Zero Minus Ten

“I don’t know how I can help …”

“Just point him out to me when he comes in.”

“He might not come in today.”

“Well, I shall be here every day until he does. Now … how about that dance?”

When he said that, she smiled again. “You want to go to a private room?”

Bond nodded.

“It will cost you 1400 Hong Kong dollars.”

“I’m sure it will be worth every penny,” he said.

Sunni seemed to forget the subject of their earlier conversation. She stood up, took hold of his hand, and led him to one side of the club and into a small room. She shut the door and gestured for him to sit on a chair against the wall. She took his money and tucked it into a small purse she placed on the floor.

“Just relax and enjoy the show,” she said. She punched a button on a tape deck set into the wall. Music with a beat filled the room.

Sunni Pei then began a slow, sensuous dance in front of Bond. She stared into his eyes the entire time, smiling every now and then. She moved well. She might have had professional dance training, but didn’t need it for what she was doing. All she needed was sex appeal and attitude, and Sunni Pei had plenty of both.

Bond watched her, captivated. Never having gone in much for strippers, he admitted to himself that she was something special. Her beauty was extraordinary, though once again it was the intellect behind her seduction that made her so appealing. He found that he wasn’t playing the British tourist in search of a good time anymore. He was really enjoying this.

Sunni deftly undid her cheongsam and removed it. Underneath she had on nothing but a black satin bra and matching bikini panties. Her navel was pierced with a small, thin gold ring. She slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, unsnapped it and tossed it into Bond’s lap. She laughed. Her breasts were the size of apples, firm and natural. Her nipples were erect; she frankly enjoyed playing the exhibitionist. A few beats later, she pulled her black panties down and lifted one long leg out of them. She stepped gracefully out of them, then stood over Bond. Her legs spread wide, she straddled his lap and moved her breasts within inches of his face. He could smell her sweet skin, which was lightly damp with sweat, and Bond felt an urge to touch her.

She brought her face up close to Bond’s, and blew lightly around his left ear. Her lips touched his, giving him a light kiss. “You’re not supposed to touch me,” she whispered, “but I’ll let you anyway.”

Not refusing the invitation, Bond reached up with both hands and softly ran his palms and fingertips over her back. He felt goosepimples rise on her shoulders. Her skin was unbelievably soft and smooth. He pulled her to a sitting position on his lap. She began to run her fingers through his hair and along the back of his neck; he did the same with his own hands on her body. Her eyes never left his.

When his hands found her breasts, she gave a slight purr, then she pressed her mouth on his. They kissed, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths with curiosity and delight. She pushed her pelvis forward into his and felt his hardness there. He wanted her, but this was not the time or place. For the time being, though, he allowed the “dance” to work its wonders on him and take him along the river of fantasy that was her primary intention. She seemed to be displaying sincere affection for him. Sometimes these girls were so good at what they did that it was difficult to tell if they were acting or not. Bond’s instincts told him that she was honestly interested in him. She was having a good time, too.

When the music ended, Sunni gave him one last quick kiss on the lips, then stood up. She found her underclothes and put them back on. Bond sat there, a little dazed. This woman would be a powerhouse in bed, he thought.

“Did you like that?” she finally asked.

“Quite,” Bond said. “Thank you.”

She held out her hand. He took it and stood up. “Come on, let’s go back out … unless you want another dance?”

Bond smiled. “Another time, Sunni.”

“Better call me Veronica,” she warned.

“All right.”

She put the cheongsam back on, then they went back into the club and resumed sitting at their table.

“Can I refill your drink?” she asked. Bond told her yes. As she got up, she whispered, “Don’t look now, but your man is sitting over there near the bar.”

Sunni walked towards the bar and Bond glanced over. Three or four tables were set inside a small section surrounded by a rail, apparently a “reserved” VIP area. At one of these tables sat a Chinese man in a business suit. On either side of him were two larger men in suits—the bodyguards.

From this distance, it was difficult to tell how old Li Xu Nan was. He appeared to be fairly young, perhaps in his early- to mid-thirties. He was sipping a drink and conversing with one of the hostesses.

Sunni brought back another martini and sat down.

“So that’s Mr. Li,” Bond said. “He seems young.”

Sunni shrugged. “What did you expect? An ageing don like in the Mafia?”

The door to the nightclub opened and three men entered. It wasn’t until they entered the private section, removed their hats, and sat down at Li’s table that Bond recognized them. Or rather, he recognized two of them.

All three men had white hair and pinkish-white skin. They all wore sunglasses. They were the albino Chinese he had seen in Macau! Now that was interesting!

“Do you know those three men?” Bond asked.

Sunni glanced over at them. “No. They’re strange, aren’t they? Albino brothers, it looks like.”

“That’s unusual in this part of the world, isn’t it?”

“I should say so.” She turned back to him. “Sure you don’t want another dance?”

“Later, Sunn—Veronica.” Bond’s attention was focused on Li and his visitors. He appeared to be giving them instructions of some kind. Who were these three men? Members of the Dragon Wing Society? Musclemen? Even though their backs were to him, Bond was able to discern some visual differences. They were each of different builds and weights. He thought of them as Tom, Dick, and Harry. Tom was the heaviest, probably about 240 pounds. Dick was Bond’s size—tall and slim. Harry was smaller in stature and the most animated.

After a few minutes, the three albinos nodded, stood, and left the nightclub. Li remained sitting at the table with his two bodyguards.

Bond removed a business card and pen from his pocket. He wrote a message on the back.

“Sunni,” he said, “please deliver this to Mr. Li.” He handed her 1000 Hong Kong dollars. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this evening.” He gave her another 2000 dollars. “And this is for the dance.”

She looked at the money in disbelief. “James, thank you! You don’t …”

“Hush,” he said. “You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful and a pleasure to talk to. I hope to see you again soon.”

She nodded and said, “I do, too.” She kissed him on the cheek, stood up and walked slowly to Li Xu Nan’s table with Bond’s card in hand.

NINE

INTERVIEW WITH A DRAGON

SUNNI APPROACHED LI XU NAN CAUTIOUSLY AND SUBMISSIVELY HANDED him the card. He looked at it and said something to her. She pointed to Bond. Li’s gaze shifted over to him. It was cold and calculating. Bond could see that he could not believe that the Englishman would have the audacity to make contact with him. Li barked an order to one of his thugs. The large man nodded and walked across the dance floor towards Bond.

When he got to Bond’s table, he said, “Mr. Li say you got big nose. But he also say you got big balls. He will talk to you. Come to table.”

Bond followed the man to Li’s table. The other bodyguard held out a chair and Bond sat across from the Cho