cut.’
‘Who says she’ll want a cut and, anyway, she’s in love with you.’
Hagen laughed shortly. ‘Don’t be a fool. I only met her a few hours ago.’
‘Yes, and saved her life. She was in a spot and you came along and pulled her out of it and since then you’ve taken charge of things for her. If she doesn’t love you at the moment she soon will do.’ Hagen snorted and poured himself another drink and Clara continued: ‘Don’t be a fool, Mark. Forget about the girl and look at it from the other angle. If you go into those marshes the Commies will never let you come out alive. They’ll be watching every move you make. They may let you in. They may even let you do all the work, but in the end they’ll strike. It’s suicide, Mark. Are you that desperate for money?’
Hagen walked to the window and spoke without turning round. ‘Clara, I’m sick of the life I’ve been leading. I’ve had enough. The years are rolling by and what have I got to show? Nothing. I want to go home with my pockets full before it’s too late. Is that a bad thing to want?’ He turned and looked at her and she shrugged helplessly. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll put it plainly. If I don’t take this chance I’m all washed up. Just another bum on the beach. Maybe I will get killed—so what? I’d rather take the risk. If I don’t get the gold I’m better off dead anyway.’
He walked over to the door and opened it. ‘Okay, Mark,’ she said. ‘Have it your own way.’
He smiled sadly. ‘I intend to, Clara. Tell Rose I’ll be back to see her this evening, will you?’ She nodded and he closed the door gently behind him.
He had hoped at the back of his mind that Clara, properly approached, might be willing to finance the deal for him. That hope was dead now and he directed his steps towards the centre of Macao to start the rounds of the bankers and money-lenders. It almost seemed as if there was a runner ahead of him. Most of the Europeans didn’t even bother to be polite. They had heard of him and he was a bad risk. On the other hand he found the Chinese money-lenders too polite. They offered him tea and fluttered their hands expressively but couldn’t see their way to lending him the money. He even tried one or two merchants who in the past had not been above buying the odd cargo of contraband goods, but in every case he was politely shown the door.
It was late in the afternoon when he turned into Charlie Beale’s café. It was the one place where his credit was still good for a drink. He sagged down into a booth and, as he gratefully swallowed the cold beer the waiter brought him, someone sat down. Hagen looked across the table and saw Charlie Beale. Charlie smiled. ‘Hello, boy! I hear you’ve made a proper cock-up of it this time and no mistake.’
Hagen gave him a tired grin. ‘You mean the boat? I’ll raise the money somehow.’
Charlie snapped his fingers and the waiter hurried over with a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. ‘Have a decent drink, Mark,’ Charlie said. He raised his glass. ‘Luck, and you’ll need it. The way I’ve heard it you’ll be lucky if you can raise a brass farthing in this town. Somebody has put the word out. The shutters are up as far as you’re concerned.’
Hagen was interested. There wasn’t much that went on in Macao that Charlie didn’t know about. ‘Who is it, Charlie?’ he said. ‘Is it Herrara the Customs chief? I know that bastard would love to see me lose the boat permanently.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘It’s a queer business,’ he said. ‘From what I can hear it’s political. Are you in trouble with the Commies?’
Hagen didn’t answer because suddenly a wild idea was smouldering in his brain. ‘Charlie,’ he said. ‘How would you like to lend me ten thousand petakas?’
Charlie’s eyes narrowed and his face became devoid of expression. He didn’t laugh because he knew that Hagen must have some extraordinary proposition to make to him. ‘You got something up your sleeve?’ he said softly, and the Cockney accent of his youth became suddenly more pronounced.
‘Something big, Charlie. Really big.’
Charlie stood up and motioned Hagen to follow him. He led the way upstairs and into his office. ‘We can be private here,’ he said. They sat facing each other across a wide desk. ‘Let’s hear it, boy, and it better be good.’
He was now the complete business man. Facts and figures were all that interested him. He listened to what Hagen had to say and then sat smoking a cigarette and thinking about it. After a while he opened a drawer and producing a map unrolled it on the desk. ‘Look at this, boy,’ he said. ‘From here to the Kwai Marshes the coast is alive with gunboats and on top of them you’ve got the pirates. You wouldn’t stand a chance.’
Hagen nodded. ‘All right. It’s going to be difficult, but it could be done.’
Charlie lit a cigarette thoughtfully and then said: ‘Wouldn’t you be better off in a motor sampan? You’d look like an ordinary fisherman from one of the coast villages.’
Hagen shook his head and said decisively: ‘No, I don’t agree. This whole thing has only one chance of success—speed. It’s got to be done so fast that we’re in and out with the gold before they know what’s happened. To do that successfully I need a fast boat and mine’s the best on the coast, as nobody knows better than you.’
Charlie Beale grinned. ‘All right! So your boat saved my neck once. I’ve paid for that favour a long time ago.’
Hagen nodded. ‘I know, but I’m not asking for favours now. This is a business proposition.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Is it hell a business proposition. It’s a gamble, but on the other hand I’m a gambler as well as being a business man.’ He studied the map for a couple of minutes without saying anything and Hagen sat with sweating palms praying for the right reply. ‘What would you need in the way of equipment?’ he said at last.
Hagen had his answer off pat. ‘Next to nothing. The boat is lying on a sandy bottom at a depth of twenty-five feet. The job should be easy. I’ve got an aqua-lung. A block and tackle to haul up the gold is easily rigged. The main thing is the money to pay that damned fine so I can get my boat back.’
Charlie nodded. ‘That’s not so bad. The whole thing could be done for peanuts.’
Hagen suddenly remembered something. ‘One thing more,’ he said. ‘Important! I’ll need some good automatic weapons and possibly a few grenades.’ Charlie frowned and Hagen added, ‘It would be silly to lose the gold simply because of an inability to defend the boat properly.’
‘All right,’ Charlie said. ‘That would be difficult, though. It’s pretty hard to get that kind of stuff these days. Who would you take with you?’
Hagen had the answer to that one, too. ‘The girl, of course. She might get suspicious otherwise, and I need a deck-hand. O’Hara would be best. A Chinese boy might be a Commie plant.’
Charlie Beale snorted. ‘What good would that old rummy O’Hara be? He gets the shakes if he doesn’t have his two bottles of rot-gut a day.’
Hagen grinned. ‘I know, but when he’s sober he’s a damned fine sailor and at least he can be depended on to keep his mouth shut.’ Besides, he’s a friend of mine.’
There was a long period of silence and a light breeze rattled the slats of the bamboo window-blind. Hagen lit a cigarette nervously
