The Call of the Thunder Dragon (19 page)

With her clinging to his sleeve,
he bolted for the back door.

Song’s son Wei, with bandaged
cheek, appeared in Falstaff’s place urging Zam down the main stairs
towards the back office. Four house boys were dispatched
immediately to the room to gather their remaining belongings. Wei
half carried, half dragged the weeping maid down stairs.

“He shot him!” She wailed, “He
shot him!”

Wei grabbed her. “Where did he
put the body this time?”

The poor girl pointed towards the
latrine.

The Colonel made his speech
again. Takechi had not reappeared. The plan had been to finish with
the capture of the Englishman. Then immediately release the
prisoners and march to the lake shore. They had already radioed for
the plane to land and take them off. Turning red, Haga-Jin jumped
down and glowered about spitefully staring gathering crowd.

Captain Soujiro bawled to his
men, who formed a square facing outwards around the prisoners. The
next two ranks marched into the square their bayonets closing on
the prisoners.

Soujiro entered the square
glowering at the filthy shivering men. “Kneel!” He shouted, drawing
his sword. “Kneel!” In Japanese, the most terrify word in Asia.

Colonel Haga-Jin appealed to
Soujiro, hissing to him. “Have the remaining men search the
houses,” then as if as a coincidental after-thought he turned and
pointed at Song, who had emerged to observe. “And start here at
this hotel!”

Song, dressed in a silk
nightgown, with a tightly fitting pink housecoat, stood at the door
of her hotel, her hair in big curlers, cigarette hanging from her
mouth. Haga-Jin may have been trying to keep his distance from the
Hotel in order to avoid being denounced, but Song recognised him
sure enough.

She marched forward before
Soujiro had relayed any more orders. “No, you go now! Nobody here
for you!” She put her hand on her hip and flicked the cigarette
butt at the Colonel, who no choice but to turn and face her.

Captain Soujiro held up his hand
to halt the men he’d ordered to search the hotel, they stopped,
flanking Song on either side.

“Go, you don’t want to cause
trouble here!” Song screwed her face up and flicked her nose with
her thumb as she made a fist.

Colonel Haga-Jin stood back
aghast. Song was actually threatening him. “We will search the
hotel for the foreigners who dare to raise arms against Japan! You
will not attempt to stop us anymore!” He his voice wavered. All his
plans had gone awry and his was being faced down by a Chinese woman
in curlers and bed clothes.

“Move, or you will be shot!” He
bawled.

Song raised her chin. “Shoot
me!”

Colonel Haga-Jin trembled. Did no
one understand his right to be there? Did they not understand his
right to command? The Emperor was of divine origin and had given
him his authority to do his will with the Chinese in order to
secure prosperity and peace. He struck Song with the back of his
hand. “Captain Soujiro, take her!”

Song was dragged into the square
of Japanese soldiers with the other shivering prisoners. The
cobbles were edged with white drifting snow. If Song was cold in
her nightie, she did not show it.

“Captain! Search the hotel, -
quickly!” Haga-Jin waved his pistol and added nervously. “... and
find Takeshi!”

The four houseboys had rushed to
the Falstaff and Zam’s room. The room was now bare, the bed empty,
the mattress pulled aside and left leaning against the wall. The
cast iron firepots doused and removed. Finally, the maid and house
boys slid the door to, ensuring the door remained firmly on its
wooden rails.

The boys scattered as the
Japanese troops ran into the hotel, shouting and pointing with
bayonets. Guests remained in their rooms but peaked through the
cracks in their doors.

Generally, the paratroopers made
more noise than actually search; shouting at guests to urge them
from their beds and out of the rooms. Only Captain Soujiro knew
which room Takeshi had actually been sent to. Pushing past the
protesting staff he followed his raucous men up the stairs.

“Takeshi?” He glanced around the
room. It was bare, the bed unmade, there was no baggage, no
tell-tale teapots, nothing.

“Takeshi?” He shouted with
concern, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. Two men had
disappeared here and one had already turned up dead. He rushed from
the room, calling to his men. “Search the boiler room! Check the
rear of the hotel!”

He left the men to conduct the
search and instead turned on the staff, bawling questions at them.
They ducked away too terrified to answer or understand. He thrust
himself past the desk into the back office. He glowered around,
grabbing the register, he held onto it. There was nothing else
behind the desk accept a stove and bedding. He stuck his head into
the kitchen waving his pistol. It was empty.

The normally calm Soujiro started
to grind his teeth. He rushed back outside.

Zam emerged from under the
bedding and crawled forward peeping around the corner.

Falstaff crouched behind a pile
of logs facing the back door in the wooden fence into the hotel and
the boiler rooms. The shouting inside continued for some time with
no sign of pursuit. His calves trembled as he squatted. His feet
were wet in a puddle of icy water. He wished he had his flying
boots, which he hoped by now had been cleaned and reclaimed by Zam
or hidden away by someone. The thin leather shoes he’d bought at
the department store were loose.

He shifted his position,
preparing himself to stand and move on, when the rear door burst
open with a crash.

Two paratroopers emerged, their
heads swung about from side to side too quickly to study the ground
and spot Falstaff or his footprints in the muddy snow.

Falstaff raised the red-9, a
variation on the regular Mauser C96, made since the end of the last
century.

Falstaff surmised that some
surplus must have been sold on to Japan. It fired a 9 mm round
instead of the usual smaller calibre. It seemed the Japanese had
also invested in American conversions, so the gun held a long
detachable twenty round magazine. He’d used the Mauser before in
Chicago, Shanghai, and in a dozen other places, but he’d never
fired the 9mm version until now.

He aimed at the Japanese paras
and pulled the trigger. Four or five rounds went off in a quick
burst. Both Japanese went down. Someone else behind the door fell
outwards across the door, blocking it half open.

Shouts of concern in Japanese
quickly followed. Falstaff had planned to try pick off any
followers one at a time as he led them away, but seeing the
paratroopers were now struggling with the door and the wounded, he
stayed put.

As the troopers, oblivious to
their vulnerability, pushed and shoved at the door. Falstaff
adjusted his position to ease the growing cramp in his calves and
then aimed, squeezing the trigger again. This time trying for a
lighter touch on the trigger. He let off two separate bursts.
Aiming at the men pushing the door and another at the man sticking
his head out, viciously tugging at the wounded man causing the
obstacle to the door.

Splinters of wood and bullets
flew through the doorway. The Japanese fell back again. Shortly,
undirected fire came back at him through the door.

With the door still blocked half
open, could easily pick off anyone attempting to get through.

There was a long pause then
Falstaff heard hammering of rifle butts against the wooden fencing
and bayonets ripping into gaps in the wooden wall. A wide volley
blasted out, spread across the whole clearing. Logs, sacks of
charcoal, trees thrummed and shook under impacts all around him.
Waiting for a pause Falstaff started backing away, struggling with
his loose shoes as he backed away in a stoop. He then turned and
sprinted towards the line of pines behind him.

He reached the trees and kept
going to the third or fourth line of trees. Through the lines of
trees, he could see the Japanese coming through the door. They
stared about blankly, it took some time before they spotted his
footprints. The pause gave Falstaff time to check the Mauser’s
magazine. There was at least one round, he figured two or three at
the most, not knowing if it was full when he took it from the
Japanese agent.

Taking aim at the leading para,
he waited for at least one of his colleagues to fall in line behind
him. They were moving slowly parallel to his footprints. He fired,
squeezing the trigger hard. He held it until two men went down.
Before they’d hit the ground he was off and running, back further
into the pines.

He headed for a patch of tall
bamboo growing in a dense patch around the pines. He looked back,
there seemed to be no more pursuers. He was disappointed, the more
he could lead away the better. Either the Japanese had got smart to
him or he had injured or killed all the searchers.

Captain Soujiro marched outside
clutching the register. Colonel Haga-Jin took the book and started
checking all the names thoroughly. “Bring them out!” He cried,
calling the name of any resident who hadn’t checked out.

One-by-one the hotel residents
came out, begrudgingly, paralysed by fear. Sounds of shooting came
from inside the hotel. There was a willing stampede of residents
and staff out into the street.

Captain Soujiro pushed his way
back inside, his men were under attack and his was determined to
get to them. One paratrooper emerged, climbing the stairs from the
boiler room clutching his arm. The news was relayed to Colonel
Haga-Jin.

“What, eight men?” He screeched.
Three had been killed, the other injured were being brought
out.

“Search the hotel again! Rip it
apart! Get everybody out! Use your bayonets, kick down all the
doors!” Haga-Jin ordered.

Zam cowered amongst the staff.
Keeping her eyes down she hoped not to be noticed. All their gear
and belongings had been dealt with, as far the register was
concerned she and her ‘friend’ had checked out and left. In a
laundry basket, their belongings were covered with the worst of the
hotel’s dirty aprons, table cloths and sheets, had been rolled down
a back alley towards the shore and was waiting for collection when
it was safe enough.

Zam felt safe from discovery,
Falstaff ‘the foreigner’ had gone without a trace, nothing linked
her to him.

Colonel Haga-Jin paced up and
down while the noise of the destructive search went on. The
Japanese were now surrounded, the whole town was awake. They lined
the streets looking on, waiting.

The prisoners were forced to stay
kneeling on the icy ground, heads pushed down waiting. Only Song
remained on her feet, indignant and tall. A lieutenant had tried to
force her to kneel, the butt of a para’s rifle in her back had
provoked a violent reaction. Song grabbed the rifle stock and
twisted the gun out of the soldier’s hands. The clatter of the
rifle grabbing the attention of everyone in the street. The
prisoners had stirred, already scared out of their wits.

The situation was coming to a
head. The lieutenant ordered his men to stand back from Song, put
to push his primary goal home he ordered the prisoners be settled
again. The cries of pain, as rifle butts swung at the prisoners who
had moved, caught the attention of Colonel Haga-Jin.

“Cease! Quiet!” He roared, the
beatings paused and the crowds of gathering Chinese stopped their
murmur of discontent. The fishermen who’d woken to discover the
avenue blocked, mumbled at the interruption to their routine. They
were pushing to get down to the shoreline, despite the Japanese
presence.

Overhead Haga-Jin heard the roar
of engines. Flying low, coming out of the thick low cloud came two
Japanese Navy flying boats. Shaking his head Haga-Jin rubbed his
temples. He had orders to withdraw all his men without incident.
Foochow was coming under attack from the Chinese Nationalists. All
the men were required back to defend the airfields. However, he was
stuck in a face-off with the Chinese and he had yet to catch the
foreign pilot. It was inconceivable for him to give in without
avenging Okura. Takeshi could be alive for all he knew, hunting the
pilot even now.

Worst news came for the Colonel.
Takeshi’s body had been found, in the cesspit beneath hotel.
Japanese soldiers were even now, getting their hands dirty, soiling
themselves to recover the body. Haga-Jin nearly threw down his
pistol in rage. Instead, he fired off two shots over the heads of
the prisoners and let of torrent of abuse towards them.

Captain Soujiro appeared holding
up a pair of flying boots. Haga-Jin’s disposition changed at that
moment from raging tyrant to conceited calculating judge. He
grabbed at the boots, at last he had some proof, something to hang
onto. He inspected them, finding the stamp of an English
manufacturer on the inside the leather lining.

He turned on Song. “So! Have you
been hiding him? Did you think by warning him he would escape!”

Song sidestepped the accusation,
in a loud, clear voice, so all the town could hear.

“They are my husband’s boots! See
how big they are, you know what they say about a man’s shoe size!”
She looked down at Haga-Jin and pointed at his booted feet. “See
how much bigger these boots are compared to yours!”

Haga-Jin’s response was drowned
by the roar the flying boats pulling up on the wide shoreline.
Having landed at the far end of the swollen lake and taxied
back.

Colonel toyed with the idea of
shooting Song there and then, but his political awareness as an
agent held him back. The death of one Chinese woman was
insignificant in the eyes of the Japanese invading China, but
Haga-Jin knew he had his back to the wall and situation was getting
beyond his control.