The Call of the Thunder Dragon (15 page)

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Zam went quiet.
She hadn’t considered the risk Falstaff took fighting in China or
flying her to Bhutan. Perhaps the reason he did so was in Hong
Kong?

“Hey, cheer up, There it is just
an old friend, a history professor at a school there. He is always
looking for interesting stories, so I send him what I find. I
thought we were going shopping?” Falstaff sealed the letters and
put them away.

Zam held up her hand. “Before we
go, you must have your medicinal tea?”

“Okay, but no more laudanum? I’ve
had enough dope, okay?” Falstaff pulled a face as he gulped down
the tea.

“You don’t think we’ll die do
you?” Zam asked pale faced, for the first time reconsidering her
request to fly to Bhutan.

Falstaff paused, could see the
fear in her eyes.

“No, I promise to get you home.
You are more than just a ticket out of China. It’s not such a
strange thing to request is it? A child that wants to be with her
father? Yours is an intriguing story? Tell me, what about your
mother? You never mentioned her?”

“No, I didn’t, she died when I
was young. She was my Popa’s second wife. My step-sisters are more
than twice my age!” Zam put her arms around Falstaff kneeling on
his lap, pressing her forehead against his. She kissed him and he
responded by pulling her closer.

“I’m sorry to ask.” He said
eventually. “Your self-confidence is surprisingly high, you've
appear to be doing remarkably well in life for a princess whose run
away from home?”

“I know,” She said, took hold of
his collar pulling him forward to her lips.

Captain Soujiro came off the
radio to Foochow. He was concerned. He had been at Foochow,
parachuting in behind the lines when the main force had arrived by
beach in the May of ‘38. It had been a hard won battle; the Chinese
had held out for longer than the Japanese expected. Intermittently
there had been risings that the Japanese had bloodily put down.

From the radio message, it
sounded as if the Nationalist Chinese had nearly regained control
of the city port. Soujiro was certain that the Japanese would
regain control once again and punish the Chinese for the uprising.
Originally, the port had been taken with a Japanese landing force
alone but now it was supported by the Imperial Japanese navy ships
in port. There was also new airfields, home to bombers that could
rain fire and destruction on the upstarts houses.

To take the town first time
around, the Japanese ships had bombarded the area surrounding
Foochow, along with the port while Japanese planes had bombed the
Chinese Navy's Harbour Command School, barracks, shipyard, hospital
and marine barracks and then moved on to flatten the villages
around Foochow. The Chinese may have temporarily retaken the town,
but they would never dislodge the Japanese from the port or new
airfields. The Japanese army were now concentrated around the port,
frustratingly held up there to maintain control, delaying the
progress of the invasion further into China.

Momentarily Captain Soujiro
yearned to be part of the fighting going on in Foochow, rather than
the chasing Chinese Air Force and their foreign supporters out of
the remote backwater farms or some provincial tourist resort! Then
he remembered Colonel Haga-Jin. His loyalty to his commander and
the dishonour done to the Japanese people and their Emperor by his
Colonel’s imprisonment. Haga-Jin had to be avenged.

The radio confirmed that the
paratroopers had regrouped and would be arriving in the town from
the North along the main road. Captain Soujiro and his team were to
take whatever Chinese prisoners they could and meet them before
they entered the town. The eighty men, carrying the flag of the
Rising Sun; the flag of the imperial Japanese navy would lead the
parade. The impact would be greater and fear of them increased by
the display of captive prisoners.

Marihito’s injuries were not bad.
His nose was broken and his scalp bleeding, but the agent was thick
headed and strong, himself a former soldier of the Japanese army.
His nose had been set and his nostrils stuffed with wadding. Now he
looked more porcine than ever.

Despite this Marihito held on to
his pride, keen not to lose face and remain a resilient servant of
the Japanese Emperor. Before Soujiro and his men had been full or
spite for him, dismissing him as a clumsy, ugly creature, calling
him names behind his back.

Now injured and re-joining the
group of paratroopers, they looked at Marihito in a new light. They
had enjoyed the fun of taunting the fat creature, poking fun at how
ridiculous he looked in his western clothes, with his little brown
hat on his head. For the soldiers, the bullying and laughter united
them. Now they were united in support of him. When he and Captain
Soujiro had arrived from the town, Marihito had been covered in
blood and limping, having suffered a sprained ankle from his leap
from the hotel window. The five man team had been ready to break
camp and storm the hotel immediately.

Marihito had been full of malice
for his enemy and full of haughty arrogance when describing
himself. Had it not been for the situation the paratroopers may
have laughed, but Marihito was now a herald of the battle to come.
A battle to regain the honour of the Emperor.

Marihito ate well, despite
getting hiccups, a result of his gulping his food while trying to
breathe through his mouth. Downing the last of the tea, he stood
ready. He was to continue playing his part as a Japanese charity
worker. The so called agent of peace and co-prosperity, taking
advantage of the genuinely curious and kind Japanese who had paved
the way.

Genuine charities had indeed
sprung up to support education, albeit in the Japanese language or
to help feed street orphans in Shanghai. Unfortunately the
charitable societies, run by pleasant middle-aged wives of Japanese
merchants and ambassadors paled in comparison to the strength and
number of secret societies and syndicates supporting the
destabilisation of China for benefit of Japanese politicians,
generals, and criminal gangs.

Marihito spread out the papers,
now he had all the passports and documents to prove Haga-Jin’s
blameless character. Marihito hoped to demand their release from
the police cells under threat of calling the Japanese Embassy or
causing an international incident. All of this by presenting
himself immediately at the Police station as an envoy. Marihito
also intended to make more of Oukra’s death by demanding the police
investigate the hotel and arrest the foreigner hiding there.

Falstaff and Yam strolled up the
avenue, stopping to investigate the stalls as they went along. They
were heading towards the ‘change shop’ and telegraph office at the
top of the avenue. There was also the town’s only other permanent
shops. The rest being market stalls, Farm foods and dried fish
stalls, that changed day and night, winter and summer. The three
shops were firstly the Medicine shop, which also sold local tea and
two Chinese department stores, which also sold the local ubiquitous
Pu’er teas for the tourists.

Falstaff didn’t attract much
attention once out of the hotel. A few discreet words with Song,
regarding their credit, the manageress reassured them it was
adequate for one more night.

Out on the market street it was
pleasant. Busy, but not overcrowded, like Shanghai’s Canton Road.
Where you were likely to be run over by an impatient rickshaw
puller when stepping out of the way of a coolie carrying three
bolts of cloth bound for the tailors next door to the street fish
stall, full of live snapping crabs. The wide avenue meant the few
people shopping in the lakeside market had plenty of space to
wonder or congregate. For Falstaff the difficulty wasn’t blending
in, more keeping moving. The warmth and enticing aroma coming from
the astonishing selection of foods being grilled or fried on hot
blazing charcoal fires meant they stopped frequently to partake or
bask in the gastronomical glow.

Along the footpath, the hotels
were either busy sweeping their doorstep pending the arrival of new
guests or there were bars just opening to those seeking a second
breakfast of beer or wine.

At the top of the street to the
left, they found the ‘Change shop’ that served as a sort of minor
bank. Behind the counter sat a man with a long white beard He
stared out over his glasses through the little screen. As they
entered, the old man smiled and greeted them automatically. These
places took chits in exchange for coin, then employed boys or hoods
to gather the funds. A levy was charged at a rate the establishment
often set according to reputation of the original guarantor, rather
than the value of the money owned. They also weighed gold or
silver; assessed and set the rate of exchange for coin or gold.

Falstaff produced the five gold
ingots. The man immediately expressed his distaste for them;
pointing his gnarled finger at the Japanese stamp.

Falstaff haggled, pointing at the
original stamp underneath showing that they couldn’t have been
melted down or tampered with. The banker spat on the floor, still
acting as begrudgingly as possible while he weighed them. They each
balanced the scale. He bit them gently, spat on the floor again,
cursing the Japanese, then announced. “Gold, no lead, it’s no
brass! Teeth good!” Smiled grinning to show his gap teeth.

Falstaff wasn’t sure if the man
was trying to prove that the gold ingots hadn’t been made of lead?
Or that he was reassuring him that they weren’t so hard, therefore
being made of brass, had not broken his remaining teeth? Falstaff
smiled back expectantly.

They settled at 250 yuan each.
Falstaff worked out this was close enough to the actual value. He
sold three keeping back two of the ingots. They took a mixture and
Yunnan coins or Mexican, plus copper coins, then as they left the
banker called out, tapping the pot in front of him howling
grumpily.

“Arrangement charge! Gold – Yuan;
Yuan – Mexico; Mexico – Yuan – Copper! Four Cash!” He held up his
hand with four fingers punching it forward four times.

“Damn! Sixteen coppers?” Falstaff
muttered, “The old scallywag’s charging us for changing his
change!” The man grinned as a portion of the coppers, on one of the
rings of ‘cash’ was removed and counted into the pot.

Zam counted on her fingers. “You
are not so good at tanjia! Next time I’ll haggle!”

“I knew he was offering under the
value, that’s why I kept two bars! Now before we try the department
stores, let’s find the pawn shop? Every Chinese street has
one.”

Falstaff was feeling the pain in
his ribs when they finally reached the pawn shop; which wasn’t on
the main tourist street, but appropriately placed between a small
Jazz club and Madame Kuai Tatiana’s bordello.

The sounds of the youthful
Chinese singer, Zhang Fan, ‘Flying All Over The Dance Floor’ was
already crackling warmly out a gramophone record just inside the
door of the Jazz club.

“Hey!” Falstaff called happily as
they paused to rest. He sang out:

“Hey, arms around into
the backwards!

Step wandering… love
wandering!”

He knew the hit from ’38, from
many nights walking out, taking in the clubs in Shanghai.

“Champagne air full of
flying,

many lights coming up,
flurried back and forth,

Jazz sound jump Rumba
tasty… Hey!”

Zam nudged him to stop singing as
they passed the club towards the pawn shop.

“You sing well Joe?” An unhealthy
thin girl, with immaculate hair and heavy makeup, shuffled forward
from the door of a bordello. “Joe sing for me? Come inside?”

Zam frowned tightening her grip
on Falstaff’s arm. “Goon dahn!” Zam barked. A common insult used to
ward off hawkers and beggars on the streets, especially around
tourist attractions where they refuse to leave you alone. Meaning
rolling egg, like many insults in Chinese generally revolve around
eggs in reference the recipients parentage.

“Steady on!” Falstaff said.
“She’s just being friendly!”

Zam’s face twisted into a frown,
a crease appearing over her nose. A sign Falstaff had already
learnt meant he should shut his mouth or back off.

“Here’s the pawn shop, let’s see
what we can get?”

Inside was a fool’s paradise of
belongings given up for coppers and cash. The shop boasted a large
modern front. The inside was split into two levels with the shop
owner sitting on the higher level at his desk, with teapot on hand
looking down over the shop. The items normally associated with
pawnshops the jewellery, watches, family heir looms and precious
pots were at the back of the store or locked away. Parts of China
operated on the principle that in time of affluence the owner’s
took out their valuables; rather than turning them in. In times of
need thus they were kept safe. The rest of the shop was given over
to the strange, useful and useless discards considered valuable
enough to pawn for cash.

Looking around Falstaff reckoned
most of the merchandise must have been donated by unfortunate
travellers without funds to return home. They found bags, coats,
blanket rolls, shoes, musical instruments and even bicycles.

Falstaff immediately had Zam
check out the blanket rolls and furs to find the best quality while
he climbed over the stack of bicycles to check the toolboxes he had
seen.

After a lot of haggling and
swapping of items, a rickshaw was called for and then loaded with
several blanket rolls, furs, a box of bicycle and automobile tools
including puncture repair kits, an old artillery compass, a roll of
braided wire, an oil lamp and an empty ammunition box, which
Falstaff had loaded with a small section of cutlery, bowls and a
small cast iron firepot.