Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 44, No. 4, April 1980

Shayne made it to the corner, and jumped out into the open, fully expecting to be fired at by his waiting antagonist. He was just in time to see the Mongol making a stealthy approach to the far corner of the house.

“Back here!” he shouted.

As the man spun around, Shayne nearly cut him in half.

Pausing, Shayne sucked in deep breaths of the cold mountain air, waiting for his heart and pulse to slow. Then he entered the lodge to face Mary Su Lin and Stephanie.

The woman and the girl were backed into a corner of the room, huddled against each other, Stephanie’s arm around Mary Su Lin’s slender shoulders.

“It’s finished here,” Shayne answered the question in Stephanie’s eyes. It was dark now so Shayne lit the oil lamp in the room. He lit a cigarette from the same match and inhaled deeply. “We’d be damned foolish to blunder around this mountain in the dark. Why don’t you two move up to the front room while I do something about...” Shayne indicated the three bodies with his hand. “You might try to rustle up something for us to eat.”

When they were gone he used one of the sleeping mats to roll each body for carrying. There was no shovel and the soil was rocky. For quick disposal he threw the bodies over the cliff, then walked around the house to do the same with the last Mongol guard he’d dropped.

It was grisly work and twice Shayne had the dry heaves before he finished. He’d found and jammed a fresh clip into the machine pistol tucked under his belt. Shayne didn’t intend to be surprised by the return of Chung Lee.

The moon was high. There was a narrow path leading away from the lodge toward the sound of rippling water. He went up on the porch and thrust his head in the doorway.

“Get me a bucket,” he called. Mary Su Lin was fanning the charcoal fire under the brazier on which their fish and rice would be cooked.

Stephanie found one somewhere and brought it to Shayne.

“Back in a minute,” Shayne told her.

A short distance down the path Shayne found himself in a sort of grotto that sheltered a deep spring and the stream flowing from it. When he’d drawn a bucket of water he stripped and forced himself into the bubbling ice-cold water. Jumping out he shivered until his big, scarred body was partially dry, then pulled on his slacks and shirt. His teeth were still chattering, but it felt good to be clean!

As best he could Shayne inspected his shirt and pants for bloodstains. It seemed as if there were a few, as careful as he’d tried to be.

What he’d done had to be done, with three lives at stake. Too often killing became part of his job. Taking a human life was something he could never quite accept as routine. What had happened here, Shayne knew, wouldn’t stay buried in his subconscious; there would be dreams, sometimes nightmares. But that, too, came with the territory.

Shayne’s mind was already worrying about the problem of what to do next. He forgot the bloodstains on his clothing.

When Shayne returned to the lodge, Mary Su Lin had prepared broiled fish, instead of boiled, to be served on mounds of brown rice carefully fried. Stephanie had made tea. The three of them settled down to a feast.

It was a quiet meal. No one had anything to say because the girl and woman were drained by the experience they’d just been through; Shayne was busy figuring their next move.

“I see it this way,” he said when they’d finished eating. “There’s no telephone, no radio, so Chung Lee has to come back either tomorrow or the next day. When he does, he’ll bring us wheels.”

“What do we do about him?” Mary Su Lin wanted to know.

“We’ll let the American consul earn his pay trying to figure that out,” Shayne told her. “We need to get aboard the Oriental Trader and out to sea as soon as possible. Chung Lee didn’t try this caper alone.”

“The Nationalists lead a nervous political life,” Stephanie told Shayne and Mary Su Lin. “They’re paranoic about infiltration into Taiwan’s bureaucratic infra-structure by Communist agents. And I’d guess they should be.”

“What of the men you had to kill?” Mary Su Lin asked Shayne.

“When their bodies are found,” Shayne said, “with any kind of luck we should be back in the states.”

“God willing!” Stephanie breathed.

“Amen,” Mary Su Lin murmured.

“You two try to get some sleep while I wait up for our friend Chung Lee,” Shayne told the woman and girl. “I doubt he’ll try to come up this mountain road in the dark, but I want to be bright and bushy-tailed just in case he does. Is there any tea left?” he asked Stephanie.

“A little. You sleep,” she told Mary Su Lin. “I’ll keep Shayne company.”

“I’m sure Mike will be very grateful,” the Chinese girl said in a sarcastic voice.

VI

It was three o’clock in the morning and Shayne was alone on the porch of the mountain lodge with the machine pistol across his knees. From where he sat he could see the narrow mountain road that wound down the steep slope. The headlights of any automobile negotiating that road would be visible a mile away.