because China’s own transport infrastructure is inadequate. It is as important to China as it is to Hong Kong.
From where he stood, Bond could see hundreds of containers stacked high like coloured building blocks. They all had labels and logos painted on the sides—EVERGREEN, UNIGLORY, HYUNDAI, K LINE, WAN HAI, CHO YANG, HANJIN, and others. Tall orange cranes loomed over the containers at strategic points around the port, along with equally tall blue barges. White warehouse buildings were scattered throughout the extended terminal. One could easily get lost, but luckily Bond was equipped with the map that Woo had prepared for him.
He removed his left shoe, pried open the heel, took out the small wire cutter and replaced the shoe. He climbed the fence and easily snapped the barbed-wire, slipped through and over the fence, and jumped down to the pavement on the other side. He took a moment to replace the wire cutter, then pulled the map from his pocket. The EurAsia Enterprises warehouse was at the southern end of the terminal.
Apparently the port never closed, for there were men working here and there, even after hours. The place was well illuminated by tall floodlights. So much for dressing in dark clothes … Bond darted from one pile of containers to another, hoping no one would see him. After ten minutes, he found the warehouse. It was fully lit and its loading doors were open.
The warehouse was near the shoreline, and Bond could see a large white cargo ship in Rambler Channel, the body of water adjoining the port. It was too far away for him to read the name on the side, but he assumed it was one of EurAsia’s ships. A smaller lighter was travelling from the ship to the shoreline, where cranes were ready to unload cargo. It appeared that the lighter had already made a trip or two, for men were busy moving crates into the warehouse on forklifts. Bond moved closer to the building, looking for an entry somewhere at the back.
There was a door behind the warehouse, probably an emergency exit of some kind. Bond was sure it would be locked, but he tried it anyway. He was right. Twenty feet above him was an open window, but he had no way to scale the wall. Without a second thought, Bond snapped open the clasp on his belt buckle. Q Branch had devised this standard field issue piece of equipment many years ago. A set of fibreglass picklocks was hidden inside, undetectable by X-ray. Bond squatted so that he was at eye level with the door knob, and slowly tried each pick until he found one that worked. In three minutes, the door was unlocked. He replaced the picklocks and slowly inched open the door.
He was at the back of the dimly lit warehouse. There was a token crew working, perhaps three or four men. Bond slipped in and shut the door, then moved quickly to an area containing stacks of cardboard boxes. By peering around the boxes, he got a view of the entire warehouse.
It was full of crates, boxes, forklifts, and other machinery. A prefabricated building serving as an office was built on scaffolding. Metal steps led up to the office. Its door was open, light pouring out of it. Through the single window, Bond could see that someone was in there.
The most curious thing about the warehouse was the object that sat upon a wheeled platform. It was a wooden sampan, a simple boat with a hood covering. The word “sampan” means “three planks,” and that was practically all it was. What was it doing here? Unlike the sampans one could see in Aberdeen Harbour, this one looked brand new, as if it had just been built. Bond doubted that it had ever been in the water. It was painted dark brown and had a bright red hood. Red was the Chinese colour of good luck.
A figure emerged from the office and descended the steps. Bond’s jaw dropped when he saw who it was. The man was the albino Chi-nese he had dubbed “Tom”—the heaviest of the three men he had seen with Li Xu Nan at the Zipper. Tom spoke to the workers and pointed outside. Immediately, the men moved to the sampan and began to wheel it out of the warehouse. Tom followed them.
Now was Bond’s chance to get into the office. He ran up the steps, knowing that he had a minute or two before Tom came back. In addition to the window which faced the warehouse, there was also one looking out over the harbour. On a desk beneath that window was a stack of papers. Bond recognized a shipping itinerary on top, printed on EurAsia Enterprises letterhead. Even though it was written mostly in Chinese, Bond could translate the name of the ship as the
A metal briefcase also lay on the desk. Bond found that it was unlocked and looked inside. It was full of cash, all Hong Kong currency, and a lot of it—thousands of dollars.
A map of Southeast Asia was tacked on to a cork bulletin board on the other side of the room. Bond studied it closely; it was marked with yellow highlights. Several lines apparently charted different routes, over land and sea, from Hong Kong to a circled area in the Yunnan Province in China. Bond immediately recognized it as the “Golden Triangle,” the infamous no-man’s land, the source of most of the world’s heroin.
Bond glanced out of the window. Tom was still giving orders to the men. The sampan had been positioned under a crane. The lighter he had seen earlier was nearing the shoreline and was about to dock. Were they going to load the sampan on to the
He knew he only had a few more minutes. He opened a filing cabinet next to the desk and saw numerous manilla folders. They were all marked with innocuous headings, certainly all pertaining to the shipping business. One, however, caught Bond’s eye. It was marked “Australia.”
He pulled out the folder and opened it, remembering that EurAsia Enterprises owned a gold-mining operation in Western Australia. The material in the folder pertained to that. There was an official letterhead reading “EurAsia Enterprises Australia,” and an address in Kalgoorlie. Thumbing through the pages, Bond found nothing of interest until he came to a large sheet of paper folded three times. He opened it up and saw that it was a map of the Kalgoorlie facility. The gold mine was clearly drawn, showing the winding passages, entrances, and locations of the lodes. One amorphous shape in the mine was marked “Off Limits Area.”
That was enough for Bond. He folded up the map and pocketed it. He then replaced the folder, shut the filing cabinet and took another look out of the window. Tom wasn’t there! Bond moved to the doorway and peered out. The albino was standing in the entrance of the warehouse loading doors, looking out at the harbour. If Bond moved slowly and silently, the man wouldn’t see him. Bond stepped out of the door, swung his leg over the rail, heaved his body over, and carefully climbed down the scaffolding to the floor. He moved into the shadows against the wall just as Tom turned and began to walk back towards the office. When the albino reached the room above him, Bond sprinted to the back of the warehouse, where he had been earlier.
A few moments later, Tom turned out the lights in the office, locked the door and descended the stairs. He was carrying the metal briefcase. At that moment, a forklift entered the warehouse with one of the newly unloaded crates. Bond watched as Tom opened the crate with a crowbar, inspected the contents, and pulled out a hessian bag. Another man wearing a suit entered and stood beside the forklift. Bond had never seen him before. Both he and Tom bent down to inspect the contents of the bag. They seemed to be in agreement about what they saw. Tom handed the metal briefcase to the new man. He opened the case for verification, then closed and locked the case and shook hands with Tom. They walked out of the warehouse together and the place was empty again.
Bond sprinted to the opened crate and took a quick look at the hessian bag. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw what was there. He didn’t have to taste it to be certain that it was refined heroin. Without hesitating any longer, Bond hastened back to his position just as Tom and the other workmen returned to the warehouse. Bond slipped out of the back door, then moved around the side of the building so he could get a better view of the unloading.
Sure enough, the sampan was in the process of being lifted by crane on to the lighter. Why the hell were they shipping a sampan to Singapore?
A grey Rolls-Royce was parked near the entrance to the warehouse. The new man with the briefcase full of money was closer and plainly visible. He was Chinese and had a long scar that went across his nose and down his left cheek. Scarface opened the back door of the Rolls and got inside, joining another man sitting in the back seat.
It was Li Xu Nan.
At last, he had found one of the links in the puzzle! He had made the connection between EurAsia Enterprises and the Triad. Some kind of smuggling operation was being managed from this very warehouse. Guy Thackeray’s assassination was now making more sense. He must have learned of the smuggling and tried to stop it. The Triad must have killed him to get him out of the way. That still didn’t explain why he wanted to sell his company, though.
