemed to take great pleasure in the sensation. Bond was feeling the effects of jet lag. He hoped some strong coffee would sharpen his wits enough for him to play a fast-paced game of
“Where are we going exactly?” Bond asked.
“Lisboa Hotel and Casino,” Woo said. “Not one of my favourite establishments.”
Bond knew the Lisboa. It was a prime tourist attraction in the legendary territory. Macau’s history was almost as colourful as Hong Kong’s. It predated the British colony by several centuries, its story part of the seaborne Age of Exploration that brought fifteenth century Portugal to prominence. Trade was the underlying catalyst for its development, specifically the immense wealth to be gained from the spices and silks of the Orient. The port of Macau was set up by the mid-1500s as a stop between Malacca and Japan. The territory flourished, especially during the early seventeenth century. By the twentieth, however, it had declined and had developed a reputation as a hotbed of spies, vice, and intrigue. In 1987, the anti-colonial Portuguese government signed an official agreement with China to hand over Macau on 20 December 1999. Unlike Hong Kong, Macau residents who gave up residency had the right to live in any EC country, including, ironically, Great Britain.
“You need quick
“That would be most helpful.”
Woo gestured that they should get out of the wind and into the boat’s cabin. They left the teak-covered deck, went below, and sat at a small table. Woo made some strong coffee and said, “Okay, tell me what you know.”
“The game is a mixture of gin rummy, dominoes, and poker, you might say. There are four players who play against each other. There isn’t much skill involved, mostly luck, and the trick is to play defensively and try to out- guess what your opponents need. There are three suits—Bamboo Sticks, Circles, and Characters. There are four sets of tiles numbered one to nine in each of the three suits. There are also four Red Dragon tiles, four Green Dragon, four White Dragon, and four tiles of each “wind”—the East Wind, West Wind, and so on.”
“Yes, that is all true,” Woo said. “There
“Why is he so good?” Bond asked. “The game really does depend on the luck of the draw, doesn’t it?”
Woo shrugged. “I do not know. If he cheats, I do not know how he does it. It is very hard to cheat at
The Viking sailed around the southern tip of Macau and made its way up the western side of the peninsula. Woo explained that it was easier to dock unseen over there, and they could take a taxi to the casino. They found a decrepit wooden dock hidden in some overgrowth.
“We use this dock before,” Woo said. “Be careful when you step on it. It not very safe. Oh, I almost forget. We cannot take guns in casino. They have high security. Metal detectors. We must leave them here.”
Bond remembered that from previous visits, and it made him very uncomfortable. Reluctantly, he handed J.J. his Walther PPK. “I hope I’m not going to need that later,” he said.
J.J. told T.Y. in Chinese that he would stay with the boat, then proceeded to stretch out on the bunk in the cabin. Bond and Woo carefully stepped on to the dock. It was a short walking distance to an urban area, and they found a taxi within minutes. The Hotel Lisboa was a barrel-shaped concrete building painted mustard and white, with walls corrugated like a waffle and roofs fashioned to resemble roulette wheels. As they entered the lobby, Bond noticed a collection of oddities on display: a small dinosaur skeleton, giant junks of carved ivory and jade, and a tapestry of the Great Wall. After passing through an unusually stringent security check, Bond followed Woo into the noisy, gaudy casino, where he had gambled a few times before. He was always amazed by the joylessness of the Macau casinos. Gambling there was taken very seriously and the participants did not look like happy people.
Woo stopped at a slot machine. “I must feed Hungry Tiger first,” he said. He slipped a two-dollar coin into the contraption and pulled the handle. He got a cherry, a bar, and an orange. He shrugged. “Come on, let’s go find
The Lisboa was built on several levels, with different games of baccarat, blackjack, roulette, fan tan, and slot machines played on different floors. The main, rotunda room of the first floor was full of smoke and sweat. Playing
Bond and Woo took the stairs to the third floor, past the VIP baccarat room and into a less crowded area. Woo spoke to a guard, who gestured to his right. Bond followed Woo to an archway covered by red curtains. “We are in luck,” Woo said. “Thackeray not here yet.” He moved through the curtains and was greeted by an Englishman in his late thirties with wavy blond hair.
“Mr. Woo!” the man said. “I thought you had lost all your money the last time you were here! Don’t tell me you’ve come back for more punishment?”
“Ah, Mr. Sinclair, you know that I must save face and try again,” Woo said good-humouredly. “This is my friend and business acquaintance Mr. Bond. He would like to play tonight, too. Is that all right?”
Sinclair scrutinized Bond and recognized a fellow Englishman. He held out his hand. “Simon Sinclair.”
“James Bond.” The man had a firm handshake, he noticed.
“What brings you to Macau, Mr. Bond?” Sinclair asked.
“I’m a reporter for a Jamaican paper, the
Sinclair rolled his eyes. “You and how many other thousand journalists? Well, come in, come in.”
It was a small room with a square table in the centre. Chairs stood at each of the four sides, and a set of
“Do you know Mr. Thackeray, Mr. Bond?” Sinclair asked.
“No, I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Bond said. “Mr. Woo here tells me that he’s quite a player.”
Sinclair laughed. “He takes me to the cleaners twice a week. I don’t know why I continue to play with him— some sort of masochistic streak in me, I suppose.”
“What do you do, Mr. Sinclair?” Bond asked.
“I work for EurAsia Enterprises. I was … uhm … recently promoted to General Manager.”
As if on cue, the curtains parted and Guy Thackeray walked in, followed by two bulky men who looked like bodyguards. He stopped to survey the room, but for some reason became unsteady for just a moment. He regained his composure quickly.
