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Charlie shook his head. 'It's a queer business,' he said. 'From what I can hear it's political. Are you in trouble with the Commies?'

Hagen didn't answer because suddenly a wild idea was smouldering in his brain. 'Charlie,' he said. 'How would you like to lend me ten thousand petakas?'

Charlie's eyes narrowed and his face became devoid of expression. He didn't laugh because he knew that Hagen must have some extraordinary proposition to make to him. 'You got something up your sleeve?' he said softly, and the Cockney accent of his youth became suddenly more pronounced.

'Something big, Charlie. Really big.'

Charlie stood up and motioned Hagen to follow him. He led the way upstairs and into his office. 'We can be private here,' he said. They sat facing each other across a wide desk. 'Let's hear it, boy, and it better be good.'

He was now the complete business man. Facts and figures were all that interested him. He listened to what Hagen had to say and then sat smoking a cigarette and thinking about it. After a while he opened a drawer and producing a map unrolled it on the desk. 'Look at this, boy,' he said. 'From here to the Kwai Marshes the coast is alive with gunboats and on top of them you've got the pirates. You wouldn't stand a chance.'

Hagen nodded. 'All right. It's going to be difficult, but it could be done.'

Charlie lit a cigarette thoughtfully and then said: 'Wouldn't you be better off in a motor sampan? You'd look like an ordinary fisherman from one of the coast villages.'

Hagen shook his head and said decisively: 'No, I don't agree. This whole thing has only one chance of success - speed. It's got to be done so fast that we're in and out with the gold before they know what's happened. To do that successfully I need a fast boat and mine's the best on the coast, as nobody knows better than you.'

Charlie Beale grinned. 'All right! So your boat saved my neck once. I've paid for that favour a long time ago.'

Hagen nodded. 'I know, but I'm not asking for favours now. This is a business proposition.'

Charlie shook his head. 'It's a hell of a business proposition. It's a gamble, but on the other hand I'm a gambler as well as being a business man.' He studied the map for a couple of minutes without saying anything and Hagen sat with sweating palms praying for the right reply. 'What would you need in the way of equipment?' he said at last.

Hagen had his answer off pat. 'Next to nothing. The boat is lying on a sandy bottom at a depth of twenty-five feet. The job should be easy. I've got an aqua-lung. A block and tackle to haul up the gold is easily rigged. The main thing is the money to pay that damned fine so I can get my boat back.'

Charlie nodded. 'That's not so bad. The whole thing could be done for peanuts.'

Hagen suddenly remembered something. 'One thing more,' he said. 'Important! I'll need some good automatic weapons and possibly a few grenades.' Charlie frowned and Hagen added, 'It would be silly to lose the gold simply because of an inability to defend the boat properly.'

'All right,' Charlie said. 'That would be difficult, though. It's pretty hard to get that kind of stuff these days. Who would you take with you?'

Hagen had the answer to that one, too. 'The girl, of course. She might get suspicious otherwise, and I need a deck-hand. O'Hara would be best. A Chinese boy might be a Commie plant.'

Charlie Beale snorted. 'What good would that old rummy O'Hara be? He gets the shakes if he doesn't have his two bottles of rot-gut a day.'

Hagen grinned. 'I know, but when he's sober he's a damned fine sailor and at least he can be depended on to keep his mouth shut. Besides, he's a friend of mine.'

There was a long period of silence and a light breeze rattled the slats of the bamboo window-blind. Hagen lit a cigarette nervously and waited. Charlie studied the map and fiddled with an ivory-handled paper-knife. Suddenly he straightened up and put down the knife. 'Okay, Mark,' he said. 'Come back tomorrow. Not too early, not too late.