The Call of the Thunder Dragon by Michael J Wormald Page A

many
strange stories today? A wounded pilot and then a murder.
    “Let’s go talk to your
businessman from Shanghai? He is getting impatient for something,
mmm? His speech is far too rude! Show me his signature?” She asked
the boy Wei. “No, that is not right, - it is wrong. Chan and Wu,
hmmm?”
    Song prided herself on being able
to deduce what sort individual lay behind each signature. She lit a
cigarette. “Follow me!”
    Together they asked ‘Mr. Moy
Chan’ for more details.
    Haga-Jin stared at the manageress
and the office clerk. “What? How dare you? I certainly can pay if
that’s what you wish!” He jumped to his feet and deliberately
diverted their questions away from his business.
    Song wasn’t put off, she’d had
guests who hadn’t paid before. This one was going to throw money at
her she was sure.
    “Mr Moy Chan, my clerk, noticed
that you were waiting. We just wanted to verify the business
address – should we send the bill there?”
    Haga-Jin immediately felt he was
being manipulated by the shrewd woman. “I will settle the bill for
myself and my staff. Now, if you wish? I would rather I had your
assistance finding one of my men? He appears to have
disappeared?”
    Song didn’t miss the opportunity.
“I’ll have the bill prepared? How will you pay? Mexican dollar?
There’s 15 percent charge for Singapore or Hong Kong dollar?”
    Having got Haga-Jin to the desk,
they took his money and gave him a receipt. The Mexican dollars
were preferred as larger coins instead of the Tael coin due to the
instability of China after years of civil war and now the Japanese
invasion. For the traveller, the Mexican dollar and a ‘string of
cash’ was the best currency to carry. The Chinese copper coins were
handy on houseboat excursions or to buy native produce. Haga-Jin
offered Mexican coin. Song smiled as she slipped the coins into her
purse smile. That was one matter settled.
    She waved a finger at the bemused
Haga-Jin, beckoning him to follow. “Please sign the register
paid?”
    Suddenly she berated the boy
clerk.
    “Wei-shuojing! You clumsy fool:
you put the wrong date!”
    Wei frowned, confused but smart
enough not to answer back. There was nothing wrong with the
date.
    Song looked at Haga-Jin full of
apology, pulling a knowing face, “Servants are so bad! You’ve lost
one? This one cannot write the date! Please tell me Moy Chan, do
you have the correct date or time? It must be getting late
now.”
    Haga-Jin pulled out his watch. It
was a square Seiko pocket watch. Song smiled and thanked him. Wei
stiffened at the sight of yet another Japanese pocket watch; his
oath gave away his observation.
    “Chuu-sheng” Wei muttered through
his teeth. Literally beast or animal, the word was also used in
Japan as an expletive. Akin to hell; it literally meant ‘mindless
beast’, a reference to the Buddhist belief that rebirth as a
beastly base animal was the result of bad karma.
    Haga-Jin exploded. His impatience
literally lit up his face red with rage. He grabbed the book from
the desk. Hammering the boy over the head with it until own his
nose dripped crimson ooze from exertions of his rage.
    Song retreated with the money,
hiding it away.
    Haga-Jin glowered at the boy,
still bent over the desk with his hands over his head to ward off
the next blow. Haga-Jin touched his fingers to his nose and swore
at the sight of his own blood. Haga-Jin lunged forward taking up
the pen, he stabbed brutally at Wei’s face.
    “Baka!” He roared in
Japanese.
    Haga-Jin stood wavering on the
verge of insanity. Never had he been so insulted to his face; never
had he been so humiliated. His nose continued to run crimson. He
realised the boy and his aunt had blown his cover. He reached into
his coat for his pistol.
    “Stop!” A voice called out. “I’m
armed.”
    Haga-Jin turned slowly. A new
figure emerged with several of the hotel staff from the office
door. He was dressed in a pale blue grey uniform with black
trousers,