Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [20]
'What's going on?' Clara demanded. 'What the hell are you up to?'
'Get me some surgical tape,' he said. She went into the bathroom and came back with a roll and a pair of scissors. He took off his panama and placed the .38 inside, then he cut several strips of tape and stuck them crisscross fashion so they held the gun in place. As he worked he told Clara what he intended to do.
'You're crazy. You'll never get away with it,' she said.
He adjusted the panama at the correct angle. There was no indication of the presence of the gun at all. 'What else can I do?' he said.
Clara's shoulders dropped suddenly and for the first time Hagen realized that she was an old woman. She opened a drawer in the desk and took out some banknotes. 'You'd better take them,' she said. 'You never know what may happen.' Tears began to spill from her eyes, coursing down her raddled cheeks, and Hagen patted her on the shoulder and then turned quickly and left the room.
There were still a few taxis waiting outside and he took the fastest-looking one and sank back in the seat and closed his eyes. It's got to work, he told himself. It must do. I've got to get her out of there and, suddenly, he realized that the first thought in his mind had been saving the girl for her own sake and not because of the gold. What's happening to me? he wondered, and the taxi stopped in front of a warehouse.
Hagen paid the man, who drove away. He turned and looked up at the decaying building. There was no mistaking the place. The name HENRY WONG - IMPORTER spread across the front of the building in peeling white paint. Somewhere out in the harbour a steamer's siren hooted mournfully and Hagen was afraid. As he moved towards the doors and knocked he was more afraid than he had ever been. A small service entrance was set in the framework of the great double doors through which the trucks passed. This was opened suddenly as if they had been watching him and a blinding light was directed into his face. 'Hands high and walk forward,' a voice said.
He did as he was told and then the main lights were turned on and he stood blinking, dark patches dancing before his eyes. Kossoff confronted him, a Luger in his right hand. He smiled. 'I hope for your own sake that you have obeyed my instructions, Captain.' He made a gesture and two men moved forward and ran their hands expertly over Hagen. They stood back, shaking their heads, and Kossoff smiled and put the Luger in his pocket. 'Good, I am pleased with you, Captain. You show good sense. Follow me.' He turned and led the way across the vast, echoing floor.
As they mounted a flight of steel stairs Hagen glanced quickly behind him to size up the strength of the opposition. The other two men were typical toughs from one of the waterfront gangs. He felt less easy in his mind. He had been relying on having to deal with the usual fanatical amateurs but Kossoff had paid him the compliment of hiring professionals. Kossoff opened a door and they followed him in.
The room was a haze of tobacco smoke and brightly illuminated by a naked bulb that hung over a table in the centre of the floor. Four men were sitting round the table playing cards. Two of them looked Russian, another was Chinese and the fourth, who wore no jacket, could have been anything. They were a nasty-looking bunch. Kossoff stood watching them for a moment and as they continued to ignore him, lifted his foot under the table and sent it toppling to the floor. For a moment there was silence and then the one who was in his shirt sleeves spat out a curse in Portuguese. Kossoff slashed him across the face with his cane. 'It would be unwise for you to ever repeat such conduct, Cortez,' he said evenly. For a moment Cortez glared at him and then he smiled falsely and shuffled past Hagen to where his jacket was hanging on a hook.
Hagen was impressed. Kossoff had guts. He certainly didn't leave any doubt as to who was boss, even when dealing with rats. Hagen picked up a packet of cigarettes that had fallen to the floor from the table, and