Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [11]
'She certainly does,' Hagen said. 'The best house in Macao.' Even as he spoke and Rose sank back in her seat, crimson with embarrassment, the taxi turned into a side road and braked to a halt outside a pair of beautiful and intricate wrought-iron gates set in a high stone wall.
3
Hagen told the taxi-driver to wait, and he and the girl walked up to the ornate iron gates. He pulled on a bellrope and after a while a huge, misshapen figured shambled up to the other side of the gates. A flat, Mongolian face was pressed against the ironwork as the owner peered short-sightedly at them. Hagen reached through and pulled the man's nose. 'What the hell, Lee,' he said. 'Don't you remember old friends?'
The face split into a grin and the gate was hurriedly unlocked. As they passed through Hagen punched him lightly in his massive chest and said, 'Bring the luggage in when I tell you, Lee.' The Mongolian nodded vigorously, his smile fixed firmly in position.
As they walked up the drive towards the imposing-looking house, Rose said: 'He's so grotesque, like an ape Why doesn't he speak?'
Hagen laughed. 'The Japs cut out his tongue. He's the bouncer here. He could break the back of any man I ever knew.' She appeared suitably impressed and he added: 'Just remember, angel. If you stay here that so-called ape will protect you when I'm not around. Maybe that thought will make him look a little prettier.'
A maid admitted them with a smile of welcome for Hagen, and showed them into a large reception room. Rose was fascinated by the incredible luxury of the room. There seemed to be a small fortune in Chinese objets d'art. Somewhere nearby a loud voice could be heard and then the door was kicked open and the most fantastic-looking woman Rose had ever seen stormed into the room. 'Mark Hagen - you young hellion.' Her voice was like a foghorn and she swept across the floor and crushed him in her arms.
She was wearing a gold kimono and black lounging pyjamas, and the colour scheme clashed terribly with vivid red-dyed hair. 'Clara, do you still love me?' Hagen demanded.
'No one else, handsome.' She kissed him enthusiastically on one cheek, leaving a smear of vivid orange, and turned and boldly regarded the girl.
Hagen said: 'Rose, I'd like you to meet Clara Boydell. Clara, this is Rose Graham.'
Clara reached for a silver box and offered him a cheroot and took one herself. 'My God, Mark,' she said, 'I wish I could find a few like her. I'd make a fortune.'
Rose coloured and dropped her eyes and Hagen said, 'Look, Clara, I need a big favour.'
Clara flung herself down in an easy chair that protested loudly at her weight. 'Anything I can do. I owe you a favour or two.' She straightened up and added, 'Anything except money, that is.' She turned and explained to Rose: 'One thing I never do, honey, is part with cash. I need it all for my old age.'
'It isn't money, Clara,' Hagen said. 'I'd like you to put Rose up for a few days. There are a few people she wants to avoid in town.'
The woman looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment or two and then she smiled. 'Sure, why not?' She rang a handbell. 'It won't cost me anything.'
Hagen grinned. 'There's just one thing, Clara. I've a taxi waiting at the gates with the luggage. I'm afraid I'm flat.'
She scowled at him ferociously and then, as the maid came in, her face broke into a smile. 'Okay, handsome. Just this once.' She gave the maid an order in execrable Cantonese and said to Rose: 'Go with her, honey. She'll fix you up in one of the guest-rooms.'
Rose smiled her thanks and as she went out of the door Hagen said, 'I'll see you later, angel.'
'And I'll see you now,' Clara Boydell said. Hagen closed the door and turned towards her. She poured two generous measures of gin into glasses and said: 'Okay, Mark. Tell me what you're mixed up in this time.'
Hagen dropped into an easy chair and relaxed. He was more tired than he had realized. Over the top of his glass he regarded Clara Boydell. In the past they had served each other too well for mistrust