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

he was wearing woven sandals and armed with a Dadao
sword 11 stuck through his
sash. In his hand held a small short barrelled revolver, which was
pointing towards Haga-Jin’s chest. It was the police.
    Haga-Jin’s tut of disgust was
almost audible. He pulled his hand out from his coat pocket.
Showing his empty hand, he flopped into the nearest chair.
    “You will regret this!” With a
deep breath, he pulled out his papers. “I am an embassy approved
official! I travel in peace. I am a member of the peace charity,
the good Lotus society for education and co-prosperity.
Representing our good society, to show the true intent of Japan
with kindness towards China!”
    The small crowd of the hotel
staff gawked at the Japanese agent in disbelief. Behind him, Zam
hesitantly came through the front door of the hotel followed by a
rickshaw driver loaded with parcels. Song nudged one of the chamber
maids to help her, urging them to get her out of the way.
     
     
    Falstaff woke mid-morning to
find Zam gone. His clothes had been returned clean. Neatly folded
in a pile just inside the door. Although stiff, he felt little
pain, his head was fuzzy and heavy.
    He found a table placed next to
the bed, on it was a brass dragon candle holder that snaked
upwards. A bell and a tiny hammer hung under its arching body. Next
to the dragon was an empty vile of laudanum, an extract made from
opium. No wonder he felt sleepy he figured. He picked up the hammer
and tapped the little bell. Almost before his head hit the pillow a
chambermaid shuffled in.
    “Would you like tea?” The girl
asked in Chinese as she shuffled closer. “Are you sleeping
still?”
    Falstaff sat up abruptly. The
girl let out her breath in surprise.
    “I’m awake! And hungry? Have you
rice?”
    The girl bowed and smiled,
leaving as quickly as she had come. He looked at the brass dragon
again, lifting it in his hands. It was only brass he thought, gold
or jade would have been different he thought. He stroked the
dragons back while he thought back to tablets he had unearthed near
Yinchuan in a long hidden temple. He’d have been rich he thought.
If only General Ma hadn’t taken and concealed the ancient tablets
and the gold. Falstaff cursed at the memory. He had spent months
agonizing over the significance of the tally of nine Jade dragons.
The statues had been listed amongst the rich items waiting to be
found. He shrugged letting his shoulders drop. They could not have
be real, if they were they would have been looted by now he
thought. Still that did not mean there wasn’t more treasure to be
found somewhere. Hungry, he put aside the brass and waited for his
breakfast, thinking of the Jade Dragons.
    Tea, rice and mooncakes were
quickly brought. Along with a large housecoat. Falstaff pulled on
the cotton robe, struggling to bend and reach his shoulders, but at
least now he felt dressed.
    After a few steps around the room
to stretch, he pulled a chair away from the window and sat looking
into the distance, through the clouds over the mountains. His belly
growled and gurgled. Either with the pleasure of the food or due to
his taking so much wine the day before. He tucked into the
Mooncakes, little cakes served with tea, consisting of a thin
tender pastry skin, enveloping a sweet, dense filling of jelly-like
paste made from lotus seed.
    He sat back, hunger and thirst
slated. He contemplated his situation. As he relaxed in the
comfortable surroundings, he thought the hotel must be one of the
biggest, oldest and grandest he had ever been in. Which led him to
think about the inevitable cost. The fuel for the Caproni, along
with oil and anything else he needed would cost a fortune to get up
in the mountains.
    Falteringly he took a few steps
to the door. Picking up his long leather jacket, he noticed it had
picked up a few extra gashes and holes. The deep pockets were
empty. This worried him, his passport, papers and visa from General
Chiang Kai-Shek were missing; along with the