Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [15]
The Russian's eyes became smoky and a dreamy look came over his face. Hagen shuddered with distaste but he had to find out what the other side were up to. He schooled his face to smile. 'How do I earn twenty thousand so easily?'
The Russian's face broke into a radiant smile and he stood up and formally clicked his heels. 'Ah, so we can do business? My name is Kossoff, Captain Hagen.' He extended his hand formally and then went on, 'My principals will pay you the agreed sum of money if you will lead them to the position of a certain boat which sank, I believe, somewhere in the vicinity of the Kwai Marshes.'
Hagen put back his head and laughed. 'What do you take me for?' he said.
Kossoff smiled thinly. 'I take you for many things, Captain, for you have been many things to many people. British naval lieutenant, American naval commander. How do you like your new role as protector of innocence?'
It was with difficulty that Hagen held himself in check. He said calmly: 'Your proposition stinks. Why should I tell you where the boat is for a paltry twenty thousand when I can get the gold myself?'
Kossoff squinted along his cane. 'Ah, but can you, Captain? I think not. In the first place you must raise the money necessary to retrieve your boat. Have you had any success, by the way? Secondly, you must leave Macao and enter the Kwai Marshes without being observed. An impossibility, my dear sir.' He smiled charmingly. 'However, as I cannot do business with you I must of necessity pay a call on Miss Graham. Women, I find, are so much more co-operative.'
Hagen was on him before he reached the door. He grabbed him by the lapels and twisted the collar about his neck until the little black eyes protruded. 'You dirty little rat,' he cried. 'If you lay a finger on that kid I'll -' Instinct made him jerk his head to one side as he sensed a presence behind him. A leather, shot-filled sap grazed his shoulder and he jerked Kossoff round and into his assailant.
They must have been waiting on the balcony, he thought, as he turned to meet them. There were two of them, flat-faced Mongolians, not as big as Lee but large enough. He ducked under the arm of the nearest one, dug his right fist into the man's belly, and vaulted over the bed.
For a moment there was quiet, the lull before the storm. One of the men sat Kossoff in a chair and gave him a glass of water while the other faced Hagen across the bed, the leather sap twitching nervously in his hand. Finally Kossoff became articulate again. He fingered his throat gingerly with one hand and then pointed at Hagen and said softly in Cantonese: 'Beat him. Beat him but do not kill him.'
Hagen decided he had waited long enough. From the look of them Kossoff's apes would draw a very thin line between a beating and a killing. He gripped the edge of the blankets and, as he lifted them, sprang on to the bed. His hands spread and he threw the blankets as a fisherman casts his net, so that they enveloped Kossoff and the man who was standing beside him. Almost in the same motion he jumped feet foremost at the other man. The force of that terrific blow sent the Mongolian backwards, through the window and on to the balcony.
Hagen landed on his forearms in the classic Judo manner and twisted to face the other thug. In his effort to avoid the blankets the man had stepped back and fallen over Kossoff's chair bringing them both to the floor. As he cast the blankets aside and started to get up, Hagen kicked him in the face as he would have kicked a football, beautifully judged and timed.
Hagen stood breathing heavily as Kossoff scrambled to his feet and backed to the door. He pushed past the Russian, wrenched open the door and dragged the