Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 46, No. 11, November 1982

The village elders and youth were not fighters so the battle, if indeed it could be called a battle, was shortlived. Mai Ling’s mother managed to hide ten year old Mai but was caught by the lustful Sing Li in a clearing in back of her home.

Mai Ling watched in horror and disbelief as her mother was first ravished then killed by the mad animal called the evil one with the green elephant.

After the bandit’s orgy had run its course, they began to drink and soon were fighting among themselves for the pitiful loot from the village. Sing Li, drunk from rice wine was sitting in the clearing near the body of Mai Ling’s mother lost in admiration of the green elephant. Over and over, he vowed he would take it to his grave.

He fell asleep.

Mai Ling waited several minutes, then crawled out of the bushes and after first touching her mother’s dead face reverently, crawled over to the sleeping Sing Li. Her small, delicately featured face was tense with both sorrow and hatred. The green elephant gleamed at her in the moonlight.

He had taken her mother so she would take the elephant.

His head was slumped over his chest and he was leaning back against a tree. Her small hands quickly removed the elephant and chain from his neck. She saw a stubby dagger on the ground nearby. Anger flared in her face. She picked up the knife and was about to plunge it into his chest when his eyes suddenly opened.

They stared at each other for an instant, then he grabbed her arm.

“Pig!” he snarled.

Mai Ling leaned forward and clamped her teeth hard on his wrist. With a cry of pain, he let go of her arm. Mai darted off into the darkness, dropping the knife but clutching the green elephant.

Sing Li glanced down at his bleeding wrist, then tried to rise but the rice wine had taken its toll on his legs. He was too drunk to do anything but shout threats into the darkness.

A few days later, Mai Ling was found by government soldiers and taken to a British Mission where she stayed for many years. A highly intelligent girl, she quickly learned English and the ways of the Western world, yet managed to maintain her own identity. At eighteen, she was a beautiful young lady with ambitions far beyond the scope of the small Mission so she joined a Merchant’s caravan and went to Hong Kong. There, she quickly found work in a British household and in 1933, married a gem merchant many years her senior. She worked closely with her husband and soon became an expert in the gem trade.

And she still had the green elephant.

In 1936, her husband died of a heart attack leaving her with two small sons, Y and Fong, and a rich bank account. The talk now was of war and the possibility that the invaders might attack Hong Kong. Mai Ling, now Madame Chen, left Hong Kong and went to San Francisco where she set up a gem shop on Grant Avenue. Her two sons went to school and she became a businesswoman to be reckoned with.

She kept the green elephant in a locked glass case in her office just off the shop. She gazed at it often, remembering the ruthless Sing Li and how he murdered her mother. Sometimes while sleeping she would dream about him. In her dream, she would have a gun and would shoot him as he pleaded for his life. During her waking hours, she often thought about him. Where was he? Was he dead?

Sing Li wasn’t dead. In 1923, he had been arrested and condemned to death. However, when the guards came to get him they found an empty cell with a barless window. After several months he surfaced in Singapore where he found work with a British Firm. He had a quick mind so he soon picked up the King’s English even to the point of speaking with a slight British accent. He also made it a point to learn how to read and write his new language. Although a good worker and personable, he was still Sing Li the bandit so he made contact with the mob hierarchy and soon became adept at playing both sides of the game.

In 1937 he became tired of the constant battle for survival in both worlds and signed aboard a freighter bound for San Francisco. Moments after the ship docked, he slipped ashore, changed his name to Tom Lee and disappeared in Chinatown. He had no trouble finding work. His knowledge of English and his various talents — some questionable — opened many doors. He soon found himself getting rich in the herb business. A brush with the law in 1939 sent him to New York City where he changed his name to Lee Chau and started an import business in exotic herbs and oils.

Oddly enough, while in San Francisco, he had lived two blocks away from Madame Chen’s shop. In fact, he had often passed her as she stood in the shop doorway having her morning tea and cigarette. Neither was aware that the other was in San Francisco. Tom Lee was a well dressed, distinguished looking gentleman, a far cry from the uncuth, shabbily attired Sing Li and of course, Madame Chen was a beautiful mature woman. It is quite possible that they, on occasion, had murmured good morning to each other in soft Cantonese as he passed her shop.