and hot perfumed steam penetrated the small room, turning it into an uncomfortable Turkish bath. The Chinese agents, wearing only loincloths, were still sweating.
“So . . .” Lui Ho hissed through the scented fog. “Sam Ling, what information have your electronic listening devices revealed?”
“Plenty of good information,” said Sam Ling, rubbing perspiration into his shoulders. He wondered if, after making his report, he should ask Fat Choy to give him a massage.
Pi Wun Tim sat on the edge of his bunk, swinging his feet. Sam Ling’s dedicated efficiency made him nervous. And the way he managed to make his Mongolian moustache smile, while his thin lips remained perfectly horizontal, didn’t help, either. Now that he’d become Lui Ho’s second-in-command, Sam Ling had ceased to be as friendly as he’d been. Pi Wun Tun felt that Sam Ling was almost as dangerous an ally as he could be as an enemy.
Lui Ho mopped his scalp with a towel, and fanned himself with his copy of the Chairman Mao’s Quotations. “Go on, then. Tell me what you have discovered.”
“The ladies are nanny-ladies,” began Sam Ling.
“We knew that.”
“Yes, we knew that. But, most important, and something we didn’t suspect, was that the red-faced one, who looks like an overgrown tomato fruit, was nanny- lady to the British agent who died.”
“Ah ... so ... so ... so ... so said the five other spies, softly.
“She killed him. He did not have that capitalist sickness--heart attack, known to us as American blight. She broke his suicide capsule.” Sam Ling grinned. The other spies giggled.
“So...?”
“The agent had time to speak to his nanny-lady before he died. He did not hand over the message. But he told his nanny-lady where it is hidden.”
“Where?” breathed Lui Ho.
“As you suspected, chief. In the museum. In the dinosaur.”
“Marvelous!” exclaimed Lui Ho. “Who would have thought of looking in a dinosaur? Not even I. Er ... what is a dinosaur?”
“A dragon,” said Sam Ling. “The greatest monster that ever left the moon to walk this earth.”
“Aieee ... a dragon monster,” chorused the other spies.
Lui Ho blanched. “Foolishness. Imperialistic poppycock. There are no such things as dragons. Monsters, perhaps. But not dragons.” Lui Ho stood and pointed towards the poster on the wall. “It is written there--in 48 the beautiful words of beloved Mao Tse-tung.” He read the wording in full. “People of the World Unite and defeat the U.S. aggressors and all their running dogs! People of the World, be courageous, dare to fight, defy difficulties, and advance wave upon wave. Then the whole world will belong to the people. Monsters of all kinds shall be destroyed.”
The spies cheered, enthusiastically. Lui Ho folded his arms across his chest. “There it is, written by Mao Tse-tung. Monsters of all kinds shall be destroyed. See how the words of the beloved Chairman cover all eventualities. We can safely assume that dragons do not exist, otherwise he would have specifically mentioned them.”
“The monster is a dragon,” said Sam Ling. “I have seen it.”
“Do not provoke my anger, you bourgeois revisionist,” roared Lui Ho, his scalp working its way through the full spectrum of colours. “Do you call our beloved Mao a liar?”
Sam Ling backed away, hurriedly. “No, no. Of course not. The dragon must be an American capitalist hoax. Something to mislead the people. It is a fake, perhaps. Yes, definitely. The dragon in the museum is a fake. Nevertheless, the information is hidden in the dragon.”
“In the likeness of the dragon,” hissed Lui Ho, his head beginning to regain its normal colouring. “Then we must destroy it. Tonight, we will blow open the doors of the museum, advancing wave upon wave, as our revered leader has written. We will then machine- gun the guards, and take away the paper dragon.”
“The paper dragon is cunningly constructed of bone,” said Sam Ling, quietly.
“So . . .” Lui Ho hissed through the scented fog. “Sam Ling, what information have your electronic listening devices revealed?”
“Plenty of good information,” said Sam Ling, rubbing perspiration into his shoulders. He wondered if, after making his report, he should ask Fat Choy to give him a massage.
Pi Wun Tim sat on the edge of his bunk, swinging his feet. Sam Ling’s dedicated efficiency made him nervous. And the way he managed to make his Mongolian moustache smile, while his thin lips remained perfectly horizontal, didn’t help, either. Now that he’d become Lui Ho’s second-in-command, Sam Ling had ceased to be as friendly as he’d been. Pi Wun Tun felt that Sam Ling was almost as dangerous an ally as he could be as an enemy.
Lui Ho mopped his scalp with a towel, and fanned himself with his copy of the Chairman Mao’s Quotations. “Go on, then. Tell me what you have discovered.”
“The ladies are nanny-ladies,” began Sam Ling.
“We knew that.”
“Yes, we knew that. But, most important, and something we didn’t suspect, was that the red-faced one, who looks like an overgrown tomato fruit, was nanny- lady to the British agent who died.”
“Ah ... so ... so ... so ... so said the five other spies, softly.
“She killed him. He did not have that capitalist sickness--heart attack, known to us as American blight. She broke his suicide capsule.” Sam Ling grinned. The other spies giggled.
“So...?”
“The agent had time to speak to his nanny-lady before he died. He did not hand over the message. But he told his nanny-lady where it is hidden.”
“Where?” breathed Lui Ho.
“As you suspected, chief. In the museum. In the dinosaur.”
“Marvelous!” exclaimed Lui Ho. “Who would have thought of looking in a dinosaur? Not even I. Er ... what is a dinosaur?”
“A dragon,” said Sam Ling. “The greatest monster that ever left the moon to walk this earth.”
“Aieee ... a dragon monster,” chorused the other spies.
Lui Ho blanched. “Foolishness. Imperialistic poppycock. There are no such things as dragons. Monsters, perhaps. But not dragons.” Lui Ho stood and pointed towards the poster on the wall. “It is written there--in 48 the beautiful words of beloved Mao Tse-tung.” He read the wording in full. “People of the World Unite and defeat the U.S. aggressors and all their running dogs! People of the World, be courageous, dare to fight, defy difficulties, and advance wave upon wave. Then the whole world will belong to the people. Monsters of all kinds shall be destroyed.”
The spies cheered, enthusiastically. Lui Ho folded his arms across his chest. “There it is, written by Mao Tse-tung. Monsters of all kinds shall be destroyed. See how the words of the beloved Chairman cover all eventualities. We can safely assume that dragons do not exist, otherwise he would have specifically mentioned them.”
“The monster is a dragon,” said Sam Ling. “I have seen it.”
“Do not provoke my anger, you bourgeois revisionist,” roared Lui Ho, his scalp working its way through the full spectrum of colours. “Do you call our beloved Mao a liar?”
Sam Ling backed away, hurriedly. “No, no. Of course not. The dragon must be an American capitalist hoax. Something to mislead the people. It is a fake, perhaps. Yes, definitely. The dragon in the museum is a fake. Nevertheless, the information is hidden in the dragon.”
“In the likeness of the dragon,” hissed Lui Ho, his head beginning to regain its normal colouring. “Then we must destroy it. Tonight, we will blow open the doors of the museum, advancing wave upon wave, as our revered leader has written. We will then machine- gun the guards, and take away the paper dragon.”
“The paper dragon is cunningly constructed of bone,” said Sam Ling, quietly.
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