jamesclavell.noblehouse-第10部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


s　still　in　place　and　the　main　door　slightly　ajar。　The　mechanics；　both　Chinese；　got　out　and　one　began　to　inspect　the　eight…wheeled　main　gear　while　the　other；　equally　carefully；　scrutinized　the　nose　gear。　Methodically；　they　checked　the　tires　and　wheels　and　then　the　hydraulic　couplings　of　the　brakes；　then　peered　into　the　landing　bays。　Both　used　flashlights。　The　mechanic　at　the　main　landing　gear　took　out　a　spanner　and　stood　on　one　of　the　wheels　for　a　closer　inspection；　his　head　and　shoulder　now　well　into　the　belly　of　the　airplane。　After　a　moment　he　called　out　softly　in　Cantonese；　〃Ayeeyah！　Hey；　Lim；　take　a　look　at　this。〃
　The　other　man　strolled　back　and　peered　up；　sweat　staining　his　white　overalls。　〃Are　they　there　or　not；　I　can't　see　from　down　here。〃
　〃Brother；　put　your　male　stalk　into　your　mouth　and　flush　yourself　down　a　sewer。　Of　course　they're　here。　We're　rich。　We'll　eat　rice　forever！　But　be　quiet　or　you'll　wake　the　dung…stained　foreign　devils　above！　Here　。。。〃　The　man　handed　down　a　long；　canvas…wrapped　package　which　Lim　took　and　stowed　quietly　and　quickly　in　the　jeep。　Then　another　and　another　small　one；　both　men　sweating　and　very　nervous；　working　fast　but　quietly。
　Another　package。　And　another　。。。
　And　then　Lim　saw　the　police　jeep　whirl　around　the　corner　and　simultaneously　other　uniformed　men　e　pouring　out　of　Gate　16；　among　them　Europeans。　〃We're　betrayed；〃　he　gasped　as　he　fled　in　a　hopeless　dash　for　freedom。　The　jeep　intercepted　him　easily　and　he　stopped；　shivering　with　pent…up　terror。　Then　he　spat　and　cursed　the　gods　and　withdrew　into　himself。
　The　other　man　had　jumped　down　at　once　and　leaped　into　the　driving　seat。　Before　he　could　turn　on　the　ignition　he　was　swamped　and　handcuffed。
　〃So；　little　oily　mouth；〃　Sergeant　Lee　hissed；　〃where　do　you　think　you're　going？〃
　〃Nowhere；　Officer；　it　was　him；　him　there；　that　bastard　son　of　a　whore；　Officer；　he　swore　he'd　cut　my　throat　if　I　didn't　help　him。　I　don't　know　anything　on　my　mother's　grave！〃
　〃You　lying　bastard；　you　never　had　a　mother。　You're　going　to　go　to　jail　for　fifty　years　if　you　don't　talk！〃
　〃I　swear；　Officer；　by　all　the　gods　th…　〃
　〃Piss　on　your　lies；　dungface。　Who's　paying　you　to　do　this　job？〃
　Armstrong　was　walking　slowly　across　the　tarmac；　the　sick　sweet　taste　of　the　kill　in　his　mouth。　〃So；〃　he　said　in　English；　〃what　have　we　here；　Sergeant？〃　It　had　been　a　long　night's　vigil　and　he　was　tired　and　unshaven　and　in　no　mood　for　the　mechanic's　whining　protestations　of　innocence；　so　he　said　softly　in　perfect　gutter　Cantonese；　〃One　more　tiny；　insignificant　word　out　of　you；　purveyor　of　leper　dung；　and　I'll　have　my　men　jump　on　your　Secret　Sack。〃
　The　man　froze。
　〃Good。　What's　your　name？〃
　〃Tan　Shu　Ta；　lord。〃
　〃Liar！　What's　your　friend's　name？〃
　〃Lim　Ta…cheung；　but　he's　not　my　friend；　lord；　I　never　met　him　before　this　morning。〃
　〃Liar！　Who　paid　you　to　do　this？〃
　〃I　don't　know　who　paid　him；　lord。　You　see　he　swore　he'd　cut…　〃
　〃Liar！　Your　mouth's　so　full　of　dung　you　must　be　the　god　of　dung　himself。　What's　in　those　packages？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I　swear　on　my　ancestor's　gr…　〃
　〃Liar！〃　Armstrong　said　it　automatically；　knowing　that　the　lies　were　inevitable。
　〃John　Chinaman's　not　the　same　as　us；〃　his　first　police　teacher；　an　old　China　hand；　had　told　him。　〃Oh　I　don't　mean　cut　on　the　cross　or　anything　like　that　…　he's　just　different。　He　lies　through　his　teeth　all　the　time　to　a　copper　and　when　you　nab　a　villain　fair　and　square　he'll　still　lie　and　be　as　slippery　as　a　greased　pole　in　a　pile　of　shit。　He's　different。　Take　their　names。　All　Chinese　have　four　different　names；　one　when　he's　born；　one　at　puberty；　one　when　he's　an　adult　and　one　he　chooses　for　himself；　and　they　forget　one　or　add　another　at　the　drop　of　a　titfer。　And　their　names　…　God　stone　the　crows！　Chinese　call　themselves　lao…tsi…sing　…　the　Ancient　One　Hundred　Names。　They've　only　got　a　basic　hundred　surnames　in　all　China　and　of　those　there're　twenty　Yus；　eight　Yens；　ten　Wus　and　God　knows　how　many　Pings；　Lis；　Lees；　Chens；　Chins；　Chings；　Wongs　and　Pus　and　each　one　of　them　you　pronounce　five　different　ways　so　God　knows　who's　who！〃
　〃Then　it's　going　to　be　difficult　to　identify　a　suspect；　sir？〃
　〃Full　marks；　young　Armstrong！　Full　marks；　lad。　You　can　have　fifty　Lis；　fifty　Changs　and　four　hundred　Wongs　and　not　one　related　to　the　other。　God　stone　the　crows！　That's　the　problem　here　in　Hong　Kong。〃
　Armstrong　sighed。　After　eighteen　years　Chinese　names　were　still　as　confusing　as　ever。　And　on　top　of　that　everyone　seemed　to　have　a　nickname　by　which　they　were　generally　known。
　〃What's　your　name？〃　he　asked　again　and　didn't　bother　to　listen　to　the　answer。　〃Liar！　Sergeant！　Unwrap　one　of　those！　Let's　see　what　we've　got。〃
　Sergeant　Lee　eased　aside　the　last　covering。　Inside　was　an　M14；　an　automatic　rifle；　U。S。　Army。　New　and　well　greased。
　〃For　this；　you　evil　son　of　a　whore's　left　tit；〃　Armstrong　grated；　〃you'll　howl　for　fifty　years！〃
　The　man　was　staring　at　the　gun　stupidly；　aghast。　Then　a　low　moan　came　from　him。　〃Fornicate　all　gods　I　never　knew　they　were　guns。〃
　〃Ah；　but　you　did　know！〃　Armstrong　said。　〃Sergeant；　put　this　piece　of　dung　in　the　wagon　and　book　him　for　smuggling　guns。〃
　The　man　was　dragged　away　roughly。　One　of　the　young　Chinese　policemen　was　unwrapping　another　package。　It　was　small　and　square。　〃Hold　it！〃　Armstrong　ordered　in　English。　The　policeman　and　everyone　in　hearing　distance　froze。　〃One　of　them　may　be　booby…trapped。　Everyone　get　away　from　the　jeep！〃　Sweating；　the　man　did　as　he　was　ordered。　〃Sergeant；　get　our　bomb　disposal　wallahs。　There's　no　hurry　now。〃
　〃Yes　sir。〃　Sergeant　Lee　hurried　to　the　inter　in　the　police　wagon。
　Armstrong　went　under　the　airplane　and　peered　into　the　main　gear　bay。　He　could　see　nothing　untoward。　Then　he　stood　on　one　of　the　wheels。　〃Christ！〃　he　gasped。　Five　snug　racks　were　neatly　bolted　to　each　side　of　the　inner　bulkhead。　One　was　almost　empty；　the　others　still　full。　From　the　size　and　shape　of　the　packages　he　judged　them　to　be　more　M14's　and　boxes　of　ammo　…　or　grenades。
　〃Anything　up　there；　sir？〃　Inspector　Thomas　asked。　He　was　a　young　Englishman；　three　years　in　the　force。
　〃Take　a　look！　But　don't　touch　anything。〃
　〃Christ！　There's　enough　for　a　couple　of　riot　squads！〃
　〃Yes。　But　who？〃
　〃mies？〃
　〃Or　Nationalists　…　or　villains。　These'd…　〃
　〃What　the　hell's　going　on　down　there？〃
　Armstrong　recognized　Linc　Bartlett's　voice。　His　face　closed　and　he　jumped　down；　Thomas　following　him。　He　went　to　the　foot　of　the　gangway。　〃I'd　like　to　know　that　too；　Mr。　Bartlett；〃　he　called　up　curtly。
　Bartlett　was　standing　at　the　main　door　of　the　airplane；　Svensen　beside　him。　Both　men　wore　pajamas　and　robes　and　were　sleep　tousled。
　〃I'd　like　you　to　take　a　look　at　this。〃　Armstrong　pointed　to　the　rifle　that　was　now　half　hidden　in　the　jeep。
　At　once　Bartlett　came　down　the　gangway；　Svensen　following。　〃What？〃
　〃Perhaps　you'd　be　kind　enough　to　wait　in　the　airplane；　Mr。　Svensen。〃
　Svensen　started　to　reply；　stopped。　Then　he　glanced　at　Bartlett　who　nodded。　〃Fix　some　coffee；　Sven；　huh？〃
　〃Sure；　Linc。〃
　〃Now　what's　this　all　about；　Superintendent？〃
　〃That！〃　Armstrong　pointed。
　〃That's　an　M14。〃　Bartlett's　eyes　narrowed。　〃So？〃
　〃So　it　seems　your　aircraft　is　bringing　in　guns。〃
　〃That's　not　possible。〃
　〃We've　just　caught　two　men　unloading。　There's　one　of　the　buggers〃　…　Armstrong　stabbed　a　finger　at　the　handcuffed　mechanic　waiting　sullenly　beside　the　jeep　…　〃and　the　other's　in　the　wagon。　Perhaps　you'd　be　kind　enough　to　look　up　in　the　main　gear　bay；　sir。〃
　〃Sure。　Where？〃
　〃You'll　have　to　stand　on　a　wheel。〃
　Bartlett　did　as　he　was　told。　Armstrong　and　Inspector　Thomas　watched　exactly　where　he　put　his　hands　for　fingerprint　identification。　Bartlett　stared　blankly　at　the　racks。　〃I'll　be　goddamned！　If　these're　more　of　the　same；　it's　a　goddamn　arsenal！〃
　〃Yes。　Please　don't　touch　them。〃
　Bartlett　studied　the　racks；　then　climbed　down；　wide　awake　now。　〃This　isn't　a　simple　smuggling　job。　Those　racks　are　custom　made。〃
　〃Yes。　You've　no　objection　if　the　aircraft's　searched？〃
　〃No。　Of　course　not。〃
　〃Go　ahead；　Inspector；〃　Armstrong　said　at　once。　〃And　do　it　very　carefully　indeed。　Now；　Mr。　Bartlett；　perhaps　you'd　be　kind　enough　to　explain。〃
　〃I　don't　run　guns；　Superinte