Mike Resnick - Lucifer Jones 02 - Exploits

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Copyright (C)1993 by Mike Resnick
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the purchaser. Making copies of this
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The Chronicles of Lucifer Jones
Volume II—1926-1931
EXPLOITS
by Mike Resnick
Being a Thrilling Chronicle of Romance, Danger, Spectacle, High Adventure, Narrow
Escapes, and Uplifting Triumphs Over Sinister Villains and Mystic Mages in the
Exotic Continent of the East, as Recounted by the Bold, Daring, Handsome and
Modest Christian Gentleman Who Experienced Them
To Carol, as always,
And to my father
William Resnick
who initiated a chain of events half a century ago that culminated in the publication of
this book
Table of Contents
1. The Master Detective
2. The Sin City Derby
3. The Insidious Oriental Dentist
4. The Great Wall
5. The Abominable Snowman
6. The Land of Eternal Youth
7. Secret Sex
8. The Flame of Bharatpur
9. The Scorpion Lady
10. The Other Master Detective
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Inspector Willie Wong, who has run out of names for his sons, and possesses a
platitude for every occasion.
General Chang, a warlord's warlord.
Doctor Aristotle Ho, the Insidious Oriental Dentist, who plans to take over the world
or lower south Brooklyn, whichever comes first.
Rupert Cornwall, a scoundrel with a passion for rubies, wealthy women, and
duplicity.
Harvey Edwards, former halfback, now the fastest rickshaw puller in Macao.
Mr. Mako, diminutive Japanese detective who specializes in judo, disguise,
archaeology and jealousy.
Cuddles, an authentic Chinese dragon.
The Scorpion Lady, a beautiful but deadly smuggler with a truly outstanding pair of
lungs.
Sir Mortimer Edgerton-Smythe, who will stop at nothing to bring Doctor Aristotle Ho
to justice.
Sam Hightower, a semi-abominable Snowman who is hiding out from the mob in the
mountains of Tibet.
Capturing Clyde Calhoun, world-famous hunter who brings ’em back alive. Not
intact, but alive.
Lisara, a 111-year-old virgin who has taken up the High Priestess trade.
Akbar, a learning-disabled elephant.
Lady Edith Quilton, the richest widow lady in Rajasthan Province.
And our narrator,The Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones , a handsome,
noble and resourceful Christian gentlemen who has certain unresolved disagreements
with eight separate Asian governments over the finer points of the law.
1. The Master Detective
They say that there are a lot of differences between Hong Kong and some of the
African cities I had recently left behind. Different people, different cultures, different
buildings, even different food.
Of course, there are a lot of similarities, too. Same lack of consideration for those who
are bold enough to tinker with the laws of statistical probability. Same steel bars in
the local jail. Same concrete walls and floors. Same uncomfortable cots. Same awful
food.
Truth to tell, I'd had a lot more time to consider the similarities than the differences.
I'd gotten right off the boat from Portuguese East Africa, checked into the Luk Kwok
Hotel (which thoughtfully rented its rooms by the hour, the night, or the week), spent
the next hour in a local restaurant trying to down a bowl of soup with a pair of
chopsticks, and then, realizing that my funds needed replenishing, I got involved in a
friendly little game of chance involving two cubes of ivory with spots painted on
them. It was when a third cube slipped out of my sleeve that I was invited to inspect
the premises of the local jail.
That had been five days ago, and I had spent the intervening time alternately trying
not to mind the smell of dead fish, which is what all of Hong Kong smelled like back
in 1926, and gaining some comfort by reading my well-worn copy of the Good Book,
which I ain't never without.
The girl that brought my grub to me was a charming little thing named Mei Sung. She
was right impressed to be serving a man of the cloth, which I was back in those days,
and I converted the bejabbers out of her three or four times a day, which made my
incarceration in durance vile a mite easier to take.
As time crawled by I got to know my fellow inmates. There was a Turkish dentist
who had gassed a British officer to death in what he assured me was an accident and
would certainly have been construed as such by the courts if he hadn't appropriated
the officer's wallet and wristwatch before reporting the poor fellow's untimely demise.
There was a young Brazilian student who sweated up a storm and kept screaming
things about anarchy and tyrants and such and keeping everyone awake. There were
two Chinamen dressed all in black, who kept glaring at me every time I finished
converting Mei Sung. There was a Frenchman who kept saying he was glad he had
killed the chef, and that anyone who ruinedsole almondine that badly deserved to die.
And there was me, the Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones, out of
Moline, Illinois by way of the Dark Continent, where I'd done my best to illuminate
the dark, dreary lives of the godless black heathen despite certain minor
disagreements with the constabularies of fourteen countries which culminated in my
being asked to establish the Tabernacle of Saint Luke on some other land mass. But I
already wrote that story, and I ain't going to go into it again, since anyone who's read
it knows that I'm a righteous and God-fearing man who was just misunderstood.
On the fifth day of the thirty that I was to serve, they gave me a roommate, a well-
dressed Australian with expensive-looking rings on all his fingers. His name was
Rupert Cornwall, and he explained that he had come to Hong Kong because Australia
was a pretty empty country and he liked crowds.
“And what do you do for a living, Brother Rupert?” I asked him, by way of being
polite.
“I'm an entrepreneur,” he said. “I put opportunists together with opportunities, and
take a little percentage for my trouble.”
“I didn't know being an entrepreneur was a criminal offense in Hong King,” I said.
“I was arrested by mistake,” he answered.
“You, too?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I expect to be out of here within the hour. And what about
yourself? You look like a man of God with that turned-around collar of yours.”
“You hit the nail right on the head, Brother Rupert. That's what I am: a man of God,
here to bring comfort and spiritual uplifting to the heathen.”
“What religion do you belong to?” he asked.
“One me and the Lord worked out betwixt ourselves one Sunday afternoon back in
Illinois,” I said. “Hell, the way I see it, as long as we're upright and holy and got a
poorbox, what's the difference?”
He broke out into a great big smile. “Ilike you, Dr. Jones,” he said. “Where's your
church located?”
“Well, I ain't quite got around to building my tabernacle yet, Brother Rupert ... but I'm
taking donations for it, if the spirit's come upon you and you're so inclined.”
“I don't have any money with me,” he answered. “But look me up after we're both out
of here, and I might have some work for you.”
“Work wasn't exactly what I had in mind,” I said distastefully.
“When you hear what I have to offer, you might change your mind,” he said.
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “I could use a man of the cloth in my operation. I think we could enter
into a mutually profitable relationship.”
“You don't say?” I replied. “Well, I suppose I could always take a brief fling at the
entrepreneur business before I erect my tabernacle, God being the patient and
understanding soul that He is.”
He reached into his vest pocket and handed me his card. “That's my business address.
Remember to call on me.”
Well, I could tell we were hitting it off right fine, and I was going to ask him more
about our pending partnership, but just then a guard came by and unlocked the door.
“They made your bail again, Rupert,” he said in a bored voice.
“Was there ever any doubt?” asked Rupert smugly.
“You get arrested by mistake a lot?” I asked as he was leaving.
“Almost daily,” he said. “Personally, I think they're just jealous of my success.”
Then he was gone, and I was left with my thoughts until Mei Sung came by for
another conversion, which left me so exhausted that I thought I might grab a quick
forty winks. I had snored my way through about twenty of ’em when the door opened
again, and the guard gestured me to follow him.
“Did somebody make my bail, too?” I asked, thinking of Rupert Cornwall. He just
chuckled and kept leading me down one corridor after another until we finally came
to a little cubbyhole, which was filled with a desk, two chairs, and a pudgy Chinaman
with a natty little mustache and goatee. He was dressed in a white linen suit, and
hadn't bothered to take his Panama hat off even though we were inside.
“Sit, please,” he said, smiling at me.
I sat myself down in the empty chair while he nodded at the guard, who left the room.
“You are Mr. Jones?” said the Chinaman.
“Doctor Lucifer Jones at your service,” I said.
“That what we must talk about,” he said in pidgin English.
“About whether I'm Lucifer Jones?” I asked, puzzled.
“About whether you are at my service,” he said. “Because if not, then you go back to
cell for 25 more days.”
“Are you the guy who made my bail?” I asked.
“No one make your bail,” he said. “Please sit back and relax, Doctor Jones. I am
Inspector Willie Wong of Hong Kong Police Force. Perhaps you have heard of me?”
“Can't say that I have, Brother Wong,” I answered. He looked right disappointed at
that. “Why are you wasting your time with me, anyway?” I continued. “You ought to
be trying to find the ungodly sinner that stuck that extra die up my sleeve.”
“That no concern of mine,” he said, holding up a hand. “But am prepared to make
deal, Dr. Jones. You help me, I help you.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “Man in your cell named Rupert Cornwall.”
“What about him?”
“Rupert Cornwall biggest gangster in Hong Kong.”
“Then why did you let him go?”
“Beauty is in eye of beholder,” said Wong.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Old Chinese proverb. Perhaps it not translate very well.” He paused. “Let Rupert
Cornwall go for lack of evidence.”
“What has all this got to do with me?” I asked.
“Patience, Doctor Jones,” said Wong. “Penny saved is penny earned.”
“Another proverb?”
He nodded. “Very wise of you to notice. You are man we need.”
“Need for what, Brother Wong?” I asked.
“Need go-between. Rupert Cornwall trust you. You will meet with him, learn about
operation, report back to me. Then, when time is right, we strike.”
“How long you figure this'll take?”
He shrugged. “Maybe week, maybe month, who know? Too many chefs spoil the
soup.”
“I don't know, Brother Wong,” I said. “After all, I only got 25 days left to serve.”
He broke out into a great big grin. “You not acquainted with Chinese calendar, I take
it?”
“How long is 25 days on a Chinese calendar?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Maybe week, maybe month, who know?” He looked across the
desk at me. “We have deal?”
I sighed. “We have a deal.”
“Good. Knew I could count on man of cloth.”
“How do I report to you?” I asked.
“He know what I look like, so you will report to me through sons.”
“I don't know how to break this unhappy tiding to you, Brother Wong,” I said, “but I
ain't got no sons.”
“I have 28,” he replied distastefully. “All currently unemployed and available to work
for honorable father.”
“28?” I repeated. “I don't envy your missus none.”
“Have 17 missuses,” he answered. “15 currently suing for back alimony. That's why
move here from Honolulu.”
“My heart bleeds for you, Brother Wong,” I said with as much sincerity as I could
muster on the spur of the moment.
“Whenever I become depressed over situation, I just remember old Chinese proverb:
Watched pot never boil.” He got to his feet and walked around the desk to stand in
front of me. “I think for this case we use Number Nine and Number Twenty-Six
sons.”
“What are their names?”
“Just told you: Nine and Twenty-Six. Ran out of names after Number Five son was
born.”
“What do you call your daughters—A through Z?”
Wong threw back his head and laughed. “You fine fellow, Doctor Jones. Wonderful
sense of humor. Sincerely hope Rupert Cornwall not cut your tongue out before case
is over.”
“Uh ... let's just pause a second for serious reflection, Brother Wong,” I said. “Old
Rupert wouldn't really cut my tongue out, would he?”
“No, not really,” said Wong.
“That's better.”
“Would have one of his hired killers do it for him.”
“You know,” I said, “upon further consideration, I think the Lord would want me to
serve out my full sentence. After all, I was caught fair and square, and somehow this
seems unfair to the just and honorable man who sentenced me.”
“Whatever you say, Doctor Jones,” said Wong. He went back around the desk,
opened the drawer, and pulled out a sheet of paper that was subdivided into hundreds
of little squares. “This help you pass the time.”
“What is it?” I asked.
He smiled. “Calendar of Chinese week.” He tossed me a pencil. “You can mark off
each day with this. Will bring new one when you run out of lead.”
Which is how I became an operative in the employ of the Hong Kong Police.
* * * *
You'd think that the biggest gangster in Hong Kong would operate out of one of them
beautiful old palaces that overlook the ocean, or failing that he'd set up headquarters
in a penthouse suite in some luxury hotel. So you can imagine my surprise when I
wandered down a couple of back alleyways and found Rupert Cornwall's place of
business to be a rundown little storefront right between a fish peddler and a
shirtmaker.
The whole area smelled of incense and dead fish, and there were lots of tall men
dressed in black and wearing lean and hungry looks, but I just ignored ’em all like the
God-fearing Christian gentleman that I am and walked up to Cornwall's door and
pounded on it a couple of times. A muscular guy, who looked like a cross between an
Olympic weightlifter and a small mountain, let me in and ushered me through a maze
of unopened cardboard boxes to a back room, where Rupert Cornwall sat in an easy
chair, smoking a Havana cigar and going through the Hong Kong version of theDaily
Racing Form .
“Doctor Jones!” he said. “My dear fellow, I hadn't expected to see you again for
almost a month!” He paused and looked around. “We just moved in here a few days
ago. I used to operate out of one of the hotels, but my overhead was killing me.”
“Yeah, I know how expensive them luxury suites can be,” I agreed.
“Luxury suites nothing,” he corrected me. “It was making bail two and three times a
day. Ah, well, you're here, and that's all that matters.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed.
“Just how, exactly, did you get here so soon?”
“I'm a fast walker, Brother Rupert,” I answered.
“I thought you were incarcerated for 30 days.”
I shrugged. “Time flies when you're having fun. I guess I'd been there longer than I
thought.”
“Yes, I saw little Mei Sung,” he said with a grin. “Well, are you prepared to discuss
the details of our first business venture?”
“That's what I'm here for, Brother Rupert,” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “I want you to know up front that I am an honest businessman who
would never dream of harming another soul, Dr. Jones.”
“I could tell that right off,” I said.
“I seek no commendation for my work,” he continued. “I'm in the import/export
business, hardly a noteworthy or romantic occupation. I pay my bills on time, I treat
my help well, I have virtually no social life, I avoid the spotlight at all costs. In point
of fact, I am alaissez-faire capitalist of the highest order. And yet, there is a local
official who has harassed me, threatened me, tried to drive me out of business, and
caused me a considerable loss of revenue.”
“No!” I said, shocked.
“Yes, Dr. Jones,” he replied. “I have borne his enmity silently up to now, but he has
become an intolerable nuisance, and it is my intention to so embarrass him that he is
forced to resign from his position, if not leave Hong Kong altogether.”
“What does this have to do withme , Brother Rupert?” I asked.
“I cannot proceed with my plan alone. For your complicity in ridding me of this vile
and obdurate man, I am willing to pay you the sum of one thousand British pounds
sterling. What do you say to that?”
“That's a right tidy sum,” I allowed. “Just who is this here villain that we plan to put
out of commission?”
“A man named Wong.”
“Would that be Inspector Willie Wong of the Hong Kong Police?” I suggested.
“The very same. How is it that you come to know his name, Dr. Jones?”
“Oh, they bandy it around a lot down at the jail,” I said.
“Have you any compunctions in helping me rid decent society of this man?”
“Not a one,” I said. “Why, did you know that every single man he arrested swore that
he was innocent? We certainly can't have a man like that riding roughshod over the
people of this fair city.”
He broke out into a great big smile. “I believe we understand each other perfectly,
Doctor Jones. Iknew I had selected the right man!”
“How do we plan to deal with this menace to social stability and free enterprise?” I
asked.
“Willie Wong's reputation rests on the fact that he has never made a mistake, never
arrested an innocent man, never let a guilty one get away,” said Cornwall, puffing on
his cigar. “If we can publicly embarrass and humiliate him, I believe his honor will
demand that he retire from public service.”
“And just how do we aim to do that?”
“I have it on good authority that the Empire Emerald, the largest gemstone in all of
China, will be stolen from the Fung Ping Shan Museum tomorrow night,” he said,
leaning forward in his chair. “I will arrange that every clue points toward you, and
knowing Wong, he will almost certainly bring you into custody within hours of the
robbery. It will then be revealed that he has wrongly arrested a man of God, and that,
furthermore, the emerald was stolen by one of his own sons.” He leaned back with a
satisfied smile. “What do you think of that?”
“I think I want five hundred pounds up front and the name of a good bondsman, just
in case something goes wrong,” I said.
“Certainly, my dear Doctor Jones.” He pulled out a wallet thick enough to choke a
small elephant and peeled off five one-hundred-pound notes, which he then handed
over to me. “I distrust a man who doesn't look out for his own interest.”
“Okay,” I said, stuffing the money into my pocket. “What else do I have to know or
do?”
“Very little,” he said. “Spend an hour browsing at the museum late tomorrow
afternoon, perhaps get into a slight altercation with one of the tourists so people will
remember seeing you there, keep off the streets between midnight and two o'clock in
the morning, and putthis in a safe place.”
With that, he handed me a small cloth bag that was closed with a drawstring.
“What's in it?” I asked.
“Take a look.”
I opened it up, and found a lump of coal about the size of a golf ball.
“That, Doctor Jones, will prove to be the undoing of Willie Wong. Hide it well, but
not so well that a thorough search cannot turn it up. While you are spending the night
in jail and his men are ransacking your room, my own operatives will plant the real
emerald on one of his brats.”
“An emerald this big is an awful high price to pay to get rid of one bothersome
policeman,” I said.
“He costs me more than that every week,” said Cornwall. “It will be money well
spent.”
“Well, considering that it ain't yours to begin with, I reckon I can see the logic in
that,” I agreed.
“And now, Doctor Jones, it is best that we part company. I don't want anyone to know
that we've been in contact since my release from jail.” He stood up and walked me to
the door. “Your remaining five hundred pounds will be delivered in an envelope to
your hotel the morning after your arrest, and you will be contacted later in the week
concerning our next venture.”
“Sounds good to me, Brother Rupert,” I said, shaking his hand. “It's always nice to do
business with a Christian gentleman like yourself.”
“We've lots more business to do when this sordid little affair is over,” he said with a
twinkle in his eye.
I kind of doubted it, since he never asked me what hotel he was supposed to deliver
my money to. But with five hundred pounds in my pocket and Willie Wong on my
side, I decided that things were definitely looking up for the Tabernacle of Saint
Luke.
* * * *
I had walked maybe half a mile from Cornwall's office when I saw two young
Chinamen staring at me from a street corner, so I strolled over to them.
“Nine?” I said to the bigger one.
There was no response.
“Twenty-Six?” I said.
“Make it thirty and you've got yourself a date,” he said with a giggle.
“Doctor Jones!” yelled a young man from across the street. “We're over here!”
I turned and saw two more Chinamen and made a beeline toward them.
“Are you Willie Wong's kids?” I asked.
The older one nodded. “We've got orders to take you to Dad.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
I followed them a couple of blocks to a dimly-lit restaurant. They left me at the door,
and as I entered it I saw Wong nod to me from a table in the back.
“You visit with Mr. Rupert Cornwall, yes?” he said, gesturing me to sit down.
“Yeah. He doesn't like you much.”
“Stitch in time save nine.”
“You ever consider writing a Chinese proverb book?” I asked him.
“Please continue,” he said, slurping his soup.
“Near as I can make out, he plans to steal the Empire Emerald around midnight
tomorrow.”
“Ah, so.”
“Not only that,” I added. “But he plans to make it look likeI stole it, and while you're
busy arresting me he's going to plant it on one of your sons.”
“Very interesting,” he said with no show of interest whatsoever.
“Well, that's it. I'm done now, right?” I said. “I mean, you'll be waiting for him at the
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